#that is my bodies last resort to getting me to eat something

[wileys-russo]

Leah being annoying bf when they go swimming together. Pestering r to go in the water, wanting to cuddle on a lounger, untying r’s bikini top etc

topless II l.williamson

"rise and shine gorgeous!" you stirred as a body settled itself on top of you, sighing tiredly and covering your face with your hands. "no no no, none of that now." leah tutted, interlocking fingers with yours and pinning your hands by your head.

"since when are you a morning person? if you've decided to suddenly become one i might just need to break up with you." you grumbled, eyes cracking open still thick with sleep. "oh baby i love you too." leah cooed, kissing both of your cheeks with a grin.

"but no, i'm just in holiday mode. plus there's an all you can eat breakfast calling us, so up!" leah ordered, letting go of your hands and clapping, sitting on top of you above the covers. "you go enjoy. my holiday mode is a sleep in." you mumbled, patting her thigh.

"we sleep in at home all the time babe! get up, get up, get up, get up, get up-" leah repeated over and over, poking you as you whined and tried to throw her off. "leah!" you groaned, squealing as her bony fingers dug into your ribs.

"fine! i'm getting up." you huffed, giving your girlfriend a shove and sending her tumbling down to the bed. "leah! oh my god." you huffed as you tried to get up like she asked only for the blonde to grab you and pull you right back down.

"forgetting something?" leah grinned, hovering just over you with raised eyebrows. "mm finding a girlfriend whose not really annoying?" you gasped sarcastically as the defender narrowed her eyes, whatever comeback she had in mind silenced by the good morning kiss you knew she was after.

"now shift it because if we miss out on the pancakes since you're dragging your feet babe i will drown you in the pool later."

~

"baby we just got back from the beach! its the perfect time for a midday nap not another swim." you sighed as leah held firmly onto your hand, restricting you from pulling away toward the elevators.

"you can have a nap by the pool babe. order some food, have a couple drinks, work on your tan." leah smiled charmingly, swinging your interlocked hands to and fro as you gave in with a sigh, allowing her to drag you through the lobby toward the pool.

you sighed in relief seeing there was only a few other people littered around. it seemed everyone was overly friendly at this resort which leah had whisked you away to for the weekend and your two year anniversary, and every person you or leah bumped into was determined to engage you in some sort of long winded small talk.

you rolled your eyes as leah wasted no time diving right into the pool, setting your bag down and flicking out your towel, settling into the lounger with a content sigh as the sun bathed your back.

you were rewarded with ten minutes of peace before you heard the sounds of leah pulling herself out and padding over toward you. "leah i swear to god if you lay on me we're not having sex for the rest of this holiday." you warned seriously.

"so grumpy." your girlfriend chuckled, collapsing down onto the lounger beside you with a content sigh. "leah!" you huffed as the stole your drink, chugging the last of it and placing the empty glass back down on the table between you.

"what? i was thirsty." the blonde grinned as you sent her a glare and rolled onto your back, flicking your sunglasses down over your eyes. again you were rewarded with around ten minutes of peace before the sighs started.

the first one was subtle, just a small exhale that you ignored. the second one was a little louder, clearly intended for you to react in which you did not give leah the satisfaction. the third was more of a groan, and growing tired of her games you pushed your glasses up and cracked one eye open.

"what?" you now sighed, your girlfriend propping herself up on one arm and staring right back at you. "i'm bored!" leah complained with a frown as you rolled your eyes.

"you wanted to come to the pool baby, go play marco polo with yourself or something." you dismissed with a wave closing your eyes again. "thats not even possible!" leah whined as again you waved her off.

"go swim some laps then." "or you could come swim with me." "or you could just...swim alone." "but we're on holidays together."

"leah! just go for a swim, read a book, take a walk on the beach, anything." you groaned out, annoyed at the back and forth. "by myself?" leah scoffed in disbelief sitting up and staring down at you.

"yes love, by yourself." you confirmed, unwavering as leah huffed and you cracked an eye open watching her bikini clad body wander off. "not too far!" you yelled out after her, hearing her mock you and fling her arms up in the air.

this time it would seem the walk worked as you were rewarded with nearly a half an hour of time to yourself, flipping every few minutes and soaking up the sun you knew would be sorely missed once you both returned to london.

laid out on your stomach you became aware she'd returned when a body pressed itself against your back. "you're all wet, leah!" you groaned out tiredly, smacking her shoulder halfheartedly as her lips kissed the back of your neck.

"no thats sweat darling." the blonde grinned against your skin as you whined louder trying to shake her off without any luck.

"leah!" you hissed as she tugged on the tie of your bikini causing it to fall open. "oh my fingers slipped, what a shame." the defender smirked as you turned your head to glare up at her, messily tying it back up.

"whoops!" once again the knot was tugged free as your girlfriend pressed herself down on top of you. "you know they go topless in spain anyway gorgeous? i'm just trying to immerse you in the culture so you get the full experience!" the blonde teased, hands inching around under your stomach.

"you are literally so annoying." you sighed deeply in defeat, feeling her shift to sit up on the back of your thighs with a quiet chuckle.

"oh actually that's quite nice." you relaxed feeling her calloused hands start to massage your shoulders. "still annoying now?" your girlfriend sang out smugly as you only hummed, grateful she had found something to occupy herself which for once benefited you.

"leah." you warned quietly as her hands began to move lower, snapping the waistband of your bikini bottoms. thankfully before anything further could ensue the food you'd ordered earlier arrived and your girlfriend moved off of you allowing you to sit up, hastily tying your bikini top back up in the process.

"really?" you raised an eyebrow in amusement as she took the opportunity to slide in behind you, patting the vacant space between her legs with a grin.

with a shake of your head you settled yourself against her chest, the two of you making plans for your last day tomorrow as you pretended not to notice her stealing some of your fries every few minutes.

"so you're now tanned, you're watered, you're fed..." leah trailed off, lips peppering soft kisses down your shoulder blades as you hummed. "mm i wonder what you want in exchange?" you pondered, her hands wandering.

"oh nothing nothing, just to help you relax even more baby girl." the blonde smiled against your skin as her teeth tugged at your ear lobe teasingly. "mm i just ate a burger and like a kilo of fries lee, you're gonna have to wait awhile before you get your happy ending." you craned your head back and smile up at her.

"okay well in the meantime i guess we have to find some way to occupy ourselves don't we?" you barely had a moment to register her words before your body was hauled off the lounger and within seconds you were engulfed in a body of cold water.

kicking your way up to the surface you coughed and spluttered as water went up your nose, wincing as leahs head popped up and spat water in your face like she was a fountain with a cheeky smile.

letting out a cry you lunged for her, getting your hands on her shoulders and legs around her waist as you dunked her head under the water a few times before she pushed you off and spun around, pulling you into her with a wolfish grin

"what? you looked hot!"

[sugarcoatedstarkey]

Best Friends - part 2

Pairings - Rafe Cameron x bestfriend!reader

Summary - Rafe wants to be there for you.

Warnings - Domestic Violence and mention of sexual assault, language. 18+

If you missed part one

Rafe had spent all night tossing and turning, he checked on you every hour. Making sure you were still tucked up in the spare bedroom, you were.

It got to 4am and he couldn’t stay in bed, Lola hadn’t moved an inch. She lay on her stomach, head buried into the pillow. Rafe felt guilt in his stomach as he pulled himself out of the bed and walked across the hall to yours.

The last five times he checked on you, you had been fast asleep cuddled into the duvet. This time he noticed your balled fists around the sheets, your body thrashing.

“I’m sorry! Please Coop, I’m sorry!” You cried out, he rushed towards you. Cradling your head between the palms of his hands, tears leaked from your closed lids.

“Y/n! Hey, wake up!” He whispered, tapping the side of your cheek softly. This seemed to work as your eyes sprung open, you coward away from Rafe. Your back hitting the headboard. “It’s just me, Rafe”.

“Sorry, did I wake you?” You questioned, pulling the sheet up against your chest. He shook his head and moved to sit next to you, you moved the blanket to cover his legs. “I’ve been checking on you every few hours, would have preferred if you stayed in my room” he chuckled, pulling you into his chest. He missed you, missed your friendship, your hugs, your laugh.

“I couldn’t do that to Lola, that would cause way too many problems” you smiled, you moved your body back down the bed and laid your head upon the pillow.

“She wouldn’t have minded” Rafe tries to reassure you, but you knew girls like Lola. They didn’t share their boyfriends, especially not to some old best friend.

“Can I hold you?” He questions, you find yourself nodding. He wraps his arms around you, pulling your back against his chest. You can’t help the smile that creeps onto your lips.

Silence falls between the two of you and the next thing you remember is the sun shining in. “Rafe!” Lola yells, her eyes are wide as she stares at the sight in front of her.

Her boyfriend cuddled up against another woman, you can tell she’s angry. Her cheeks burn red, he is quick to jump up and rush over to her.

He escorts her out of the bedroom, mouthing ‘sorry’ before he closes the door. You knew you should have asked him to leave, you shouldn’t have let him hold you like old times.

He didn’t have a girlfriend back then, no one to make jealous when the two of you acted like a couple.

You quickly jumped out of bed, making the bed as best you could. Grabbing your handbag and phone, you had over 20+ missed calls from Cooper.

You snuck out of Tanny Hill before anyone could see you, you didn’t want to be a burden anymore. Walking about 2km you were finally at your front gates, you pressed the intercom and waited to be let in.

You busied yourself with making something to eat, having a shower and taking a quick nap.

You were awoken to the doorbell going mental, panic rose in your chest. Cooper wouldn’t show up at your house surely, he’s not stupid is he? Your sure he’d wait until you answered his calls before resorting to banging down your door.

You rushed down the stairs, Rafe’s panic filled eyes met yours. Within seconds the panic turns to anger and he’s mouthing for you to open the door. Jiggling the doorknob roughly.

“Why would you leave without telling me?! I was so worried! I thought you’d gone back to Cooper” he shouted, grabbing you by the biceps. You flinched slightly, staring up at him with big eyes. “I’m sorry, I didn’t want to be a burden” you cried, he looked down at you and quickly pulled you in a hug.

His scent was suffocating, your nails digging into his back and you squeezed him tightly,”you are not a burden”.

“Your girlfriend was very mad this morning, I don’t want to come between that” you whisper into his chest, his heart thumping harshly. “She’ll get over it” he ignores the look you give him and pulls away from your hug.

“Is anyone home? I don’t feel comfortable you being home alone.” He questions, he follows you through to the kitchen where you grab the two of you some water.

“Rafe, it’s fine. This isn’t my first rodeo, Cooper doesn’t come back until I answer his calls. And I’m not going to answer them” you state, staring down at your phone. It hadn’t rung once in the past 4 hours, you were sure Cooper had given up.

“Even so, I’m going to stay here with you” “oh no, you can’t do that! You can’t leave Lola at your family's house”.

He chooses to ignore and walks past you, walking towards the living area at the back of the house. Scowling you follow after him, checking back that the door was locked.

He had made himself comfortable on the couch, patting the spot next to him. You chose to sit at the end of the couch, bringing your legs up to your chest and wrapping your arms around them. “Should we watch a movie?” You questioned, ignoring the confused look on Rafe’s face. He nods and grabs the remote.

“What do you want to watch?” He questions, flipping through Netflix. You shrugged and stared at the screen, unsure why you felt so strange around him, he was your best friend, why was your mind running a million miles an hour right now.

“Okay, I’ll pick” he chooses exmas, a Christmas comedy. He knew this would cheer you up, you loved Christmas movies especially ones like this,

As the movie went on, he took glances over at you and noticed you hadn’t moved once. The next time he looked you had your eyes closed, head against the pillow. You looked so peaceful, he grabbed a blanket and covered your body.

He must have fallen asleep not long after, woken by your screams. His heart dropped to the pit of his stomach, eyes springing open and frantically looking for you only to find you thrashing around on the floor.

Y/n Dream

Reaching for the salt, you sprinkled a touch over your dinner. Cooper watched you in silence, palming the beer in his hand. He waited for you to take the first bite and finally spoke. “So I hear Rafe might be coming for Christmas this year” he states, he watches your reaction. Your eyes pop slightly and a smile creeps on your lips, you look up at him with happiness. “Really?” You question, hiding your mouth behind your hand.

“God y/n don’t talk with your mouth full” he chastised, sculling back the last of his warm beer. He scrapes the chair underneath him and stands to grab another, you try to quickly calculate how much he’s had to drink since being home.

“Why do you get so happy when his name is mentioned?” He questions as he walks back to the table, you're expecting him to slam the beer on the table but he doesn’t. He just stares at you with a blank expression.

“He’s my best friend, I miss him” you answer, this angers something within him. His brows pull together and his knuckles turn white around the bottle. “He doesn’t even fucking talk to you anymore” he shouted, the anger in his voice makes you jump and you drop your fork to the floor. This angers Cooper even more, the sound of metal clanging against his hardwood floor.

“Fuck sake y/n” he growls, he pushes himself back while simultaneously pushing the table into your stomach. You choke out a groan at the sharp pain of the wood hitting your ribs. “You need to fucking get over him, he doesn’t want you” he yells, he storming around the table towards you.

Grabbing the hair on the back of your head he pulls you to stand, tears prick at your eyelids as you squeeze them shut. He pulls you away from the kitchen and towards the bedroom, stumbling over your feet to catch up with him. His legs take long strides until you're thrown against the vanity table, knocking your perfume to the floor.

“Coop, I’m sorry!” You cried, edging away from him until you're hidden in the corner from him. He chuckles, running his hand through his hair. He begins to pace the floor, muttering under his breath until his head whips towards you.

“You know what, fuck this. Your fucking mine and I’ll show you who fucking owns you. Show you that Rafe Cameron isn’t going to love you the way I will” he bellows, before you can comprehend what he’s said he grabs you by the throat and throws you onto the bed. “Coop no, please don’t do this!” You cry, hitting at his chest in fear. Tears streaming down your face. This only angers him more and he slaps you across the face.

“You’ll fuck me any other day but the moment Rafes name is brought up you don’t want anything to do with me, fuck you bitch” he growls into your ear, biting down on your shoulder you let out a shriek of pain. His hands push up your sundress and pull your panties to the side.

“Please Coop!”

Present

“Y/n, hey wake up!”

You jump up from your position, taking in your surroundings. You were at home, Rafe was with you, there was no Cooper. “Hey you okay?” He questions, he pulls you into a hug and you squeeze onto his shoulders. Taking deep breaths until your heart was beating at a normal pace. “Sometimes I dream about Cooper” you whisper, Rafes fingers run through your hair. Pulling you closer to his chest. “You should speak to the police” he whispers, your blood running cold. You couldn’t do that, you couldn’t be known as the poor girl whose boyfriend beat her. It would be all over the news, people would gossip.

“No, I can’t. I just need to speak to someone, I need a professional” you whispered, you had never shied away from therapy. You used to go twice a week when your dad died but they told you that you no longer needed to attend, that you had healed and were ready to go on.

“Okay, I’ll sort that out” Rafe states, you nod your head and sit in silence for a few minutes until his phone starts ringing and doesn’t stop.

He grabs it from the table and you notice Lola’s name flashing on the screen. You pull away and wipe your eyes. “Go on answer it” you smiled, you stood up and exited the room to grab water but you find yourself standing at the cracked door and listening,

“No Lola, I have to be here for her”

“She’s my best friend! I told you what happened”

“What the fuck Lola? That’s so fucked up”

“No you know what, go back home. I’ll talk to you when you stop being a complete bitch”

You hear him hit the wall and you jump back, rushing towards the kitchen to fill a glass of water. You stare out the window until you hear him enter the room, he’s rubbing his eyes with the palms of his hands but still manages to give you a smile.

“If you need to go, I understand”

“No y/n, I’m not going anywhere”

Taglist - @laylasbunbunny @h34rtsformilli @lydiasxxsworld @hallecarey1 @mountloverr @outerbankspov @cameronmedia @crunchy-leaves77 @vigilanteshitposting @pedrisgatorade @phoenixssugarbaby @rafemotherfuckingcameron @s-we-e-t-t-ea @rafesthroatbaby @alltoomay @f4ll-for-you @maybankslover @lovelornanonymity @gabys-gabs @aaronhotchswife (please let me know if you no longer want to be tagged or if you only want to be tagged in certain fics)

[sadbenedict]

If Geto did manage to escape, would Gojo just drag him back? Would he 'punish' him for leaving?

and question from: @tug-tries-to-draw

Does Gojo ever abuse Geto? Like, if Geto refused to eat, would Gojo resort to physical violence to force him to?

I don't think Satoru would harm him physically, but psychologically for sure. Reminding him that he can't do anything. I think he will remind him time after time that he is here forever and that he can do something about the twins

from: @yukiotacon

This had to be asked because of morbid curiosity. What is your spin in the shibuya arc in your basement au?

uhhh it's a complicated question, and I don't think there's any particular answer.

Too many factors have changed. Kenjaku didn't get Geto's body, so he wouldn't have been able to get Gojo out of standing to seal him. Would he have found another body and been able to pull off what he did in canon? If Gojo wasn't sealed, would he have been able to reduce the damage in Shibuya? What would have happened to Yuji and Sukuna then?

from: @hydeway 

Hi! I love you art, i think is beautiful, and i just discovered you Basement AU! It gave me so many ideas! Last night, i had a dream with this AU, in which Yuuji goes downstairs and sees Geto without the chain, cuz he released himself a long time ago, but he likes to play this game with Gojo. When he sees that Yuuji is there, he smiles at him, and with his finger in his lips goes: shh ;)

AHAHA OMG I just imagined this, I'm crying. I imagine Satoru's all trying to be all sinister and Suguru's like, god, he's such an idiot XD I won't say that's in my version, but it's interesting

from: @du44my

GGHHHHH I LOVE YOUR AU ITS SO INTERESTING,I LOVE THE IDEA OF GOJO BECOMING SO MENTALLY INSANE AND SO DAMN IN LOVE THAT HE LITERALLY TRAPS GETO IN THE BASEMENT (also some questions I have who would be the most likely to free Geto from the basement and how will Yaga react to Gojo after he finds out that he trapped Geto in the basement :3)

THANK YOU SM!!! I'm sure he's very tired of the behaviour of those two XD Maybe they'd find Satoru so dangerous and unpredictable that they'd seal him up themselves.

Thank you all sm for the questions and activity!!! Sorry for not replying immediately, I sometimes need a break from this au sometimes so I don't get tired of it :''D

[holylulusworld]

TOL - I’m your daddy now (1) - Lloyd Hansen

Summary: You reached the end of the rope.

Pairing: Lloyd Hansen x Singlemom!Reader

Warnings: plus-sized reader, needy Lloyd, Lloyd being Lloyd, Lloyd is an ass and boob enthusiast, mentions of sex for money, money trouble, mentions of cheating (her ex), groping, slight mommy kink (kinda, it's Lloyd)

A/N: This is part of my Traders of love (lust) masterlist series. It's the prequel to TOL - Like a virgin (Bucky Barnes) and tells the story about Lloyd and his assistant sunshine.

You reached the end of the rope. 

With your three-year-old little boy depending on you, it’s not easy to face reality. In two weeks, you will have to leave your home. The bank will take the house, and even the wreck of a car you call your own.

Your deadbeat of a husband left you with nothing but debs and resentment for men. He’s out and about with a younger, prettier, and slimmer girl. – His words, not yours.

While you tried to save your marriage, he fucked some woman he met at a bar behind your back. You knew he was a sleazy and worthless bastard, but never expected him to turn his back on his son too.

It’s not that you didn’t try anything to make enough money to pay for the mortgage and feed your son. One too many nights you went to bed hungry, only lukewarm water in your belly to at least save enough money to buy food for your baby boy.

“Mommy,” your little boy yawns as he looks up at you. He holds out his chubby hands, whining because you don’t pick him up. You just look at him for a moment, feeling your heart chatter all over again.

“How could I ever fall for your father,” you sniffle when you pick your son up. You peck his cheek and sigh. “At least he gave me you. The only good thing coming out of this relationship.”

You nuzzle his cheek and try to ignore the ache in your chest, and your growling stomach. At least you got paid yesterday. It’s not enough to keep the house for another month, but you can get food on the table.

Whatever happens tomorrow, you don’t know. The website you found promised help in hopeless situations. You never know with the internet, but it’s your last resort.

If they don’t keep their promises, you’ll end up on the street with your son only because your husband ran off with all of your savings. He even stole the money your grandmother left you for desperate times.

“Hi, uh-I’m Y/N Y/L/N. I have an appointment,” you wring your hands while looking around the lobby of the building inheriting the company promising to save your home. The woman at the reception doesn’t even look your way. She huffs and lifts her perfectly manicured index finger to stop you from talking.

“I don’t think you are what we are looking for,” she snaps at you, and your heart sinks. You look down at your body, sighing deeply. The business outfit you are wearing is a tight fit. You gained weight during pregnancy you never got the chance to lose. “You should go home and bake cookies for your kid.”

She points her finger at the stain on your blouse, simply to embarrass you even more. Some women are like that. They try to feel better, or above you by making you feel small.

“Kiki, that is enough,” you flinch when a hand brushes over your ass. The man pats your cheeks, humming happily. “What do we have here?” He purrs and gropes one cheek. “A perfect plump ass.”

“Mr. Hansen, Sir,” the woman splutters. She looks like she saw a ghost, or worse, a monster wanting to eat her alive. “I told her that she doesn’t belong here.”

“Kiki, Kiki,” Hansen tuts while patting your ass. “I decide who belongs here.”

You don’t know what to do. Usually, you’d slap any guy trying to feel you up across the face or kick their balls. But this man could be your way out of your financial crisis. 

“Yes, of course, Mr. Hansen but just look at her,” she squeaks, and points at you. “I don’t think any of our clients want something like this to fulfill their…”

“ENOUGH!” Hansen slams his fist onto the receptionist's desk, making Kiki flinch. “We never talk about our clients nor our employees in front of people outside of our organization. You are dismissed.”

“What?” She stares at Hansen in disbelief. “For today or…”

“Forever,” he huffs and turns around. The man brushes his index finger and thumb over his mustache and grins like he saw something he’d love to devour. You are afraid it’s you.

“I have an appointment,” you clear your throat and try to ignore your heart hammers in your chest. This man looks more like a wolf, with sharp teeth and glowing eyes, than a man. 

“I know, sunshine,” he smirks and holds out his hand. “Please excuse my annoying assistant. She’s no longer working for me.”

You’d love to roll your eyes at the man in front of you. He’s one of the guys who believe you must immediately fall for his charm and non-existent manners. 

“If you’d like to follow me inside my office, sugar plum,” he wraps his arm around your shoulders, and snickers, "we can talk about your problems and how to solve them.”

“So…” He plops down on a leather couch. He pats the seat next to him, but you prefer standing in the room. “What brings you here, sunshine. How can Lloyd help you?”

“I found your website while searching for a way to keep my house,” you lick your lips. You hate that you must talk about your situation with this man. 

“Humor me,” he smirks and pats the seat again. “If you want me to help you, I want to know it all. From the beginning.”

He tilts his head and looks you up and down. “What do you want to know?” You huff and cross your arms over your chest. “I came here, even though your offer sounded fishy. I reached the end of the rope.” You throw your hands up, and sniffle.

“Now, now. No tears in Lloyd Hansen’s office,” he gets up to march toward you. Lloyd cups your face and tilts your head. “I need to know every detail, sunshine. If you are lying, I’ll send you home with a slap to your plump ass.”

“Fine,” you snap at him and push against his chest. “Quit pro quo, Mr. Hansen. After I told you everything about my situation, I want the truth about your offer.”

“Be my guest,” he smirks darkly. “I hope you don’t pee your pants getting to know the truth.”

“I came this far,” you sniff, “you don’t scare me, Mr. Hansen. You’re not the first man wanting me to fail.” 

“A cocky one, I see,” Lloyd says as he sits back down on the sofa. “Begin, then.”

“What do you want to know? That my deadbeat of a husband left me for some bitch he met at a bar?” You drop your bag onto his desk and take your jacket off. “Or that I must raise my three-year-old son without him because his dick was more important?”

You stride toward Lloyd and step between his legs. He looks up at you, amused as you cup your tits. “I will lose my house and my car. I don’t make enough money to keep the house. He stole the money I spared to give her a nice life.”

“I see,” he licks his lips. “I think you already got what I have to offer.” Lloyd tilts his head and smirks as you start to unbutton your blouse.

“You want me to fuck you, right? That’s all this is about,” you wrinkle your nose. “And I’ll get the money I need to keep my house.”

He grins now. “Sunshine, you didn’t get that this is about business. I’ll put you on my website and my clients can decide if they want to fuck you or not.”

“Oh…” You sigh deeply. “I guess this means there is no hope.” You turn around to grab your bag. “Sorry for wasting your time.”

“Sunshine, wait,” he’s on his feet before you can grab your jacket. “I didn’t say you can just leave. Don’t you want to end up getting fucked good by my clients?”

“Do you honestly believe I was waiting to get fucked by random douches,” you turn back around and slap Lloyd with your bag. “I came here to find help, not dick.”

His grin widens as you slap his chest, face, and shoulder with your bag. “Careful, sunshine. If you don’t watch out, you’ll end up making me rock hard.”

“You’re disgusting,” you wrinkle your nose and cock a brow. 

“Oh, mommy can get mad,” he purrs and roams your body with his eyes. “I bet you are a strict mommy, huh? Do you scold your baby boy?”

“No!” You snap at Lloyd. “Keep my son out of this!” You slap him with your bag again. “Never mention my kid again, you asshole!”

“I knew you were special, sunshine,” he chuckles and grabs your wrist to keep you from slapping him again. “A wildcat ready to scratch and bite me.”

“I’m a tiger mommy if you want to know,” you growl and snap your teeth at Lloyd when he tries to press his lips to yours. “I’ll do anything to protect my son.”

“Sunshine, you’ve got yourself a deal,” Lloyd drops his hands from your arms to grab your face again. This time he kisses you roughly. You bite his lower lip, but he doesn’t seem to mind. He greedily shoves his tongue inside your mouth, devouring your mouth. “I think you’ll make a grand-prime assistant slash sexy bunny for me…”

Part 2

[going-to-ikea-for-the-fries]

Don't cry. || Nikto

[MASTERLIST]

Rating: E Words: 3K~ (this one got away from me) Pairing: rogue asset!Nikto x civilian!Reader cw: DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT., bad/incorrect medical care, injuries (described), being held at gunpoint, verbal and physical threats, blood and gore. other tags: you/your pronouns. fat/chubby!reader, no russian. Summary: A stranger takes you hostage in your own home and demands medical care... But you might have gotten more than you can chew. a/n: YES, Nikto’s voice actor is only 5ft10 but he’s 6ft5 in my mind, and I’m in charge sooo.

It's cold as all fucking hell in your small town. No. Not as all hell. Because you're pretty sure hell is supposed to be boiling hot.

Why did your family have to come from this small town in bum-fuck-nowhere Russia? And more importantly why did you decide to move back here after college?

Oh, yeah. The house. The little home that your grandma lived in since she was a child, that was fully paid and required no rent, and had very low property taxes due to it being ancient… And was left to you in her will. 

Well, in days like these, you can't help but despise the stupid fucking house. 

The pipes are frozen, which means you've resorted to getting water from the local firehouse every morning, as do the rest of your neighbors. Plus, it's freezing even with multiple layers of clothes and socks and scarves on. You sleep in front of the fireplace all winter and still fear you'll be dead in the morning.

Every year it's the damn same.

Maybe going to study in Moscow and then doing your master's and doctorate abroad softened you up. But you didn't remember it being so fucking cold.

Having as much meat on your bones as you do, it really shouldn't be as difficult as it is to withstand the cold. Sometimes you wonder if all those damn studies about how fat helps preserve body heat didn't apply only when people had heat to preserve.

Those are the thoughts in your head as you throw your last log in the fireplace and realize you need to get more from the woodpile outside. "Mother fucker goddamn piece of shit..." You complained.

Throwing on a winter coat over your robe, you stuff your double-socked feet into your winter boots, cover your head with a beanie and wrap yourself in a scarf.

Then you venture outside with the flashlight from your junk drawer, to illuminate the way. The wind outside is biting and the snow is tall, causing you to almost trip over your own feet.

"Fuck... fuck... fuck... cold." You grumble under your breath.

Sticking the flashlight between your teeth, you grab a few logs of firewood and slip them vertically into a black milk crate at your feet, trying to hurry so you can go back inside.

As soon as the box is stacked as full as you can carry, you bend at the knees and hurl it up by the handles, gritting your teeth against the flashlight between your teeth.

That's when you feel something hard press against the back of your head... and you hear a muffled voice. "Don't scream. Don't look back. Just move." The command chills your spine more than the -17ºC weather outside.

Your eyes shoot wide open in a panic and you have to force yourself to resist trying to look back. Instead, you nod and wobble your way along to the backdoor while carrying the heavy crate of firewood.

Once you slip inside, you set the crate down in the kitchen floor and take the opportunity to look out of the corner of your eye at the the stranger that held you hostage. 

He slams the door shut behind you and deadbolts it shut, then he rushes to the window, ripping the curtains shut.

He's wearing a flight suit and military gear but it's all in a navy color that you don't recognize… Maybe the Navy? But what would a Navy soldier being doing here alone, in the middle of the woods in your land locked town? Plus, he's clearly armed, carrying a pistol in one hand. The other wraps around his midsection and he's leaving a trail of small blood droplets on your floor.

His face is covered by a mask that looks more like a bunch of denim patched together than anything, leaving only his eyes showing. It’s even bolted to itself to not be easily removable.

“Where?” He asks you, eyes and gun trained on you as you straighten up and show your hands in innocence.

“Where… Where what?” You ask in confusion. Your body trembles all over and you’re pretty sure that you’re going to piss your pants if he keeps staring at you like that and barking vague orders at you.

“WHERE?!” He insists, raising his voice in a growl that sounds more animal than human. “WHERE. ARE. WE?” He adds, his voice boiling with anger and condescension.

“P-Provrsk!” You shout the name of your town as you flinch away from his own raised voice. Your gaze is locked onto him, taking in his mask and the blue eyes that stare at you from behind them.

You’ve never had to worry about a masked intruder in your home, ever. This is a small town, this sort of thing doesn’t happen here. Especially not one that looks like he’s deserted from the FSB.

“DATE?” He shouts at you again, making you flinch once more as your whole body tenses and curls into itself in fear. 

“8th of February… Thursday.” You reply, your eyes beginning to well up in tears. “Please… don’t hurt me…”

You’ve never been the crybaby type, in fact, you’d say you’re pretty good at staying contained in your day-to-day life, even when life is beating you down… But something about a 2 meter tall man in your kitchen shouting at you while waving a pistol around terrifies you to your very core…

With a deep breath, he leans himself back against the kitchen counter and another animalistic growling escapes him as his left leg straightens and twitches under him, his knee likely weakened. He’s still clutching his side with his hand and more blood puddles at his feet, dripping between gloved fingers.

He looks like he’s immeasurable amounts of pain and considering he seems to have walked here with an injury that’s still bleeding, you can’t help but wonder if the adrenaline isn’t starting to wear off.

The sight of him is pitiful… And for a moment he’s not some terrifyingly “You need… a doctor?” You ask him, more in a tone of affirmation than of question. He needs a doctor and you know it.

“No doctor.” He replies sharply, showing he still has all his mental faculties in place… Somewhat.

“You’re hurt.” You remark softly. “Bleeding all over my floor.” You add. You’re trying your best not to shake and cry and you’re not quite sure you’re succeeding.

“No doctor.” He insists as he shifts his weight around on his legs and hisses. "Needle, thread and alcohol." He demands of you and you’re not stupid enough to disagree with the armed man.

“In the upper cabinet behind you… The metal tin.” You instruct while barely pointing your finger at the cabinet door on his left side for fear that any more sudden movements will cause him to take you as a threat.

He sets the gun very carefully on the edge of the counter so that his free hand can reach up and over, patting at the cabinet, throwing the door open and feeling around inside for the aforementioned metal tin.

He’s been smart enough to put your small kitchen table between you either way, preventing any sudden lunging activity from you.

He never once turns his back on you, not even his face. His eyes are still locked on you, sending shivers down your body, making sure you don’t try anything… Not that you’d be stupid enough to dare.

He finally grabs the repurposed butter cookie tin and sets it next to him on the counter before grabbing the pistol once more and aiming it at you. “Metal spoon.” He demands.

“Over there… second drawer from the left…” You point discreetly at the drawer by the stove. 

“Get one.” He demands again and so you do, hands raised, taking very tentative steps across the kitchen, your heavy snow boots thudding against the floor.

Carefully, you lower your hand and pull open the drawer. Before you can even try to grab a spoon, you hear him bark at you again. “Only a spoon. Don’t try to grab a knife.” He warns you. 

Nodding very slowly, you reach inside the drawer and retrieve a metal table spoon and show it to him. “Stove.” He orders you again.

“Heat it up?” You ask softly and he grunts in what you assume is confirmation as he nods curtly at you. “I need matches.” You point at the drawer again and very slowly fetch the box of matches before closing the drawer.

Turning very carefully toward the old stove, you turn one of the knobs and strike a match, lighting the burner before extinguishing the match. “Heat the handle.” He demands and you nod in understanding as you peek at him sheepishly.

Slowly, you grip the spoon by the bowl and hold the metal handle over the flame, moving it ever so slightly to ensure an even heating up of the tip, your eyes locked on the flame and the slowly reddening type of the metal spoon.

While your back is turned, you can hear some rustling and a heavy thud on the floor. You assume he’s getting rid of his heavy gear in order to patch himself up… “Hurry up.” He barks.

“I can’t speed up the fire.” You reply softly, too afraid to speak too loud. 

“Watch your tongue, or else I’ll cut it off.” He adds, his voice grunted through as you hear some more rustling. His threat was enough to send chills down your spine and sent you back into muteness. 

Another minute or so later, you can feel the heat spreading across the whole spoon and even the bowl is too hot to hold. “It’s ready.”

“Move, quick.” He demands and you turn to face him, finding him still in the same spot, across the kitchen, leaning against the wall. He’s shed his plate vest, and undone the zipper of his flight suit, removing the sleeves and leaving it to hang around his hip. That exposes his torso completely, per lack of any undershirts or other layers. You wonder how he hasn’t frozen out there in just a flight suit…

The sight of him is so shocking and… disgusting. You feel your stomach turning, the warm meal you had an hour ago threatening to come out the way it came. He’s covered in scars, his chest speckled in patches of red skin or pale, melaninless skin, something you can only assume are burn scars.

The right half of his torso is covered in dried blood, sporting a hapharzard, thick suture that you can only assume he did a few days ago considering how swollen and red the skin around it is… Infected.

And, of course, the pouring, wet, red blood that escapes from his left side… It looks like he took a gash on it… maybe a gunshot, maybe an explosion, who’s to say… But he’s definitely got a hole and he’s leaking like a faucet.

“MOVE!” He barks at you, causing you to jump, startled out of from your shock-induced trance and you quickly rush over. He grabs the spoon from you with more aggression than you expected and shoves you away with a swift elbow to your side, to force you away from him. You fall on your ass, grunting softly upon landing. 

When you were younger, kids used to joke that all your fat would serve as an airbag in the case of a car crash, but the truth is, as you landed on the floor, you ass and legs hurt… As did you side from the elbow you took to it.

Your eyes well up in tears at the soreness on your body, as well as the sound that escapes him and reverberates through your kitchen as he sticks the red-hot spoon handle onto his open wound, gritting his teeth behind his mask as he cauterizes the wound shut. The sound is terrifying, like a gurgle mixed with a shout and an animalistic growl. (find the scream inspo here) 

You don’t want to look. But he’s doing this inches away from your face. You can’t help but watch in horror.

HIs legs shake underneath him and he struggles to keep himself upright but succeeds by landing his elbow and forearm on the edge of the counter. The hand that’s holding the pistol, the left one, flexes around the handle, fingers trembling with the pain. He struggles to stay on his feet as his right hand keeps softly twisting the spoon handle in his wound before pulling it out.

He grunts as he lets the bloody spoon fall on the floor at his feet and his head falls back with a couple more grunts and huffs, resting on the upper cabinets, his right hand clutching the wound again for a moment. You’re sobbing on the floor. Something about the sight you just got broke your resolve for a moment. You’re afraid… Very much so.

Just as you’re trying to calm yourself down, crawling backward over to the table to use a table as support to stand up from the floor, the sewing supplies tin crashes onto the floor at your feet with a ruckus so loud you can’t help but squeal.

Looking up at him, you notice him glaring at you. “Suture.” He demands angrily.

“I-” You attempt to speak but you can’t. Too afraid and too choked up to succeed in more than a light stammer.

“SUTURE!” He repeats his demand, his voice loud and sending chills to the innermost part of you as he leans forward a bit to look at you.

“STOP YELLING AT ME!” You shout in return through whimpers and whines.

“Stop crying. You have no reason to cry yet.” He warns you, his voice bitter and mean.

Your whole body quakes as you sob and scramble up on all fours, to grab the tin of sewing supplies from the floor.  You pop it open with shaky hands and rummage inside, searching for your pink pin cushion and, upon finding it, you plucked out a needle.

“You’re scaring me…” You were able to get out through trembling lips as you grab a spool of black thread.

“We will do much worse than scare you if you don’t start moving faster.” He tells you. “Do not test my capacity for violence.” He adds. “Now move.”

Slowly, you crawl over to him and kneel between his parted legs. You’re so close, you can smell him… And he smells gross… He reeks of sweat and piss, which mixes with the metallic scent of his blood, and gunpowder that lingers on his flightsuit which he now wears as pants only.

Your trembling form makes you struggle to thread the needle but after a few attempts, you succeed and unfurl much more thread than you’d realistically need. While you do so, his pistol changes grips and his right hand holds it aimed right at your head.

Slowly, you push the needle through his skin, grimacing at the wet noise it makes as you drag it through and you hold back a gag and a sob as you try your best to suture him shut. 

You don’t know much about medicine… But you’re pretty sure you’re supposed to do a ladder stitch so you can pull the thread taut at the end and ensure the injury closes… So that’s what you start doing, trying your best to not tremble all the way through it.

He’s holding himself surprisingly calmly through it as you stab his skin/wound multiple times… You risk looking up at him, your eyes still teary, your lips trembling, your face red from holding back tears and a gag. 

All you find is a pair of soulless blue eyes staring down at you through the two holes of that mask. They seem as cold and unforgiving as the snow outside… They’re bloodshot and the pupils are dilated. And he seems to be looking at you with a predatory gaze that makes you feel small and insignificant.

"Who are you...?" You ask tentatively, surprising yourself at how small your voice sounded, how meek.

"Nobody." He reply  as he leaned the pistol against your temple. “Finish.” He demands. 

Gulping and nodding, you finish the stitching and pull it taut, which earns you a hiss from him. You tie off the thread and snip it off with a pair of little scissors from the sewing supply box.

Just as you’re about to pull away from him, the needle between your pointer and middle fingers and your hands raised in an act of peace, he pistol whips you across the temple.

You squeal in pain, and throw your hands on the floor to support yourself from fully falling on your side, losing the needle somewhere in the tile floor of the kitchen. Your eyes are cloudy with tears again as you whimper in pain, unaware of what caused that violence. 

Is he going to kill you? Steal from you? Make you prisoner in your own home?

“Don’t move.” He demands. “It’s not finished.” He warns you as you struggle to get back on your sore knees.

You watch in horror as he shifts position, to no longer be kneeling on his elbow on the counter, and instead straightens up. His right hand continues pointing the gun at you and, very slowly, the left inches his flight suit down some more.

Slowly, you’re exposed to the sight a large gash across his left thigh, that draws down diagonally to his left knee which is swollen red and bruised…

As well as an obvious lack of underwear and a semi-hardened cock laying against his right thigh, the hilt surrounded by bushy blonde pubes. Your eyes double in size and you have to once again contain yourself from gagging and crying in disgust.

“Get back to work.” He demands as he points at the wounds on his leg. “And don't you dare cry." He adds. "Or else I'll give you other reasons to cry about.” He warns as his hand glides over his cock.

This is fully inspired by the beautiful work written by @391780, gotta love all the nikto ficlets and all the fat!reader stuff! Also wrote this a bit as a request by @ms-rayray who asked me for fat!reader stuff, and also a shoutout to @xxshadowbabexx and her eternal love for nikto.

[ramp-it-up]

Greater

Pairing: Pilot!Steve Rogers x Publicist! Reader

Word count:~3K

Summary: You let Steve know how you felt about him leaving you hanging.

This is part two to Great.

Warnings: 18+ ONLY Minors, DNI. Enemies to Lovers, and there was only one bed, angst, secrets, sexual frustration,allusion to dildos, Captain/Sir kink, praise/degradation kink, tight t-shirt and grey sweats on Steve, dirty talk, graphic sloppy oral, make receiving, face slapping. Not Beta’d. All errors are on me.

Notice: I no longer operate a taglist. Follow @rampitupandread to be notified when I post.

DO NOT COPY, REPOST, OR TRANSLATE MY WORK.

———-

Steve knew he should have avoided you when he came through the hotel lobby after his run to go back up to the room, but you eating breakfast solo on the terrace made him feel some kind of way. He watched as you gazed out over the Gulf of Genoa, feeling like a heel for leaving you in bed alone, but if he had stayed, you two would still be there.

Having you the way he did last night did not help his heart problem right now. You were taking up too much space in it, and he was afraid that the feeling wasn’t reciprocated. It couldn’t be. It was too soon for you. He’d fallen for you the moment he first saw you, and you didn’t even know when that was.

Your sister Aria, as clueless as she was, told your story: you hadn’t been with a man in a long time. Last night was just dumb luck for Steve, and physical need for you.

Being forced to stay in a space with such close quarters presented him the opportunity to get close to you, but it was disconcerting. He didn’t expect to be able to touch and kiss your most intimate places last night, but giving you pleasure was everything he’d dreamed of and more.

After putting you right to sleep, Steve felt a sense of accomplishment. But as he held you, he felt like a fraud, and soon escaped to go for a run on the beach to clear his head and calm his body.

Steve wanted nothing more than to give you more of the physical, which you clearly wanted. But what you needed was the truth. What he needed was your heart.

He looked down at his watch when he got a notification that Bucky had texted and planned to escape to the room, but when he looked back up, he was caught.

——

After you awoke in bed alone, you got out of bed and showered, frustrated. And why wouldn't you be?

Steve gave you the best head of your life last night, didn’t let you return the favor, and then ghosted you. You looked in the mirror and tried to figure out if your pussy was broken or something.

At least Jake appreciated it.

You nodded as you tried to convince yourself that a hunk of latex was sentient.

Aria texted you that she and Topher were staying in their suite today, and to reschedule the yacht ride. Your troubles were forgotten as you once again tried to move heaven and earth for your darling little superstar sister.

Aria’s change of plans, despite being a pain in the ass, was a definite plus. You could spend the day exploring this beautiful town on your own.

You sat on the terrace solo, after trying in vain to obtain another room in the sold out resort. You were torn between pettiness and being a simp for Steve Rogers. The sound of the ocean sent your mind drifting back to the night before, how good Steve’s hands and mouth felt on you. You shivered, and you felt the hair raise on the back of your neck.

You looked around, and finally, behind you, to catch Steve’s eyes, as blue as the Gulf, watching you. You gulped, and before you could stop yourself, waved him over. You saw him blanch, hesitate, but come over. You frowned.

He clearly couldn’t stand you, but you were going to set the record straight.

You weren't going to spend this whole week on pins and needles with him.

No way.

—--

Steve approached you hesitantly, squaring his shoulders to combat his nerves. He stood before you in military posture, hands behind his back. When you looked him up and down and raised your eyebrow, almost ready for anything, he couldn’t help the smile that began to form on his face.

You were trouble.

You watched Steve approach and your stomach did a somersault. Damn, he was fine. The sweat at the collar of his t-shirt, which was hanging on to his torso for dear life, was some kind of powerful magic. Your panties were about as damp. And when he stopped in front of you, perfect posture, cock so close, well, it took serious willpower to not get down on your knees in front of all these people.

You looked up at his sexy smirk. Damn him. You needed to know what was up.

“Morning, y/n. Did you sleep well?”

You crossed your legs, making his eyes follow the motion, and it was then that he gulped, fantasizing about reaching down and grabbing you up to take you back to bed.

“I slept very well, Steve, but did not wake up that way? Please, sit down. We need to talk.”

The words tumbled out before you had a chance to think, and you frowned.

Steve watched your face as he took a seat. You were not happy. And it was never a good thing when someone said that phrase. He had a feeling he knew exactly the way this conversation was going to go.

“I know what you are going to say, last night was a mistake. And I agree with you.”

“Oh?”

You exhaled as you sat back in your seat. That is not what you were going to say at all, but you were glad that Steve was coming out with what he really felt.

“We were caught up in the moment, jet lag, emotional…and I… I took advantage of that. I’m sorry.”

Steve looked up at the waiter who’d appeared and ordered water. You sipped your mimosa as you watched him, the red creeping up from his neck to his face, his cheeks flushed.

He was being genuine.

And sweet.

Being in the entertainment industry as long as you had, you learned to read people quickly.

“Taking advantage of me would entail making me suck your cock like I wanted to, Captain Rogers. Not you eating me out like a pro. I feel like I took advantage of you?”

Steve’s eyes got wide as he gulped down his water. He coughed.

You watched that tongue dart out and lick those ruby red lips after he caught his breath. Whew, that side smile. You began to take this as a challenge. Steve’s words didn’t match his actions right now, and you were determined to find out why.

His deep voice gave you a clue.

“‘D’you like that?���

The way Steve was looking at you right now was everything. You smiled and leaned forward, noticing how his eyes went to your cleavage. The way his pupils were blown told you more.

You were beginning to change your mind about how Steve Rogers felt about you. He at least wanted your body. You had power.

“Yes, Captain.”

Steve almost moaned. The way you looked, your sultry tone, the fact that you said ‘making you suck his cock.’ He cleared his throat as your words raced around his brain. ‘…like you wanted to…, Captain…’

Fuck, he was screwed.

He straightened up.

“I mean… that wasn’t cool…”

You straightened up as well, jutting your breasts out as if an invitation. Steve shifted in his seat. You were making things hard for him.

“No. No it wasn’t…”

You pouted, thinking of the way he left you hanging.

“Fix that face, y/n.”

Holy hell. That command. He did want you to hit the ground right there. But you had to push back.

“Hmmmm. I guess I’m supposed to say, ‘Yes, Sir,’ Or you’ll spank me like you promised…”

You smiled at him mischievously.

You were such a brat. You had to be stopped. Before he lost control again.

“I didn’t promise that, y/n…”

Steve’s voice was broken and he licked his lips before taking another drink of water.

“Oh? I thought you said that?”

You twirled your finger around the rim of your glass and then dipped two into your drink, placing them into your mouth and slowly pulling them out of those lips. Steve licked his in response

Steve knew what you were doing, but it was long past time to turn back now. Blood was rapidly leading his brain. He grunted unconsciously, determined to stay in control.

“I’m not doing this with you. I need to take a shower.”

Steve got up and stalked toward the elevators, and you sat, steaming, in your seat. You were shaking with emotion. You realized the true source of your frustration. You wanted Steve, you were sharing a room, and you were in a beautiful setting. You didn’t have to be a love match, but why not go for it?

You called the waiter over and asked him to charge your breakfast to the account.

~~~~~~~

As soon as the elevator doors closed, Steve wanted to pry them open to run back out to you. But space was the best answer right now. You were amping him up to do something reckless, something that would be irreversible. It was best that he kept his distance.

He entered the room and took off his shirt, going to the bathroom to turn on the water. He shook his head as he thought of you. You were such a menace.

When he turned around, there you were.

The look on Steve’s face was a little scary. You didn’t know if he was angry… or something else.

“....I need to get my…” Your eyes searched the bathroom. “...my lipgloss…”

You walked closer to him then turned toward the vanity and picked up a tube of your Glossbomb, leaning over toward the mirror, smearing a slick shiny across those lips.

Steve’s resolve began to crumble as he inhaled your scent and watched your lips shine. Your words came back to him. He wanted that mouth of yours.

You turned around.

“You didn’t answer my question, Captain.”

“What question was that, Doll?”

Steve moved closer to you, backing you up against the vanity. Your heart beat faster, but you pressed on.

“About the spanking…”

You felt dumb, but in a good way as Steve stared at you, seeing right through you. And then he smirked. He looked you up and down as he leaned forward and caged you in, hands on either side of you on the sink. Steam filled the room and came out of your ears.

“What I said was that I wanted to spank you when you were giving me attitude on the plane. Seems that was warranted. You don’t know when to stop.”

Steve’s voice broke as his breath fanned across your face. His mouth was so, so close to yours.

You sighed, and pouted again.

“I never stop, Captain. So does that make me a bad girl? I thought I was a good girl? It’s what you said last night.”

“I said that was a mistake.”

“What happened last night was a mistake, or saying that I’m a good girl?”

You were quick to reply as you cocked your head at him.

“Y’know, I wasn’t going to say that it was a mistake earlier. You put words in my mouth. That’s not what I want there…”

Steve slid his hand up your arm to your throat, and closed his fingers around it. It was nothing, almost, but enough to show you his power. You whimpered in his grip.

“You are maddening, you know that? You should leave well enough alone…”

You looked him in the eyes. You felt his hard cock against your stomach, even felt it jump as he searched your face and settled on your lips. You decided to try it.

“Let me go, and I’ll leave it alone… Don’t, and well, you can teach me how to be good again…”

Steve’s mind said to let you go, but it was his cock and his heart that made him do what he did next.

He whispered as he moved toward you, brushing the line of your jaw with his fingers. Your head was reeling from the sexy tone as you realized that he’d said, “Teach you a lesson…”

His lips slammed into yours, and his hands roamed your body, laying claim to what he wanted. You moaned as his tongue decimated you, letting him take what he wanted. When you separated, he asked you a question.

“What do you want in your mouth, y/n?”

“I want your cock in my mouth, Captain.”

“That sounds… “

Steve rested his forehead against yours. Your words gave him the image, and he couldn't resist. He cleared his throat again, then his blue eyes captured yours. Steel.

“Go sit on the edge of the bed…”

“Yes, Sir.”

The way he clenched his jaw had your pussy doing the same as you practically skipped to the next room and did as you were told. He was standing right in front of you again, running his palm down his hardness outside of his sweats. Your heart beat with anticipation.

You whined when he reached inside his sweats and pulled it out. It looked so big, so hard, the peach mushroom tip weeping and pretty, but big. You looked up at him with wide eyes.

The way you suddenly looked scared made Steve get even harder.

“You sure this is what you want?”

He was stroking his cock, and using his thumb to lubricate himself. He was restraining himself from touching you, but you didn’t know that, all that you saw was the sexy veins bulging down his arms as he jacked it in front of you.

“Y-yes…”

You reached for it and Steve moved closer, moaning when your small, cool hand closed around his hot throbbing staff. When you started pumping him was when his head started swimming.

“God, Doll…”

Your mouth fell open, those glossy lips a magnet for his cock. He didn’t know if you were leaning towards him, or if he were moving closer to you, but none of that mattered when your lips and tongue made contact.

He hissed at the sensation.

“SSsssss, y/n,”

He looked down at you as you stared up at him. You were entranced, his smell of musk and sweat was intoxicating.

“Those eyes. That mouth. Open. Wider.”

He had a grip on your chin, firmly pulling your jaw down to accommodate him.

As you kept eye contact, you saw a ferality that made you shiver. You wanted that look on you forever. You tried to unhinge your jaw as Steve slid his smooth cock inside your mouth.

He stopped once your mouth was full, but you continued, allowing his access to your throat.

“Ohhhhh. So goood...”

Steve pulled out of your mouth and stuck two fingers in, watching as you licked and sucked them, pumping his wet cock with your hand.

“That mouth. You’re not giving me any sass now, are you?”

He held your chin again and looked you in the eye, lighty slapping your jaw.

You gasped, then smiled and shook your head as you eagerly sucked along the side of his dick.

“No, Sir,” you replied, your mouth full of Steve.

You stuck your tongue out and deep throated him bobbing slowly as you pumped him with your hand.

“Go ahead. Get sloppy with it.”

You spit on his dick as you went to town, going faster when Steve gathered your hair in his hand and moved you at his preferred pace.

“Look at me when you do that.”

Your eyes snapped to his, thighs clenching at his tone.

“Look at you. Are you a slut for this cock already?”

You pulled off with a plop to spit again.

“Yes, Captain.”

And you started glugging him, moving your hand and making Steve’s knees weak.

“Holy Fuck, that’s good. Yessss.”

You smiled at the praise and started jacking him against your outstretched tongue.

“Yes, yes, yessss. Suck the tip again. That fucking mouth.”

You did as you were told, taking him inside and jacking what didn’t fit.

Steve started moaning and pulled your hair so that you looked up at him.

“Stop if you don’t want my cum in your mouth.”

You jacked him even faster.

“I want it, Captain..”

You slapped his cock against your lips and then resumed sucking as Steve grunted and buried his fingers in your hair.

“So… fucking… good… good girl…fuckkk! I’m cumming. Dirty girl. That mouth is so damn good.”

Steve was full of contradictory praise as he held his balls and you jacked his cock fast, allowing your mouth to make the most pornographic sounds around him.

“Oh! Oh shit ohshit oooooh oooohh shitttttt!”

You slowed down when you felt the first spurt against your tongue and you let it fall out of your mouth. Steve was hypnotized as he took his cock and pumped it into your mouth as you swallowed.

“What a dirty little girl. Good girl gone bad. You love this, don’t you?”

You nodded as you swallowed, your eyes tearing as the cum squirted into your throat.

“Fuuuuuucckkkk.”

Steve was profane as he watched you swallow it all and clean him up.

“That was amazing, Doll. Thank you.”

He reached down and traced your swollen lips with his thumb. He knew what you wanted, what you needed next. But there was really no turning back from that.

“I think we’re even now. I’m going to go take that shower.”

Steve turned and went back into the bathroom, leaving you to wonder which was greater, your need or your pride.

———

Reblog if you enjoyed!

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[jeannineee]

Lessons

Cassian x Reader

a/n: y’all voted for Cassie’s miniseries first, so here it is :). This one isn’t angsty like Az’s so I hope y’all still like it.

This has grumpy x sunshine vibes but I’m rolling w it.

Summary: Reader has been friends w/ Cassian and IC for decades. Reader and Cassian flirt often, but it never goes beyond that…right?

Despite reader’s flirty behavior, reader has never been with anyone before. What happens when reader bites off more than she can chew?

PART TWO

warnings: none really, descriptions of smut in a book (18+ please)

“You’re brooding again,” Cassian said from where he sat in the living room, a war strategy book in hand.

“How would you know? You’re not even looking at me,” you replied, annoyed as you searched the bookshelf for a novel that might interest you.

“I don’t need to.” Cassian placed his book aside, grinning at you. “You radiate anger.”

You ignored him as you swiped a book from the shelf—romance, per usual.

Cassian stretched his arms along the back of the couch, studying you. “It’s concerning, honestly.”

You quirked a brow as you sat in the chair across from him. “What?”

“The amount of anger you have in that little body.”

You rolled your eyes, cracking open the novel as you leaned back. “I’m not little.”

“Everyone’s little, compared to me.”

“Congratulations,” you muttered, attempting to maintain your focus on the book.

It was almost impossible, given the way Cassian kept his eyes glued onto you. You hated the way your body heated under his gaze.

He’s been my friend for decades, you reminded yourself. No need to fuck that up.

“Is there any particular reason as to why you’re staring at me?” You asked, feigning disinterest.

“Is there any particular reason as to why you’re pretending to read that book?” Cassian countered, that shit-eating grin still plastered to his face.

You met his eyes. “It’s hard to concentrate when you’re staring at me.”

His grin somehow widened. “Are you saying my handsomeness is distracting?”

You gave him a sweet smile. “Don’t flatter yourself. I’m saying you’re annoying.”

“Annoyingly handsome.”

You chose to ignore him, returning your focus to your book.

Before you could react, Cassian was across the room, snatching the book from your hands. “What’s this…”

You glared, rising from your seat. “Give that back.”

Cassian merely held the book out of your reach—which wasn’t hard, given his height—and began reading lines from the book. “His strong hands gripped her thighs—“

Your cheeks blazed with embarrassment. “Cassian.”

“—and held them apart as he devoured her.” Cassian arched a brow at you, something like mischief shining in his eyes as he flipped to another part of the book.

“He thrust into her at a steady pace, relishing in the feeling of her walls—“

You pinched the bridge of your nose. “Please stop.”

Cassian grinned shamelessly. “Oh, I’m only getting started, sweetheart.”

“You’re not funny.”

Cassian ignored your comment, silently reading a few more pages of the book, before closing it and tossing it onto the couch. “This is what you’ve resorted to? Smutty books, instead of the real thing?”

You crossed your arms, indignant. “Whether or not I’m getting the…real thing is none of your business.”

Cassian shrugged. “Maybe not, but—” he halted, eyes widening suddenly. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you bring a male home.”

He was right. But you weren’t going to admit that.

“And when was the last time you had a female warming your bed?”

Cassian gave you a once-over. “I can have one right now, if you’d like.”

“Ha-ha.”

“I wasn’t joking.”

You swallowed thickly, your face heating. You and Cassian often joked like this. But his expression showed he was serious.

Cassian chuckled, smugness lacing his words. “I don’t think you could handle it, actually.”

“Would you like me to prove you wrong?”

Perhaps it was your stubbornness, or your need to always win, but the question came flying out of your mouth before you had a chance to consider it.

Cassian hummed with amusement as he took a step forward, now close enough that you could feel his body heat radiating from him, could feel his breath brushing your face.

Despite your nervousness, you didn’t back down. Instead, you held his gaze, tipping your chin up in defiance.

“You really think you can handle it?” Cassian questioned, voice low and husky.

“I’ve always been rather determined.”

Cassian flashed his teeth. “I promise I’ll be gentle.”

“What if I don’t want you to be gentle?”

You swore his pupils dilated at that.

Cassian leaned in, his lips barely brushing yours—

“Y/n?” Mor called suddenly from the kitchen, startling the two of you from your previous positions. “Where the hell is the coffee?”

You cleared your throat. “I should—“

Cassian nodded. “Yeah. I’ll find you later.”

You eyed him curiously. “And what exactly will we be doing, later?”

“Whatever I want to do with you.”

Heat pooled between your legs. Cassian left without another word, and as you headed off into the kitchen to help a distressed Mor, you knew you were in over your head.

[lightfeltmemories]

chilchuck tims: nsfw alphabet

note: we need more content on this guy, he's so damn fine and i'm not afraid to admit it lmao, i have plans on doing the other characters one of these days, i'm mad nervous of mischaracterizing him so apologies if something seems.... off. there is also a fem afab reader in mind but i'll try my best to appeal to anyone, we chilchuck fans gotta stick together lmaooo.

tw: none.

minors, ageless, and blank blogs will be blocked if seen liking, reblogging, or commenting on this post.

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

when the two of you first did it, he.. wasn't very good at the concept, at first he would either get up to be by himself for a while or just... not do anything really, but over the years of the two of you being together he started to slowly get better, it started off small such as cuddling with you and watching you fall asleep, then it started with small conversations whilst bathing.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

on him, he likes his hands, the way the grab onto you as he fucks you, but on you, your hips and waist.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

something tells me his cum has some salty undertones, or it tastes like nothing, he also doesn't cum much either, if he were to cum on your stomach..... would it even reach your bellybutton? yes probably.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

a moment ago, laois had asked him if he had ever thought about having a threesome, and of course he said no because that's kind of weird... is it? the concept of it all is eating away at him and one of these days, it wouldn't hurt to try it at least once.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

this guy (canonically) has three kids, three daughters, and a previous wife, of course this guy has experience, but outside of the concept of procreation.. that's kind of where things steer left, realistically back in the day, people only really had sex due to procreation, and theres a high chance in hell that he never knew women could orgasam until he met you, and that's when he started to gain more experience in pleasing his partner.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

he usually prefers positions that gives him a good view of your face, he thinks it's beautiful the way your face scrunches up when he enters you, and when the two of you look at one another when he pounds away at you, but other positions are fine as well.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

a serious man he is, it ruins the intimate atmosphere if someone's cracking jokes, but he isn't above lighting up the mood if it ever calls for it.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

he has hair down there, not the bushiest but it's not the neatest, either, i don't think he cares much for grooming himself down there. as long as it doesn't smell bad then who cares?

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

just like aftercare, at first it kind of felt like a hookup, like it was just... sex, really, but further into the relationship, he started to take his time more, asking what you liked, willing to continue to make sure you cum as well.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

he has done it before as a last resort, but he doesn't do it as often especially after he got with you, it's not even necessary now.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

he doesn't have many kinks, but he finds it kind of hot when you sit on his face, especially if you're a chubby one with some curves, when the two of you are alone you'll see his hands caress your body... yeah i feel like he definitely has a thing for curves lmao.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

it has to be in a place where the party (or anyone for that matter) cannot hear or see the two of you, your place is definitely his favorite.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

nine times out of ten, you being half naked such as coming back from bathing, or wearing something that shows a bit of cleavage or skin tight can get him up a little, also, i imagine him having a thing for some slight brattiness, do with that what you will.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

obviously anything with bodily fluids, but that's too obvious, isn't it? for one he's not too keen on degradation, he doesn't get the premise of.. insulting his partner during intercourse, i also feel like he cringes at the thought of pet names such as "baby" anything similar, especially during sex.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

definitely a giver, at first he wasn't really good since outside of pure procreation he didn't know what to do much, but after learning what you liked, he started to get better and better, he also loves when you go down on him, too.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

not very fast, but also not very slow, right in the middle, enough to hear some slaps, enough for the bed to shake a little, but when he's close to cumming, he goes faster.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

quickies are rare, he doesn't think about them often, you've only done like 2 quickies with him, honestly.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

it would kill him if he ever got caught by the party, especially laois.. the endless teasing would be unbearable.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

he surprisingly has some good stamina, especially for someone who doesn't fight...... often... he can go for a while, not really a "night till dawn" type though.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

you two don't own toys at the moment, unless you ask..? he might be up for it.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

he don't look it, but this man can tease, right when you're about to cum, he'll pull away just to see you whine, of course he won't leave you hanging for long.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

quiet.. but not silent, his moans are cute, especially when you tease him, and when he's about to cum you can hear him slightly grow louder, don't tease him for it though he'll be embarrassed.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

as much as he doesn't like getting caught, he has definitely wanted you to suck him off while the party was sleeping, he won't ask for it though because it's too risky, but the though of it makes him rock solid.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

he's average length for someone of his species, he may not have the biggest dick but he knows what to do with it, i give his size about 5 or so inches when hard.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

pretty low, sex isn't the most important factor of his relationship, but it isn't a once every blue moon type of thing though.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

it depends, sometimes he falls asleep right away, sometimes he stays up a little, you might even be the one to fall asleep first.

[sanjisblackasswife]

“𝕃𝕖𝕒𝕣𝕟𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕒 ℕ𝕖𝕨 ℙ𝕠𝕤𝕚𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟”

𝕃𝕦𝕗𝕗𝕪 𝕩 𝔹𝕝𝕜!𝔽𝕖𝕞 ℝ𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕖𝕣

Happy Birthday Capm’n🤸🏽‍♀️

Bad Summary: Ex virgin Luffy wants to try something new in bed since you both first had sex.

CW: Luffy Discovering His New Kink, Average smut, Face Sitting, 69, Luffy is overwhelmed/excited at the same time, This is kinda a continuation of the Virgin Luffy fic I did

“These Two!”

Seeing Luffy’s fingers tap on the position, he was very enthusiastic to show you what he has been itching to try since last week.

“You want me to sit on your face, and then —“

You turn your head to the blank area by your bedroom door and back to Luffy, who—if he had a tail you could see it wag as he sat crisscross in front of you on your bed with a big smile on his face exposing not only his gums, but his pretty dimples as well.

“How about we do just this one first for today—“

“Ooooh Y/NNNNNN!” Luffy teased about to snicker at you, “You wanna sit on my face tooooo!”

“Shut upppp!” You huffed which resorted to the goofy captain to pat your head. “Just don’t let me fall.”

“You won’t fall don’t worry!” Luffy was giggling as he tugged at your dress to then lift it exposing your pretty lacy panties. “Would u care if i ripped these off?”

“Wh—YES I WOULD CARE.”

“Hehehe.” He snickered, his lightly bruised fingers loop down to pull your panties, he stopped them at the mid section of your thigh, already aching to feel you down there again he swirls his index and middle finger around your slit.

You jump at his cold touch, his eyes dart up at you, a grin appears on his face before he says, “Remember how good this felt?”

“Mmhm…” You hum, legs spreading as far as they could with the restriction of your panties for him to aim at your pretty little clit. Luffy gets the message and pulls them down, tossing them to pull your legs further apart. “Like…that, Luffy just like that..”

“Mkay!” He beams, circling his pads over your the place you needed him most, he was still not so coordinated on his pace, but it was good. He had a way of using his lack of experience and curiosity to wow you.

As Luffy plays between your legs he looks up at you, and his cock twitches. It felt good, but a shock as he palms his dick with his opposite hand, seeing your head lolled back, panting as you’re so close to cumming already. He leans in to kiss you, you moan into his mouth immediately.

His lips were still on top of yours for a second. Just until he reached his now free hand to push your head closer to his, Luffy’s tongue bombards inside your mouth. He tasted sweet like chocolate, similar to the snack Sanji made earlier.

Luffy was addicted to your taste, you were…in his words “Good.” you tasted good, you felt good, you were completely good to him.

As he kissed you slowly, almost like he wanted to eat/taste your entire mouth while drool fell down the corners of your lips you felt close. That same orgasm you felt weeks ago was rushing back so you buck into o his hands.

“Mmmmhmm—M’ganna cum….”

Luffy softly gasped at your whines against him, You sounded so attractive he picked up the pace, curling his fingers inside you and thumbing your clit, it wasnt too long until you made a mess of his hands.

Your captain pulled away, playing with the sticky fluid on his fingers while u calmed down, squirming under his hovering body moaning, “S’good, Lu..s’good!”

Luffy, looking at you hesitantly he sucks on his fingers, admiring the new taste.

It was crazy how much he turned you on just now doing that.

“C’mon.” Luffy laid on his back. “Sit.”

The small sample of your made him want more,nif he wasn’t sure about anything else in the world he was sure he needed you to —

“Sit on my face.”

His voice was lower, slightly more serious than usual, you nod, not wanting to argue back, roll onto straddle his chest, his strong arms push you up his face, your warmth to his face already making him giggle.

His wide fat tongue lays flat as you lower yourself on him. You were quiet nervous, and Luffy noticed. He stretched his arms to guide your hands to grab onto the headboard them placed his hand back on the fat of your hips.

Your couldnt see anything but his eyes as he carefully rocked you back and fourth on his mouth. He did the same stretching technique with his tongue, you jumped! “O-oh Luffy!~”

This was all so new to you, from the postion to the feeling, riding on-top of him like this, he was strong and you belied it from the way he grabbed your breast to squeeze then to your hands again to hold as you rocked your hips

Luffy was on cloud 9, the way your thighs squeezed him in, the way your clit felt on his tongue, he loved it all.

Mentally praising himself he watched you as your hips rocked back and fourth. His cock was painfully neglected he had to start touching it at the same pace he was lapping you up.

“Mmm! G-good boy s’ good!”

Luffy’s cock twitched, hearing your praise made him automatically groan a little, it sounded so pretty rolling off your tongue, he began suckling the sensitive bud just to hear you cry out more,

“Say it again.. say it again!” Luffy thought looking up at you, squeezing your hand firmly to hear you say

“Y-yes Luffy—good boy—fuck!”

He didn’t know what it was you calling him that but he loved it.

His moans vibrated inside you, you look back for a moment to see his shaky hands stroke himself and immediately you got an idea;

“L-ah~ Luffy…”

“Hmmm….” He hummed, eyes rolling back at the taste of your pussy and trying to focus on cumming with you.

“Lemme help..”

You rise up a little to turn and move his hand, it weakly fell to his side as you gave his cock a long lick before kissing the tip.

“Hahah…” He weakly chuckled but broke into a strained moan, “‘felt good…lick me more…and I’ll lick you too, okay?”

“Okay~” you breathed out feeling him already going back in to taste you, the wet noises from his mouth in between your lower lips, drove you insane.

It took a moment but finally you both started pleasing each other at the same pace. You still sm didn’t have a great gag reflex and everytime Luffy got too excited to your touch he’d accidentally stretch his cock further inside your mouth.

You started to move your hips against his lips, feeling his skinny hands rub and hold your ass apart while he does long licks. The sensation was almost embarrassing but it just aroused you more to moan around his tip as you took him all in the best that you could.

“M…’mmnn…Y/N..” His voice rasped and soft, “M’ ganna cum!…can you cum with me? …please?”

You knew he’d want to and luckily you wasn’t too far behind.

“C—-ah-! Yes Luffy yes yes yes!”

You both were in a complete trance of each others taste and tongue y’all completely forgot that there were others on the ship, absolutely hearing you both.

You guys didn’t care, the bed began to rock against the wall feeling each other get closer to the point Luffy took it upon himself to press your pussy down further to tongue fuck you and buck into your mouth.

The noises were so slutty. The future king of the pirates moaning and whining under you, coating your mouth with cum causing his left thigh to twitch.

Calming down, he turned you to face him on his chest, both of your mouth wet and sticky, pausing to look at each other tired gaze, combined with the smells of each other that unfortunately turned you on more; smelling your pussy on Luffy’s breath.

“‘M tired…thank you, y/n…” Was the last thing you heard until snores erupted from the boy, giggling you reach over to throw a blanket over you both, his chest was comfortable.

You threw Luffy’s his arms around you, hopefully he didn’t mind holding you just for a moment, and he didn’t when you felt him pull you in closer, snuggling you into his neck.

You and him both knew this wasn’t going to be the last of these moments.

[ratcate]

I'm here to admit that I may have developed a hyper fixation on your OCs (especially on Zerion and Sir. Valentine) so can you perhaps tell us more about them? (And other OCS)

oh hey!! great selection of characters. Makes me really happy you wanting to know more about them! I love them a lot, but Sir Valentine more, as Zerion's personality and setting is pretty nebulous still. info about them both under read more!

Zerion is some sort of cartoony super villain, heavily inspired in the night of the bald mountain monster interpretation from Fantasia(disney)

(art from 2020)

I think he's a very strong dark mage or something. Right now I have him reduced to a joke. A cartoony villain living his slice of life, but always awaiting action, the smallest spark chaos, to join in, in a world where nothing ever happens. He has his sidekick, Vampina (I think that was her name). A vampire chick who lives in the moment and is Zerion's servant, as long as he provides him with some blood every now and then

(2023)

(2021)

she almost never pulls off that relaxed smile from her face, her brain usually has no thoughts more than "can i eath this?" "I can eat this" Both of them are pretty evil. I remember once i tried to sketch out a first chapter, where they had a visit of income tax department agents, coming to remind Zerion he hadn't paid his taxes, and both Zerion and Vampina made a whole intricate plan on how to get rid of them and torture them, to show the government they're not to be fucked with. Though, all their scare tactics were just confusing, failed magic tricks for the men, now tied to apparent non functioning electric chairs, looking at each other through their sunglasses, stoic faces, while confused to what Zerion is yapping about in his villain monologue, while Vampina eats a stale bread in the BG. ---------------------------------------------------------

I don't have much about Sir Valentine either, but I certainly have drawn him more. For now, His name is Sir Cannon Valentine, but we'll get to that in a bit.

(both from 2020)

This is the first art ever I made of him, and that's a lot of his vibe. (2019)

This MAN, is some warrior who died in his armor but is back by some whack magic, and he's impatient, easily irritated, screams instead of talking, and I've always imagined having him a strong accent. He's here to fight and go headfirst into everything bc he really cannot die.

As of 2024, Sir Valentine is Sir Cannon Valentine (you can still call him the first version), BECAUSE, besides him being reborn and inmortal, angry and ready to fucking obliterate anything in his way, now his body works as a canonball

He went through my manic episode of redesigning many of my characters, after getting a taste of Pizza tower's cartoony characters, and became this. Much more functional, easily drawn, flowy. he just works, i can animate him in a snap of fingers. Still consistenly working to improve his design even more.

I will probs change the story, but this guy is resucitated as a last resort for a war between kingdoms, as a mistake, bc they wanted to revive some other guy, but got mistaken and went to his thomb. This guy revived him, after a ritualistic dance and some lightning

and then he is like "oh wait I fucked up", and Valentine is like "TOO LATE BITCH I'M FREE!!" and blasts away from him, as a cannonball, fueled by his own fire and methane gas from the catacombs he is in lol. This story is very not much constructed, but I love Sir Valentine a lot, and the characters I can surround him with. I see him falling for a bourgeoisie woman, or a princess even, bc all my stories need the romance, I'm nothing without the romance. I am also thinking of including another character of mine, Sayen, as the daughter of this death guy

Sayen previously appeared as a participant in a nsfw comic in my twt alt account lol. I love her and her design very much.

[solaneceae]

my battery is low, and it's getting dark.

a codebreakers fanfic about étoiles losing his sight. read on Ao3

It starts off with light blurriness — the kind you get when you forget to remove your contacts before bed, dryness and irritation welcoming you back to the waking world. Étoiles doesn’t wear contacts, although he does don a pair of sturdy, cheap rectangular glasses on occasion, whenever reports have to be read or written in thin leather-bound books for the Résistance’s upper echelon. 

(Upper echelon he’s never caught a whiff off, by the way. Étoiles understands the need for secrecy, for compartmentalization — but damn, it does get lonely here in headquarters, with nothing but his own voice and long-dried ink speaking of codes going rogue and islander alignments to entertain himself with.)

He blinks, once, twice, rubbing at his eyeballs through the skin of his lids. No amelioration. He shrugs it off, readjusts the straps of his slime armor. It’s a shit one, not even the good enchants on it. But he’s been restless lately, antsy. Not quite worried, but something else, something in the negative shape of a beloved, beret-wearing egg. Ants under his greenish skin, a fire only the cold bite of enemy blades and a close brush with Lady Death can fix.

He likes Kristin. She’s funny, with her large brimmed hat and gentle smile and gentler words still. Philza’s a lucky man.

“You are sad,” she would say, in the space-between-spaces he would drift to when downed, just before the ‘doom-doom’ of revival. The crimson bud of her smile would twist into a scowl, as she watched him give her a two-fingered salute. “Is that why I see you so often, starling?”

“I’m not sad,” he would answer without fail — the ache inside his chest wasn’t sadness. Étoiles didn’t do sad. He killed, he destroyed, his body grown in a weapon meant to hurt and maim and be hurt in return. Meant to be wielded by someone worthy. (He thinks of pitch-black feathers and a wheezy laugh, the tingle of wither-decay dancing on his skin, the smell of bone. Claws digging into his bony hips, a litany of trills speaking of ownership-claim, great shadows trapping him in so effectively. His knee guards stained by fresh soil where potatoes are endlessly grown in honor of a great warrior he once crossed blades with. Worship, devotion.)

“I’m not sad,” he mumbles, jumping down the well and into the darkness of the dungeon below. Hopefully it wouldn’t be a shit one, and he could scratch that itch in the back of his mind that demanded blood be spilled, be it his or otherwise. “Maybe I die for real today, let’s goooo.”

He never does. He’s too good at dungeoning, too good at placing blocks and throwing splash potions at his feet, golden apples now a rare last resort because he knows what happens when he eats too many. Aaaah, what a pity, he thinks, as he loses himself in the clash of metal on metal and the grunt of mobs falling at his feet. What a pity, I feel nothing. Bad day for me, bad day.

***

The blurriness stays. Days go by, sluggish and quiet, too quiet on this shit island, and no amount of sleep or healing potions make it any better. His arm stings with static-burn where the black and green binary tar has spread, higher, creeping up his neck. But it does nothing to hinder his movements, doesn’t dull the sharpness of his mind. So he ignores it. “Maybe you should get that checked out or something,” Foolish pokes at it once, as they sit and talk atop the Titan’s head using the blue and green plush chairs the TazerCraft have sneaked in. Pac e Mike, wow wow, sings a little voice in Étoiles’ mind whenever he sees splashes of blue and green, because those two live rent-free in everyone’s builds and brains.

“It’s okay,” he smiles at the shark-totem, easy and casual and Étoiles. “It doesn’t hurt.” It doesn’t. “It’s not changing me.” He is changing, that softness that Pomme had made bloom inside him eroding away with every day she’s gone. It’s harder to stay still, harder to stop and talk to the others, because half of them are depressed and the other half are going insane. But none of that is the code’s doing. “Look, I’ll prove it! 1v1 stick?” he jumps to his feet, throwing a wooden stick at his friend with a fiendish grin. “1v1, right now, let’s go.”

Foolish chuckles, even though his smile doesn’t reach his emerald-carved eyes. (His features are hazy, fuzziness getting worse every time Étoiles wakes. Doesn’t matter.) 

They fight, Étoiles takes it home with six hearts to spare. And he still feels empty.

***

Lilacs. Sunflowers. Cornflowers. Poppies.

Flower biomes were Pomme’s favorites. They’re hard to find, but Étoiles is one patient, stubborn cucumber. “T’aurais adoré ça, légende,” he hums, picking another poppy by the stem and stuffing it into his inventory, the frozen subspace keeping it suspended in time and fresh. He can almost hear the pitter-patter of her little cheeto legs in the grass, the rustle of the blades against her shell. The bomp of a red sign being placed, asking for more red, more blue, more of every color to make her siblings flower crowns and dye her trusty scythe like a rainbow.

He can barely make out their shape anymore, only differentiating roses from poppies by tracing their petals with gold-scarred fingers. He sees a blue blur somewhere at his right, oh, cornflower probably. Her secret code.

He lets out a deep, guttural groan and lets his body fall backwards, hitting the plush grass with a thump. A few butterflies flutter out of the way, one of them settling back on the bridge of the warrior’s nose. He glares at it, faded golden stars comically crossed. He only sees the yellow of its wings, stark against sky blue. “Hey, hey. Tu vas rien trouver ici, tu sais. J’ai pas fleuri depuis des plombes.”

The critter’s wings flap once, unbothered. Étoiles blows on it to make it go away, fails. (He’s a failure, at everything. Fails to keep his kid safe, fails to win a 1v1 against an insect.) Soon enough, there is enough butterflies on him to pin him to the ground under the would-be guilt of disturbing them. Étoiles whines, childish and unserious. “Vas-y, j’peux plus bouger. Pas juste. Même la nature me déteste, c’est bon.”

He’s missed this. The warmth of a sunbeam, the scent of fertile soil, the brush of grass blades, the call of the earth below pulling at him. Part of him wants to sink into it, curl up in Her embrace like a child would in their mother’s womb, forget about the world and the Federation and the Codes and all this shit. Maybe he could fall asleep right here. Let his body soak up the sun, let himself bloom again. Let that softness grow out of his skin for all to see, like he used to. Or, he thinks he used to. The memories of Before are static-fuzz between his ears, unreachable unless he looks at them at the corner of his eye, so to speak.

(The freezing cold, then heat as air exploded around him, an impact. Physicality, sudden and unexpected, the song of the stars loud in his ears as he opened his eyes for the first time in front of a bewildered human in a frayed straw hat. He was happy, wasn’t it? He thinks he used to be happy. What happened?)

But Étoiles is a warrior, a weapon, and weapons dull and rust and grow weak if left to rest. So he takes a deep breath, pushes himself up. “Désolé,” he hums to the butterflies as they scatter away. They are but bright, colorful blobs in his dulling eyes. “Désolé,” he says as he warps back home to forge yet another axe. 

His inventory is full of flowers that he’ll forget about, wrapping him in a constant mix of herbal scents that has Cellbit recoiling next time they cross paths. Étoiles doesn’t notice it, the Brazilian’s bothered expression lost on his rapidly-decaying vision.

***

By the time the Code challenges him to what Étoiles knows will be their last duel for the foreseeable future, his sight is all but gone, everyone and their dog has taken notice, and he has brushed off their concern. “I don’t need to see to click good,” he boasts, slamming down deepslate to launch himself fast and run circles around a disgruntled Pac. “See, see! I’m strafing, I’m doing it, playing the game.” Pac makes a strange sound, one he struggles to guess the emotion behind without body language. “It’s okay, Pac. It’s easy. There’s no problem, at all.”

Phil isn’t here yet, can’t see any names on his comlink but Tubbo told him he wasn’t. Shame, shame he won’t be there to see him die, Étoiles thinks as the rain soaks through his shirt, the boom of lightning bothering him more than he lets show. His ears are ringing as he jumps, ducks, tugs at the string of his bow and sends an arrow flying where he knows the Code is, he can feel it, the only spot that doesn’t smell like anything but void. But there’s no feedback, no satisfying sound of health being chipped at, nothing.

This Code is too strong, his sword winging an off-tune melody as it goes through the binary without ripping or tearing. No damage. Ah, he thinks, so they have finally stopped playing. I see now.

The back of his chestplate shatters into a blast of broken enchant magic and diamond shards, some of them lodging themselves into his flesh. Something cold sinks between his ribs, brushing against his spine in a white-hot flash of pain that irradiates through his whole body, and oh, yeah, it’s over. It’s joever, as Tubbo would say. “GGs,” he gasps through a mouthful of dark green blood. He coughs it up, lets it splash down his neck and paint his shirt. Tubbo’s screaming somewhere, too far away for Étoiles to discern the words. “You- eugh, you slash-kill’ed me, good job you cheater. Easy win.”

The entity growls, a hum-buzz that makes his brain (or whatever he has for brains, maybe lettuce?) rattle inside his skull. The blade slides out, cutting away at him further on its way out, and his body falls into a puddle of rainwater and mud with a wet thud. It hurts, blackered arm buzzing, pain creeping up his neck and the right side of his face, extinguishing the last of his remaining sight. 

He faintly realises that almost nobody knows about his respaw mechanic. Ah, et merde. He hopes they’ll have the presence of mind to ask Antoine, when they realise he wouldn’t just re-pop into existence seconds after his death… or when they noticed his body starting to wilt and decay, if they stuck around for long enough.

(Tallulah knows, he remembers. He told her. But had she told Philza, before she disappeared along with all the other eggs?)

Through his fading senses, his comm buzzes with what he knows is his first death message in a really long time. He can make out the sound of rapid footsteps, clickety hooves and heavy, leather work boots. Tubbo and Pierre. He closes his eyes, not that he needs to anymore for darkness to cradle him. He lets go.

He doesn’t see Kristin this time, only hears a faint sigh and a gentle breath sending him off into the void. He hopes they find his seed soon. He doesn’t wanna stay missing for too long, after all.

***

His personal death-void is not so bad of a place. Boring, obviously, but there’s a familiarity to it, to the way the darkness shrouds him like a heavy blanket, pushing against him from all sides. Not oppressive but comforting. Cradling, instead of crushing.

It reminds him of the dirt patch he was born in — he had been asleep and new, just ripe for the picking, dirt-stained hands pulling at his stem with the roughness of a long-repeated gesture. He had screamed, he thinks, not in pain, but to show the world he was here and alive, hello, hello sun, hello dirt, hello person! Had given poor old Théo a heart attack too.

Ah. He could remember, now. Théo, his leathered face and kind eyes with crow feet, wary at first before this walking, talking little legume with the night sky in his eyes, flower-covered vine-tail like some sort of umbilical cord trailing behind him as he follows the old farmer around, asking him endless questions in barely-legible French. But… yes, he’d been kind to him, Étoiles thinks. The first face his face saw. Makes sense it would be one of the first things that came back to him. Maybe remembering was easier in the void? Maybe he should die more often.

…Nah. Dying wasn’t his style. And having to regrow a whole new body over a week was annoying. He had things to do in the island! Like talking with people (eurgh), and giving them things (yes) and fighting with Philza (yes! yes! yes!) and have fun!

So he waits, oblivion pulling at him like gravity. The void is a quiet place, sometimes, but more often it’s not, with the song of supernovas and wailing stars far away keeping him aware, listening. He hums along to it with no mouth or vocal chords (not yet, still growing, still so small, unripe), and sometimes he swears he can hear another voice singing with him. Off-key, awful really, almost crow-like, but it sounds like someone he cares about, so he’s happy to listen to its drone.

Other times, he sleeps. And he dreams of tiny hands and quiet chirps and clicks, of the yesyes uncle Phil taught her, of the chrr-chrr-peep that means him, when she calls Étoiles’ name in her own little language. And he curls around the memory, softness, and lets it carry him up into the stars glittering behind still-forming eyelids.

***

“Étoiles.”

He hums — warmth, the slow beating heart of the earth. The choir of stars constantly burning far, far away. He could listen to it forever, because he had been listening to it since the birth of the first star, he knew.

“Mate. You with me? C’mon, s’been a week already. Come up here, you can do it.”

The voice scratches pleasantly at the back of his brain. But the earth is so warm, so comfy, a cocoon of peace and respite he’s not sure he wants to leave. He sighs with no lungs to breathe, no need for them, when all he could ever need is right there — perfect temp, perfect moisture, glucose, carbon dioxide, rich nutrients all around. Who needs gapples, really. Or thoughts. Or responsibilities. This is the best.

“...Mh. Alright then.”

The voice grates on his ears, ears that try to flick but are stopped by the soil packed around them. He groans in drowsy irritation, curls in on himself in an attempt to shield himself from it and from the world. It seems to work, the noises fading into nothing, and Étoiles feels his thoughts scatter as a faint scratching sound seeps through the earth and into his mind like white noise. Sleep pulls at him again, and he lets it.

He’s startled back into wakefulness by something pulling harshly, somewhere that feels a bit away but is still part of him. His eyes fly open in pained surprise because ow, ow, that’s my— “Come here, you lazy fuck!” That voice — high-pitched, that heavy accent he’s come to love, amusement and exasperation combined, Phil, his Phil, his GOAT, his brother in arms, his Death-touched angel.

Étoiles blinks, unseeing. Étoiles remembers. And with awareness comes something else, something that shimmers and calls his name in gentle whisper-echoes, as he feels himself being pulled up, and up, dirt parting to let him ascend back to the surface. Aah. Goodbye mama. Hello problems. “Get harvested, idiot!” Philza Minecraft grunts with effort somewhere above him, and the tug gets stronger, prompting a pained ow out of him as the ground crackles and breaks above him, and he feels air-sun-outside on his back as he’s forcefully pulled from the ground like the fresh crop he is. He flails a little bit, kicking off dirt and soil (it’s everywhere, in his hair and between his toes and a little in his mouth and nose, bleh!), then rolls onto his back with a groan, frowning up at the sky he knows is there, blue and clear, because it doesn’t smell like rain and the surface soil is dry and warm.

He’s back. And he sees nothing at all. Welp, better close his eyes again then. He feels a shadow fall on him, feels a sandaled foot nudge his side. “Helloooooo. Hello Phil,” he greets the other leaning hard on the deadpan because he knows it makes his friend laugh when he does that. It lands. “What, that’s it?” the elytrian caws, kneeling beside him and poking at his face, talons dulled to a gentle roundness. Étoiles wishes he didn’t trim them, but Phil is too nice, too careful, too eager to smooth himself down for others, for the eggs. Docile.

Étoiles despises it, but he keeps quiet because he knows Phil doesn’t like to talk about those things. “You get yourself killed by a fucking Code of all things,” Phil keeps going, “make everyone freak the fuck out because you won’t respawn like a normal fucking person, and that’s all you have to say for yourself?”

“Antoine knows. And I’m here now, so it’s okay.”

“Antoine barely logs on, you absolute dumbass. You’re lucky Lullah told me about the seed thing, because you would’ve been fucked six ways to Sunday.”

He opens his eyes, if only to shoot Phil a halfhearted glare. And then immediately forgets about it, blinks owlishly. Sits up to get closer to the other man. “Phil. Why are you stars?”

“What.”

He sees stars. (And not in the sex way, because he doesn't do that.) It’s not night, but there are stars in his vision, where pitch blackness used to be, and the constellation is Phil-shaped.

Philza is a cosmic cluster, a nebula shining bright in the darkness that has become his world. He can see nothing beyond him, not the plants surrounding him, not the long vine attached to his lower back Phil used to pull him out. He can tell it’s there, though, lightly thumping at the ground in agitation. “You, are stars. That’s how I see you now.”

“Wait. Can you, like, see again?” Phil asks, uncharacteristically soft. “I know it was getting… bad. And your eyes are like, all greyed out. Did the code stuff on your arm do that?” Étoiles sees a cluster of stars approaching his face — hand — and feels fingers brushing just under his right eye. He’s a bit startled by the contact, the area usually covered by his trust bandana (he needs it back, needs his stuff back, hopefully someone held onto it for him). Phil draws away, an apology ready from the way his constellation-body shifts, but Étoiles doesn’t let him. “I can’t,” he answers, tilting his head, ear flicking in focus — the stars that make up Phil sharpen, and he can almost make out the shape of the wings bound behind his back. “But I can See. I think.” He also wouldn’t mind Phil’s hand on his face again. It feels nice. Scratches at something long-buried, and denied.

Philza makes a confused sound. “Okay, I heard that capital S there. What’s that mean? Are you pulling a Daredevil?”

Étoiles grins, sharp-toothed and playful. “Oh, oh! He thinks I’m a superhero? He thinks I’m cool, Felipe Minecraft? Big win for me.” Phil rolls his eyes, which Étoiles can tell because the crow always makes that low warble when he does. “But no, it’s not like that. I still need my eyes to see like this, and I don’t hear or smell better than before.” Although his status as a hybrid means his baseline is still higher than the average person’s, but that’s irrelevant. “FF.”

“So no cool blindfold for you, ey?”

“No cool blindfold. I will just do a Pomme and drown myself later, to make up for how uncool I am.” (He cannot drown. No lungs. But he can pretend.)

He squints. There’s a little cluster, right there at the side of Phil’s head. He can connect the dots, identify the shape of the elytrian’s bucket hat, but there’s something else there too. “What’s that on your head, Phil? I can’t make it out well.”

“Oh— here,” the other takes his hand and guides it towards his hair, and Étoiles feels a familiar texture under his pads. He makes a noise of surprise. “That’s. Mine.”

“Do you want it back?” Phil hums, brushing at the large cucumber flower tucked in the band of his hat. “It bloomed this morning, on top of the plant you were growing under. Took it as a sign you were, uh, done cooking.” Étoiles snorts. Good guess. “But uh, I guess the plant was also you, cuz it’s at the end of your tail now. Dragging.” Ah. Yeah. He really ought to cut it. “Is it weird? That I’m wearing a piece of you? I don’t know what… fuckin’... cucumber etiquette is.”

“It’s not weird,” Étoiles says, because he doesn’t think it is. “You can keep it.” He kind of likes it. That Phil’s wearing a piece of him. It makes him, happy? “You know, that I am your weapon. Yes? So it makes sense, that you show it.”

“You’re my friend. Don’t call yourself a weapon, man.”

“Same thing for me.”

Phil’s response is wordless, a simple, noncommittal mmh. But Étoiles can hear the hidden fondness in it. He pushes a little further, crudely imitates that  one bird sound Philza makes when he’s happy. Whoops internally when Phil puffs out his feathers and trills out a yesyes in return. Héhé. “Yes yes, Philza? Fight me, right now?” he slips into his usual stance, just a bit offset by the lack of armor weighing him down. “1v1, no weapons, no armor? Fistfight, let’s go.”

Phil cackles, crow-like. “I am not fighting you right now, you little shit. You menace. What’s wrong with you?”

“Aww, Phil hates me,” the warrior whines. “He hates me. He won’t 1v1 me, he must hate me. Sad.”

“Oh my god, stop being a baby.”

“I was literally born five minutes ago. I am baby, and Felipe Minecraft hates me,” he sasses back, and Phil throws his arms towards the sky in exasperation. “Oh come on. I spent a week protecting your green ass! Making sure you got enough sun and water and shit, it was like doing egg tasks all over again. Antoine even talked me into fucking singing, pretty sure he was pranking me with that one by the way, and still you think I hate you?”

“Nice caulk, Phil.”

He can’t see it, but Étoiles knows Phil’s eyelid is twitching. “Mate. I got a faceful of ass pulling you out of here, you’re on thin fucking ice.”

The cucumber snorts. “Héhé, got mooned by the stars.” That was kinda funny. “You were pulling me by the tail, I do not know what you expected. You’re lucky I’m a plant, or there would have been full cock and balls there.”

“Bruh. I thought it would be connected to your… plant belly button, or whatever, like an umbilical cord.”

“It’s an ass button, GGs.”

“Jesus Christ, please don’t call it that. I didn’t even know you had a tail. You didn’t before.”

“That’s because I always cut it,” the warrior huffs, said tail lashing behind him from the restless energy that always accompanies a new body. Its leaves drag around the loose dirt in little swish-y sounds. “Give me a sword, Phil, it’s already annoying me.”

The crow peers down at the vine, then back at him. “I dunno, man. You look kinda fun with it.” Étoiles squints. He can’t quite make out Phil’s expression like this, all stars and nothing between them, but he can hear the hidden laughter in his voice. “...I will cut it with my teeth then.”

“Won’t that hurt more than with a blade?”

“It doesn’t hurt. Only the base. Like when you pulled on it.”

“Why not keep it? It’s a part of you.”

Because it speaks for me, he considers replying. Because it says and shows things that I don’t want people to see. Even now, it wags, because Phil is here and now brushing stray dirt out of his hair and it’s very nice. (Is he touch-starved? He might be. Pomme is gone, and he doesn’t trust people to touch him, other than with blunt force and sharp diamond blades.) But Étoiles hasn’t kept his tail since he was a child, still wide-eyed and showing his innermost self to the whole world without any shield. He feels weird. Exposed. And it’s okay with Phil, because Phil is Phil, but it’s not okay because they’re out in the open and anyone could come and see. He doesn’t like that. “Because people can grab it, and it gets stuck in things, and it’s annoying. I cut it, now.” He tugs at the appendage, bringing it up to his mouth. “Nope,” Phil snatches it away, and Étoiles hisses at him. “Calm down, dude. At least let’s do it cleanly.”

“Eeeeuugh. Okay.”

”Then we’re getting your stuff back from Antoine’s, good god. You’re still butt-naked and I won’t have you strut around like that.”

“He has my things? Comms, armor, my backpacks?”

“All of it, yeah,” the older man huffs, and Étoiles can hear the telltale sound of an item being summoned of an inventory. Enchanted axe, he parses, recognizing the ozone-y smell of the sharpness enchant and the sound of the air being sliced downward. He doesn’t feel anything when the vine is severed, frowns when he realises Phil left a good… fifty centimeters of it, still attached to his body. “Phil. You misclick? You aim like shit today?”

“You said it hurts near the base,” the elytrian huffs, finality lacing his every word. “Keep it or cut the rest later, your pick, but I’m not hurting you.”

Étoiles’ ear flicks in confusion, and so does his tail. It moves faster, easier now without the rest of the plant weighing it down. “...We fight each other all the time, that hurts more. I don’t care.”

Phil stays silent for a few seconds. Nebula-Phil shifts before him. “It’s. Different.”

Étoiles hums. Philza has the Tone™ again, the one that means he’s thinking of things that hurt. He thinks of clipped feathers, of matted down that he wishes he could run his fingers through and fix, fix, let me fix it, let me do this for you. But he says nothing. Maybe another time, when they’re both ready for that conversation. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Maybe I keep it this time. Maybe.”

He can hear Phil’s smile in the next word he speaks. “Attaboy.” And he tries to ignore the way his tail wags with renewed enthusiasm at that.

[yelena-belovas-gun]

Last Resort Pt. 2 (Maya Lopez)

Summary: She came to get something...and to hide.

Maya Lopez x fem!nurse!reader

Warnings: None

Taglist: @probs-reading-fanfics (dm/comment to be a part of the taglist <3)

Flashbacks are bold <3

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

She was wondering if the universe was conspiring against her. Why was it so hard to just stay away from you?

She thought she could forget about the jacket. She had another one anyway.

Yet here she was again, out of breath and in danger, right in front of your apartment building.

Coincidence? I think not.

The bright, flashing lights of the cop cars whizzed by, and she had to duck behind the wall again. It was honestly annoying how ridiculous these beat cops were.

Of course, you were her very last resort.

So up she went again, into the elevator and to your house.

You had been reading a book, plate of pasta in hand, spooning the tasty stuff into your mouth at intervals, only to have your quiet, peaceful time interrupted by a loud knocking on the door.

"Oh, for christ's sake-" you grumbled, pushing your cat, Kaz, off your lap and going over to the door.

Honestly, you really should start looking through the peephole more.

"Again?" You raised a brow. "I am not a lodging house."

"The police," she signed, glancing down the hallways. "I need to hide."

"Go hide somewhere else!"

"And risk being seen?"

"Your safety isn't my problem anymore!"

Maya had to admit, you were right. Bit she was desperate. So she put on her most pleading face and signed, "Please."

You wanted to kiss her. You wanted to strangle every breath out of her. You wanted to keep her safe. You wanted to dial 911 in the next two seconds.

You just wanted.

"Get in, you useless little shit," you signed in annoyance, opening the door.

"Thank you," she signed, looking away from you.

You began packing your dinner up, and noticed her sitting anxiously on the couch, fiddling with her fingers and randomly petting Kaz.

Why couldn't the gods have just made you a cold-hearted killer? Why did they make you a soft-hearted lover?

"Need something to eat?" You signed after flicking the lights on and off for her attention.

"Did you poison it?" She raised a brow.

"Every word you say which isn't a 'yes' or a 'no' is making me wish I did," you quipped, scowling.

"Yes, please," she nodded. "Thank you."

You grumbled and dismissed her statement with a wave, heating up some of the last bits of pasta.

"Baby, I'm hungry," Maya had said, pouting at you.

"Pasta?" You'd laughed and asked her, raising a brow.

"You know I love the food you make," she'd smiled and kissed your cheek.

"Damn you, Maya Lopez..." you scowled, setting a plate for her. You walked over to the couch and handed her a fork and the plate.

"Want a bit of rat poison with it for seasoning?" You scowled, crossing your arms after you'd signed.

"No, I'm fine with being alive," she shrugged and started eating. You rolled your eyes, and sat on the other couch, reading.

Every bone in your body pulsed with confusion at your feelings. Your heart tugged towards Maya, with the round face and cheeks you liked to pinch. Maya, with the sleek hands which could weave words to make you blush and do things to make your eyes roll back. Maya, with her slight smiles and expressive eyes that were too cute for you to handle.

But it also clenched at the sight of Maya, who had left you alone that night when you'd needed her. Maya who'd lied to you about one of the biggest disasters of your life.

Maya, who had broken you down till you were just pieces of the woman you had once been.

She noticed the glare you were shooting her and raised a brow. "What?" she finger-spelled.

"Why am I your last resort?" You scowled as you signed. "There are so many doctors, so many people you have some connections with. You can go to them. But you don't. Why me, Maya?"

"Because you're the only person I can fully trust," she signed after placing her plate on the coffee table. "The only person I know who wouldn't stab me in the back."

"Oh, is that why you found it so easy to stab me in the back?" You scoffed.

She sighed. "I guess I had that one coming."

"No shit," you scowled.

Maya sat in silence with you. An uncomfortable silence, which filled the entire room and suffocated you both. She stared at you intently while you continued to read, or, atleast, pretended to.

She, too, felt her heart split apart. She saw the curve of your jawline she loved to kiss, the upward slope of your lips which always fit against hers so perfectly. She watched your brows furrow, and noticed your hair falling on your face a bit. The hair she'd spend hours with her hands in, whether the moment was soulful or sinful. Her heart pulled towards you. It wanted you in a way she knew exes with 'no feelings' would never want.

But she also felt her heart pressed under the weight of her blunder. She felt it clench as she watched you get mad at her. She thought she'd seen the depth of your hurt, the day she'd left, but it was not even in the twilight zone of the trench-like abyss that was your sorrow.

She walked over to you and tapped your shoulder.

"Can I stay for a few days?" she hesitantly signed, looking at you pleadingly.

You scowled, "Why?"

"The police have probably tagged my apartment." She sighed. "I'm on the run, so..." she let her hands stay in the 'so' sign, the deaf equivalent of trailing off.

You pinched the bridge of your nose, squeezing your eyes shut. You inhaled deeply, as if mentally preparing yourself for what was to come.

"Fine," you scoffed. "But you're not going to mess up anything in here. That means you will go about your business and only come home to eat and sleep."

"Done," she shrugged. "Beggars can't be choosers."

"Now you're getting some sense into that thick skull of yours," you rolled your eyes and went back to your book, but only after signing, "And you're sleeping on the couch."

Maya sighed.

This was going to be a long few days.

TO BE CONTINUED...

[sdr2lovemail]

Tamayo with a nonverbal demon! reader? they too were saved by Tamayo & works with them like Yushiro.

Silent affections (GN Reader)

Synopsis: Just some short cute fluff with Tamayo.

Notes: Implied poly relationship, I named this doc "Tamayo and Yushiro throuple?!" I'm trying to scrape the rust off, I'm in such a idea drought. Booooooooo!

Requests are open!

The sterile scent of disinfectant is the first thing you sense after waking up. Your eyelids are heavy, and they’re a chore to open. With blurry vision, you look around the unfamiliar room. Nothing catches your eye except the shape of a woman.

“You’ve awoken. If you can hear me, blink once.” She seemed to relax a little upon receiving a sluggish blink.

She looks at you worriedly, kneeling beside the futon. With glove-covered hands, she inspects your bandages. “You must be confused. My name is Tamayo. I’m a doctor. Someone had attacked you in the city. You’ve sustained severe injuries.”

Tamayo sighs and removes her gloves, setting them aside. “I’m going to be honest. I can only see these wounds getting worse. While I hope it won’t come down to such drastic measures, I have a way to cure you. Though, that is only a last resort. In the meantime, I will do my best to heal you.”

For the next few weeks, Tamayo would routinely check up on you, changing out your bandages and offering medicine. Her assistant, Yushiro, would stop by to deliver your meals. Though he always glared at you every time he was in the room.

As time passed, Tamayo’s fears were coming true. You were only getting worse. Soon, you would succumb to your wounds. One night, she enters the room with an almost somber look. Your skin had become deathly dull, and your breathing sounded harsh and painful.

Tamayo sits near your weak body, her hands neatly folded in her lap. “How are you feeling today?” She frowns as you give her a sad shake of your head. “Medicine can only do so much. I… I have another way I can help you, but I want your full consent.”

“Yushiro and I are demons. I turned Yushiro myself when an illness threatened to take his life. I can turn you as well. But that means living as a demon. You will no longer be able to go into the sunlight or eat the food you can now; you’ll have to consume human blood. Your way of life will change permanently.” Tamayo explained the process in detail. She wanted you to know what would happen if you accepted.

Her eyes widened when she felt warmth against her skin. You held Tamayo’s hand in a weak grip, smiling softly at her. Your response was a weak nod.

“Alright, I will get to work now.”

“Lady Tamayo! We’ve returned from the market!” Yushiro all but barrels into the clinic, you in tow. “We got the herbs you requested.” The boy’s arms were practically spilling over with bundles of herbs. He insisted that he carried everything.

Tamayo looks up from her papers, smiling at the two of you. “Thank you. Could you bring those into my office?” The words barely left her mouth before Yushiro rushed off to organize everything.

You step in front of Tamayo with your hands behind your back, giving her a little smirk.

“Hm? Do you have something for me?” She sets her papers down, giving you her full attention. With a hum, you lean closer to her, your face near hers. “Ah, I see what you’re asking.” The demon doctor leans in to kiss your cheek, followed by another on the corner of your lips. Her sweet-scented lipstick left pink stains.

Your smile gets wider. From behind your back, you pull out an intricate hairpin. It was adorned with carefully sculpted flowers. The soft pinks and purples match that of her blood demon art. Tamayo takes the pin, tracing over the intricate patterns with delicate fingers. A sense of warmth fills her chest.

“It’s beautiful. You didn’t have to get me anything. Thank you, dear.” She smiled at you, pressing another kiss to your hand.

Taking the hairpin back, you brush your fingers through her hair. Removing her usual pin, you place the new one in the braid. You clap your hands, wordlessly offering your appreciation for how it looked.

Tamayo brings you into a hug, expressing her thanks once again. “I’ll have to get you something in return.”

Returning from organizing, Yushiro sees the two of you in an embrace and the kiss marks on your skin. He rushed forward, shouting and trying to worm his way into the embrace.

[thecameronchronicles]

The Princess, The Pogue, and The Kook Prince

TW: threesome. Language. Heavy smut. 

SUMMARY: You have a threesome with the two guys you want the most, two who couldn't hate each other more if they tried. 

WORD COUNT: 2100

ORIGINAL CONCEPT

The Princess, the Pogue, and The Kook Prince

Dating Rafe Cameron meant you were often the subject to stroke his ego. His gratitude often shown in the privacy behind closed doors and the way your body was left trembling with a violent passion that seemed incomparable. But during one of those very instances where his face was buried between your thighs, your back arching off of the bed as your fingers pulled the shorts strands of his hair, your eyes came to the last person who should bear witness or simply be in attendance in general. 

JJ Maybank. 

Those cool blue eyes narrowing and studying you as you found an unrivaled release in knowing he watched you come. It played in your mind in such repetition that you nearly spoke JJ's name a handful of rendezvous with your boyfriend. But tonight, you couldn't take it for another moment. 

You would have both of them. 

The plan was simple. Luring them into the same room would be easy. Keeping them there would be the challenge. 

You started with Rafe, whispering sweet nothings in his ear as you felt his fingers over your curves before asking him to meet you in a room prepaid within the resort on Figure Eight. The same one JJ was working after being fired from his recent job on The Cut. 

Once Rafe was out of sight, you moved to JJ, flirting with him relentlessly as he fell into your seductions. You convinced him something within your hotel room needed assistance and without a second thought, he followed behind you as you kept your short skirt just out of reach of his ringed fingers. Your eyes rolling prematurely to how they would feel eating into your skin. 

"Was starting to think-" Rafe began as his eyes fell to JJ. Immediately, JJ's defenses were up. It took no less than two seconds before they stood chest-to-chest. Your hands were set in the nick of time before one took hold of the other, their focus falling to you. 

"Very Rafe of you, having your girlfriend lure me up here...afraid I'll kick your ass in front of all your little boyfriends?!" 

"He didn't ask me to." 

"Sure, princess..." JJ spoke with dismissal before he faced him completely. 

"I wanted you up here." His eyes narrowed in confusion as you turned back to Rafe, your hand remaining on each of their chests, "I wanted both of you up here..." 

You traveled to the edge of the bed, kicking off your wedges, before crossing your legs. 

"You want to watch us fight? Pretty sure you could have done that any other night..." Rafe explained, rather annoyed. 

"No..." You slipped your legs apart, your skirt hanging between your bare thighs. 

"I want to fuck you both..." 

"Fuck..." JJ expressed. 

"There's no way a dirty pogue is touching you, let alone-"

"I can't even begin to explain how wet I already am just thinking about it..." You ignored Rafe, your hands slipping into your panties. "Oh my God...it would be so easy to take you both right now..." 

"Fuck..." Rafe clenched his jaw. 

"So I don't care whatever differences you two have, put them aside and make me come because I've wanted this," You winced at the electricity your fingers left at your clit. "For so long...oh my God..." 

"This is..." JJ ran his hands through his hair. 

"You think I'm lying J? Feel me..." You pulled his hand between your legs as Rafe tensed. 

"Goddamn..."

"Tell him what you feel..."

"Soaked...shit..." You rode against JJ's fingers as he moved closer. 

"Yes..." Rafe was growing increasingly angry as you set your hand in his direction. 

"Play with my nipples, baby...just like I like..." 

"He doesn't get to see you naked." 

"He's already rubbing my clit..." You reminded as Rafe groaned, twisting your nipples through the thin fabric of your dress.

"So good..." You moaned as JJ took the liberty of slipping past your direction and sinking his fingers inside of you. 

"Yes!" Your hand wrapped around his wrist as he fucked you with his fingers. 

"Jesus..." JJ responded as you arched. 

"Ahhhh....oh my God....yes..." You were purposely vocal as Rafe growled, pulling himself into the bed behind you and widening your legs for JJ. 

"Yes!" You gasped to Rafe's rough hands. 

"Eat her out. " JJ ignored Rage. 

"That what you want princess?"

"Fuck yes…" 

He dropped to his knees immediately and began at your clit. 

"If you wanted a threesome, I would’ve asked Top...maybe Scarlett..." 

"Oh shit, she likes that idea..." JJ groaned. "You curious, princess?" You nodded, your interest in anyone taboo making your list inflamed. Girls. Guys. Pogues. Kooks. You wanted to know what felt best, and right now it was JJ and Rafe. 

"Wider...let me see..." Rafe looked over your shoulder as he spread you apart, locking your ankles in place with his own feet as you buckled. 

"She likes to move?" 

"You have no idea, Maybank...use your fingers too, makes her shake and I fucking love her little whimpers " Two fingers sunk inside as both boys worked together for your benefit. 

"Yes!" You managed to gasp before your orgasm began. 

"You wanna come on his face?" You nodded, just like you wanted to that night. 

"Then you're gonna come hard!" Rafe attacked your clit as JJ focused on your opening, your body in tremors to the waves as you cried out both of their names in those final moments. 

"Fuck...that’s..."

"Come here..." You faced Rafe, climbing down his torso and unlatching his belt as JJ already worked your panties down your ass and teased the supple skin. 

"You gonna suck me off in front of the pogue, huh?" 

"Yeah..." You turned back to JJ before Rafe gripped your jaw. 

"Then you're gonna share that dirty little mouth so that I can watch...yeah?" 

"Anything you want .." You faced against his abdomen before exposing him to you. He was in your throat in seconds as JJ rubbed your ass. 

"Fuck...." He collected the droplet on your thigh that made you tremble. 

"You don't deserve her ass," He winced at the suction you made to his head, earning a slap to the skin JJ adorned. 

"Think that should be up to her..." JJ taunted Rafe as you rolled your eyes to how they bickered. 

"She's a bit busy choking on me...guess you'll have to let me decide for her..." Rafe boasted, taking one hand to the headboard behind his head and thrusting into your throat. 

"She's practically pouring down her legs? Oh fuck...." JJ groaned.

"You wanna fuck her?" JJ ignored Rafe as you slipped your fingers over yourself so he could see you work your lips. 

"Jesus fucking Christ..." Without another word, JJ was back on his knees after tossing your hand away. 

"Yes!" Rafe groaned to the vibrations shooting through him as your moans from JJ's tongue managed to add to his pleasure. 

"Make her come again and your can have her ass...fuck-" JJ was motivated, wanting to claim that tight little space so few knew could bring such pleasure. And your body shared in the excitement. 

Suddenly Rafe pulled you upwards to face him. You turned to witness JJ buried into your ass, only his eyes peeking over your perked ass as his eyes rolled and his tongue rode your entire perineum as you shook. His hands held you flat as he nodded against you from behind. 

"You use that hand now before I kick him out and remind you who you fucking belong to..." Rafe rasped, turned on at how JJ looked against you, more specifically how he was in control. You wrapped your hand around him and winced, a close orgasm pulling your lips to an o as Rafe endorsed you. 

"Oh, she's close, J...you should see her face...let him see..." You turned to JJ as he groaned and pulled your ass wide and made deep strides to loosen you up. 

"You want his cock in your ass...you come for me..." Rafe groaned. "Like that...good fucking girl....show me I can trust you'll do what I want..." 

"Suck..." He ordered as you resumed your blowjob, him bucking into you as JJ kept you flat to the waves threatening your hips apart. 

"Make her come right now before I shoot my load down her throat...fuck-" Rafe held you down hard enough for you to gag. "That's right baby...choke on that cock...oh yeah...that's it...like that...fuck...cry for me..." 

"She's coming!" JJ basked as you gasped as Rafe withdrew and held your face to him to watch you come apart. 

"Princess, I've gotta be inside you somewhere...oh God..." JJ stood with his angry cock in his hand. 

"You earned it baby..." Rafe smacked your ass as you laid on your back, your head resting against Rafe's hip. 

"Fuck me, Maybank." You ordered.

"Wrap it up, pogue..." Rafe tossed a condom as JJ was lightning in applying the Trojan. He then stood between your legs and used your recent orgasms to lubricate the exterior. 

"Oh shit..." He groaned to how you already felt against him. 

"JJ..."

"I know sweetheart...I'm not gonna make you wait..." He shot an eye to Rafe before thrusting once inside, bottoming out instantly. 

"Fuck!" You breathed as Rafe turned your head to his cock. 

"Through your nose...I'm gonna come if I have to hear you come again." You basked in how both men contrasted. JJ was devoted to tenderness whereas Rafe was a machine and vulgar. 

"Wait!" You begged as you could feel yourself crest. 

"I want both of you!" You explained as Rafe's dick fell from your lips. 

Rafe hesitated. 

"I'm so fucking wet baby...please...next time it can be someone you want..." His brows raised. 

"You mean it baby?"

"Yes!" He smirked. 

"On your knees then..." Rafe angled you over him. 

"Let me get her ready for me and then we can share her..." You bit your lip. 

"Hurry up, baby or I'll have to finish myself..." You whimpered from the pulsation through your clit. 

"Oh fuck..." JJ groaned at the thought. 

"If you do...I'm gonna need your mouth on me, princess..." You nodded as he prepared for this before your hands came to his shoulders with a gasp from your lips. 

"Oh my GOD!" JJ looked down to see Rafe at your ass. His fingers preparing you for him. 

"You like that?" JJ asked as you dig your nails deeper. 

"Oh fuck…yeah..."

"I want your hand..." He guided your hand around him. "Just for a minute..."

"Oh...yes, yes! YES!"

"I'm not gonna take my fucking time, so you tell me when you're ready to take all of me..."

"Now! Please Rafe for the love of God, fuck me!"

"You love God or me?"

"Your cock!" You answered to spite him. 

"This one?" He thrust into that tight muscle as you fell against JJ.

"I need you too...'' JJ was softer before gasping against Rafe’s movements. 

"Slow down.-"

"Can't keep up then fuck your fist instead..." Rafe snapped as JJ steadied your hips softer as Rafe took hold of your breasts leaving claw marks and bruising. JJ kisses your neck as Rafe spoke profanities of hoe your ass look taking his cock. 

"It looks so fucking good baby...you take it all so good for me..."

"JJ..."

"All good princess..." He winced before you kissed him. Tongue entangled in his before he pulled back in a moan. "Not if you kiss me like that..."

"Make me come...please...I'm so close..." JJ took it upon himself to reach for your clit before Rafe sat up and started his hand away. 

"For fuck's sake, both do it!" They took turns, actually working together. 

"If she goes, I am..." JJ moaned. 

"Fuck, me too...baby I'm close...make me come...come one...more" He slapped your ass. 

"Yes! Ye-" 

"Fuck I'm...shit!" JJ came first, his body forcing yours into tremors, and finalizing with Rafe’s. But through the circuits, JJ became hard again. 

"Wait...wait I need more!" JJ threw you onto your stomach and took your ass for himself. A shorter orgasm that hit harder as you buried your head between rages legs. Your nails drawing blood on his thighs. 

"Looks like you might have some pogue in you after all..." Rafe teased JJ as he wiped his brow and disposed of the condom. 

"I think I was the one who had a pogue in me." Rafe rolled his eyes before kissing your lips. 

"Next time, I choose..."

"Anyone in mind?" To this, he only grimaced. That dangerous grimace of mischief you had come to know only meant torture. Delicious. Wet. Sticky. Torture. 

TAGLIST: @rafesmoon @maybankslover @puzziepoppin @gillybear17 @onclouds999 @penny4yourthoughts @magnificantmermaid @pickingviolets @lovedetlost @trikigirl271 @maybankslover @slut4tangerine @slvtherinseeker @bluesongbird @slut-era @ailee-celeste @camilynn @sweetestdesire @jjmaybanksangel @phildunphyisadilf @belcalis9503 @pankhoeforlife @pankowperfection @jjsprettybaby

MASTERLIST

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[thedisablednaturalist]

If you have mysterious chronic pain and have the means, here's a list of doctors you should see other than your primary and a rheumatologist:

Neurologist and/or sleep specialist

Pain management doctor (also sometimes called pain and spine doctor)

Therapist that specializes in helping physically disabled people (having chronic illness sucks and you need someone to talk to)

Psychiatrist (most people with chronic illness also need psychiatric meds)

Physical therapy or rehabilitation center that specifically has procedures for chronic illnesses. My chiropractor acts as this for me but I'd only recommend that as a last resort. If you have something like fibromyalgia or ehler dahlos syndrome you need to be very careful with how you stretch and how much exercise you do. My chiropractor has special exercise equipment that is very gentle and has a lot of padding to reduce pain.

ENT (Ears, nose, throat doctor)

Nutritionist

A primary care doctor will at most only perform blood tests. Many illnesses do not show up on these blood tests. You want to get checked for rheumatoid arthritis, lyme disease, and lupus. Even if your doctor tells you it's because your vitamin d level or iron is too low, I would still recommend further testing.

They'll most likely refer you to a rheumatologist regardless, but unless you actually have arthritis I wouldn't rely on them too much. Mine charged too much for a 10 minute appointment where all she did was give me meds and would not discuss any other treatment or management options. She also laughed at me when I asked about a mobility device. It might just be I had a bad experience but it seems like those doctors are just given chronic illness patients cause no one else wants them.

You need to get your spine looked at. An MRI is essential. At the very least get an xray of your neck and spine. A neurologist or pain + spine doctor will most likely order one.

Neurologists will check your nerves and brain function. They'll check if your nerves are overly sensitive or unresponsive. You'll get stabbed and shocked a lot.

Pain and spine doctors are the ones who will give you pain medicine. It will not be immediate. They will need to examine you (MRI) and try other medications and treatments first. This is because insurance is not going to pay for stronger drugs until you've exhausted other options. You'll most likely start with something like duloxotine, gabapentin, prescription NSAIDs, and/or muscle relaxers. Once my results came in from the MRI I was given steroid shots in my spine. They will give them in different spots first to see which spot is most effective, so don't worry if it only works one time and not the others. I cannot stress the importance of having this type of doctor on your care team. Being able to have the power to manage my pain has helped so much. This is also the doctor that signed my form for my handicapped parking permit.

Sleep studies are expensive, but sleep is extremely important for your quality of life. So many people have sleep apnea and don't know it. CPAP machines today are really quiet and comfortable. This will be essential for tackling chronic fatigue.

An ENT doctor is only if you end up having sleep apnea or have any issues with your sinuses. I had to go and get my nose fixed because even with my cpap I still wasn't getting enough air.

You need to have some way of moving your body. Only do this after you are already on a treatment plan. It's hard to do things like exercise when you are still dealing with pain and fatigue. Doctors will want you to do physical therapy first but that's not a good idea because you won't stick with it due to pain. You need to deal with the underlying problems before working on stuff like exercise and nutrition. Able bodied young people who don't exercise and don't eat well are not in constant pain, so you shouldn't be either. If they tell you to lose weight drop the doctor, that's a cop out response.

I haven't reached the step to get a nutritionist, but changing what foods you eat and when can really help with pain management. You also may find that something you eat is exacerbating your symptoms.

With my insurance plan I can pretty much call up a doctor and make an appointment without a referral. I know some plans need referrals, so either call your insurance for one or get your primary care doctor to give you one. Idk how this works for medicare but I think you can just make an appointment with anyone who takes medicare.

I have not been able to obtain a script for a mobility device from any of my doctors. If you have a type of doctor you'd recommend for that please chime in. I've heard occupational therapists are the way to go though but still need to look into that myself.

Also do not feel bad if you cannot afford these. It is not your fault. Healthcare especially in the USA fucking sucks. This is mostly only useful for people who are in the investigative stage who have insurance. I'm not saying "oh just do yoga". Your pain is not your fault, and it can take a long time to figure out a plan that's right for you. I didn't know what doctors I was supposed to see when I started out, and was just given to a rheumatologist since there isn't a fibromyalgia doctor. I only had blood tests at that point. Hopefully this helps people save time and make sure they can fully investigate the cause of their pain (or at least how to manage it better)

[cornerstoreclown]

Laundry Day

Summary: This is a short one-shot (2830 words, approx.) where the Reader (Gender Neutral) has an undomesticated killer clown stopping by infrequently to use their shower and get his clothes cleaned. Some light domesticity, which is quite a feat, given this wild guy!

Trigger warnings: None this time, unless you really don’t like laundry, which is understandable. 

Author’s notes:  This was absolutely the first thing I wrote on a whim while trying to find my feel for Art. It feels very much like a toddler trying to learn to walk, so bear with me. Likes and reblogs are appreciated! It would be nice to know I’m not just filling up an empty room with no one in it. I hope to do some NSFW soon! 

------------------------------------------------------      

Art was kind of hard to pin down. For anyone to really pin down, honestly. Those that knew him feared him, except you.

You can’t remember the exact date, but it was last year in October, and it was in the final week of the month, you think. That’s when you met him–that strange black and white clown who didn’t utter a single word. He was dressed up walking around the streets with a giant black trash bag slung over his shoulder. It was hard to miss him–he was covered head to toe in gore and dirt and mud. Poor thing looked miserable, and the wet flopping sounds of his shoes as he walked sounded a little uncomfortable. 

Very clearly you can recall when he laid his eyes on you, and the way that he looked like he wanted to tear you apart, limb from limb. He approached you, and you hadn’t moved. Even when he stood a few mere inches away from you, then made the choice to jump at you to try and see if you flinched, nothing. That made him curious. Why didn’t you react? Most shrieked in horror or resorted to slinging insults. 

“I… Have a washer and dryer back at my place. You wanna use it?” You asked him. 

It was that single question that changed the trajectory of your entire life. 

 You didn’t have an ounce of self-preservation in your body that night, and to this day, you still don’t. Some things didn’t change. 

Pan over to present time, months upon months later, where you’re in the same spot as you were the night that he took you up on that offer, sitting on a tiny stool in the laundry room with some clothes you were folding to put into the basket in front of you, spacing out until you hear the sounds of someone approaching. The bare footsteps are ones that you recognize, and you’re confirmed in your suspicions when you see him wearing nothing but a cotton white towel and his standard makeup. It was a little weird seeing him out of his outfit at first, but you’re used to it by now, and so is he, at you seeing him like this. 

Evil was taking up residence in the vessel of a fleshy body that donned black and white. At first you wondered if he was human, but the longer you both spent together, you soon came to realize that he was something supernatural, and the more knowledge you had, the more questions it gave you. Why of all people, did he let YOU live? What did he see in you? 

Art could have killed you. You knew this, and he knew this. It was a mutual understanding, but where else could a notorious killer have a place to hide, rest, have laundry done, take a shower, and eat all in one place without a care? You didn’t get in his way, and while you weren’t necessarily a murderer, you were at the very least complicit by giving the stray and feral clown a sort-of-but-not-really home. 

“Hey, buddy! You look great.” You flash him a smile. “Feel better after the shower?” You’re never short of amazed at how he manages to keep his makeup so pristine. It always seemed to be in a flawless condition, even when he was looking rough. 

Art takes a few seconds, raises his hands out wide to his sides to express how refreshed and brand new he feels, then drops them, giving an enthusiastic nod, eyes closed as he shows an even wider smile. You can see the flash of his teeth that look like they haven’t been brushed for at least... a while. He then brings his hands up to the front of him and gives a gentle clap, interlacing his fingers thereafter. The clown then gives you a few hopeful blinks and an innocently pleading look with a tilt of his head, looking at you, and then the washer and dryer. 

“Oh, no,” You laugh. “It’s not ready yet. Still isn’t done with the wash cycle. You got your clothes really bloody, Art.”

And just like that, the puppydog-like eyes Art has been giving you disappear as he scoffs silently and impatiently. The clown’s arms go to fold across his chest. 

“How many people did you kill exactly to get it that messy, Art?”

He gives a shrug and a turn of his head, as if asking for you to guess. 

“Two?” 

He gives you a ‘more’ gesture, hand held out and fingers wiggling which would otherwise look like he was telling you to come closer. 

“Three?”

He’s still indicating for you to keep going. 

“Four? Five?”

He raises his hand and tells you to stop, raising his finger. 

“Five?” 

A shake of his head no. 

“Four, then.” 

He points at you. You genius, you! You got it right! He’s smiling now again, clearly proud. He even gently claps for you. 

“Yeah, that makes sense.” You answer. You’re not really feeling one way or another about it. The initial shock has kind of worn off. You stare down at the clothes in your lap briefly when you see Art staring down at the basket. 

“Yeah. I’m doing my own laundry. Folding it is a little bit of a pain, but I’m almost done.” And it’s true, you were very meticulous with folding. Normally you’d just have your clothes in the basket and unfolded, but you were trying to be a little more diligent instead of just fishing out what you washed the week before and putting it on. You’ve been struggling a little doing it, too.

The clown begins to approach you, and is rather leisurely at that. He’s relaxed and in his element here, familiar with the environment. 

Familiar with you. 

That makes your heart flutter a little, your mind in a daze that’s short lived, because Art is now close enough to you that you have to give him your full attention. Sometimes you still wonder if each time he visits will be the last time, and that one day he gives into that irresistible longing which ends with him pulling your intestines out of your lower abdomen like he were performing one of those endless magic scarf tricks. He’s thought about it, and while he hasn’t told you, you know. Maybe it’s a kind of unexplained psychic link that you swear you have with him nowadays, or maybe it’s just the simple fact that at the end of the day, he is what he is at his core–a predator. And you’re just prey. 

You tense up a little when he leans down in front of the basket of folded clothes, and you watch him come close. 

“Oh, you want to.. Help me fold clothes?” 

He doesn’t answer, instead lifting up the laundry basket in front of you, and before it fully registers in your head what he’s doing, it’s already too late.

“Hey–No, no, Art, don’t–!”

Almost thirty minutes of folding, spilling right on top of you as you were about to stand up and try to stop him. Piece after piece of clothing falls on you, around you, and all around at your feet from where you’re sitting. You even see him pretend as if it was all by accident, looking shocked, even as he tosses the laundry basket off to the side where the plastic container hits the wall and clatters to the floor. He likes to be funny sometimes, but other times, it’s like he’s testing you. 

Your heart rate immediately speeds up and your muscles tense as frustration makes your blood simmer. But it dies just as quickly as it rises, a flame snuffed out as he watches for your reaction, as if wanting to see if you’d let your anger get the best of you. As if that’d give him incentive to strangle you with one of your own sweatshirts, should things go south. 

He was a jokester at heart, and that was part of who he was. Often when he was here, he’d ruin something because he’d think it was funny, or he’d just be generally chaotic and straight up unhinged. One time a few dishes were broken, then one day he brought home a half chewed on rabbit you think he caught, a few months ago he took your entire collection of knives that you used for cooking, no doubt to stab and murder someone with. You remember that he took all your razors from your bathroom too. Another time, he took your toaster? Literally just walked out of the house with it in that Mary Poppins black trash bag of his. What was yours was also his when he came to visit, and at the end of the day, you know it was better that he fucked with the things in your house instead of you. In this instance, it was something less offensive than destruction or theft–he just foiled your attempt at trying to be a little better with your clothes. 

Instead, you just sigh, and look up at him. He’s tilted his head back, mouth open wide, eyes closed, pointing at you, silently laughing hysterically. You just know that if he had a voice, it would be bouncing off the walls right now.

Your lips thin out into a small line, lifting upwards into a faint but tired smile. Art was always a reminder to you to maybe not take things so seriously… After all, you might not wake up tomorrow. 

“Funny.” You give a soft chuckle. Art is now slapping his knees as he’s leaned forward, still pointing at you. He’s got some audacity, you think, standing there in nothing but a towel, but you just shake your head and keep your smile present. You’re not going to go back to trying to refold the clothes. So much for trying, you’re just going to shove them haphazardly in your basket and put it on your bedroom floor and keep pulling from it until there’s practically nothing left. Fuck that. You tried, and therefore no one could criticize you. 

A hand with wiggling fingers is out in front of your face suddenly, and when you glance up, Art is now looking down at you. You take his hand with no hesitation, knowing that if you only rejected him, he’d keep putting his hand in your face until you listened. When you take hold of it, his grip is tight. Tight to the point where it’s almost painful. He yanks you up to your feet out of the pile of clothes and you have no choice but to glance up at him. He’s taller than you, standing at what you guess is a little over six feet tall. Being so close to him always manages to take your breath away at some point. 

“Thanks, Art.” 

He gives you a pat on the shoulder, then grips it firmly to where it hurts a little, and gives you a few gentle shakes before letting you go. It’s a little jarring, but you’re fine with it. You still keep your expression pleasant, and had your hand rested overtop of his until he decided to let go. You give a few laughs. 

“Hey, I didn’t get the chance to ask you right away when you came in, but where is your friend? Is she okay?” 

The little girl.

Sometimes she was here, sometimes she wasn’t. She left messes of her own in your house, and they were often unsavory ones that you weren’t sure what they were, and you didn’t like dwelling on them. Liquids, mysterious chunks of sticky substance, among other things. Art however, thought she was a high class comedian, and so you went with it. She meant well in her own way, you suppose. But like all children, she had a habit of getting into things she didn’t need to be in. It was just another level of stress for you, so as much as it’s a relief that she’s not here right now, you still can’t help but worry a little. That was Art’s friend. She brought him joy. And what made Art happy was good. 

The clown’s demeanor shifts a little at that, to which he stares at you for a few seconds before once again asking for your hand, to which you give him it. This time, the grip is much tighter than the one he used to pull you up with. This is the same kind of grip that you just know was amplified even further to rip open torsos and rip faces clean off to the bone. You feel fortunate that he’s shown restraint, and that he cares enough for you to deliberately not want to hurt you. He leads you from the laundry room to the next room over–the living room. Your living room. 

The living room is pretty plain and standard, the main attraction being the couch, coffee table, and what he’s gesturing towards in front of both of those things–the flat screen. 

“Oh, the television! Yeah, of course.”

He sits you down on the couch first, before seating himself. He reaches for the remote on the table and surfs the channels until it lands on the news, displaying the show of a cleaned up scene of the crime stained with blood out on a neighborhood street from what you recognize is the next county over. 

LOVING FAMILY MAN FOUND DEAD OUTSIDE OF ESTATE, the headlines read, before going on about how a man was found outside of his home, arms chewed on and with a few pens jammed through his eyes straight into his skull. Following the details, there’s the show of a single tiny hat, one that you immediately recognize that would have a pigtail jutting out of it. 

So, that’s where she was. Did anyone actually see her? Could she only kill people that could see her? There was no sketch provided, nor is it seeming as if there's any sense of awareness as to who the hat belonged to in the news report. You knew that she was selectively visible to certain people, but what determined that? Art can’t help but silently laugh and point at the screen, going so far as to reach out over to you to show you the answer to your question, and most certainly for you to also appreciate his friend’s handiwork. You laugh out of politeness, though you’re not really feeling one way or the other about it. Your head is swirling with questions as you try to figure out the logistics of the case. Was that actually her hat? 

Just as soon as the news of the murder was on the television, it moved on. Local news tended to not dwell on topics for too long. They had a list of updates to go through and a short time to allot for it. 

“Stay tuned for the upcoming documentary on the infamous terror on the streets every October–The Miles County Clown. We suspect he’s back. More at eight.” The news reporter says. 

Art enthusiastically points at the television while looking at you, and you give him a nod of acknowledgement. 

“Glad you’re getting the attention you deserve.” You tell him, and he gives you an incline of his head and a smile, before showing how pleased he is with the chef's kiss gesture. You actually do genuinely laugh at that. His body language was always… Charming. 

Advertisements start playing and there’s just the weather and now national news up next until eight. During that time, Art reaches behind you and puts his arm on the top back part of the couch. While it’s not over your shoulder, you still feel enveloped by him all the same as you sit crisscross applesauce next to him, fiddling absentmindedly with your hair, fingernails, anything to keep you stimulated as the news prattles on. 

It was kind of nice. The intimacy and domesticity–if you could even call it that–which the two of you shared was a special one. You’ve seen him exposed like this, and he’s seen you dressed down in a similar fashion before. Neither of you thought much of it, but you at least would find your gaze wandering, and you’ve seen him do the same a few times in turn. The chemistry is undeniable. There’s something there. 

It was going to be maybe another thirty minutes until Art’s clothes are done in the wash and need to be moved over into the dryer. Just in enough time for the documentary on the Miles County Clown, who was right next to you. You start to feel a little tired, fatigue taking over you as you begin to, against your better judgment most certainly, lean against him a little to doze off briefly. 

And he lets you. 

The Miles County Clown has his hand on your back now, giving it a few gentle yet firm rubs before returning his arm on the top of the back cushion of the couch, intently watching the television. He might not be mortal, but you are, and he seems to understand that. 

Those thirty minutes of rest are going to come in handy for the level of attention you’ll need to give him when you wake up.