#this was a rushed recreation/edit

[ventablxck]

I could never understand why the some parts of the fandom draws Black Hat’s humanoid form light skinned

bc like I always saw him as Afro-Mexican 💀

It just fits

[stargazerlillian]

A video montage of Geoffrey Rush's time in Romania during TIFF 22.

[queers-gambit]

God's Plan

prompt: your boyfriend carries the worst parts of his job home, bringing to life one of your deepest-seeded insecurities. or when Carmy calls you clingy.

pairing: Carmen 'Carmy' Berzatto x female!reader pairing: Carmy x Peach

fandom masterlist: FX's The Bear

word count: 3.3k+

note: she's short. she's to the point. author doesn't want to hear a GODDAMN THING about "glorifying" toxic relationships. shut the fuck up, eat your cereal, read the fic or just scroll away.

warnings: cursing, small angst, short fic, author mildly gave up, hurt with no real comfort, allusion to toxic family relationship, insecurity, not edited.

part two: Two to Tango

browse Clingy Baby collection masterlist here

"Hey, what're you still doin' here?"

You glanced up from your computer, smiling at your coworker, "Just trying to get the study notes finished so they can be used for the analysis."

"Okay...? But you realize what time it is, right?"

You hummed, glancing at the analog clock, "Just about 7?"

"Yeah, so, go home," she chuckled. "Work's still gonna be here tomorrow."

"I'll see you then," you dismissed softly, watching her smile and turn away from your desk. You tried to get back into work, but the truth was, you felt overly burned out, but still wanted to work because it'd make you feel better being "good" at your job.

So, in reality, you didn't get home until 10:56 pm, yet still beat Carmy. You ate something simple, cleaned up, got a shower, and crashed into bed. You didn't know the time, but Carmy eventually came home; his arm heavy around you when settling for sleep.

You were the first up and out the door the next morning, just barely seeing Carmy when he got up for coffee. You managed a single kiss before rushing away, needing to get to work on time. When you got there, your entire morning was blocked for client meetings, then you took lunch, later, team meetings, and then the last hour or so of work was meant for individual recreation.

Another day of staying late, trying to finish work you thought was important. Another day of getting home late, missing your man, going to bed, and only seeing him the following morning.

However, this time at work, your boss told you that the analysis meetings were pushed back by a week... So, technically, you stayed late and busted your ass for no literal reason! And your coworker's entire cup of coffee spilled on you. And your Outlook email was under maintenance, so, you couldn't really work. And then, to top off a really shitty week, your car was hit in the parking lot and now had a huge fucking dent.

You were beat.

You were overwhelmed.

You were miserable, stressed, righteously confused.

You didn't stay late that night. Instead, you left at a normal hour and texted Carmy:

what time do you think you'll be off?

He replied when you got to your car:

maybe around 8?

You sniffled, nodding, answering:

okay, see you when you get home.

As you exited the parking lot, he replied:

what? you're off?

And you answered:

yeah, couldn't stand being there much longer. think you could get off a little early?

When you made three turns, he sent back:

i'll try, peach 💙

When you got home, you felt utterly defeated. Life felt like a never ending shitshow that refused to alleviate most of the stress you forced to endure. You were in tears by the time you got in the door, angrily stripping and getting a long, hot shower. You cried a little longer. When you got out, you got dressed in cozy shorts and one of Carmy's sweatshirts; going about a few household chores when you realized it was already past 9.

You didn't really want to, but you texted Carmy again,

hey, are you gonna be much later?

You made a simple meal, eating it in silence. When you were doing dishes, Carmy answered,

i don't know, going over menu items with syd. text you on my way home

You just went to bed, exhaustion from the week catching up to you.

Sometime later, you felt Carmy crawl into bed beside you. You were only half awake, but still turned over and nestled into his chest, hearing him sigh. "You're home late," you mumbled.

"Sorry f'wakin' you, Peach," he whispered, pecking your forehead. "You good, baby?"

"S'been a long fuckin' week," you squeezed him.

He sighed, "Sorry it was rough, Peach, but hey, hey, back up a little, 's kinda warm."

"But I haven't seen you."

"I know, but it's just warm. We'll cuddle in the morning, okay?" You only sighed and turned back over to face away from him. You resettled with your pillow, just settling when he asked in a hardened tone, "You mad?"

"No, Carmen, go to sleep."

"You sound mad."

"I'm not."

"I don't mean to piss you off, it's just been a long night f'me and I don't want to cuddle right now," he said in a sharp tone that made your stomach coil and churn.

"Shut up, I'm not mad, Carmen, go to sleep."

He scoffed, your irritation spiking. "You're really fucking mad 'cause I don't want you laying on me right now?"

"No, Carmen, Jesus - "

"Callin' me fuckin' Carmen doesn't help," he snapped.

You sat up and turned to him, "You want me to be mad? Maybe I'm a little pissed off that I've barely seen my boyfriend this week! Not like you've made an effort to speak to me, but I've had a pretty shitty time at work, too - so, excuse the fuck outta me for feeling disappointed!"

"Disappointed in fucking what, Peach? In not wanting t'cuddle right now?"

"Maybe, yeah! I'm upset, stressed out, maybe I just wanted some comfort, God! Now you're all up in arms, I just wanted to go to sleep - but no, you want to pick at me!"

"Oh, Jesus, fucking Christ! You couldn't just talk to me about you having a shitty week, you gotta be laid up on me? When the fuck did you get so Goddamn clingy and desperate for fucking attention? Huh? So fucking desperate for love? Sorry you had a shitty week, darling, but you're not alone in that. Sorry if it's fucking hot and I just want to sleep."

Feeling yourself fighting a losing battle because he wasn't listening, you just sighed, "Okay, Carmen."

He scoffed again, turning over to face away from you, "Know what? Fuck you, sweetheart."

You stared at his back for a long minute, feeling shocked by his words. "You can be such a fucking dick, you know that?" You snapped, standing from bed.

"And you can be a dramatic bitch."

"Yeah, that's me, the bitch you chose, huh!?" You rolled your eyes and nodded sarcastically; taking the blanket from the end of the bed, figuring he wouldn't miss it since he was so fucking hot. With only your phone and charger, you went out to the living room and crashed on the couch; covering up and crying quietly into a pillow from the overwhelming stress built in your chest. You felt guilt plunging your stomach, tearing it apart; feeling as if it were your fault for having physical touch as a love language.

Sleep evaded you that night. About an hour before your alarm, you called in sick and shut your phone off, resettling in misery as Carmy left the bedroom for work. You didn't move, never opened your eyes. However, they popped open in surprise when Carmen shoved your shoulder, "Hey."

"What?" You muttered.

"You're late for work."

"Called in."

He snorted, "Yeah, must be nice."

You didn't say anything else, feeling utterly defeated by his sharp words. The lack of response made Carmy pause and glance over at you from the kitchen, honest surprise coloring his system because he usually knew you to bite back. But you were quiet and still, the only indication you were even alive being the slow drag of your shoulders.

He let the door slam after he left for work, and you instantly sobbed. What you didn't know was that Carmy had come back, forgetting something mundane, and came to a halt outside the door when he heard you crying. He felt guilty, but Carmy wasn't usually one to confront problems; he instead ran away, like always.

After a night of exhaustion, you finally cry yourself to sleep.

When Carmy got home that night after work, he found you still huddled on the couch. After a look around, he realized you hadn't moved all day; nothing to eat, nothing to drink... He wanted to wake you but still felt so fucking irritated from his job that the idea of reconciling with you felt far fetched. So, he did what he did best and isolated himself by going to the gym for a few hours.

You still hadn't woken up when he got back.

So, he just went to bed; hating sleeping alone but hating his pride more because it refused to let him get up and go get you. Carry you to bed. Smother you in apologies. Beg for forgiveness. He was cold that night.

You were awake around 4 am.

The entire apartment felt as cold and aloof as your boyfriend. You felt so silly for still being there, knowing you paid for an apartment of your own, but liking that Carmy's place was closer to your work. And he never asked you to leave, in fact, the times you went home, he was calling you within hours to beg you to come back because he hated sleeping alone.

Whatever happened to that lad? The one who was so in-love with you that he would desperately ask you to come "home" to him? Who was this man now? Who called you clingy, desperate... A bitch.

You could only stand to make coffee, feeling powerless in this tension. You didn't want him to ignore you any longer, feeling like you'd drop to your knees for his forgiveness if it would end this feud; but you weren't so naïve. You spent several long minutes mentally prepping yourself for more anxiety, telling yourself you could handle the day if you just powered through it. Everything should be fine so long as you didn't do anything else to upset him, as long as you didn't do anything to warrant him yelling at you - again.

You finally decided on an emotion, since you could feel so many at any given point in time, and since this situation was one you've never encountered before. Carmy had brought forth one of your biggest insecurities and then smashed it in your face like punk-ass siblings did to your birthday cake. You decided you were hurt by his words, tone, and actions; you were hurt by the man you loved unconditionally, and that was a terrifying thought on its own. He was once a man you thought couldn't do any wrong, to now being a man you were unsure of how to even speak to; fearful, as you once were as a child, to upset him and create hostility directed at you.

Carmy often forgot he didn't have a monopoly on toxic, complicated family dynamics, but being that Mikey was still so fresh for him, you kept quiet about your own issues in an effort to be a loving, supportive girlfriend. Yet even while trying not to upset anyone, to create tension, you somehow managed to. You felt your heart and soul shrivel into a withered raisin when you remembered your family and how they constantly put you down; saying that nobody wanted a girl like you who tried, tried, and tried again only to fail. They thought you were damaged goods, treated you as such and always smeared your name in the mud whenever you thought you had found someone to love you and be loved by you.

All that trauma was rearing its ugly head now, making doubt sink into the cracks of your relationship. No matter how hard he tried, Carmy couldn't ever take those words back once they've been said, and he had to understand that going forward, this would strain your relationship. Taking anger and frustration out on you was inappropriate, putting a bad taste in your mouth; making you wonder how the hell you'd ever move past this when his words circled your head like water draining from the sink.

Sometime around 9 am, you were curled up on the couch with your coffee and a book; Saturday dragging by slowly to allow you the reprieve of being off work. The bedroom door opened and you held your breath; sweat breaking out on your brow; heart stammering in your chest. When he came out, Carmy didn't look at you, which allowed you to watch him. He made a to-go cup of coffee, then shouldered his backpack before heading for the door.

"Carmy?" You asked softly in confusion, "I thought you were off today?"

"I am," he replied stiffly, "but I gotta run errands."

You didn't have time to respond before he was storming out of the apartment, slamming the door behind him. You blinked in shock, confusion plunging your heart to your feet as you realized he didn't ask you to join him, in fact, he didn't appear to want to tell you his plans until you had to ask directly when he was walking out the door. You felt terrible, more tears swelling in your eyes at the discord your boyfriend prolonged.

Something in your heart snapped and you stood from your seat. With anger coursing through your veins, you turned into a miniature tornado and quickly started gathering whatever you could get your hands on that belonged to you. You had enough, you felt hurt, yes, we established this, but then the disrespect started to overflow out of your heart to color your blood. Never linger where you're not wanted, you should never tear yourself down to that level. Never should have to second guess yourself, either - especially in a space where you're supposed to be safe.

You started to wonder: is it clingy if you made dinner and saved him a plate? Is it clingy if you did his laundry? What about cuddling? Is that clingy? Well, apparently! What else are you wrong about? If you texted him? Asked his opinion? What about if you held his hand - is that clingy, too? Probably!

Physical touch and quality time were your love languages, but after this reaction, you wondered if everything you'd do from now on would be judged? Would you be crucified for showing your love? For trying to participate in your relationship?

All day, you moved your stuff back to your apartment. All shoes, clothes, purses, make-up, haircare and skincare products - any and all period products, too. You left fucking nothing; going as far as to lay face-down the photo of your two on his bedside stand. You'd of taken it, too, but you felt sick at the thought so you left it for him. Sunday night, you didn't return to his apartment, and Carmy didn't call to say goodnight; both figuring the other was still pissed off. Your Monday was long and annoying, but once it was over, you had to admit, it was strange returning to an empty apartment, heat up leftovers, eat while watching some Netflix show, and then crashing into bed - moving mechanically.

Days passed uneventfully, albeit, a bit sluggishly. And then, Thursday arrived, and with it, the shit that would hit the fan.

You were enraptured in this book by Anne Tyler called "Dinner At The Homesick Restaurant," and couldn't stop reading it. You nursed a mug of tea, the outside darkening with an approaching thunderstorm that would talk to you in the silence and send bolts of lightning to illuminate the city. A shrill ringtone then played, making you jump slightly and glance at your phone only to see Carmy's contact name and photo.

You stare at your phone for a long moment, and then, after convincing yourself that ignoring him would only add fuel to the fire, answered quietly, "Hello?"

"Peach? Hey, uh... Are you, um, still at work?"

"No?"

"Where are you, then?"

"I'm home."

"No, you're not."

"Yes, I am."

"I'm standing right here and you're not, baby, unless you got superpowers or something?" He chuckled nervously, hearing nothing on your end. "In fact, I, uh... I don't see any of your things. You move 'em?"

He'd never admit it, but your personal touch in his living space transformed it into a home; and now that they were all gone, he hated how cold, dreary, and grey the apartment felt.

"Carmy, I mean my home. You know? The apartment I still pay for?"

"Oh, well... Why're you there?"

"Why wouldn't I be? I had to bring my stuff back and leave it somewhere safe."

"It was safe here, Peach," he argued.

"Yeah, but it's your space and last thing I need is to be yelled at and insulted again for being clingy 'cause I left clothes at your apartment."

"Fuc'k's sake," You heard him hiss under his breath, bringing tears to your eyes. "You know I don't mind, I want you to leave shit here so it's easier on you to commute. Look, you know it's Thursday, right? Does our standing date night ring any bells?"

"Okay, but we haven't honored that in weeks? You know, 'cause you've been really busy."

"I thought we could get back into it tonight."

You sighed, turning the page in your book, "No, I don't think so, but thanks anyway."

He took a long pause, asking nervously, "What's wrong, Peach?"

"Nothing. Is there anything else, Carmen? I'm in the middle of shit."

"Oh, uh, n-no, I guess that's it. You comin' over tomorrow?"

"No. I told my brother I'd help him this weekend."

"But tomorrow's... Friday?"

"Yeah, that's how a calendar works. I have to travel to get to him," you scoffed.

"You didn't think to tell me?"

"Why would I?"

"You tell me everything! You don't think that's something I should know? That my girl's not even gonna be here this weekend?"

"Well, you're the one who said I was fucking clingy, remember!?" You finally snapped. "So, I'm giving you all that space you wanted!"

"Baby - "

"No, it's a great idea. We need space, Carmen; this isn't fair to either of us anymore," you spoke seriously, the line going quiet.

"What?"

"We need space from this relationship."

"I don't. I don't need space, Peach, baby, no, just listen, okay? I'm so sorry, I came home stressed out and I took it out on you. I'm sorry, I really am, this isn't what I want. Okay? I'm sorry. Just - come back home and we can - "

"No, you know what? I think I'm the one who needs this space," you snapped. "You said some pretty fucked up things, Carmen, that you can't ever take back, and now that I know, I can't un-know what you think about me. So, I need time to sort myself out."

"What're you saying? A-Are you breaking up with me?"

"Not yet, no."

"Baby, don't do this. C'mon, okay? I'm sorry, baby, I-I-I was wrong for what I said, I didn't - I didn't mean it! None of it, okay? Know I love you, baby, please, just come home, okay? I'm so sorry, I love that you wanna be close to me, I shouldn't've pushed you away. I'm sorry, okay? Please, baby, I'm so sorry. I need you, Peach, please. Just come home, we'll talk it through, I promise, no yelling - "

"I think you already said it all. Your words were 'clingy' and 'desperate'. Oh, and you also called me a 'bitch', so, I'd hate to be the bitch that makes your already stressful life all the harder."

"I didn't mean that - "

"I gotta go, Carmen, we'll talk later, okay? Goodnight."

He froze when he listened to those three distinct beeps that indicated you hung up on him. Confusion and hurt now seeped into the cracks of Carmy's heart; wondering when the hell he'd become so Goddamn self destructive to ruin the best thing he's ever had - you. The apartment might as well turned into ice with the way the light left, your departure suddenly haunting him.

When will these boys learn? The love of a good woman is rare, they'd only ever be so lucky as to think they deserve a woman like you. Nobody ever gets to guilt you for your love language(s) and then grovel for forgiveness. You deserve better, you deserve more; whether you could see that right now or not, you deserved to be loved in the best way for you. And sometimes, that means walking away from something you once thought was exactly what you wanted, but perhaps, never what you needed - call that God's Plan.

[ part two: ] Two to Tango

requesting rules and masterlist

The Bear masterlist

Clingy Baby collection masterlist

[daisynik7]

the scowl nanami had in the trailer reminded me of the safeword audio, it’s definitely his reaction when finds out you’ve been touching yourself without his permission 😩

Anon, you are SO RIGHT, and for that, I wrote a little something. In case anyone is curious, THIS is the audio anon is referring to (reddit link, 18+). It is SO GOOD. It actually gets so tender and sweet at the end, but I did not recreate that for this little piece LOL. Anyways, ily anon for your brilliant brain. I love the idea of getting caught in the act, I am SO here for it. Also, I’m going feral over mean!Nanami. This is barely edited or proofread. This is a result of my carnal desires for him taking over my fingers without a care in the world. I’m throwing feminism out the window temporarily for this, sorry ancestors. MDNI banner by @/cafekitsune.

You’re well into your third climax of the night, the vibrator buzzing on the lowest setting on your swollen clit, the exquisite sensations resonating down to the tips of your toes. You’re so sensitive now, basically mush puddled in the sheets, skin damp with sweat, arousal smeared over your loins. There’s nothing playing in the background; no porn, no nsfw audios, not even a dirty picture displayed on your phone screen. All that you have to get you off is the memory of Nanami railing you into the mattress, the same one you’re currently drenched in your slick, pumping his cock in and out of your wet cunt. That’s all you need to get your pussy throbbing, skin prickling, belly fluttering. 

He's not home yet, still out on a mission with Gojo, doing what he does best: protecting people. Is it unfair that he has to work this hard, risking his life, while you’re twisting in the bedsheets, squirming with pleasure from a handheld toy? Maybe not. But what’s the harm in a little mindless release? What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him, right?

Your eyes are shut tight as you descend from your high, vibrator shut off and teetering loosely in your hand, satiated and spent from tonight’s activities. You could fall asleep this instant, but there’s so much to clean up, all the evidence of your naughty deed that you don’t want your husband to discover without explanation. As you’re about to rise up out of bed, you hear the familiar jangle of keys unlocking the front door. Startled, and still a slippery mess, you quickly wipe off the toy, shoving it beneath the pillow. It’s not quick enough because just as you look up, Nanami is already standing at the doorframe of your bedroom, scowling. 

Like a bit from a comedy movie, you twiddle your fingers innocently, completely naked and exposed on the bed. “Hi honey,” you greet, slowly pulling the covers over your body. You smile at him, acting like he hasn’t already caught you in the act. He doesn’t respond, expression serious. Dangerous.

Heat rushes into your cheeks, increasingly nervous by his lack of reaction. “Kento, sweetie. What’s wrong?”

He crosses his arms over his chest, sauntering towards you. “You tell me,” he mutters, sitting at the edge of the bed, studying you carefully. 

You swallow loudly, mouth coated in your saliva. “Nothing’s wrong.”

“Oh?” It sounds like he’s teasing you. Toying with you. You shudder with anticipation as he reaches over, hand slipping under the pillow, retrieving your vibrator. He waves it at you. “What’s this, then?”

Another noisy gulp before you answer, “My vibrator.”

His eyes narrow, his free hand tugging the blanket off you slowly, inspecting your body from your face, chest, then between your legs, squeezed together, hiding your arousal. “What were you doing while I was away?” he asks, resting his hands on your knees, spreading you apart. “Were you being a bad girl?” 

There’s no need for a verbal answer, because as soon as his eyes fixate on your aching pussy, he already knows. “So, you have been a bad girl. Look at you, all wet and swollen already.” He clicks his tongue disapprovingly as you hide your embarrassed face behind your hand, barely peeking at him between your fingers. “You didn’t even have the decency to clean up.”

“I’m sorry,” you blurt out, limbs trembling, yearning for him to touch you. 

“Oh, you’re sorry?” he repeats, mocking you. “You fuck yourself while I’m working and all you can say is sorry?”

“I – ”, you choke on your own spit, rendering you speechless. 

“It seems that you forgot, so let me remind you one last time: This is my pussy. Not yours. Mine. You don’t get to play with it without my permission.” He sighs, hands sliding languidly down your thighs, prodding at the tender skin. “Such a dirty girl. What am I going to do with you?”

You moan, longing to feel his fingers, his cock, anything inside you. “Baby, please.”

He licks his lips, hungry eyes focused on your sopping cunt. “I guess it’s my job to clean up this mess.” He leans forward, tongue lapping at your sensitive bud, swirling circles around it, puckering his lips to suck. “Such a slutty pussy. So sloppy and wet for me.”

You squirm above him, pleasure stimulating your every nerve. “Fuck!” you cry out, lost in the ecstasy. 

His low chuckle vibrates against your clit, pinched between his lips. “How many times did you come from this toy? Once? Twice?”

You grip his hair between your fingers, shoving his face deeper. “Three times!” you stutter.

“And you’re still so fucking horny for me, huh?” He slides his tongue up and down your folds, collecting your slick on his tongue, drinking you up. “I’m going to have to do better than that toy then for you to learn your lesson.”

The need to be used and manhandled by him overtakes you. It doesn’t matter how much you touched yourself earlier. All you can think about is how much you need to be touched by him. How badly you need his cock inside you. How insanely desperate you are for his cum to fill you up. 

So you take it. Every lick, every suck, his fingers inside you, curled and hitting that sweet spot that only he can reach. His cock bullying you into submission, body weak and pliant from overstimulation, yielding to his every thrust like his own personal cock sleeve. All the while, he moans into your ear, constantly muttering the same reminder to you. 

“This is my pussy. All fucking mine.”

[sleekswosobession]

teasing

barça femeni x teen!reader

request: here & here

A/N: I bought FIFA23 today cuz i found it for $34, like damn. YES. PLEASE. In the basket 😌 I can now play other games other than hogwarts legacy and forza

TW: coarse language

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

As soon as you saw the message, you knew it was over. Your phone was in the hands of Ona who was looking at edits of herself on TikTok with Pina. You attempt to take the phone back, but it’s too late and they’ve already run out of the recreational room to the field where some of the other girls kicking are kicking a ball around.

“Y/N’S GOT A GIRLFRIEND, Y/N’S GOT A GIRLFRIEND!” Ona screams running and kicking the ball out of the way.

Jana and Bruna immediately rush over stealing the phone and opening messages.

“Guys, it’s nothing. Please stop.” You plead, hoping they’ll drop it. Jana looks up and narrows her eyes at you.

“It’s not nothing if this mystery girl has a HEART next to her name. We will not drop this until you tell ussss.” She drags out. You shake your head, before ultimately giving in.

“Fine, it’s just a crush ok? Now please, give me back my phone.” They seem satisfied and you thought it was over until Salma walks over.

“Careful now, don’t push us to the side when you get the girl.” You groan, walking away and flipping them off in the process. Noting that the next time you give someone your phone, to put it on do not disturb.

You look down at the message, finally being able to read it.

‘I just asked my mum and she said I could go! Could you send the ticket through please ;)’ You find yourself blushing as you walk through the doors back into the building, ignoring the curious glances sent your way.

- - - - -

Over the next couple of days, the teasing became more and more, and you only got more and more frustrated. Even Patri and Asisat joining in. The Nigerian didn’t really comment though, only some remarks and laughing, but it was more funny to you than the pestering of the others.

You didn’t realise that the girls had in fact read the message, you thought they were only focused on the heart next to her name. How wrong you were.

It was after warming-up, everyone was in the locker-room awaiting the speeches from Marta and Jona when Ona came and sat next to you, Claudia on the other side.

“Will we see mystery girl with a heart next to her name today?” Ona says, smirking. You groan.

“You two better not do anything I mean it.” You warn, wanting to be done with everything.

“Come onnn.” Claudia drags out. “I want to meet her.”

“And I don’t want you guys to meet her. Simple.” You say, standing up and walking towards where the tactics were about to be said.

- - - - -

The game is a good one, a 6-0 win and you play for about 30 minutes. It was comfortable and you laugh to yourself, thinking about how the team only had six subs, and got six goals.

You walk around, greeting and signing things for fans when you see her. The one the girls have been teasing about all week. You smile and hug her.

“Sorry… I’m a bit sweaty.” You blush looking away.

“No, no, it’s ok.” She laughs.

“So uhh, how did you like the game?” You look back up smiling.

“It was a good one, nice assist by the way.” Again, a blush crawls up your neck and to your cheeks. Then, out of nowhere Jana and Bruna are next to you and you look back to see Ona, Patri and Claudia looking at you.

“Maya, this is Jana and Bruna. My teammates and friends.” You introduce, nervous.

“So this is the one with the heart next to her name?” Jana says smugly, before you can object Bruna speaks.

“Found yourself a good one Y/N!”

“Please… not right now. Go away.” You sigh, looking apologetically at Maya who looks slightly uncomfortable.

“Fine, but if you need ANYTHING we will be right over there.” Jana points to where most of the girls are cluttered together, in the cold. She starts to walk away while Bruna stays.

“Bruna what do you want-“ You’re cut off as she manages to lift up your shirt and runs away with it. Back to where you see the other girls are laughing.

“I’m sorry for that, uhh” I look down and feel goosebumps forming all over my body.

“I think I will go. You should probably get warm, it’s cool out here.” You nod slowly, embarrassed by how this turned out.

“Thanks for coming though, hopefully we meet again?” You ask.

“We’ll see.” She smirks. “Bye Y/N.” Maya then turns around and leaves as you sigh for what felt like the millionth time this week. Feeling deflated, you walk back and don’t watch where you’re going.

You bump into Irene out of everyone.

“Lo siento.” You mumble.

“It’s alright- hey what’s wrong?” She grips your forearm assessing your face.

“Nothing, it’s fine.”

“Nena, don’t lie to me. What happened? Where’s your shirt? Aren’t you cold?” She says looking around.

“Just Bruna and Jana being annoying again, don’t worry.” You half-smile.

“What did they do this time? I know they’ve been teasing you about some crush. What is it?”

“Well, that said crush was here and I was talking to her and they came over. I told them to go away then Bruna took my shirt off of me and ran. They completely embarrassed me! I really like her and I just…” You don’t finish the sentence, tears welling in your eyes as your voice breaks.

“I’m gonna go home, bye Irene.” She tries to call out for you but you ignore her retreating to the change rooms and take a hot shower, to ease your thoughts.

Immediately afterwards, you notice the sympathetic looks from your older teammates, but choose to ignore them walking out of the room.

You get in your car, and drive away back to your house where no one can bother you. You were only 17, still finishing school and you live right next door to Irene. Who makes sure you have your shit together, despite objecting to it many times.

Unbeknownst to you, there was a lengthy conversation going on in the locker room after you had left

- - - - -

Irene’s voice blares through the room startling nearly everyone.

“Claudia, Patri, Jana, Bruna and Ona. You are all staying behind and we are going to have a little talk, got it? Salma you can also stay.” She says, everyone else goes back to doing their thing and immediately the girls know they’re in for it.

Everyone has filed out of the room, bar Alexia, Frido and those told to stay.

“I’m guessing you all know why I have you here, sí?”

They nod their heads.

“So, enlighten me why our teammate and friend has gone home very upset.” Irene makes a point to look at Bruna. But, it’s Salma who speaks up.

“They embarrassed her? I would just like to say I thought it was a stupid idea, I was right since we are standing here right now.” She folds her arms, trying to look tough.

“You may not have been this time, but you ALL have been teasing her all week. She had tears in her eyes and couldn’t even look at me. So each one of you will apologise.” Then Claudia speaks up.

“What about Asisat?” Frido answers the striker.

“She did much less damage, you will apologise and that’s it. That’s all you have to do.” The girls nod their heads meekly and then Alexia speaks up.

“Jana, Bruna. I expected better from both of you. Let this be a lesson for when things go too far. Patri, aren’t you old enough to not mingle with a teenagers love life?” Her jaw drops and solemnly nods.

“Ok then, if anyone is going to apologise. The best time is right now. Follow Irene and get it over with so she can’t hold something against you for a longer time than necessary.” Alexia finishes and then walks out with Frido.

- - - - -

You’re interrupted from your movie by knocking on your door. It’s 10pm, so options were limited. You find out when you open it that it’s Jana, Bruna, Ona, Salma, Patri and Claudia.

“What are you guys doing here?” You ask skeptically.

“Well we felt bad, and after a scolding from Irene we thought we’d come apologise. Sorry that we embarrassed you in front of if your crush, and I’m sorry I took your shirt off.” Bruna says with an apologetic smile.

“It’s ok, thanks for stopping by.” You knew it was genuine, so you felt better now.

“We got you a little something though.” Ona states, matter-of-factly. Then she gives you the bag she’s holding which has 2 Winnie the pooh plushies (one of Eeyore and one of pooh reading a book to piglet), along with different snacks.

“This is… thanks guys. Thanks a lot.” You take a look at the plushies, staring at how cute the one is where Pooh is reading to piglet. (i have this irl if anyone wants a photo 🤷)

“So, did you get the girl amiga?” Jana asks. You nod.

“We’re gonna go out some other time, not sure when. But yeah should be fun.” You don’t know why you told them that but you have a little feeling that they won’t tease you about it this time. Not if Irene can stop it anyways.

“Well, we will get leaving. See you at recovery then Y/N.” Salma says.

“Bye guys, thanks again!” They all walk out and Irene walks in.

“Looks like my plan worked huh?” You smile.

“Thanks but really, I was fine.” She quirks an eyebrow.

“Really? Because you were almost crying Cariño. I just came to make sure they stuck to their word, and they did.” You nod.

“As for those chocolates, no eating until cheat day alright?” You rolls your eyes.

“Fine, can I finish my movie now?” She laughs.

“Sure, I’ll get back now, be safe. I love you, the team cares and if you are ever feeling down again. Or feel sad because of what teammates say. Do not hesitate to tell me.” You nod and whisper and thank you as she kisses the top of your forehead and leaves. You love this team, you really do.

[hoakaikapo]

HAUNTED - Clarisse La Rue x Unclaimed! Fem! Reader

Part 2 of ATTRACTION.

summary: it’s halloween night, and your infamous rival with Clarisse is suddenly about to change…

warnings: mention of alcohol, implied meanings (?), use of pet name (in a joking way), swearing, HEAVY MAKEOUT SESSION. MEN & MINORS DNI PLEASE.

a/n: i can feel the heat radiating off of my laptop because of this one. like, I AM MELTINGGGGG. sorry if this is rushed, i’ll most likely edit this in the morning once i’ve had a chai 🤍

———————

LOUD MUSIC blares from the speakers as you try to make your way to the dance floor, weaving in and out between the numerous dancing bodies as you try to keep your friend in sight, bumping into some of them and muttering inaudible apologies as you sneak by. It was no use. After apologizing to what seemed to be the millionth person, you noticed your friend already dancing up against some tall Hephaestus kid. You couldn’t blame her, however, he was tall and handsome and very muscular from what you could see in the dim lighting. You curse yourself for agreeing to ever going to this party in the first place, knowing that you would most likely be alone for the rest of the night now.

Despite the heat on the dance floor, you couldn’t help but feel cold and naked. Well, you were sort-of naked, wearing a slutty bunny costume which your friend had convinced you to after saying that going as a police officer was too boring and common. You figured she was right, there were about fifty other girls wearing police officer costumes, and they looked far better in it in your opinion. Now alone in a party where you knew virtually no one, you decided to slip back out and head back to your cabin.

Someone spills a drink all over your front, causing you to mutter obscenities that not even the gods could ever think of. Your black bodysuit now reeked of sweat and alcohol. You groan, glaring sourly at the Scooby Doo costume in front of you. How perfect, you thought, being all alone and now someone spills their drink on you. You were about to give them a piece of your mind before you figured that blowing up on someone who’s probably too drunk to even think right now in the middle of a party wasn’t such a good idea. Frustratingly, you quickly look for an exit, only to find yourself face-to-face with yet another person.

Ghostface, you thought, now that’s something original.

“Out of my way,” you shouted, trying to push past the tall figure. Your attempt failed when you felt their muscular arm pull you back in front of them, their hooded eyes gazing into yours before pulling off their mask.

“Going somewhere, bunny?” Clarisse says as she reveals herself. Her usual stupid yet brilliant grin plastered on her face as she eyed you up and down, as if tearing you apart in your choice of costume. You couldn’t tell if she was judging you or if it was something else. But, that didn’t matter. This was still Clarisse La Rue, your natural nemesis, and the one thing standing between you from going back to the cabins and sleeping for the rest of the night. Clarisse read the look on your face and jokingly pouted her lips. “Aw, leaving so soon, bunny?”

You roll your eyes at your new nickname. “Move along, La Rue. I don’t want to have to deal with you.”

“But, bunny, the party just started,” Clarisse’s voice was low and raspy. You hate to admit it, but it was attractive to you, really attractive, and your nickname didn’t sound too bad when she said it this time.

However, your pride and ego took over your lustful thoughts, causing you to react negatively to that name. “Don’t call me that.”

Despite the music blaring in the background, the silence between the two of you was tense. You were taken aback to the time in the locker room a few weeks ago, feeling as if you two were recreating the scene: the intense stares, the hot tension waiting to be broken, obviously the costumes you both were wearing. There’s another thing you’d hate to admit: it’s that Clarisse looked surprisingly fit and attractive in a serial killer’s costume, adding a knife to it only created more of an affect towards you. However, the party scene wasn’t your style, Clarisse simply wasn’t your type (what a liar), and you weren’t the kind of girl who got with someone because of the tension between the two of you. No matter what, you would stand your ground against your temptations. Anything else with Clarisse besides mutual hatred would be like dancing with the devil – a tango that you weren’t too keen on taking even if it is Halloween night.

The prolonged staring soon became boring for Clarisse to continue after some time. She pulled the mask over her face in one motion, which surprised you slightly considering her curls. Patting you slightly on your shoulder, she gestured towards the doorway, as if she was allowing you to finally leave. Underneath the mask, you caught the slightest hint of her grin again, causing you to scowl at her. To Clarisse, this was a game, a game in which you were going to lose if you walked through that door. The thought of leaving was soon replaced with the urge to stay, not wanting to back down in front of Clarisse. Again, she caught the look on your face and dropped her hand back to her side. She stood to her full height, leaning in close enough to where you could feel her breath on your face.

“I knew you wouldn’t back down from this so easily, bunny,” she whispers into your ear. The seductiveness of her tone was enough to send chills throughout your spine. If there weren’t a hundred other kids in the cabin and you were a few more shots in, then you would’ve pounced on the girl.

Time went on, the music got slower and a few campers had already left. You were ready to leave with your friend until that Hephaestus boy came back and insisted that he walk her back to her cabin. You were hesitant at first, wondering if the boy had something else in mind before your friend pleaded to you to let her go. You gave in, and now you were walking back along the dark and wooded pathway alone. The only light came from the full moon peeking in through the treetops. You took a shortcut behind the armory when you noticed a familiar Ghostface slip into it. Your curiosity got the best of you and you went to investigate.

You were met with disappointment when you noticed that it was only Clarisse putting the knife back into its original place, as if she had never stolen it in the first place. Quietly, you began to retreat before you were once again met face-to-face with the Ares girl, mask clutched in hand.

“This isn’t what it looks like,” you quickly defend yourself.

Clarisse tuts, smiling in an almost devilish sort of way. “Really? Because it looks like you were spying on me.”

“Don’t get any funny ideas in that little twisted head of yours, La Rue,” you retorted and folded your arms across your chest. Clarisse leaned in the doorway, her hand hanging loosely enough above your head to play with the fake bunny ears you borrowed from your friend. The light in the armory was dim enough to make out all the small features on Clarisse’s face, the ones that you had never really cared to notice about until now. The sudden change in energy between the two of you felt less intense than before, almost peaceful in a way. You considered that downright near impossible because Clarisse was far beyond ‘peaceful’ in any sort of way.

“You know, I think you look really great tonight,” she whispers as if she was telling you some forbidden secret. You were glad that it was dark outside so that she couldn’t see the sudden rush of red rise to your cheeks. You bit your lip anxiously before removing Clarisse’s fingers off of your bunny ears.

The feeling inside you was different this time. You could feel your heartbeat in your chest as Clarisse eyed you up and down again, licking her lips slowly as if she was enticing you. You could feel yourself almost melt into her touch as she began interlocking your fingers with hers. You could feel your brain trying to fight against your heart, reminding you that Clarisse was the exact opposite of what you could possibly want. But, your heart figured you could turn her into something you need.

Why did you dislike the Ares girl so much in the first place? You began picking at your memories with Clarisse to figure out how the dispute between you two even started. But, the harder you tried to remember, the more you began to forget. Your visions of your first days at camp were quickly replaced with the dark, tall, muscular Ares girl in front of you. You both said nothing, yet the way your eyes hungrily danced between her eyes and her lips said everything to her.

Anything with Clarisse beyond mutual hatred was like dancing with the devil – you could confirm that now that your lips were on hers. You muted the curses in your head as you wrapped your arms around her neck, bringing the Ares girl closer to you. Her arms found her way down to your hips, placing a firm grip on them. The thought of kissing Clarisse had never crossed your mind, ever, yet it surprised you. You had always taken Clarisse as the type where she would like to get things done fast, but right now, Clarisse was slow with it. She was slow with moving her lips against yours, she was slow with guiding her tongue against your bottom lip as if she was slightly begging for entrance, she was slow with pulling you in tighter, even though the space between you two was already minimal enough.

You wanted to complain when Clarisse pulled away first. You noticed the worried look in her eyes after realizing what she had done. You shook your head, glancing around quickly before pushing her into the shed, swiftly closing the door behind you.

“Don’t get that fucking look with me, Clarisse,” you muttered before crashing your lips onto hers again. She grunted at first, taken aback by your sudden boldness, but soon, your passion was met with hers. It was like fire on fire, and you both were now too far gone to even argue what was happening between the two of you.

Now this was what you were expecting from Clarisse. Her arms found her way back around your waist, picking you up and placing you on the wooden table in the shed. You smiled against her teeth as you wrapped her arms around her neck once again, pulling her in closer. She straddled between your legs, silently cursing at the table for being in the way. She wanted to get closer to you, wanted to feel you, wanted to devour this moment up and relive it every time she thought of you, which would now be more often because of this. Against yours, her tongue licked the bottom of your mouth and you finally let her in. You moaned slightly at the hot contact, trying your best to keep your composure. Clarisse’s hands moved from your waist and down to your thighs, repeatedly grazing it in an up and downwards motion. It sent shivers down your spine, earning Clarisse yet another groan from you.

“I told you I’d get you back next time,” she murmured breathlessly against your lips. You wanted to roll your eyes at her for the snarky comment, but the amount of pleasure and satisfaction rushing through your body was too much for you to even think properly.

However, you thought this was a pretty sweet way for her to get back at you: making out in a shed on Halloween night.

Clarisse pulled her lips off yours. You were about to protest before suddenly feeling her lips against your neck, accidentally allowing yourself to let out an almost unholy moan. You covered your mouth suddenly, surprised that you could ever let out such an explicit expression. Clarisse smirked against your hot skin as you did so.

“Shut up, Clarisse,” you snapped at her.

“I think the one who needs shutting up here is you, sweetheart,” she said before concentrating back on leaving dark hickeys along your neckline. In a costume like yours, it would be near impossible to cover up. You could care less right now. You would figure out the logistics later between you and Clarisse’s sudden change in relationship.

You wanted more. Clarisse knew it. But, before anything else could happen, the voices of the other campers were close by. You jumped slightly, pushing Clarisse off of you. She glared at you unhappily before too realizing that the campers were returning, and that if anyone else entered the shed, they would soon be met with the sight of Camp Half-Blood’s infamous rival making out in the middle of the night. So, silently, you slipped out first, followed by Clarisse. She half masked her face and gazed in satisfaction at the artwork on your neck. Created by her, of course. Suddenly, the expression on her face changed. In fact, her entire demeanor changed in a single instant. Clarisse’s hands were hot against your face as she grazed your cheek softly, smiling at you in an almost loving sort of way. As if you both just didn’t have the hottest makeout session of your entire lives. You gave into it, reciprocating that smile as she leaned in to kiss your forehead. No words were said between you two as she ran off back towards her cabin before anyone else could see what happened.

You danced with the devil tonight. You were well aware of that. But, you’ve settled with being a sinner if making out with Clarisse is your absolution.

[radioisntdead]

Hello hello for the third time!!

Once again, your fics absolutely BLOW my mind away!! And I'm here to request just a silly fic with Angel Dust (platonic) and a feral!child reader, who always gets into trouble with his workplace and the hotel?

(I mostly just wanna read Valentino be shit on lmao)

Yours Truly,

- XIN 💠

(P.S, I RLLY WANNA BECOKE UR FRIEND OMG)

Good evening my dear! You requested this at the perfect time because I had to stop the feral child I am related to from running over the elderly with a grocery cart so that's definitely going to play into this not the hitting the elderly with a cart but the general vibe, ALSO THATS SO SWEET OF YOU TO SAY, I'M OPEN TO FRIENDSHIP JUST MESSAGE ME ON HERE BECAUSE I DON'T KNOW IF I MESSAGE YOU FIRST IT'LL BE FROM THIS BLOG OR MY MAIN ONE (I've been on Tumblr for like 5-6 years now and I still don't know how it works) YOU WILL GET ME YAPPIN' ABOUT HAZBIN, SENDING RANDOM SNIPPETS OF MY WRITING WITHOUT ANY CONTEXT AND MILDLY ODD EDITS OF SOUP

@fuck-this-shit-xin

Favorite babysitter

(Or alternatively Valentino gets beat by a child)

Angel dust & child reader, platonic!!!

Warnings:

I got carried away, Valentino loses a wing and both Antennas, nothing graphic surprisingly no unholy jokes mainly because the reader is a child, this is a shorter one, mild OOC

Angel dust didn't mind children, he preferred not to be around them because well, he wasn't the most child-friendly person to be around

However it was just his luck that the hazbin hotel's resident feral child had decided he was their favorite babysitter.

You had shown up one day at the doorstep of the hotel with a note taped onto you just saying 'Good luck '

It was suspected you were some type of bomb at first but that quickly was pushed aside when it was found you were just feral, you weren't a bad kid you just didn't listen, climbed onto the walls, tabletops, bit into things you weren't supposed too but you could be a very sweet kid, playing with the Egg Bois, helping Charlie by drawing, helping Husk dry the glasses or hunting down roaches with Niffty,

That last activity had been banned since you almost stabbed one of the Egg Bois.

You were a very sneaky and little clingy thing that was evident with you latching onto his legs at random times, sometimes he wouldn't even notice you until it was pointed out or he looked down and bam! There you were wrapped around him like a baby possum sippin' on a juice box.

He made it a point to make sure someone was distracting you as he escaped the hotel to go to work, unfortunately for him Sir Pentious who was meant to be watching you was distracted by his egg minions almost smashing themselves while trying to recreate action movies and you ran after him following him through the city and into the Vee's tower, shockingly due to plot convenience you weren't noticed until Valentino was yelling at Angel dust for who knows what before any work could be done, he pulled out Angel's contract for whatever reason, maybe to make a point? You didn't really know but you didn't like that what looked like a giant dressed up purple grape was yelling at your favorite babysitter so with your little legs you stomped up to Valentino tugging on his wings that acted as a robe, he looked down in fury that quick turned into angry confusion

"Who the fuck brought their child to set?!"

Valentino shouted looking around as his employees looked around shaking their heads, a rush of pure panic rushed through Angel dust, when did you get here? He didn't even notice you? Wasn't Sir Pentious watching you?!

Before he could even get a word out you stomped your leg and pointed at him, eyes full of pure fury.

"Say sorry!"

"¿Qué? What did you just say?"

"Say sorry!"

Valentino leaned uncomfortably in, opening his mouth to say something but Angel had grabbed you in his many arms fully intending to take whatever hit Valentino could throw at you, however you had a different plan, with a large frown on your face you wiggled your way out of Angels arms and pounced onto Valentino, your little clawed hands tearing into his wings, leaving small puncture wounds behind as you climbed up him, the contract that bounded Angel dust's soul to Valentino floated down to the ground.

Valentino yelled out words you couldn't quite understand as his wings flared out, you took the opportunity to steal his hat and bite into it tearing it apart before throwing the remaining fabric onto the ground.

The unholy studio's employees could only watch stunned as you grabbed onto his antennas completely ripping them off, if he couldn't fly because of his damaged one before, he definitely had no hope of it now.

Valentino dropped to the ground screeching, arms reaching up to throw you off only for you to start crawling around his back like a little bug leaving more scratches and wounds

Angel dust once he recovered from the shock of you absolutely tearing apart Valentino tried to grab you fully intending on taking you and booking it to the hotel where you'd be safe,

Unfortunately you were freakishly strong and in angel's attempts of trying to pull you off ended up pulling one of Valentino's wings out.

"Are you going to say sorry now?"

Valentino let out a groan of disoriented pain,

That didn't sound like an 'I'm sorry' to you, so you climbed up his remaining wing and ripped a large chunk of his fluff from it, Niffty would be proud!

"¡Lo siento! ¡Lo siento, solo vete!" the still disoriented Valentino shouted from the ground,

You smiled as you stood up from the overlord and skipped towards Angel dust, your eyes caught the contract that had floated to the ground, now you didn't know what it contained because you couldn't read but you assumed it probably meant something to the purple guy and so you decided that you should rip it.

"[Name] get over here' I gotta get you outta here before-" Angel dust started as you swiped the contact off the floor and ripped it to shreds, the smoke-like chain briefly appeared around Angel dust's neck before breaking apart and whooshing away.

Angel was stunned for a moment before a large grin broke out on his face, before anyone could say anything he picked you up, raised a certain finger up and shouted that he was quitting, after all Valentino didn't have his soul anymore, and frankly the work environment would be awkward now to say the least since a child had just inflicted permeant damage to his now former boss, he could find another job.

Unfortunately someone who didn't have good morals called the security team and now Angel dust was running down the Vee's tower holding you, he would pull out the guns that he kept in I assume his ribcage or something but you were right there and the gunshots would hurt your little eardrums, eventually the two of you outran them and returned into the safety of the hotel.

Angel dust sat you down on the ground as he breathed in, catching his breath while Sir Pentious rushed to you lifting you up while asking where you were before looking at Angel in confusion.

"Aren't you ssssssupposed to be at work?"

"I quit! Lil' chronic juice-o-holic over there ripped up my contract and fucked up Valentino! hAh!" Angel said still trying to catch his breath as you slipped out of Sir Pentious's hold and ran to go bug Husk for a juice box.

The news of you ripping Valentino's antennas and a wing out made hotel news, you were lightly scolded by Charlie about taking the violent route but she gave you ice cream and bought you a toy as a reward, Alastor saw great potential in you, Husk patted your head saying that you did good, Vaggie would eventually decide to teach you how to fight, you got being feral down but it couldn't help to teach you to be more calculated, Niffty was happy when you gave her the big clump of fluff for her collection, she already had some from her earlier interaction with the now antenna-less moth but more couldn't hurt!

And Angel dust, well he owed ya big time although he did scold you for following him into a dangerous place [thank goodness you didn't see anythin' unholy or Vaggie would've had his head!]

He spent a little more time with you the following week before he decided to do some job huntin', he would sneak you some candy or a extra juicebox when he could, and the two of you would watch kid friendly Disney or dreamworks movies on the hotel's TV.

Valentino laid down in his hospital room, full of fury that he got injured by a child of all things, a small child that had some type of connection with Angel dust who's soul he no longer owned, he swore that he would get payback against the child, unfortunately for him the mere presence of that child would strike enough fear into him that he wouldn't be able to make a move, and even if he could he wouldn't be able to do anything to the feral child.

He got off easy this time, he wouldn't be as lucky the next he messed with your favorite babysitter again.

Good evening folks! Hope you enjoyed! I'm working on getting the older requests in my inbox done and getting them out next week along with the 100 followers fic with Angel dust! So tune on in for that! Goodnight folks!

[kiskisur]

hihi, if youre doing requests, can u do a wriothesley fluff? Anything is fine, just some wriothesley fluffy stuff, tysm

wriothesley's method

warnings: fluff, wriothesley x reader, stressed out reader

note: I had another request from ezra so I just took it

edited note: pls no more chinese

ANOTHER EDITED NOTE: I'M RECREATING IT HOLD ON IT HAS SOME ERRORS

You swing open the door, feeling the familiar warmth wash over you, casually taking off your bag and shutting the door behind you.

"I'm back!" you called out, expecting a rush of footsteps but instead, there was silence.

"Wriothesley?" you furrowed your brow, puzzled, as you approached the bedroom with caution.

You reached out, turned the doorknob, and gently pushed the door open, revealing a black-haired guy who, if you squinted, could pass for a sleeping wolf.

You couldn't help but smile, letting out a chuckle as you took soft steps toward him.

You admired his peaceful face for a moment, grateful to be home with someone you loved, before gently slipping the pillow he was hugging and replacing it with yourself.

You planted a tender kiss on his forehead and hummed, which seemed to wake him up.

His vision was still blurry as he tried to focus, and the first thing he saw was you.

His eyes widened, a smile immediately spreading across his face as he held onto you tightly.

"Welcome home, baby!" he cheered, still clutching onto you like there was no tomorrow, making you laugh.

"Hun, I can't breathe," you patted his back, signaling him to let go, and he pouted before obeying.

"How was your day? Did something happen? Are you okay?" he fired off a series of questions, scanning your body for any signs of harm and letting out a sigh of relief.

"I'm not hurt; I'm just stressed out, really. Nothing to worry about," you reassured, cupping his cheeks and giving him a peck on the lips, gazing at him with affection.

"Oh? What happened? Tell me everything!" he sat up, tilting his head slightly to the side, attentively listening to your rants and vents.

After letting out a frustrated sigh, you flopped down on the bed, groaning.

"It's just so stressful! I don't know what to do anymore," you closed your eyes, the weight on your shoulders lifting as you shared your worries with your lover.

He sighed and lay beside you, wrapping his arms around your waist, burying his face in the crook of your neck.

"You shouldn't stress out about this. You know, take breaks, too? You're only human. It's not normal to overwork yourself," his voice was muffled but still clear.

You sighed and nodded, holding his hands. "You're right. I'm sorry."

You looked back at him, smiling softly before kissing his cheek.

He closed his eyes, feeling the familiar warmth of your body as he continued to hug you tightly.

"Good, I love you."

"I love you too."

You closed your eyes, relaxing on the bed when he suddenly pulled you closer, causing you to yelp.

"Come on, let's play a game!" the excited wolf sat up once again, his eyes sparkling with hope and enthusiasm, and you let out a laugh.

"Wriothesley, it's 2 am! Aren't you tired?" you pouted, shaking your head as you crossed your arms.

"Come onnn, if you lose, we play again, but if I lose... hmm... we play again!"

"Hey, that's not fair!"

[xdaddysprincessxx]

His Pretty Plaything

Uncle Ezra x F reader

Warnings: p in v, unclecest (again not blood related!), uhh this took a soft/sweet turn lol so emotions, some angst, pussy slapping, light edging, fingering, not beta’d, lightly edited, all mistakes are mine

Wc: 2629

As the summer was coming to an end, you found yourself tremendously confused with a dash of desperation. It’s been a couple of weeks since your encounter with Uncle Ezra. You think about him and that quite often. Most times your hands are down your pants in a frantic rush to recreate even an ounce of the pure unadulterated ecstasy he made you feel. But it was never enough. Your own hands failed you as you wished for him to come swooping in to take advantage of you again. You craved his cock, his filthy words, the way he claimed you as his. You got a taste and now you wanted more.

Fortunately for you, your dad was planning his end of summer party that he always throws. And you already know who will be in attendance. A little plan hatched in your brain; you were going to seduce Uncle Ezra and get him to fuck you again. You picked out an extra skimpy bikini to wear with a cute light blue sleeveless cover up dress. Excited for the party but more importantly you were excited to be filled by Uncle Ezra again.

The sun had already set as you stomped up the stairs to your room. Tears threatened to fall as you grind your teeth together in frustration and hurt. He ignored you. He never once looked your way no matter what you did. How could he defile you and then just drop you like hot garbage?!

You close the door behind you as you dive face first on your bed, hugging your pillow to your face as you let yourself cry. Feeling so ugly, so unwanted. You knew it was wrong what he did but you liked it. At first, yea you didn’t want him touching you. Didn’t want his advances but the pleasure he bought you was so indescribably incredible. And now. Now he acts as if you don’t even exist. As if you aren’t even there! Fucking bastard!

You cried yourself to sleep that night. Waking up still in your bikini and coverup from yesterday. You felt so disgusted with yourself. Peeling off what little you had on, you grabbed a towel and went to the bathroom for a much needed hot shower.

The hot water felt so good on your skin. The suds running down your body to the drain as you stood under the water, letting it completely cleanse you. Literally and figuratively. In your mind you imagined every inch touched by him being washed away, down the drain, never to come back and soil your skin again.

You put on an old baggy tshirt and some black cotton shorts before heading downstairs to grab some breakfast. As you round the corner going into the kitchen you look up and see your dad and him sitting at the table. Both men stop talking and look up at you as you enter.

“Good morning sweetie, Uncle Ezra and I were just talking. He’s gonna come stay with us for a few months. He’s gonna take the guest room next to yours while his house is under renovations.”

You huffed, “Oh great. Another man who probably leaves his dirty clothes on the bathroom floor and doesn’t clean up after himself. Joy.” You say dryly as you roll your eyes.

“Woah kiddo. That’s not very nice of you. Now I know damn well your daddy cleans up after himself as do I. No need to be a brat about this.”

“Whatever Ezra.” You say with venom in your voice as you grab a pop tart and walk back upstairs.

His eyes widen as his brows raise up in shock at your response.

“Eh don’t let her get to ya man. She’s just a little cranky in the mornings.”

A couple hours pass. . .

After seeing him in your kitchen and getting the lovely news that he’s gonna be staying with you for awhile really soured your whole day. You were laying in bed, scrolling Twitter when you came across a tweet that said ‘the best treatment for good girls’ with a video attached of a girl on her back getting face fucked by one guy and another fucking her pussy.

You bit your lip as you contemplated pressing play on the video.

‘Oh fuck it.’ You thought before hitting play.

The video itself was only nine seconds but it was more than enough to get you turned on. You exited out of Twitter and went to the internet browser hitting incognito mode and searched up your fave porn site.

Rolling on your back with your phone in one hand and the other softly squeezing a tit as you scrolled down the main page. You find a video of two women fucking each other. You decided to click on the video and start watching it.

Your can feel the tingles in your body as your pussy gets wetter. Pulling your shirt up, your tits fall out as you go to pinch your nipple.

You keep tugging and groping your tits before moving down to your cunt. You barely dip your finger in between your folds-

“What the hell is your problem girl?” Ezra demanded as he opened your door without knocking.

“Oh my god get out!” You shout as you jump up quickly removing your finger and trying to cover yourself.

It takes him a second to fully adjust to what he’s seeing before a smirk crosses his face. Reaching for the door behind him, he closes it before taking a couple steps closer to your bed. He places his hands on his hips as his smirk widens into a sinister smile.

“Ah now I get it. This why you were being a brat this morning kiddo? Huh? Poor little virgin got a taste of a real man and she needs more. Is that it baby? My pussy miss her daddy?”

“Oh fuck you Ezra! Me and my pussy do not miss you nor do we want you!”

That wiped the smile right off his face as he steps into your space, grabbing your face in his big hand, squishing your cheeks together.

“Don’t lie to me girl. You and I both know this cunt drools for me. You gone stop acting like a fucking brat or do I need to fuck it out of ya?”

As much as you want him to fuck you, the anger and betrayal from feeling unwanted at the party kept you from just saying yes. Your eyes start getting glassy as you swallow your spit ,

“Fuck. You.”

The sides of his mouth turn up into a smile as he lowers his face right in front of yours, “Oh kiddo. Acting like a brat is gonna get you punished. You don’t even have a clue what you’ve started.” He says in a low, gravelly voice. He turns his face slightly, nose touching your cheek as he slowly trails up to your temple.

An exaggerated moan comes from your phone and you both pause before looking down at the device.

You had completely forgot what you had been doing before you were interrupted.

“Now what’s this?”

Ezra is quicker than you to grab your phone and sees the video you were watching.

“This what you like kiddo? You get off watching pretty girls lick cunts?”

Shame and embarrassment heat up your face. You don’t know what to say,

“I - I It’s it-it’s not - wh- “ you stutter.

“Shh baby it’s okay.” He whispers as he leans forward, softly kissing your lips, “come here let Uncle Ezra help.”

He lets go of your face as he moves to sit behind you. Grabbing your hips, he pulls you in between his open legs, taking one of his legs and wrapping it over your leg and spreading you open.

“Hold the phone baby so we can watch together.”

You take the phone from him as he kisses the side of your neck. You can already feel his cock hard against your back.

“My hands don’t feel good Uncle Ezra. They don’t feel like yours.” You manage to get out in a whine.

“I know kiddo. I know.” His fingers interlock with yours as he pulls your hand up to his mouth. You watch as he puts two of your fingers in his mouth and sucks. Your mouth drops open as he stares deep into your eyes. Pulling your fingers from his mouth, he moves your hand towards your face as you take your freshly sucked fingers into your mouth, lips closing around the digits.

“There’s my good girl. I know you don’t wanna act like a brat. I know baby. Uncle Ezra’s gonna make his girl feel better.”

He pulls your fingers out of your mouth and places them on your covered mound. He uses his fingers to press yours into your clothed cunt and begin to rub circles right over where your clit is. You can’t help but throb from the friction it’s giving you.

“Watch the pretty girls baby. Watch them lick on each others pretty pussies.”

A soft moan is pulled from your throat as you follow his orders.

Ezra gets to work pulling your shorts down as you watch the porn playing on your phone. Throwing the shorts to the side, he pulls you back with him as he leans against your headboard. His legs wrap back around yours, holding you wide open. His fingers quickly making their way back to your pussy. Taking his time, dragging his thick digits from your entrance up to your little bundle of nerves and back again. You can’t help but buck your hips up, trying to get a little bit more. More touch, more friction, anything he’s willing to give.

The brush of his stubble on your neck, the feeling of his hot breath on your ear, he plunges two fingers in. You throw your head back in ecstasy as you finally get what you’ve been so desperate for. Ezra takes your ear lobe in between his teeth as he nibbles on it. Soft, sweet moans spilling from you as he massages your wet walls.

“Use those pretty fingers o’ yours baby. Rub on that sweet clit, make my pussy cum.”

You don’t need to be told twice. Your free hand quickly gets to work rubbing circles furiously on your bundle of nerves as he begins to finger fuck you harder.

You find yourself quickly on the edge, ready to spill over any second.

“U-un- uncle Ez- ‘mgonna cum”

Ezra pulls his fingers out as his other hand grabs your hand, holding it against your chest.

Using his free hand he slaps your pussy in rapid succession.

“No!!! What are you doing!?” You shout as you come back down from your almost high.

“Nuh uh baby you wanna act like a little brat I’m gonna treat you like a brat and brats don’t get to cum.”

You could feel your face heat up with anger and shame. You acted like that because of him. He lead you to this, to act like this.

“You’re my pretty little plaything baby. Mine. I control when this pussy cums. You wanna act like a bitch, I’m gonna treat you like one. You got that?”

Tears threaten to spill over as you bite your lip. Frustrated from not being able to cum, mad and upset from feeling rejected by him. You want to scream so bad.

“I hate you.” You manage to whisper. Scared to speak, knowing your voice would be shaky.

“You. . Ignored me. I- I tried so hard to get you to notice me. At the party,” you gulp in a deep breath, “You ruined me and threw me away.”

Ezra’s face falls. Eyes wide as he takes in your sad face as you reveal your truth. Your words are a sucker punch to his gut.

“Oh kiddo. No. No baby I noticed you. I always do. You made it so hard for me, all I wanted to do was take you, right there in front of everyone.”

With that, Ezra softy leaves a sweet kiss to your forehead before slowly trailing down to your nose.

“I’m so sorry I made you feel like that.”

His lips press a kiss to the top of your nose.

His lips just barely touching yours as you both look into each others eyes. It feels as though he is looking directly into your soul.

“You’re mine baby. Until I no longer walk this earth and even then, there will be no others ya hear me? Mine. And I’m yours honey. All yours. But we gotta keep this a secret. I know your smart kiddo, if someone found out about us your daddy would kill me. You don’t want that do you?”

You shake your head no ever so slightly. Tears now full on streaming down your face.

Ezra presses his lips on yours, seemingly taking your breath away with a soft, simple kiss.

He moves out from behind you, putting the forgotten phone down on your nightstand.

Pulling his own shorts down, his thick cock hitting his stomach. He lowers his body over yours as he takes both of your hands in one of his.

Lips finding yours again, your own tongue darting out to lick his lip, asking for permission to enter. He opened, allowing you inside. Eagerly you lick into his mouth as he tightens his lips around your tongue and sucks. A deep guttural moan pulled from the very depths of your body. Ezra takes his free hand to rub his cock through your folds before notching himself at your entrance and slowly pushing in.

The stretch making you moan more into his mouth as he continued to kiss you.

This was nothing like the first time he fucked you. Slow, deep strokes making you feel every inch of him. You grab onto the hand that’s holding your hands hostage, just trying to ground yourself. The immense pleasure making you feel as though your about to float away if you aren’t anchored to this earth. After each thrust in, Ezra grinds into you, bringing you back to your peak,

“Please don’t stop oh fuck pp- please!”

“Oh fuck I’m not baby I won’t stop. W- where do you want me kiddo? You want my cum in this tight little snatch honey? That what my little girl wants? Huh?” He starts thrusting into you faster.

Your eyes roll back as you moan like a bitch in heat.

“Yes! Yes Uncle Ezra oh fuck, please cum in me! Please!”

“There’s my good girl nngh oh oh fuck oh fuck”

Hearing his words and moans send you over the edge. Your cunt tightens around him as you cum making his thrusts stutter as he gets closer to his own finish.

The both of you stare deeply into each others eyes. Noses touching, chests heaving as you both come down from your high.

Ezra rolls off, laying down next you.

Holding his arm out to let you curl into his side.

He holds you close to him as he places a kiss on the top of your head,

“I really am sorry baby.”

Your so wore out, all you can do is wrap your arm around him and hold onto him as tight as you can as you squeeze your eyes shut.

No more words are exchanged, just the sound of your breathing as it starts to even out.

Drifting off to sleep you can’t help but wonder how you got here. The fact that this is your dads best friend. A guy you’ve always seen as an uncle. Who’s been a total creep since you’ve hit 18. Now here you are, craving him. Needing him. This isn’t gonna end well.

A/n: I just wanna apologize I know I suck at being consistent. It is what it is. Life’s been rough and I’ve been struggling with writing. But I hope you enjoy this, I love you! I love seeing everyone’s reactions! Please reblog, comment, send me asks, talk to me about my writing lol or about anything! I love to yap lol

[leilani-lily]

~Oh Deer~ (Chapter 6)

Weeee we made it to 6~! ✧｡٩(ˊᗜˋ )✧*｡ I'm deciding to take more time to edit and review each chapter before I upload it. I don't want the excitement to take over and I post it in a happy rush and then look back on it and wish I could change things too late (≡ ε ≡;) This chapter was delightful to write. I had too much fun. I have no regrets (< w <) SYNOPSIS: AroAce! Alastor x Chef!Singer! Reader. Reader isn't satisfied with not perfecting the jambalaya recipe, and is determined to try again. Alastor is lured to the kitchen, and of course, chaos ensues~ Word count: 5.7 k

Chapter under the cut!

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

As happy as you were that you had nearly recreated his mother’s jambalaya, a small part of you itched to make it perfect. The joy you felt when you watched Alastor taste your cooking, it was something you wanted to experience again. It had kept you up that night as you lay in bed, thinking about the things you could adjust and remembering what Alastor had said was missing.

Charlie was kind enough to order food in for the guests on the weekend so it allowed you weekends off. However, that Saturday morning you were too inspired (and probably stubborn) and found yourself back in the kitchen during your free time, preparing to try and correct the rice dish. After making a quick pot of coffee and pouring yourself a cup, you turn on your trusty radio and let the music begin to pump you up. The fast paced jazz made you begin to bounce on your toes as you took a sip of java, feeling your body begin to loosen up and mind buzzing with determination. As the first song came to an end, you set your mug down and begin collecting all the cooking supplies, a sly smile curling up your lips.

Alastor’s weekends were usually filled with various tasks that needed to be attended to. Meeting’s with the other Overlords, get-togethers with Rosie, or running personal errands. However, the Radio Demon was shocked to find this morning was open, which was a rather pleasant surprise. Alastor was walking down the hallway, debating on either reading or taking a stroll through the city, when the sound of music floated to his ears. The lanky demon paused, his ears unbeknownst to him perking up at the sound as he deciphered where it was coming from. Determining it was coming from the kitchen, it made his eyebrows furrow in confusion. 

He knew very well that you had weekends off. And nobody else used the kitchen that often, especially with jazz blaring in the background. Curiosity was getting the best of the Radio Demon, and before he knew it, his long legs had guided him towards the kitchen.

(link to song here) 

As he got closer and the songs changed over, he was surprised to hear your voice suddenly gasp out in delight before joining along in the next song. It was a slow rhythm as you crooned along, your vibrato trilling as you held certain notes. Remembering how enchanting your voice was from when you had first met, his smile slowly widened, heeled boots unknowingly picking up the pace.

Turning the corner and seeing the entrance, Alastor slowed his stride and crept up to the door frame. The waft of simmering sausages and spices filled his nostrils, and he had a jolt of memories back to when he was a small child. The song’s beat had picked up slightly, the lyrics became faster. And surprisingly, you were keeping up like a pro. This must’ve been a song you were very familiar with, explaining the excited gasp he heard earlier. Beyond intrigued, he dared to peek around into the kitchen to a sight that he honestly wasn’t prepared for.

You bounced from foot to foot, your hips swinging to the beat, your shoulders shimmying as your head nodded side to side. You were poking a couple sausages on the stovetop, the fat sizzling and popping from the heat. You turned on a heel and approached the island, grabbing a kitchen knife nearby and quickly mincing some onion like a natural. You continued to sing quick and on the beat, completely lost in the music and singing your heart out.

There was a mess of other ingredients and cooking utensils scattered around you, and you were sweating from the heat of the stove. Usually this would bother the Radio Demon, liking to keep things tidy; both in space and appearance. But oddly enough, that wasn’t what he focused on. His eyes remained on the beaming smile on your face; your eyes shining in pure delight and cheeks flush. You were completely in your element, and he a mere observer. 

At a certain point you even stopped chopping the onion and began to dance on the spot, eyes closed as you completely rocked out. You twisted your feet in and out, swayed your arms side to side (your dominant hand still holding a very sharp knife), and bopped your head, feeling the beat in your veins and taking a hold of you. 

You knew a super fast part in the song, so you were preparing yourself to really nail the fast lyrics. So when you felt two long arms slide down your own and a warm body press up from behind you, your soul almost left your body.

“No need to stop on my account darling~” Alastor crooned behind you, speaking before you could turn around and stab him with the knife in your hand. But then his long fingers wrapped around your hands and pulled you away from the island. 

Without a second though, you quickly dropped the knife as he twirled you in place, the music still playing in the background. Feeling yourself bubbling with excitement, you began to sing faster than lightning, the joy in your heart from this rare opportunity and secretly wanting to show off a moment. Alastors eyebrows raised impressively, and seemingly wanting to take it up a notch, as if this was a competition of talents. 

The suave demon twirled you out and let go of one hand but still firmly holding onto your other. You both break out into full swing dance as the horns blared and violins sang in the background. Alastor was quick on his feet, pulling you in close then spinning you out as both of your feet tapped and twirled. You managed to sneak glances at the Radio Demon, thoroughly surprised at his skill in dancing. The tall demon flashed you a smile and even dared a wink as you shimmied together, his grip on your one hand tight and secure. You continued to sing, although found it much more difficult to do while dancing to such a fast paced song. 

The melody slowed for a moment, indicating an instrumental and Alastor was quick to act. He pulled you in gently and immediately grabbed onto your hip, his other hand still tightly holding yours. You could feel your heart thrum in your chest from the proximity of the Radio Demon. You had never been so close to him before, your chest was pressed to his and the hold he had of you was captivating. Like even if you tried to push away he wouldn’t allow it. Not that you even wanted to. Not ever. This was a rare occasion; and definitely something that you didn’t want to pass up.

Finally finding the courage, you glance up at him, feeling very shy but your heart racing with exhilaration. You can see his crimson eyes are shining with delight as hooded lids focus on you. His grin was wide with amusement as he guided you around the room. You had to stop yourself from laughing out loud at the obscurity of it all, never imagining this is how your morning would end up. 

Dancing in the kitchen with a serial killer; your mother would be so proud. 

You knew the music would pick up again soon, and you knew Alastor could feel it the way he lightly squeezed your hand. You both shared a look, equally looking smug and ready for the next round. Giving him a nod of encouragement, Alastor twirled you out once more as you burst into song again. You belted out the lyrics, so full of glee you couldn’t contain your voice. 

You both continued to dance together, feet kicking up to the beat and arms swaying to and fro. He swapped you from hand to hand, guiding you around the room and switching from left to right, but never letting you go. At one point you both were hand in hand, looking at each other and dancing on the spot. From the giddy expression on his face, you could tell he was enjoying himself as much as you were, both of you feeling the drums thump in your chests. With all the fast dancing and excitement, you found your singing was occasionally interrupted by a tired laugh, especially when Alastor suddenly flung you around. But you knew the last note was coming, and you wanted to finish off strong.

When the instruments stopped and the final sentence played out, Alastor spun you out and let you have your moment; you belted that last note with pure joy. The song came to an end, and was promptly met with a commercial break as a muffled voice droned on in the background. The adrenaline coursing through you finally dropped and you let go of the demon's hand, bending over to catch your breath. Hands on knees, you couldn’t help the weary giggles escaping your throat as you panted, your brain still not sure if you had just imagined all of that. Feeling Alastor’s burning eyes still on you, you finally rise up and give him a tired, but beaming smile. You look him up and down and can't help but let out a single guffaw as you notice something.

“Are you freaking kidding me?” you laugh, “How are you not even sweating right now?? After all of that?!”

The tall demon stood before you, hands behind his back and completely composed as if he wasn’t just dancing up a storm with you. His expression was calm and amused as he watched you wipe your brow. His smile creaked up further onto his face. 

“Practice my dear y/n,” he hummed. He began to walk towards the sink with his head held high, clearly thrilled to gloat in front of you. “I was known to be quite the jitterbug back in the day~” He grabbed a clean cup and began to fill it up with cold water. You watched him in pure amazement; who would’ve known Alastor liked to dance? His gaze eventually slid back to you.

“Nevertheless, I must say,” he continued, turning the water off and striding back to you, “I was not the individual dancing and singing along to the melody. That’s an admirable skill set.” He offered the cup of water to you with a cocked eyebrow and you laughed out a tired ‘thanks’, happily taking the drink. You chugged it back instantly and sighed in relief, the Radio Demon watching you amusingly.

“Well,” you chuckled, setting the empty cup down and looking to the floor sheepishly, “I can’t really say I’m the best of dancers. I’m sure I looked like a ragdoll compared to you.” Your mind wandered back to the dance and could only imagine how you looked compared to your graceful and experienced partner. You couldn’t help the amused smile spread across your face.

“Hmmm… Perhaps…” Alastor mused, looking off to the distance and only confirming your thoughts. He was too much of a gentleman to admit a lady’s faults. It only made you laugh silently to yourself. 

“However, I will argue,” he continued, his gaze falling back to you, “your entrancing voice was enough to carry you through. And what more, you still chose to dance with pride, even if it was out of your comfort level. So for that, I applaud you~” Alastor bent slightly at his waist in a small bow as an applause track fizzed in the air. You giggled at the theatrics, feeling your cheeks redden at the compliment.

“Well, thank you,” you tittered, giving a small awkward curtsy in response, “It was nice having such an amazing dance partner; I haven’t had that much fun in a long time.” You beamed up at him, genuinely grateful for the impromptu dance session. Alastor watched you for a moment, taking in your expression before standing up straight again, looking down at you mirthfully.

“Well then my dear, we’ll just have to-” 

The Radio Demon stopped suddenly, his mouth still open and grinning. But his eyes had flicked up and away from your face. You watched his eyebrows shoot up in surprise as his pupils shrank in what appeared to be shock. You were just about to ask if he was alright when the distinct smell of burning meat entered your nostrils. You whipped your head around and watched in horror as flames were licking up the side of the pan and smoke began to bellow.

“Awh FUCK!”

You sprint towards the stove at lightning speed and turned the flames off. Without even thinking you grabbed onto the handle of the pan to pull it away from the hot element. It immediately fell from your grasp however as the searing heat had burned your hand and you immediately gasped in pain. The pan and now crispy sausages clattered to the ground as you gripped your tender hand to your chest, eyes shutting tight against the pain and falling to your knees.

You heard a rush of static and felt a draft of wind tickle your skin. Eyes still scrunched in pain, you felt yourself jump when large hands suddenly gripped on your wrists and began pulling them away from your chest. 

“Show me your hand y/n.” 

You felt a wave of embarrassment pour over you. Here you were trying to master his favourite dish, but got too caught up in your silly little fantasy. And now you had ruined it. And in front of him nonetheless. Shame settled in your stomach, making you clutch your burnt hand tighter to your chest. 

“I’m fine Alastor really, I-!”

“That was not a request.” The sternness in his voice caught you off guard. You had never heard him speak to you in such a tone. Your eyes finally opened to see his red claws grasping your wrists. His grip on you tightened.

“Look at me y/n.”

You felt your stomach lurch. You felt so stupid, like a child being scolded by their parent. You couldn’t bare to face him. But you heard your radio in the background fizz and crackle dangerously, and you knew Alastor was losing his patience. Humiliated beyond belief, you finally tilt your head up and dared to peek up.

Alastor’s eyes immediately locked with yours, as if he was watching your face this entire time. His demeanor was surprisingly calm; still wearing his classic smile, but the corners weren’t as high on his face as usual. His gaze on you was strong; unmoving. It almost burned into you more than the burn on your hand. You had to catch your breath.

“I wont say this again.” he warned, his tone still very stern but now quieter as he looked at you. “Show me your hand.”

The last time you had felt so small was when you had accidentally touched his antlers without permission. You weren't scared of him this time, but his eyes still managed to make you quiver on the spot. Finally, you felt your muscles relax and you allowed him to pull your hands away from your chest. In an instant he held your dominant hand in both hands and gingerly turned it over, inspecting the flushed skin that was already beginning to swell. His eyebrows narrowed a moment before he immediately rose to his feet, dragging you up with him. Without a word, he led you to the sink, his grip on your wrist gentle but firm. You stumbled after him and before you knew it, the Radio Demon had turned the water on and dunked your hand under.

You hissed out in pain as the cold seemed to burn you even more. Alastors eyelid twitched at the sound, but you were in too much pain to notice. You both stood there a moment in silence as he gently guided your hand under the water, turning it over and twisting your wrist to insure every burnt part was rinsed. It wouldn’t be until later that you noticed how attentive he was to all of it. 

Turning off the water, the Radio Demon snapped his fingers and a roll of gauze blinked out of thin air. The other hand still holding yours, he began to carefully wrap your palm in the fabric. You flinched ever so often as the gauze grazed over your tender skin, but you couldn’t help but sneak a peek up at your nurse. His face had remained surprisingly calm, his attention focused on the task at hand and unwavering. But you did notice his ears seemed to be pressed to his head, and a single bead of sweat rolling down his forehead. 

Eventually, Alastor delicately tucked the end of the gauze into the wrapping, giving it one last look over before letting you go. His gaze slid up to you, his small smile slowly growing into more of his signature look.

“Fortunately, the damage is minimal given the circumstances. Give it a few days rest with lots of ointment and you’ll recover.”

You lifted it up to eye level and gave it an inspection, surprised to find how neat it was. As if he had done this before. The idea of that both fascinated and worried you. 

“Now tell me my dear, why is it that you were cooking today? Or do you just enjoy setting my kitchen on fire?” His cocky grin spread across his face, already enjoying the opportunity to tease you. You let out a groan of embarrassment, your wrapped hand flapping to your side like a wet noodle.

“Lord have mercy. You’re never going to let me live this down are you?” you whined, already hating yourself for giving him more material to work off of. He cocked his head to the side, absolutely tickled pink by your reactions. 

“Oh, you know I’ll be roasting you about this for weeks~”

Another pained groan escaped your lips. Oh great. Here come the puns. Your uninjured hand rose to pinch the bridge between your eyebrows, trying to calm the rage in your heart, but also to stop you from actually laughing at it all. You didn’t want to give him the satisfaction. He leaned in even closer so he was face to face with you, his shit-eating grin threatening to crack his face.

“What’s the matter my dear? Can’t handle the heat~?”

Your grip on your arm and bridge tightens. His face inches closer.

“Unfortunately for you, I’m just getting warmed up~”

You could feel your shoulders start to shake. He leaned close enough that his lips were right beside your ear.

“Come now y/n, don't be flame,”

“ALASTOR!” you finally caved and burst into angry laughter, turning away from him in shame and hiding your face as you crack up over his god awful puns. Damnit, you hated how he could make you laugh at your own misery. In a way you were grateful; it was a good distraction from the pain. He always knew how to make you smile, especially if you were upset. Unmoving, Alastor watched you in pure delight as he drank up your laughter, his own chuckle of amusement slipping from his mouth. Finally satisfied, he leaned back up and took in the mess on the ground and other various ingredients in the kitchen island. 

“You never answered my previous question dearest.” Alastor spoke up from behind you, “Why are you cooking jambalaya so early in the day?”

You felt yourself freeze on the spot. Man, nothing got past this man; he was as sharp as ever. 

You felt your shoulders start to tense as heeled boots clicked closer to you. 

“Don’t get me wrong, it is an exquisite meal, but even I would never consider it before 10am.”

You could feel his tall figure looming from behind you, body almost pressed to your back as he closed the distance between you both. You sighed in defeat, knowing you couldn’t talk your way out of this. You shamefully turn around to face him, but refuse to look him in the eye.

“I was trying to perfect the recipe,” you mumbled quietly, feeling yourself fidgeting under his gaze, “It’s just… you’ve done so much for me, and I feel like I haven’t been able to return the favor. I don’t have magic or power or endless resources. So…” your cheeks were starting to turn red, feeling your tongue swell in your mouth, “S-so I figured… if I can cook your favourite meal exactly like your mother… If I could help you to recreate that moment in time… th-then maybe…”

You trailed off, unsure what to say, and feeling smaller than a speck of dust. He must think you’re pathetic. And who could blame him? He was an Overloard; he could eat demons like you for breakfast. You still didn’t understand why he seemingly wanted to spend time with a nobody like you. You knew he was going to laugh at you now. Make fun of you like he always did and tease you about this for weeks to come. You shut your eyes tight with frustration, feeling them begin to burn with tears and preparing to hear his laughter track drone on any minute now.

… But there was silence. 

You paused a moment longer, suddenly uncomfortable in the silence. It was odd, even his usual static that hissed whenever he was around had gone missing. You were just about to dare a peek up at him when you felt a warm, heavy hand on your shoulder. Your head immediately lifted to him, eyes shimmering and maybe a bit hopeful.

He looked at you and didn’t say anything. His grin was still ever present, but it felt loose, wavering. His eyes flicked over yours as his brows furrowed, signaling the look of… Deep thought? Confusion? … Worry? 

Alastor watched you, eyes wet with unshed tears and lip threatening to quiver. Something stirred within him. No one had ever… done something so thoughtful for him. So used to demons making deals with him, only giving so they could take. A soul for power. Or for riches. Or fame. Greed and selfishness was a sickness Alastor was very used to when dealing with others. It was one of the things he despised the most about sinners. And he was no saint either. He knew himself he would take what he wanted, but only if he deemed it necessary to his ascension. His greed was different, as least in his own twisted mind. 

… But you…

After what felt like an eternity, Alastor finally lifted his hand on your shoulder and cupped your face, his other hand reaching to do on the other side. Startled as to what was happening, you gasped softly, feeling your heart begin to hammer against your chest. His smile was warm and genuine, which was honestly a stark difference to his usually sharp features. Eyes hooded and looking down at you in wonder. He even dared to squish your cheeks a couple times, surprisingly making the Radio Demon chuckle in amusement at their suppleness. His warm hands pinched for a moment longer, taking a moment to drink in how soft your cheeks were. How could a previous murderer and cannibal somehow be so innocent? Finally, he opened his mouth to speak, his voice soft as static crackled in the air.

“You never cease to surprise me my dear. What a peculiar little thing you are...”

And without another word, he removed his hands from your face and rose to full attention, striding past you and towards the sink. You blinked back your surprise and dumbly turned to watch as he rolled up his sleeves and turned the faucet on. All you could do was stare numbly as Alastor began to wash his hands, and even began humming softly to himself. As he finished up, he quickly dried his hands and flicked his wrist up, his fingers snapping sharply. An apron suddenly poofed onto his figure; a basic white with ‘Kiss the Cannibal Cook” printed on it.

Turning on his heel, he continued to hum to himself, the radio filter over his voice making it seem sharper than the average hum. But that wasn’t the thing making you tilt your head. It was when he opened the fridge and looked about, as if looking for something in particular. After shuffling a few items around, he finally turned his head to you, eyes still on the fridge and smile absolutely giddy. 

“Tell me y/n, if we had any okra, where would it be~?”

You felt your eyelids blink one at a time as you watched him stupidly, mouth partially open. When you didn’t respond, his pupils finally slid to you and caught your expression. He cocked an eyebrow as his eyelids fell flat.

“Close your mouth dear, it’s not very lady like.”

You click your jaw shut and blink back to reality. He looked at you expectantly, and finally cluing into his question, you responded.

“Oh. Ah. Bottom left hand drawer. Sh-should be in a little plastic bag…” 

Alastors smile brightened as he turned back to the fridge and followed your instruction, a satisfied ‘Ah!’ coming from his mouth before pulling the bag out and closing the refrigerator. As he approached the island, you finally were able to utter the biggest question on your mind.

“Alastor… What are you doing?” 

The Radio Demon stopped humming, turning his head to you as he grabbed a spare knife and cutting board from below. He tilted his head and raised an eyebrow as if you just asked the stupidest question in the world.

“Isn’t it obvious?” he remarked, turning back to the okra and began to slice the green plant into thin segments. “If you really thought you could master the recipe without my help, then you are sorely mistaken. Besides,” he lifted his knife to point it at your wrapped hand, eyeing you a moment, “Now that one of your hands is out of commission for the day, it would be against my mother’s teachings to force a woman to cook something for me alone and with only one arm.” 

He turned back to his chopping board and continued to slice.

You watched him a moment longer, processing his words until you felt your heart bloom in your chest. He didn’t laugh. Didn’t tease. Didn’t make you feel small or inadequate. He saw your genuine pain and surprisingly, chose kindness. And even more, chose to help you personally rather than summoning his minions to do the work. You felt a lump in your throat, a different kind of tears threatening to fall down your face. But Alastor didn’t notice, thank goodness, too absorbed in his work.

“My dear,” he began, swiping the sliced okra into a bowl, “Would you pass me the peppers next?”

“O-oh!” you stuttered, quickly wiping your misty eyes with your sleeve, your smile going ear to ear as you rush to the requested veggie, “Of course.”

Between the two of you, you were quite the team in the kitchen. Who would’ve known that Alastor was actually quite the chef himself? He admitted that he loved to cook, of course inspired by his mother, but simply didn’t have the time nowadays with the hotel and Overlord work. You could tell he was being genuine; his dicing skills were remarkable. The speed and precision he had with a knife was impressive (and maybe a little terrifying if you thought about it too hard). But the fond look on his face while he was doing it, that's how you could tell he wasn’t lying about enjoying it. 

While he chopped and diced, you were on saute duty. Alastor was hesitant to give you this task, given how the last batch of sausages ended up… But after lightly smacking his arm with a wooden spoon, the Radio Demon laughed and allowed you near the stove.

... With close supervision that is. 

You collaborated with each other, Alastor explaining his method and you explaining how you made yours. And you were sure somewhere in the middle was the true recipe. The radio continued to play in the background, and out of habit you’d sing along to the songs you knew and Alastor would hum. For one particular song he pulled you in for another quick dance in which you laughed the entire time. But he made sure to deposit you back to the stove quickly, not wanting to recreate the disaster from earlier. While you stirred with your unscathed hand, Alastor would pop up behind you on occasion for a taste test. You’d offer him the spoon and he’d give it a try, comparing the flavor from what he remembered. And if needed, would add more spices or scour the cupboards for something new. 

Finally, after letting it simmer and adding the last remaining garnishes, the jambalaya was ready.

The smell alone was absolutely divine, spices and oils melding together to create a rich aromatic scent. You wiped your sweaty brow in satisfaction as you watched Alastor divvy up two plates and bring them to the island. The dish was a beautiful vermillion colour with fiery red veggies and soft green herbs snuggly tucked away with the sausage, shrimp and rice. You felt your stomach rumble, not realizing how hungry you were having skipped breakfast. You felt the strong urge to just dive in, but you pulled back. You couldn’t eat. Not just yet.

Your eyes slid carefully over to Alastor as he looked at the plate below him, inspecting it with a calculated gaze. He seemed almost… hesitant. But before you could think on it further, the Radio Demon scooped a mouthful up, paused a moment, then took a bite.

He chewed.

Stopped.

Chewed again.

Swallowed.

His head hung over his plate, his bangs covering his face and making it impossible to read his face. There was a heavy pause, the air feeling thick as you waited for his final thoughts. The static around him buzzed louder for a moment then went completely silent. Finally, he raised his head, and his expression almost made you want to weep. His eyebrows were tight and sorrowful, his smile pinched and threatening to tremble. Pupils dilated and never moving from the plate below him. Eventually, his mouth creaked open. 

“This is it.” 

The radio filter over his voice was gone, and that almost floored you. You had never heard his natural voice before, and honestly it was one of the most beautiful sounds you had ever heard. He scooped another spoonful and tasted it again, closing his eyes and sighing to himself with a sense of longing. You had never seen him so at peace. 

Swallowing his previous bite, he looked down at his plate again, eyes drifting over the dish as a low chuckle suddenly began to rumble from his chest. He closed his eyes and shook his head, smiling and eyebrows furled as he hummed about something. And then, he spoke, his radio-like quality returning to his voice.

“You remind me of her.”

It felt like your heart had lurched into your guts at his words. You knew how much she had meant to him. The impact she had on his life, in living and in death. And for him to admit that to you? It made your hands tremble in your lap. Alastor opened his eyes again and looked down, deep in thought.

“There was always music drifting in the air when my mother cooked,” he reminisced, “Jazz music of course; it was in our bloodline. I remember as a boy watching her from the dinner table. She would sing along to the music, and would even pull me in for a dance if a certain song compelled her to.” He chuckled a moment before sighing, tilting his head up with eyes lost in memories gone by.

“Oh, she was a beacon of light and life itself. Always looking out for others, never asking for anything in return. A strong, selfless woman with a heart of gold. The only woman I ever, truly…”

He didn’t finish his sentence, but he didn’t have to for you to understand. Your hand reached for his without a second thought. He flinched at the sudden touch, his eyes shooting open, but eventually you felt his hand relax under your warmth and eyelids soften again. You held his hand tenderly as he continued to stare up at the ceiling, head swimming with fond reminders of the past. Gentle minutes trickled by before you felt the Radio Demon’s hand twist up so it could hold yours tightly. And soon after, he lowered his head and looked straight at you.

“You have given me a gift no one has ever been able to give.” He smiled, his eyes remaining gentle as his scarlet orbs never wavered. You could feel yourself melting under his gaze. He began to lift your hand towards his face, stopping mere inches from his mouth. You could feel your heartbeat quicken. 

“Thank you, mon passereau~” he purred, pupils falling to your hand and pausing for a moment. You could feel his breath on your skin and your heart raced.

He wasn’t going to do what you thought he was… right? 

Finally he lifted your hand up and gently pressed it up to his forehead, like he had done weeks before. You felt a breath escape your noise, from relief or disappointment, you weren’t sure yet. But honestly, what were you expecting? This was Alastor. He wasn’t one for romance or being overly touchy. 

Please, like he would ever kiss your hand. Get it together y/n.

Still, when you focused on him again, a warm smile spread from your lips as you felt the warmth of his forehead and the pinpoint that would be the ‘x’ on his head. This gesture was intimate for him, and that was more than enough for you. And thinking back on the joy and gratitude he showed you earlier… it made you sigh blissfully. You had done it. You achieved your goal of somehow paying him back. And you felt that your relationship with him had only grown stronger with the morning you’d had. With a content smile, you breathed a reply.

“You’re welcome Alastor.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Fun fact: 'Passereau' in French roughly translates to "songbird" ( ⸝⸝´꒳`⸝⸝) Thank you for reading thus far! As always, comments and reblogs are much appreciated; the more encouragement, the more fueled I get to write more (•̀ᴗ•́ )و I eat your delicious words and poop out a story that's hopefully to satisfaction LMAO okok I'm done, gnight folks ꨄ

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[quinloki]

Impromptu One-Shot go go

Thank @thus-spoke-lo and the go ahead I got from this ask

also, idk how to let them know, but shout out to Lo's anon who kicked this whole sweet series of thoughts off.

Trafalgar Law x afab!Reader - no pronouns used for reader

Summary: Your captain has a secret love of shibari and you discover this while tidying his room. He also seems to have a secret love of you, too.

CW: Fantasizing about being tied up and teased, offers being made, references of afab genitalia. 18+, I didn't edit this, good luck to all of us.

1,323 words

You loved your captain, much as the rest of the crew did, but at some point you realized your specific feelings toward him weren’t the same as the others. There was devotion there, sure. Loyalty in excess. You trusted him to make the best choices he could, and lead you and the others on a successful campaign.

To you, it didn’t even matter what that end goal was. You knew he’d get you all there.

But your devotion was romantic, your feelings passionate, your heart was full of desires that had nothing to do with him being your captain. You wanted to tell him, but you felt so far beneath him you weren’t even sure if you should.

Perhaps you should leave. Put in a resignation of sorts and stay at the next island, where ever it was.

Trying to shake the morose thoughts you entered into the Captain’s Quarters. He was out – gone on errands and you wanted to make use of the time to clean and tidy his room for him. He didn’t forbid anyone from doing so, but he never let anyone do it while he was in the room, so now was your only chance to do him this small favor.

You put maps and charts back where they belonged, tucked books away, organized notes, dusted and got some good deep cleaning in. It was productive, and you were happy with the end result. Once you were done you decided to strip the bedding and get it switched out. You don’t know the last time he did it himself, but regardless, now he wouldn’t have to worry about it for a while.

Pulling the fitted sheet up lifted the mattress enough to expose some books tucked away underneath. You paused, knowing full well what most of the boys tucked away under their mattresses. These didn’t look to be rags or trashy magazines though, they were full on books. Smiling, because it was so like your captain to get caught up in reading that he’d just tuck the book under the mattress, you lift it up enough to find a few books laid out neatly.

It was nearly a whole other bookshelf.

 Picking up the nearest one you turned to the spine to read the title. Advanced Shibari: What Knot To Do.

You could feel the blood rushing into your face, and the moment of embarrassment that you had stumbled upon something so personal. Curiosity compelled you forward, a tightness in your chest, caught between wanting to know more about the captain, and wondering if he had anyone in mind for his fantasies already.

The diagrams and illustrations were certainly more functional than recreational. The book covered safety again and again, and went over how to make certain knots from different angles. As functional as the images and words were, you couldn’t help the heat that was building up inside you.

How would that rope feel against your skin? Do the knots shift and press against the tender part of your body as effectively as the books says? You could imagine it so clearly; ropes and skin wet with steam and sweat, hair matted against your body, struggling beneath your captain’s gaze. Trying uselessly to maintain some sort of composure while his rope work causes you to come undone.

Needy and greedy, begging and whimpering and wanting nothing more than for him to rail you into oblivion. No worries about your position, or his, or anything else.

Turning another page the one beyond it pops up more than you expected, so you turn to it. Placed between the pages is a picture of you. All other details of the image are cut away, it’s just you with a smile on your face. You’re not wearing the boiler uniform, you’re in beachwear. It must’ve been taken on a summer island while the crew was relaxing.

The image itself doesn’t impact you as much as the additional lines drawn on it. A rope pattern is drawn over your figure, not too dissimilar from some of the patterns found in the book. Your earlier imaginings about how the rope would feel against your skin wash over you a second time. The sensation is stronger this time, and your hand wanders over your own body for a moment, as you begin to really feel the rough rope and knots against your skin.

Your thighs shift, rubbing against the parts of you that want more than rope to touch them. You bend a little, trying not to just undo your uniform and masturbate right there in the middle of someone else’s room. You can feel your pussy throb, and the idea of his fingers slipping into your wet, hot, trembling cunt, forcing orgasm after orgasm out of you while you writhe uselessly against the ropes and knots-.

A frustrated, and horny, moan escapes you and you stamp your foot in frustration before flipping through the book more. You should just tuck it away. You’re already a hot mess, and you need to get the bedding to the laundry room before heading to your own to take care of your frustrations.

There’s not just one picture of you, there are several. All with different rope patterns drawn on, some with notations and concerns. There was no denying that the captain fantasized about tying you up. No one else’s picture was in the first book, or the second one you picked up and flipped through.

When you flipped to the end of the third book you paused. You could feel someone right next to you. You hadn’t heard or noticed anyone, but now he was right there. You didn’t have to look, you knew it was your captain. No one else on the crew could sneak up on you so completely.

“… Sorry.” You say it very quietly, putting the book back under the mattress. You try to turn toward him, but you can’t bring yourself to face him. You don’t want to see disappointment on his face, and you don’t want him to see the shameful need on yours.

You should be angry, you think, for the pictures and what he did, but they’d been tucked away. Private. Personal. Not for you or anyone else. Tidying wasn’t an excuse for your actions.

“Sorry for snooping,” he begins, and you flinch at the implication. “Or are you apologizing for getting turned on?”

“Huh-I – I’m not…” You try to deny it, but the knowing look on his face is enough to stop your protests. “I-I’ll leave.” You stammer, looking away, wanting to be anywhere but where you are – caught between wanting him, and being deeply embarrassed. Not just about snooping, but about the realization that at the minimum, your captain found you as attractive as you did him.

He puts his arm out to stop you. It’s not the action that stops you, it’s the coil of rope in his hand. You let out an involuntary gasp, covering your mouth and taking a step back. You’re effectively trapped with a bookcase behind you and the bed beside you, Law in front of you.

“You were certainly into that book before you found the pictures.” He says in a voice that’s low and dangerous. It sends a shiver down your back that isn’t unpleasant, but you don’t know what to do with it. “The way you moved and moaned when you saw the pictures though, you really wanted to see them become reality, didn’t you?”

He leans down to speak softly into your ear, and you can see the door to his room closing at the same time. “Will you beg me to touch you, the way you were touching yourself earlier, if I tie you up properly, I wonder?”

His breath rolls over your neck, and you can feel the rope groan as his grip on it tightens. “Or will you beg me to touch you even better?”

[charlietheepicwriter7]

A very merry Christmas to you, @2-depressed-4-u . It is I, your secret santa from @mlsecretsanta . I have had a wonderful time talking to you this year (even if I wasn't supposed to, oops), and hope you have a wonderful holiday.

And now, without further ado, your present.

I Don't Need Sleep, I Need Answers

If his father could see his room at that moment, Adrien was sure the man would faint with shock. Fortunately, Gabriel Agreste was needed in China to investigate one of his companies’ main manufacturers, so Adrien was in the clear… for now.

His room looked like his couch was almost pushed up against one wall, but he’d left a foot of space between it and the wall so he had full access to his masterpiece. Along the north-facing wall was a chaotic conspiracy board, with red string threading from picture to picture. Some of his pieces of evidence were printed out from his computer, like the article about Marinette designing for Jagged Stone or the picture of Ladybug kissing him from back during the Oblivo incident. Others were hand drawn to the best of his ability if he couldn’t find an appropriate image online.

But in the end, all the pictures led back to a center image: his limited edition poster of Ladybug.

Plagg hovered near one of the most important pieces of evidence, the feathered bolo hat Marinette had made. “Hey, kid… when’s the last time you got any sleep?” he asked, his eyes flickering between Adrien and his evidence wall.

“I don’t need any sleep,” Adrien spat, climbing over and onto the back of the couch so he could connect some string between a picture of Marinette and badly-drawn recreation of Multimouse. On the hand drawn page, he wrote no earrings????, with multiple question marks going off the page and onto the wall. “I need answers.”

“I thought you’d decided that you weren’t going to look for Ladybug’s identity anymore?”

The boy scoffed. “I thought so too, but you didn’t see what I saw! During that last akuma battle, Ladybug left, and then… Marinette was there! She always hides during akuma battles, she wouldn’t just run around during one, unless…” He pinned another picture to the wall, wrinkling the paper with his force. “She was Ladybug.”

Plagg sighed. “Or she was trapped in the area and took it as her chance to run. Or she was hiding but someone was in danger, so she rushed out to help. Or some other reason why she’d risk her life. Why don’t you just ask her, kid?”

“Because if she’s Ladybug, she’d just lie!” Adrien explained. “I know how this works, Plagg; we’re not supposed to know each other’s identities. Ladybug sticks to that rule better than me… and no matter how good of a person she is, or how much Marinette hates liars, she’d still be willing to lie to protect herself.”

“If she’s lying to protect herself, then wouldn’t she be safer if you didn’t discover who she is? If you stopped your investigation now, before someone gets hurt?”

Adrien shook his head, picking up another picture of Ladybug. “You don’t understand, Plagg. She shouldn’t have to look out for herself. I should be the one to do it for her.”

I Don't Need Sleep, I Need Answers

Adrien’s plan started the next day at school.

Keeping an eye on Marinette proved impossible when she sat directly behind him, but he kept a keen ear on her and Alya’s conversation. While he didn’t think his Lady would be so blasé to discuss her superheroine life where anyone could hear her, he was expecting at least some reference. Alya was her best friend after all; he’d certainly let things slip to Nino throughout his months as Chat Noir.

But no. There was nothing. When not distracted by classwork, all they talked about was the Ladyblog, and Marinette’s new commissions for Kitty Selection. So, it was onto plan B.

When Plagg was trying to talk him out of this—and really, wasn’t that evidence unto itself, that Plagg was trying to talk him out of investigating—he’d said that Adrien reminded him of Alya. Reminded him that Alya had once done the same thing to Chloe, and gotten akumatized for it. But Adrien wouldn’t get akumatized! For one thing, Marinette was in no way like Chloe. For another, Adrien, and Alya back then, had direct evidence that Chloe wasn’t Ladybug, since Chloe was often seen with or around Ladybug.

Outside of the Multimouse incident, had Adrien ever seen Ladybug save or even talk to Marinette?

No.

But Plagg’s words had reminded him that he wasn’t the only person who’d ever searched for Ladybug’s identity. And his best ally sat behind him and to the left.

Adrien pulled Alya to the side during lunch, with Marinette watching curiously and Nino shaking his head in amusement before engaging Marinette in a conversation. Adrien knew he could count on him. And when he found an abandoned classroom to talk to Alya, he swallowed and began to explain.

She’d looked nervous, when he began, but as he kept explaining all his evidence as to why Marinette could be Ladybug, a thoughtful expression bloomed on her face. But that didn’t mean she automatically believed him. And then she asked a damnable question. “What about Lila?”

Ah. He’d forgotten about Lila.

He preferred to forget about her rather than think about—

Alya continued. “Because she and Ladybug are best friends, you know? But I’m pretty sure Marinette hates Lila. Not that she’d ever say she hates Lila, but she refuses to go to girl’s day when Lila is invited, and she leaves sleep-overs early when she’s there, but Lila has no idea why—”

Oh, Adrien had a good idea why. And it was the same reason why Adrien had convinced his father to only allow single or boys-only shoots for him this spring, that it was more fashionable that way.

“Maybe it’s a ruse?” He offered instead. “Maybe Marinette’s only pretending to dislike Lila so she doesn’t find out her identity? It’s not like Lila has ever said she knew Ladybug’s identity.”

“Well, she did imply it once…” When did that happen!? Adrien might be mostly ignoring Lila at this point, but how did he miss that? “But she backtracked when I asked some more questions, so I think she only suspects she knows who Ladybug is. But if Marinette is Ladybug, then we could talk to her and she doesn’t have to pretend to hate Lila anymore!”

Alya gave a blinding smile. Adrien didn’t have the heart to tell her that Marinette definitely would not change her opinion of Lila if they discovered her identity.

In fact, she might yell at them both.

I Don't Need Sleep, I Need Answers

With Alya on board to stalk Marinette for all the wrong reasons, Adrien had started to feel a little more secure in his plan to discover Ladybug’s identity. For the rest of lunch and the remainder of class, Alya used some leading questions on Marinette to try and get any information, but she was like a steel wall. Alya had even thought up a cool audience participation event where Ladyblog would post everyone’s fan heroes that sounded really interesting.

(Marinette said she’d want to be a black cat hero! She was so cute—)

But there was nothing that pointed towards Marinette being Ladybug. After school, once Alya had begged off girl squad duties and Adrien had lied about an extra long fencing meeting, the two met up to stalk Marinette.

First, she spent a few hours at Eiffel Tower, designing. Then, she spent an hour in a fabric store, picking out a few yards of champagne fabric, all of which looked the same to Adrien’s discerning eye, but were clearly different to her. And finally, she met her parents at a local Italian bistro for dinner. And despite spending their entire afternoon stalking her, they’d learned nothing.

Nothing except the fact that Marinette had an adorable habit of talking to herself when she was alone, but that wasn’t strictly evidence.

Alya sat back on the bench, pulling her disguise hat down to cover her eyes. Marinette and her family were clearly visible from the restaurant window. “Maybe she isn’t Ladybug?” Alya asked. “I mean, Ladybug usually patrols in the afternoon, and she hasn’t left our sight all day!”

That was more because Adrien had offered to talk Ladybug’s afternoon patrol that day, but Alya didn’t need to know that. He hiked the newspaper with holes cut out for eyes higher onto his face. “She could be having an off day?”

“No. Adrien, what was your real reason for—”

Suddenly, the ground shook and people screamed as an akuma, eye-screaming pink and cackling at the top of his lungs, whipped past. They shot to their feet. Alya begged off to chase after the akuma and Adrien let her, his eyes glued to the window. Her family was still there, but Marinette was gone. Was she in the restroom? Or…

“Adrien, what are you doing?”

“I’m just going to check,” he told his kwami, running to the backside of the bistro. If Marinette was Ladybug, she’d have to escape out the back, right?

“There’s an akuma! Come on, you have to—”

“I just need to check!” He scolded. He was almost there!”

“Damn it, kid!” Adrien froze. Was Plagg… mad at him? Plagg was never mad at him! “This has gone on long enough! Is your love life really worth other people’s lives!?”

No. No it wasn’t. And Ladybug would hate him if he even considered for a second skipping out on a battle just to look for her identity.

Really, there was only one choice left.

“Plagg, claws out.”

“Finally!”

He’d have to try again another day. Think of a new plan of attack. But for now, he was Chat Noir. And Chat Noir had a fight to win.

I Don't Need Sleep, I Need Answers

The next day, Plagg immediately wriggled his way into Marinette’s purse, where Tikki sat, contently eating a chocolate-chip cookie.

“Sugar Cube, you’ve got to make sure your user is more careful,” he said, rubbing his head with his paws. “Adrien almost found out her identity!”

“What!?”

[sillyrabbit81]

The Fallen Wolves Brotherhood - Part Sixteen

Series Summary: Lori "Babycakes" Tate swore she would never date a biker but when her life is in danger, she is put under the protection of a small club known as The Fallen Wolves Brotherhood. She suddenly finds herself attracted to not one, but five bikers.

A reverse harem, biker AU.

Part Sixteen Summary: Marshall opens up about his past.

Pairing: Captain Syverson x OFC, Walter Marshall x OFC, Mike x OFC, Geralt x OFC, August Walker x OFC

Word Count: Approx. 3.1k

Warnings:

Series Warnings: Reverse harem, age gap (OFC 23, ages range from 23 to mid 40s), oral sex (male and female receiving), unprotected p in v sex, anal sex, group sex, masturbation, praise kink, mentions of body fluids, drug use, recreational drinking, sex work, criminal activities, mention of death, violence, use of weapons, mentions of war, mentions of abuse, angst, fluff, probably a lot more that I will add as they come up.

Part Sixteen Warnings: slight angst, discussion of murder and violence against women, smut, p in v sex, oral sex (f receiving), mentions of body fluids, I think thats it

Authors Note: Thanks as always to my lovely BBFs (Best Beta's forever) @henryobsessed and @nashibirne .

So... Been a while... I am really nervous about posting because it has been so long! But I put my big girl pants on and I'm just going to do it. This chapter had to be split in half, which was a small reason for why this took so long to put out, the other part is that I think some of it is a bit dry... Exposition is hard!!!! The next part isn't quite finished but this point was a natural stopping point so I figure, post this and then maybe I won't be so in my head about the next bit.

Divider made by me. Edited by me, there will be errors.

Masterlist

Parts Masterlist

Part Fifteen Part Seventeen

Lori

I woke up with a start.

My heart was beating as fast as a mouse’s and I was sucking in huge gulps of air that failed to fill the hollow in my chest. I was shaking, every muscle and sinew quivering with a chilling thrum, yet I was frozen. I willed myself to move but my glaciated neurons refused to fire, iced over, hardened, ready to snap.

From behind me, a heavy arm moved on my waist and a hand pressed against my belly as soft whiskers and gentle lips caressed and the back of my neck. Relief warmed my blood in a balmy rush, my body thawing in a heady and welcomed surge.

Marshall. It was only Marshall.

“Alright?” he asked, his voice low and rough from sleep.

I hummed, not quite ready to speak. I looked at the clock on the nightstand. Small and generic, its garish neon green digital numerals reminded me that my room wasn’t actually my room and my briefly mollified anxiety inched its way back into my tightening chest.

I’d barely slept, little more than dozed. I wondered if I should get up and shower, but I didn’t want to disturb Marshall. So I laid there and listened to his breathing return to its regular cadence while I tried to recall and hold onto my dream. I might as well have tried to catch a cloud, the memories were wispy vapours, too vague and insubstantial to retain, leaving behind echoing stains of dread and emptiness. 

It didn’t take a genius to figure out what I had dreamed of. The strange and rapid life changes over the past couple of weeks made it possible for me to push aside the grief from the loss of my parents and focus on other things like my anger at Nate, the shocking revelations about Jake, and the developing situation with the Brothers. I may have made a conscious decision not to dwell and process my emotions, but my subconscious was obviously not on board.

I focussed on the rhythm of Marshall’s breathing, the soft reverberation in his throat on each inhale and the sturdy snugness of his arms while I pushed down the lingering feelings, stuffing them like clothes into a laundry basket, deep into the recesses of my mind. Even as I crammed them away, I knew I’d have to deal with my emotions at some point. I told myself I would, just not today, or tomorrow. Maybe in a month or two. Or three. When I was home again, or alone, or when things were back to normal.

Eventually, the residual fear from my lost dream ebbed and slowly faded while a myriad of new ones took its place. 

Had last night been another mistake on the long list of mistakes I had made. Was Marshall another Jake? Was Sy for that matter?

Sy.

Now that Marshall and I had crossed the Rubicon, would Sy still feel the same way about me when he returned and faced the reality of what he had agreed to? Or, had the existence of the pact forced him to adhere to it out of a sense of bravado and loyalty to the Brotherhood? Had I just turned myself into another groupie, a woman destined for a lifetime of disrespect, deception and disillusion, stupidly thinking that an outlaw, an outsider, a biker, could change for them?

I waited for the gut feeling that I had fucked up by sleeping with Marshall to arrive, but it never came. Of course there were no guarantees in any relationship, but everything that had happened with Marshall had felt sincere and genuine. 

“I can hear you thinking,” Marshall grumbled. His breath was warm against my ear and his gentle accent made me shiver as a heated rush rippled across my skin, soothing and comforting me.

“I thought you were asleep,” I said.

He grunted and shifted his body until he laid on his back. I rolled over, following him and he tucked me under his arm. He glanced with a half smile that I barely picked up in the darkness of the room. I returned it and his grin grew slightly bigger before he laid his head back into the pillows.

“My sleep cycle has been off for years. Never recovered from shift work with the PD.”

I shimmied closer to him, pressing my breasts against his side, resting my thigh across his hips and dipped my fingers into the thick, coarse curls that spread across his chest from shoulder to shoulder. In response, I felt him stroke my arm, the tips of his fingers tracing an invisible path.

“Marshall?”

“Lori,” he replied, one side of his mouth lifting in a smirk.

“How did you end up in the Brotherhood?”

His smile vanished instantly and after a couple of passes over my arm, his hand stopped his caress, pausing mid stroke. His eyes sought out mine and I made it easier for him, by laying my chin on his chest, ignoring the way his wispy hairs tickled my jaw.

“There were a series of murders. Women, young women, some still teens. To call them murders doesn’t go far enough, each one was assaulted, tortured…” Marshall trailed off but his fingers began to stroke me again, this time sweeping over my back.

“You don’t have to tell me,” I said.

Marshall grunted and took a deep breath. “It was a long investigation that led nowhere. We had physical evidence, DNA, but no matches in the system and no motives. There were no useful eyewitnesses, no connections between the victims, they were of different racial backgrounds, economic status, from all over the city. We kept hitting dead ends, every lead we had didn’t pan out. Meanwhile, more girls were showing up dead, nearly a dozen and the media were breathing down our necks.”

He scoffed, his lip curled in disgust.

“They can be viscous,” I said, remembering the media circus that followed my parents' death.

Lifting his head, Marshall kissed my forehead before continuing.

“Eventually a name popped up that looked promising, he had been a contact in four of the victim’s phones. No other number had shown up twice, let alone four times. So we started an investigation into him. Found out he was a CEO of a financial institution or an investment bank, I don’t remember which. He was young, one of those prodigious financial wizards that seemed to have the Midas touch. He was famous in the financial world, puff pieces in newspapers, magazines, you know the type?”

I nodded and he continued.

“We’d barely gotten further than collecting basic background on this guy when the case was taken out of our hands by the Feds. I was furious, obviously, their jurisdiction over the case was on a flimsy basis at best. There was nothing I could do about it but wait for news of the investigation. However, months went by and… nothing. No news, no arrests, no more media reports, nothing.”

“He wasn’t the guy?”

Marshall shrugged. “I thought I must have been wrong. After a year, a homeless guy was arrested and charged.”

“So you had the wrong guy, after all?”

Marshall chuffed and shook his head.

“I knew in my gut the man they arrested was a patsy. I looked into it. I talked to some of his friends from the streets and as far as I could tell he wasn’t even in town when the first three victims had been murdered. His friends said he came to the city to attend the funeral of his murdered daughter.”

“No,” I gasped, my mouth covering my hand in shock.

“Yes,” Marshall said, “He was the father of the first victim we found. We had tried to contact him in the early days of the investigation, but he couldn’t be located. By the time he had discovered what happened to his daughter, there had been other victims and it was no longer a priority to find him and rule him out as a suspect.”

I thought about Nate and my father. I had never been privy to the dealings of the club, but you picked things up. The club had a surprisingly low number of members with criminal records and although I had never been explicitly told, I knew it was because the “right” people had been paid off for years. I figured the real killer must have been doing something similar, but on a massive scale.

“So what did you do?” I asked. 

“I took my theories up the chain and requested permission to do my own investigation. I was told in no uncertain terms that if I did that, it would cost me my badge.”

I raised my eyebrows. “Shit.”

“I couldn’t let it go though. I knew I couldn’t investigate alone and I suspected that I might be under surveillance. I couldn’t ask anyone else in the department to risk their job, so I called a guy I trusted. He used to be a bounty hunter but by then was working as a private security contractor.”

“Geralt?” I guessed.

“Geralt,” Marshall repeated. “He used his connections and reported back that there had been rumours floating about this guy for years, from his college days to his early Wall Street days to this case. Reports of domestic violence from women he’d had relationships with and assaults on sex workers that always seemed to be retracted or ignored. Somehow, this fucking guy kept getting away with fucking murder because of his connections.”

He closed his eyes and the muscles of his jaw pulsed beneath his thickly bearded skin. Swallowing hard, he opened his eyes and his voice was husky as he continued.

“When I realised what they had done to that man, that girl’s father… I wasn’t particularly idealistic and I wasn’t naive, but I had never thought that this level of corruption could happen. The Feds, the media, the PD; how many people must be involved, how many people were paid off or blackmailed? Everything I knew, everything I….”

He shrugged and was quiet. I waited, sure he had more to say. But he stayed silent, jaw twitching again and his eyes seemed to glaze over as his thoughts seemed to drift away.

I placed my hand on his cheek, my thumb sweeping along the bone and tilted my head to kiss his chest softly. Marshall’s hand went to my hair stroking my hair off my face.

“I quit. I couldn’t do that kind of work again, not knowing what I knew. I went back to Geralt, thinking with my SWAT background, maybe I’d try private security. Instead, Geralt introduced me to Sy and Walker.”

“What happened to the CEO?”

Marshall’s grin was a little disconcerting as he replied, “He got his in the end. An international financial scandal ruined him. The bank he headed was laundering money for the cartels and he was directly implicated in running the scam. The CIA got him for that one, apparently his reach didn’t go that far.”

“What happened to the father?” I asked.

“Suicide in prison while awaiting trial. It was a fucking joke.”

“I’m sorry, Walter,” I said softly.

His eyes found mine. Blue, deep and clear, they held me and I couldn’t look away. He sighed and shifted his hips. The movement made his thigh brush high between my legs and I became very conscious of the fact that both of us were naked.

The atmosphere changed, the air crackled with an electric anticipation and a heady jolt of lust worked its way down my spine to my core. I wasn’t alone, Marshall breathing became heavy, his nostrils flaring as he drew in each breath and his chest swelled.

His fingertips began to skim over my back again, and my skin broke out in goosebumps as I shivered with pleasure. His burly arms drew me to his chest, the coarse hair tickled my nipples as he guided me onto my back. Blanketing me with his comfortingly heavy body, his weight was concentrated at our hips and effectively pinned me to the mattress. My legs split beneath him, opening myself up in a shameless invitation. He took the hint, and he rolled his hips against me as he kissed me. 

It was like he was a different man; his feral, almost brutal urgency gave way to languid deliberateness. His lips moved down the column of my neck, hands exploring, clasping my ribs as if he wanted to caress not just the flesh, but the bones beneath. Moving with barely restrained greed, he slipped my nipple into his mouth and his teeth captured it while his velvety tongue flicked. His lips were satin, his beard was rugged silk, equally coarse and soft as he kissed and rubbed his cheeks against the sensitive skin between my breasts.

Opening his bearded jaw wide, he took more of me into his mouth than just my pink pebbled nipple. I watched bleary eyed as creamy skin disappeared into his warm mouth and his tongue lashed. My fingers slid into his thick curls, holding him close, begging for more.

I moved a hand down his shoulder and back feeling his dense muscles ripple under my touch. I went lower, down his side and abdomen, a rush of heat surged through me as my fingers found the trail of hair below his navel. I wanted to follow its path, wanted to feel him throbbing just like I was.

Thwarting my plans, Marshall laid warm, wet, kisses down my tummy, and became out of reach. I let out a petulant moan and he grinned, rubbing his beard against a sensitive spot near my hip, making me giggle and squirm out of his grasp. He caught my hip and pushed me down to the bed again in a flash back to his earlier impatience.

“Shh,” he soothed with a wolfish grin.

His hand swept down my thigh, curling under my knee and gently guiding my legs further apart. His kisses started at my knee and moved down the inside of my thigh, heat from his mouth made me shiver and I fell back onto the bed. He got closer to my soaked, throbbing core and I felt his tongue at the crease of my thigh, lapping at the combined wetness there from both my arousal and his release.

I gasped and leaned up on my elbows to watch and his feverish blue eyes were looking up at me from between my legs. My body looked as aroused as I felt, nipples tight and hard, tummy and thighs trembling, my pussy was swollen and glistening with the remains of our previous, furious love making.

Fingers glided over me, thumbs pulling apart my folds, his breath simultaneously warm and cooling against my hot throbbing sensitive skin. A finger teased my weeping core, swirling at my entrance. I was on fire, desperately clenching at nothing, and I could feel evidence of his orgasm leaked from within me.

“Fuck,” he murmured under his breath.

“Marshall,” I said breathlessly, reaching for his shoulders, trying to pull him up to me, “stop teasing me. Just fuck me.”

“I’ll fuck you,” he said, voice husky, almost gone. Then he mumbled something I couldn’t catch against my pussy.

The feel of his tongue prodding my entrance, no doubt tasting himself as he ate me out was so wickedly filthy to me that I was completely transfixed by the lurid eroticism, I’d never experienced anything like it. I could barely hold myself up, but the sight of him practically pussy drunk and groaning was too good not to look at. He growled, his arms wrapped around my thighs and he pushed his face into me, soft prickles of his beard against me made me shake even more and despite wanting to keep watching, I fell back to the mattress.

Suede-like brushes against my clit had me shaking, the tension in my muscles quivering like violin strings. Jesus christ he was amazing, then he sucked softly on my clit, and I was gone, crying out as my hands tangled in his hair, tightening into fists and held him against me. He didn’t stop as I came, his hands moved to my hips, his long fingers splayed across my belly and waist as if he wanted to feel my body move as I buckled.

My hands unclenched, and I shuddered with aftershocks as Marshall stayed where he was, softly licking at my core. I closed my eyes, bathing in the post orgasm euphoria, running my fingers through his hair. He didn’t stop kissing me as he moved up my body and rested a fraction of his weight against me. His hand was warm as he cupped my cheek and covered my mouth with his. I could taste us on his lips and tongue, his beard was soaked too. I was so turned on that after the flavour faded from his mouth, I swept my tongue over his chin.

“Fuck,” he groaned, “You taste good, don’t you?”

I hesitated, self-consciousness creeping in and my cheeks burned with embarrassment. Marshall stroked my cheek with his thumb and I opened my eyes and realised that he wasn’t trying to shame me.

“You taste good too,” I said.

He smiled, his lips parting just enough to see his teeth, before he grew a little serious. His hand curled around the back of knee, lifting and opening me again, and he adjusted his body in a way that made me gasp. Poised, and ready, his silky hardness waited, his brows raising just enough to ask the unspoken question.

“Yes,” I murmured.

His mouth was on mine as he slid inside me, our kiss muffling both our moans. We stayed like that, joined and locked together, hungrily swallowing the others whispered words and whimpers. Fingers sought mine, and lacing them together he squeezed, gripping me and releasing me in time with his steady rocking movements.

He knew what he was doing, making sure I could feel every inch of his thick and rigid length, making sure he found that spot that made my breath hitch every time. His breath was coming in harder and heavier, each exhale punctuated by a muted grunt. I couldn’t focus, I had to close my eyes. Fuck, he really knew what he was doing.

“Marshall,” I gasped. I don’t know why I spoke. I was riding close to the edge, any second now and I would fall.

“Yes,” he growled, “Fuck, yes.”

I fell.

[overmorrowpine]

imagine if jayfeather never became a med cat. hollyleaf became a warrior too, sure, but jayfeather has his whole "i can't believe he gave the blind kitten to the half blind cat you still have one working eye" in front of brightheart and she's like "it's because i had to learn a whole new style of fighting when i lost my eye and i can fucking do it again"

so she works with jaypaw to figure out his strengths in battle and weaknesses. his problem with visual tells? she interrogates everyone about other clans' fighting styles and recreates them on her own time, and then she works with jaypaw until he can recognize the sound of someone planting their hind paws to rear up, the sound of a front paw rushing through the air, the sound of riverclan warriors emerging from the river when most warriors wouldn't be able to hear it because they wouldn't be listening for it. she runs drills with him again and again, not telling him what clan's fighting style she's emulating before starting and letting him figure out. he gets lightning-quick reflexes, and the ability to tune out most battle sounds to focus on the cat in front of him. he learns how to get his subconscious to focus on the sounds of battle and filter in the sound of approaching pawsteps. he learns how to go for the main parts of the body, the head and legs with a sideswipe and the full body itself by crashing down. he learns that if he scoops up sand, dirt, leaf-litter, and throws it at their face, it'll fuck them up completely. he learns how to track a moving target while he himself is moving.

she brings him out to pieces of the territory without telling him where they are, and has him guess. she has him learn to pinpoint a scent and sound more precisely than any sighted cat, to brush a paw over the ground so lightly that it doesn't crunch dead leaves or snap twigs. she has leafpool cobweb a leaf over her good eye and tries to hunt, to figure out the problem areas, and she figures out workarounds. she brings him to different spots of the territory and quizzes him on the location, on how to get places from there. she has him move silently all the way back to camp.

his siblings graduate. everyone tells them to give up. jaypaw looks them in the eyes and says fuck you, he's learning to be a warrior and it's working.

he and brightheart run drills where they borrow other clans' cats and have them attack jaypaw. he defends himself startlingly well, in their eyes.

at one point he, in typical prickly jaypaw fashion, asks longtail why tf he's still an elder. longtail finds the idea of becoming a warrior again insurmountable. jaypaw flounces off thinking he's better than longtail because of course he does, but it makes longtail happy to see a cat who is like him doing what he couldn't.

brightheart grabs the leader himself and is like "watch jaypaw's assessment. he's doing ridiculously amazing he should be a warrior" and he has to agree, jaypaw has somehow mastered being a warrior despite his disability.

jaypaw gets to be a warrior and spit in the faces of everyone who told him he couldn't, brightheart becomes the de facto mentor of disabled kittens, and the rest of the clan learns an Important Lesson about disability

(edit we have a poll abt his warrior name now)

[sailoryooons]

You DTF? | pjm | (m)

☾ Pairing:  Jimin x female reader 

☾ Summary: You’ve never had a one night stand. Jimin has had countless. You’re trying to experience new things. Jimin loves doing the same old shit. So when you meet the man going around the club inviting people to touch his ripped abs, you think perhaps this is the perfect opportunity to try new things. It’s Labor Day weekend at the shore - what can go wrong? 

☾ Word Count:  10,233

☾ Genre: Smut, pwp, strangers to one-night stand

☾ Rating: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately. 

☾ Warnings: Recreational drinking, Jimin being a total tool, cringe-worthy dialogue, explicit language, fuck boy Jimin is it’s own warning, 2009 slang should be a warning because it is literally so cringey, Jimin is quite literally doing the jerk and reader is totally buying it, literally these two are so cringe, sexually explicit content including oral (f. and m. receiving), some nipple play, a lot of spit description idk, big dig Jimin, throat fucking, unprotected vagina sex, Jimin bein an idiot and combing reader not to use a condom, reader is equally stupid cause she wants to get fucked, Jimin accidentally cumming inside, hittin' it from the back, cringe dirty talk, finger blasting (lmfao), Jimin occasionally hitting reader's cervix, they're like a little toxic idk, this is like the most hilarious thing I've ever written, Jimin does coke right on reader's counter cause he has to keep his stmania okay, Jimin is insensitive a lot

☾ Published: September 4, 2022

☾ A/N: This is both the best and the worst thing I have ever written. There are some light-toxic themes and some ignorant dialogue and behavior between the two of them because they're both bimbos drunk in 2009. The writing is supposed to be a little cringe but I may have gone overboard. Also I wrote this in two days idk what kind drugs I was on (amoxicillin and mucinex) but here is the wildly ridiculous and hilarious fic for a collab that no one asked for but we did anyways. Very very happy to share this trash idea with Jai and M 🥺

Special thanks to @here2bbtstrash for helping me edit because I was in a rush and at one point wrote that reader's head opened in the middle of sex. We don't know what I was talking about but happy halloween, reader's head was about to be posted splitting open in bed adkjadjdkja

☾ Disclaimer: All members of BTS are faces and name claims for this story. This is entirely a work of fiction and by no means is meant to be a projection, judgment or representation of real-life people. Any scenarios or representations of the people and places mentioned in works are not representative of real-life scenarios.

Masterlist | Ask | Playlist | Jeju Shore Collab

“So are you actually going to try and get fucked in that outfit or is it going to go to waste?” Tiffany asks as she sprays several pumps of Bath and Body Works Japanese Blossom all over herself. You cough as the sweet-smelling mist chokes you. She already has the lotion on. “You look hot, capital h-a-w-t.” 

The mirror of the hotel room is a little dirty - there is backsplash from the faucet staining the glass and some tiny dots of toothpaste. And you can definitely see Nicole’s fake tan staining the bottom corner after spraying her St. Tropez all over. 

You see Tiffany’s point about the outfit being wasted on you in a way. Low-rise, light-wash Lucky Brand jeans sans button, with the zipper pulled down just the slightest at Nicole’s behest. A shirt that was harder to get on than you think it will be to get off, made out of skin-tight pink fabric that only reaches your midsection, and even then, has a massive cutout over your abs. 

“Not this again,” you sigh, nervously playing with the belly button ring you had pierced the year before. A cute little Playboy bunny swings back and forth, hot pink rhinestones matching your shirt. 

“Yes, this again. You look so fucking hot tonight. A one-night stand will not kill you. It’s Labor Day. Please live a little.” Tiffany decides she has contributed to pollution enough, snapping the cap on her perfume bottle to turn around and face you. “You’re not in a relationship anymore. It’s time to be a slut.” 

“Yeeeeaaah be a slut!” Nicole yells, running into the room and grabbing you by the hips, slamming your ass into her crotch several times to crudely depict being fucked from behind. Her jean shorts are impossibly tight, red thong peeking out the sides. “It’s so much funner.”

“Funner isn’t a word.”

“God shut the fuck up for two seconds and be a hot idiot like Paris Hilton.”

Pushing your friend away, you nod. You love them and you know they’re right. You’re single and hot, and there are countless clubs all over with hot, single guys. You’ve never had a one-night stand, having been in a long-term relationship all throughout college until recently, and now you’re where single people come to get laid and you… have a night left to do it.

Tiffany’s iPod blasts in the living room of the hotel room. There are empty cups all over the counter, sticky and sweet smelling from the liquor and mixers spelled on most surfaces. You go to the fridge, pulling out a can of pineapple juice. 

Nicole gasps when she sees you reach for the bottle of Malibu on the counter. “WAIT! We need the song!” 

She rushes to the iHome, bending over the counter. She flips the song to Caribou Lou, wiggling her ass back and forth before she stands straight and points at you and the bottle of Malibu in your hands.

“151 rum, pineapple juice and malibu caribou get them all numb!” she screams, making you smile. 

Despite their earlier jesting, you relax as you mix drinks, singing along to the throwback while shaking your ass. The zipper on your jeans moves a few times, but you’re careful not to let your vagina make a surprise appearance. With how low-cut the jeans are, Tiffany had convinced you not to wear underwear.

Which was more of a reason to get laid. 

The drink is sweet and easy to drink. You scroll through your messages on BBM but otherwise give your attention to playing flip cup with your two best friends, determined to get just a little bit tipsy before you head out to the bars. 

The hotel isn’t very far away from all of the live entertainment. It’s within walking distance which saves a ton of money on cabs, but it is a nightmare for your feet the last three nights you’ve stumbled home in wedges. Nicole even broke one of her heels, walking home on uneven feet like a seesaw. 

When you’ve decided that you’ve pregamed enough, you and your friends teeter to the elevator and down through the lobby. Outside, the balmy air kisses your skin. A creamsicle sky has faded to black and you can see the lights of the entertainment district and hear the faint thunder of music from clubs with open doors and windows. 

You scrunch your nose when Nicole lights a cigarette on your walk. You smell the crackling menthol of her Newport as she takes a drag, hoarsely laughing at a group of men who catcall you from a sports bar as you walk by. You flick your hair over your shoulder, rolling your eyes. 

As if it were that easy.

Labor Day is in full swing around you. The street has barricades to open up to foot traffic only, and they’ve relaxed open container laws. There are a few food vendors on the road, people lined up to grab a quick slice of pizza or hot dogs to settle their tequila-churned stomachs.

A breeze makes your hair dance. It smells like fried food and a hint of salt from the ocean. It carries something else on it - a taste of something wild. You’re here with your friends on a vacation that you had originally planned to take with your boyfriend.

You can recognize now that it would have been a disaster. The two of you in a partying scene meant for singles would have signed your doom. But the end had come sooner than that when you found him with his dick down some girl's throat when you came home early from work. 

In hindsight, you always knew he wasn’t ready for a relationship. But you liked the way he called you baby, the way he peppered you with kisses to make you a little less angry at him, and the way that he made you feel when you weren’t fighting.

And you definitely like the way he drove his Escalade, and the fact that he could afford to take you places like the restaurant in the St. Regis and you stayed in lofty rooms at the Ritz Carlton while vacationing. 

Still. There had been a lot missing, namely in the bedroom, which is exactly why Tiffany and Nicole have been on your ass about at least trying to experience a one-night stand. They wanted you to expand your horizons, to learn what you do and don’t like, and to maybe stumble on someone who could actually make you cum more than two times out of ten. 

The first bar makes you lose a little hope. House music thumps loudly over the speakers. Jean-clad partygoers surround you, some on the dance floor shuffling their feet while maintaining a grip on sweating glasses and nodding their heads as the DJ thrusts a fist in the air. It’s not your type of club, but Nicole hits it off with someone in a larger group of people.

You exist on the edge of the conversation, picking at the slice of wilted pineapple in your drink as you watch the way Nicole plays her game. She’s excellent at flirting - a coy smile as she leans in to say something over the pumping music, balancing herself with a hand on his arm, swagging at his chest when he makes a funny joke.

It would be easy for you too if you thought any of the men were worth your time. They all look the same: bright polo, khaki shorts, hair gelled up. You want to tell them that Connecticut casual isn’t an outfit to the bar, but you say nothing, examining your nails for a while instead. 

One of the guys starts talking to you - Ben, you think his name might be. You bob your head to the music, listening as he explains what he does as a private financial advisor. Your eyes slip over every detail of his outfit: fitted Abercombie polo with the collar popped, khaki pants paired with brown sandals, a white shell necklace wrapped around a sunburned throat, and a tattoo of his former fraternity peeking from his sleeve on his bicep.

Whatever Ben is saying, you’re not listening. You’re almost positive that Ben fucks the way he dresses: generically. 

If you’re looking to experience something different, Ben - maybe Brian - isn’t it. You fucked Ben-Brians in college and they were as boring at sex as your ex-boyfriend was, except they couldn’t afford stone crab claws.

Everyone shifts to a new bar. You’ve molded your groups together, Ben or Brian - you’re starting to think maybe it’s Brad - is still by your elbow. You can sense he’s having a good time and you wish you were too. So you down a few shots at the next bar, loosening your limbs a little and making you a little less judgmental. 

Brad is okay. Not your type and he smells like Crest Whitestrips, but he’s more bearable now that you’ve switched from Pina Coladas to Tequila Sunsets. You nibble the stem of a cherry, enjoying this club much better than the last. The music is more hip hop and pop, familiar songs making you bob your head and sway your hips a little more.

Sweat makes your skin sticky. You shift to stand underneath the air vent by the bar a little more, but you misplace your wedge, knocking yourself off balance. Ben-Brian-Brad catches your arm and steadies you. Slides in closer. His mint breath fans your face and you blink up at him. For a split second, you consider if you were too harsh on his judgment earlier. Maybe he could surprise you. He seems easy enough to please and like it wouldn’t be hard work, and he’s already trying to win you over…

Your eyes slide past him for a second and your gaze stays fixed on the man you see coming down the stairs into the club. 

It’s nearly impossible to tear your gaze away once you see him. He runs a hand through his dark hair, laughing at something the man next to him says. He’s in dark jeans with bleached patches highlighting the material, a fitted Love Kills Slowly shirt by Ed Hardy, and even from a distance, you can see the glittering earrings in his ears.

He’s beautiful. Full lips pulling into a smirk as he winks at people he walks past. Brad rights you, asking you something but you don’t hear him, staring at the man across the bar who leans on the counter. He’s helped immediately, two bartenders drifting to a siren as they stare at him. 

As though he senses your gaze, the man looks at you and your face goes red. His eyes are seductive, narrowed a bit as he checks you out shamelessly. Dark hair gelled back perfectly. A jaw that is both elegant and dangerous. He stands out among the rest of the partiers, his features an exquisite blend of feminine and masculine. 

Your line of sight is cut off when Brad leans forward on the sticky countertop to order more drinks. You take a deep breath, trying to collect yourself. Your hands are a little shaky. Whoever that man is looks more your type, but the Ben-Brian-Brads of the world are much easier.

So you accept the new drink, sipping it and turning your back to the bar. And when you’re coaxed onto the dance floor, all disjointed limbs and sweating bodies, you forget about the Love Kills Slowly man and focus on the way you feel - dreamy and soft with the buzz of tequila in your veins. 

A song you vaguely recognize plays in the background. You sway your hips, ass pressed against Ben’s crotch with his hands gripped tightly on your sides. He sways you back and forth, less like a dance and more like an erratic pendulum that can’t find its rhythm. Ben’s dancing is less than impressive, and you start to think that your earlier thoughts about his skill in bed might be right. 

Tiffany laces your fingers with hers as she dances in front of you, pulling you away from Brian’s greedy hands to press your front against hers, letting you grind against her. You tilt your head back. Fog fills the air, lights dancing across the ceiling. It smells like the sticky-sweet of the machines used to make the fog, a tinge of sweat. 

Nicole interrupts your dancing. Your legs ache a little, pieces of hair stuck to the nape of your neck as she bounces up and down yelling, “You have got to see this guy.”

You and Tiffany laugh as Nicole pulls you, the press of bodies jostling you back and forth as you try to catch a rhythm to move through the crowd. When you break the barrier and come out on the other side, your brows shoot up at the scene in front of you. 

The Love Kills Slowly guy is posing next to a girl who points at his exposed six-pack and holy shit his body is insane. Perfectly cut abs, a solid v-line dipping into pants that fit his narrow waist. He holds the shirt up with a thumb, sticking out his tongue as the flash on the camera goes off. You can’t help but think his tongue is devilishly long. 

Up close, he’s even hotter than you thought. You stare at him as the girl who took the picture flirts with them. There is a gaggle of men and women surrounding him, a flock of geese looking upon the swan longingly.

“He is the hottest fucking person I’ve ever seen,” Tiffany giggles. “We should totes get a picture with this dude.”

“Why, is he famous?” You ask, watching as he nods and lets the girl touch his abs. God. What a tool. “He loves being the center of attention, it looks like.”

“So? He’s probably a model. I mean look at that. Come on.”

Tiffany yanks you and Nicole. You resist, stumbling over as she inserts herself into the conversation. He smiles at her, dazzling as he raises a brow at whatever she says. You pull your hand away from her and take a step back. You will not throw yourself at the Adonis in front of you. 

You pivot away from them, staring out over the open crowd. You don’t enjoy the way Tiffany and Nicole giggle, sweet as the simple syrup on the bar over this new stranger. They make it too easy, and you don’t enjoy the idea of melting for someone just because they’re hot. Even if they’re model hot.

And what kind of model wears Ed Hardy?

At first, Tiffany and Love Kills Slowly chat animatedly. That makes sense - she has a way with people and she’s an excellent flirt. When your name is called the first time, you think you imagine it so you stay bobbing your head to the Ke$ha song, minding your business. When it’s said a second time, you glance at them from the corner of your eye.

“You’re being rude,” Tiffany asserts, glaring at you. You feel your eye twitch as she touches an open nerve. You’re not rude - you’re bored and your drunk friend cannot tell the difference. “This is Jimin. I was right, he is a model.”

“That’s nice.”

Jimin’s eyes are on you and your stomach flips. You pick at the french manicure on your freshly done acrylics, thinking that the attention will pass you any moment now. But you feel Jimin’s eyes on you and you sense when he leans forward past Tiffany, ducking his head to level the most intense pair of brown eyes you’ve ever seen at you. 

“What?” He asked. “Don’t like models?”

“Not one that wears Ed Hardy,” you answer honestly. Your words come out a little stiff. You feel your arm tighten, squeezing your clutch that’s wedged in your armpit. “Shouldn’t you be in like… Armani or something?”

“You’re uptight.”

“Thanks.”

He frowns. “Loosen up.” He looks at your empty hands. “Come on, let’s get you a drink.”

“Why?” Jimin moves past Tiffany entirely, offering a hand and a smirk that almost makes your mouth pop open. Your heart does a tiny flip - you can’t help it. He is stupid beautiful. “I am drinking.”

“Your hands look a little empty to me.” He grabs one of your hands, linking your fingers and tugging. “Okay, one hand full. Let’s put some goose to make you loose in the other.” 

You’re speechless as he tugs you along. Tiffany squeals a little, she and Nicole both on your heels. 

People make room for Jimin at the bar. You watch the way people look at him. He drops your hand to dig a hand into the pocket of his skin-tight jeans for a credit card. His tongue darts out to lick his lips as he looks at you.

“What’s your drink, baby?” 

“I’m not your baby.”

The quip comes out before you can stop it. Tiffany smacks your arm and makes a noise behind you. You ignore her, staring at him pointedly. 

“Mmm she’s a brat. I like that. Your drink?” Jimin prompts again with a smile, undeterred. 

“Um. Anything with Tequila.”

“A girl after my own heart. You wanna do shots?”

“Yes!” Nicole and Tiffany both squeal. He smiles at them briefly, but his eyes drag back to you.

You stare. Jimin has a dark lash line, making his eyes more enchanting. He bites his bottom lip, letting his eyes drop down to your exposed midriff before dragging his eyes back up again, raising a brow in a question. 

He’s only buying shots if you want one. 

You shrug a shoulder, nonchalant. He grins and asks the bartender for chilled Patron shots with training wheels. With his back turned, you smirk, feeling a sliver of satisfaction as you look away from Jimin and spot the group of men you were with earlier looking in your direction, murmuring amongst themselves. 

Turning quickly before you can make eye contact with Ben-Brian-Brad, you find yourself face to face with Jimin once again. He leans on the bar with one elbow, head tilted as he studies you. His attention makes you feel warm and drunker than you already are. 

“You didn’t tell me your name,” he points out as the bartender sets four glasses of blanco tequila in front of you, rimmed with salt and garnished with a lime wedge. He picks up two glasses and hands them to Nicole and Tiffany’s hands as you give him your name. “Cute. You’re cute.”

“Thank you.” 

Jimin lifts his glass in your direction. “Salude.” 

You watch, mouth parted slightly as Jimin’s tongue curls out of his mouth, licking the rim of the shot glass slowly. His eyes don’t leave yours, even when he’s finished the rim and tosses the tequila back before biting into the lime. A tiny bit of lime juice runs down his chin, your eyes following the trail. His tongue darts out to snatch it. 

“Come on,” he purrs. “Your turn.”

Your mouth is dry. You quickly lick the salted rim, barely making it around before tossing the shot back and squeezing your eyes shut as it burns down the back of your throat. You bite into the lime wedge, the sour taste helping ease the burn. 

Juice runs down your chin. Before you can wipe it, Jimin’s hand darts out, a thumb brushing across your skin to catch it. He removes his hand, lips twitching upward slightly as he absently sucks the juice from his thumb and turns to the bartender to order two tequila sours. 

“Are you on vacation?” he asks and you nod your head, a little dizzy from the shot and from him. The group of men from earlier has shuffled back toward your group, Nicole and Tiffany reluctantly shifting attention from Jimin to the men they were talking to previously. “Same. I have no idea where my friends are, I think they left me.” He slides a drink toward you. “You won’t leave me, right?” 

“Depends.”

“On?”

“If you’re nice or not. I like nice guys.”

He sips his drink, leering at you over the rim of the glass. “I’m a nice guy. At least, for you.” He nods his head toward the group of guys. “You have a boyfriend?”

“Would you care if I did?”

He throws his head back to laugh, throat covered in a light sheen of sweat. He looks at you over the glass, the first genuine smile not filled with something lingering on lust that he gives you. “No, but you told me to be nice.” 

That makes you smile a bit. You bite your lip, trying to hide it, and decide to sip the drink. It’s good - strong - but good. “You seem like the type who wouldn’t care.”

“Awe don’t hurt my feelings. You’re like one of the hottest girls in here and I’m into it. If I had to ignore a ring or a boyfriend, I would. Is that so bad?” You shrug, sipping on the drink. You don’t know what to say. 

Thankfully, Jimin doesn’t really seem to care. You think perhaps he likes hearing himself talk. It works out. Jimin fills the conversation with the normal what do you do and what do you like? You don’t miss the way he leans in toward you, or the way he glances at your mouth. 

Still, you’re a little rigid. Your sentences aren’t as smooth and practiced as his. He doesn’t seem to care, shuffling a little close to you as the bar fills up with people. He smells like Axe Essence and the 5 gum he’s popped into his mouth between drinks. 

“Trying to quit coke,” he snickers when he sticks another piece of gum in his mouth. “Got some bad press for it during last fashion week and my agency keeps threatening to drop me even though it's obviously a pre-fucking-requisite to walk for McQueen.” 

“And chewing gum helps with that?”

“Not really, but it gives my mouth something to do and it soothes the muscle memory of hand to face.”

“Smart.”

“You look incredible by the way.” That makes you blush, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth and ducking your head. Jimin chuckles, tapping your chin lightly with a finger to make you look back up at him. “Cute.”

“Thanks.”

“You’re a bit of a spoiled brat, huh?” That makes you frown and pull away. He whines, hands chasing your shoulders to draw you closer to him. “Stop. I like that. It means you have high standards and good taste.” 

You hum, finishing the rest of your drink. You’re properly drunk now, the room tilting a little bit as a giggle escapes you when Jimin looks at you. He laughs back, sliding a glass of water over to you after he takes a few sips. 

The water is refreshing. Your skin feels warm all over and you move a little slower, looking around. The club is more packed than you remember and there are more bodies on the dance floor. You watch the way people move together, pressed up against one another and grinding to the music humming through the air. 

Jimin follows your gaze, leaning closer to you and popping his gum in your ear. “Wanna dance?” 

You nod, looking up at him through your lashes. He grins and pushes off the bar, sliding a hand around your waist to shift you in front of him. You look at him over your shoulder with narrowed eyes and he smiles, tucking you to his chest and sliding his chin on your shoulder. 

“Coming through,” he calls, walking you both through the group behind you. Ben-Brian-Brad glares at you and you avert your eyes as Jimin guides you toward the dance floor, pads of his fingers pressed firming into your hips and scouring marks into your skin. “Tool in the polo definitely has a small dick.”

You giggle as you peel apart, Jimin catching your hand as you turn to face him, pulling him with you. “What makes you say that?”

“His fucking collar is popped, baby.” 

“I think he’s mad at me,” you admit.

“You’re way out of his league.”

“That’s true.”

Jimin wraps his hands around your wrist and yanks you to him. You gasp, stumbling as your chests press together. He slots a thigh between your legs, making you freeze for a moment as the music slows a bit. Jimin’s hands are confident where they settle on your waist, moving your hips in a soft rhythm as he begins to move. 

Instincts take over. You wrap your arms around Jimin’s neck, letting him press his forehead against yours as he stares you down. He’s no longer controlling your hips but letting you move against him naturally, both of your bodies in sync. 

Jimin is an amazing dancer, never forcing you to sway too much or trying to control your movements awkwardly. He rolls his hips into you experimentally once and you gasp lightly, noses brushing together. 

“You’re fucking hot,” he mumbles, his breath fanning your face. 

“So are you.”

Your fingers slide through the dark, sweaty strands at the back of his neck. He lets out an appreciative noise, making your insides melt. Your eyes drop to his lips, slightly parted, slicked with gloss from his pink tongue darting out to wet them. You wonder how soft they must feel, and the way he used his tongue to lick the salt from the rim of the tequila glass makes you wonder what kissing him is like.

You don’t have to wonder long. Jimin notices you staring. Gives you a wolfish grin. You think he looks wicked in the low light, all sharp eyes with a cunning smile. 

And then he’s kissing you. 

You make a sound of surprise, but it’s swallowed in his warm, minty mouth. Your fingers tighten in his hair as he presses the small of your back so that you’re impossibly closer. 

It’s easy to forget you’re in the middle of the dance floor. Jimin’s mouth moves slowly against yours, sucking your bottom lip greedily as he pulls away for a split second. Before you can chase his lips with yours, he’s kissing you again, with a little more vigor and a curious tongue that swipes the seam of your lips.

You open your mouth to him and Jimin consumes you. You’re spinning, holding onto him for dear life as he sucks your tongue into his mouth. Fuck, you knew his tongue would be good. It makes you light-headed as he licks into your mouth, fingers clawing at you as a whine escapes his throat. 

Suddenly the kiss breaks. You blink up at him, stars in your eyes and cotton-fuzz thoughts, lost in him. Jimin isn’t looking at you though, he’s looking at the DJ and yelling, pointing over your head as he detaches from you. 

“This is my fucking song,” he yells at you, as though he hadn’t been tongue fucking your mouth a moment ago. You look at him, dazed and confused. He notices and pops a kiss on your mouth. “God, you're needy. Don’t pout, I’ll kiss you more after.” 

“What makes you think I want to kiss you more?”

He doesn’t say anything. Instead, he leans forward and kisses you once. Twice. It’s sweet and leaves your mind scattered as he guides you backward slightly before smacking your ass lightly. 

“Watch,” he instructs. “And try not to be a brat about it, yeah?”

“I’ll think about it.”

Jerk by New Boyz is on in the background. Jimin sweeps his arms, backing people away before he starts walking quickly in a circle, bobbing his head to the music and making room for his little show. 

A circle clears in the middle of the dance floor. You cross your arms with raised brows, Michael Kors clutch tucked in your armpit as you watch Jimin wave people back as the song plays. All eyes are on him, cheering as he nods and smirks at the crowd, turning to blow you a cheeky kiss.

You roll your eyes but smile anyways.

Jimin decides he has enough room and right as the chorus starts, he begins to hop and shuffle his feet backward then forward. The crowd goes wild, clapping their hands as he manages to execute the jerk without slipping on the beer and liquor-stained floor.

He spins and drops low, going down to the floor. The crowd yells for him, clapping and cheering him on as Jimin slowly works his way back up. His devious tongue is tucked against his plush upper lip, the hint of a smirk on his mouth.

More guys join the dancing, showing off their moves. Jimin, not one to be outshined, sticks his tongue out all the way, rolling his eyes back as he shakes his head and hooks a thumb in the hem of his shirt, pulling it up to reveal a flawless set of abs, shining in the glittering lights.

The women go crazy as he laughs manically, gesturing to his impressive physique to the other dancers, who roll their eyes and back off. You’re jostled from side-to-side, rolling your eyes when Jimin drops his shirt and dances his way over to you, eyes looking you up and down.

You give him an unimpressed look, yawning and looking the other way as he grips your hips, fingers digging into your flesh through the jeans. “Come on,” he purrs. “Spoiled brat not impressed?”

You are. You just don’t want to be.

“Nope,” you say.

He crowds your space as the circle closes and the song changes. Jimin presses his hips against yours and your stomach drops. Your eyes snap back to his as his hands brush backward, squeezing the sides of your ass.

Jimin’s hot breath touches your lips. He smells like tequila and his cologne. He’s sweating through the Ed Hardy shirt, making it cling to the firm body underneath. Your toes curly slightly as you bite your bottom lip, looking up at him through your lashes.

“If that’s how good I dance,” Jimin murmurs, so close that his nose is touching yours. “Imagine how good I lay pipe.”

You cringe at the way he phrases it, but you’re intrigued. Your friends taunting you for your lack of sexual experience earlier replays in your mind. So you play along, raising a brow. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” You wrap your arms around him when someone knocks into you. He noses the line of your jaw, breath warm in your ear when he whispers. “So like… you DTF or what?”

“What?”

“You know, down to fuck. I’ve been wanting to fuck the shit out of you since I saw you staring at me across the bar.”

“I was not staring.”

“Shit, I would stare if I were you too, baby.” 

You smack his shoulder, pulling away from him slightly. Your heart pounds in your rib cage as you stare at him. His eyes are expectant, waiting for your response. 

Before your ex, you would have never thought to sleep with someone you just met at a bar. You know very little about Jimin besides the fact that he likes to hear himself talk, that he’s a little arrogant and that he is wildly, ridiculously hot. 

Jimin nibbles on his bottom lip, squeezing your hips to tell you he’s still waiting on an answer. The way your stomach flips and you already feel arousal at the cocky way he asserts himself tells you what you want to say. 

“I think so…”

“You think so or you know so?” Your mouth is dry and you don’t know what to say, so you shrug. He seems to read you. “You never went home with a guy at a bar before?”

“No.”

“Come on,” he whines, sliding his hands in your back pockets. “I’ll be really sweet.”

“Yeah?”

He leans down, nudging his nose with yours. You laugh, leaning back a bit but Jimin is persistent, chasing the intimate contact. “Yeah. I’ll even make sure you cum first.”

“We’ll see.” His hands squeeze your ass through your pockets. “My place or-“

“Yours. My friends are stupid fucks.”

Sliding your hand in his, you pull Jimin along. He presses himself close to your back when you walk, sticking the hand not holding yours in your pocket to give your ass an experimental poke. You hiss at him but end up giggling when he wags his eyebrows up and down.

You find Tiffany and Nicole dancing with the original group of guys. Ben-Brian-Brad is glaring at you openly now, and Jimin is pressed behind you so close that you can feel the cool metal of his zipper on your lower back. 

Tiffany and Nicole assure you they’re going to another club and will go to the beach house that the guy group is staying at. With gloss-stain cheek kisses and goodbyes, you leave them dancing as Jimin wraps a hand around your waist, gluing you together as you stumble out into the night.

The strip of bars is full of people. Cool air kisses your skin, making you moan in relief a bit as you begin walking toward your hotel. Your steps are uneven, you and Jimin pushing one another back and forth as you try to navigate your way home. You stumble a little too far when he presses a kiss to your neck, leaning on you too much for your drunk weight to bear and sending you several steps. 

“Owww,” you whine. “That hurt my ankle. I’m in heels and my feet hurt, Jimin.” You drop his hand and look up at him, sticking out your bottom lip in an animated pout. “Give me a piggyback ride.” 

“Hmmm. What do I get in return?”

“What do you mean?”

“If you ride my back, I need to… ride you.”

You roll your eyes. “I already told you I’ll have sex with you, idiot.”

“Yeah but I could really use a good blow job.”

You scrunch your nose. “Fine.” 

Jimin grins, letting go of you to squat and look over his shoulder at you, eyes glittering. “All aboard the Park express. Next stop: pound town.”

Huffing, you place either hand on Jimin’s shoulders and jump a little. He catches you easily, hands gripping your thighs firmly. You shiver at the feeling of his hands. Jimin straightens and you wrap your arms around his neck, settling your chin over his right shoulder.

“You’re kind of a jerk-off, huh?”

He grins as he starts to walk. “A little. But you’re kind of a bitch, so I think it works.”

You hum - he has a point.

The piggyback ride is just as dangerous as the walk. Jimin walks crooked sometimes, only for you to yell and smack his shoulder to send him back in a straight line. He gets distracted by a pizza stand which makes you flick his ear. And when you’re finally in front of the automatic double doors to your hotel, he is gasping for air and immediately sags against the elevator wall.

“You’re fuckin’ heavy.”

“That is so rude.”

“Baby, I am wasted and I haven’t done coke in like a week. It’s not you - it’s me.”

“What a cheesy line.” 

“Speaking of.” His hand feels around his back pocket before dipping into the fabric and removing a tiny Altoid tin. “My sobriety will not come at the expense of me cumming early. I’m going to need a little extra to fuck you right.” 

“Thought you were quitting?”

“I mean, do you want me to get my dick up?” The elevator opens and you try to hide your laugh behind your hand. “And now you’re laughing at me? Baby you’re going to hurt my feelings.”

“Sorry, it was just funny. Do whatever you want. You promised to make me cum first.”

“Never had a guy who did that?”

“Nope.”

Jimin makes a disgusted noise as you swipe the hotel key card in the reader. It flashes green and you swing the door open into the freezing room. It’s a little disheveled, but it’s at least not an embarrassing display of the room. You’re suddenly thrilled that it’s a suite with two rooms. 

The door clicks behind you and Jimin slides closer to you, pulling you by the belt loops. You’re prepared for his kiss this time, opening your mouth the second his soft lips meet yours. It’s sloppy and wet, Jimin sucking your bottom lip hungrily as he pulls your belt loops a little harder.

Carefully, Jimin walks you backward. He taps the side of your thighs and dips down as you jump. He catches your legs, hauling you the rest of the way onto the island counter where you spread your legs for him. 

Jimin slots himself between your thighs easily. At this height, you’re more on his level, but Jimin leans into you, pushing you back slightly as he controls the kiss. It’s more eager and demanding than the one in the club, Jimin sucking on your tongue and licking the rough of your mouth experimentally. 

Planting his hands on either side of your ass on the counter, Jimin trails kisses along your jaw. Your eyes flutter shut at the feeling, and you become breathy. His mouth is noisy and wet against your skin, sucking at the tender flesh under your ear gently before biting lightly. The pinch of skin makes you moan, the sound lost in the lighting above the counter.

“So fucking pretty,” Jimin murmurs, continuing his assault with his mouth. His tongue is just as dangerous, licking over each bite he places as he drifts to your collarbone. “You want a line?”

You shake your head no. He presses closed-mouth kisses back up your neck until he’s straightened out to be eye-level. He brushes your nose with his. Sticks his tongue out and watches you expectantly. You tentatively stick yours out too, making a squeal when his tongue licks at yours.

“Weirdo,” you murmur, cheeks heated and shivering when he pulls away from you to pop open the Altoid tin. There’s a tiny plastic bag inside, sealing the white powder. “You like using tongue.”

Jimin hums in agreement as he stays between your legs, untwisting the bag. “I have a good tongue,” he says as he leans over, dumping a little onto the counter. You watch wordlessly. “I like to eat pussy too.” 

You nearly lay back on the counter and ascend to heaven right there. No one has been so open and bold with you when speaking about sexual acts. And the fact that he says it so casually as he looks around for something flat with an edge makes you dizzy. You produce the room key and he grins, kissing your nose once before he takes it and cuts the powder into two, thin white lines. 

“Do you need a bill too?” you joke. He shakes his head and pulls out a dollar bill that looks like it was once crisp but has been rolled over and over and over, making it look soft and pliant. “You don’t use hundreds?” 

“I’m a model,” he grunts. “Not a Kardashian.” 

That makes you laugh. 

Jimin’s fingers are practiced as he rolls the bill. You can’t help but stare at the rings that you did not notice before, each one placed on a delicate finger. He has nice hands, veins jumping as he places one hand on the counter to hold himself up as the other holds the rolled bill. 

Your knees squeeze his sides a bit as Jimin does the first line. It’s loud in the apartment with just the sound of his sharp inhaling, so you lean a bit to hit the iPod on the iHome dock, flicking through the touchscreen to find a song you like. 

You settle on a playlist Tiffany has loaded in called Party Jamz. She Wolf starts playing loudly, drowning out the sound of Jimin finishing his second line as you hit the volume button a few times to lower it. 

Straightening, you come face to face with Jimin as he wipes his nose a bit, taking a few sharp inhales. He runs his tongue along the edge of the room key before swiping his finger through the residue on the counter. There’s not much coke on the pad of his thumb, but he holds it to your mouth, watching.

Obediently, you open your mouth. He slides his thumb under your upper lip, rubbing gently on your gums. You taste how bitter the drug is, making a bit of a face that makes him giggle as he removes his finger from your mouth, sucking the thumb into his mouth briefly. 

“You want a glass of water?” 

You nod and he vanishes from in between your legs. He sings to himself as he grabs glasses and goes to the fridge, the ice machine loud above the music. You watch him with heavy eyes, your body feeling a little like liquid from all the tequila. 

He reappears, holding a glass of water to your lips. He tilts it carefully as he drinks his own, dark eyes watching you. You sip carefully, the water cool and refreshing as he continues to tip the glass. A bead of water runs down your chin and neck. 

Jimin is fast. He sets down both cups of water and surges forward, tongue chasing the bead of liquid as it runs down your throat. You lean backward, keeping yourself up with your palms planted on the cool counter as Jimin kisses and bites your neck. A moan escapes your mouth and absently, you’re glad you chose Jimin to go home with you.

You grab Jimin by his face, pulling kiss-bitten lips to yours and devouring him whole. He grunts in appreciation, mouth cooled by the water as his tongue dances with yours. His handles are not idle, rubbing up and down your jean-clad thighs, alternating between the gentle press of fingers and pointed drag of nails. 

Jimin’s kissing is like nothing else you’ve had before. He’s skilled, leading you between fast, hungry clashing of teeth and tongue and slow, languid movements. You’re dizzy with him, a buzz of electricity under your skin and heat pooling in your stomach long before his hands dip to your zipper, pulling the metal down. 

Eager hands slide to your hips where Jimin gathers the fabric. Your kiss breaks momentarily, a single line of spit connecting you for a second before you lift your ass off the counter, letting Jimin pull harshly at your pants. The fabric slides, making him cuss out loud when he realizes you’re not wearing underwear. 

“Fuck,” he murmurs, tossing your jeans and pressing your thighs open. You shiver as the cold air hits your pussy. Jimin’s eyes are hungry as he drags a thumb up the center of your glossy folds, a high-pitched sound leaving you. “Spoiled brat wearing no underwear? You’re just dying to have this pussy fucked, huh?”

“Please.”

“Hmm.” Jimin presses his thumb into your clit. Your eyes roll back in your head. The pressure sends a shiver through you, sparking every nerve in your body as he barely wiggles his thumb back and forth. “Shit you’re so sensitive. Gonna scream while I eat you out?”

“Maybe.”

His thumb slides lower, teasing your clenching hole. You open your eyes, head heavy as you look at him. He’s slid down to his knees, looking up at you through long lashes with a smirk on his face. Your shirt is still on, but you don’t even care. Jimin’s hot breath is on your inner thighs as he bites your flesh softly, making your legs try to close.

“Don’t suffocate me,” he chastises you. “Wanna fuckin’ taste though.”

Everything turns to white noise as Jimin leans forward, running his long tongue from your dripping hole to your throbbing clit. You seize forward, gasping for air and clenching your fists as he pins your legs harder. Your muscles strain, the stretch a little painful but the good kind paired with the way he licks you slowly. 

Your blood turns into melted metal. You go boneless, laying back on the counter, knocking over cups, sending them scattering. You knock into the iHome, the iPod coming disconnected and cutting off the music. It doesn’t matter. Now you can hear the way Jimin sucks at your clit, making you moan loudly. 

From the moment you saw his tongue, you wondered what it would be like. You pictured nothing like this. Jimin eats you out slowly, tongue curious yet lazy as he circles your clit in a steady rhythm before sucking your bud into his mouth and squeezing with his lips lightly.

“Fuck, Jimin,” you whisper, voice hoarse from disuse. One of your hands falls across your eyes, blocking the light from the ceiling as Jimin splays you open for his mouth to explore. You’re panting, the other hand threading through his hair, gel making it easier to grab onto. “Feels so fucking good.”

And it does. 

“Tastes so sweet,” he mumbles, pulling away with a lewd, loud suck on your clit. “Your pretty little hole is just fucking dripping. Gonna fuck you open with my fingers to get you nice and stretched for me.”

You can’t come up with a verbal response. Something like a whine and hum of agreement slips out. Your hips twitch as his mouth turns firmer, tongue flicking over your clit quickly followed by his lips sucking at your wet hole.

There has never been a time someone enjoyed themselves so much while paying attention to your pleasure. Jimin is skilled and focused on bringing his fingers into the action. You feel him slowly trace the rim of your entrance with his fingers, applying just enough pressure to make you curse and squirm but not enough to slide in. 

It fucking aches. Your fingers tighten in his hair, begging him to make you feel fuller. Jimin chuckles, the vibrations going straight through you, your muscles spasming. 

Slowly, Jimin adds a single finger, the slide relieving some of the tension directly in your pussy. You let out a soft breath, sagging on the counter as he matches the gentle in-and-out of his finger with the steady licking of his tongue on your clit. 

The tight feeling of your orgasm is winding like a spring in your stomach. You can feel it, the pressure building and so compact that you struggle to breathe, finding yourself gasping for air when Jimin adds another finger to the mix. He applies pressure right against your front wall, pressing that spot that has you seeing stars.

You might be babbling now. You don’t know what comes out of your mouth. Stars are dancing behind your eyes and you struggle to remember not to hold your breath, to try and regulate your breathing as he increases speed. He’s messy now, sucking and licking and rubbing his nose against your clit. Jimin uses his entire face to get you off and you’re spiraling. 

It all happens at once. A deep breath in. Held tight in your chest, muscles seizing and your body going rigid. Jimin’s fingers push against your g-spot hard as he sucks your clit into his mouth and you scream.

Your orgasm snaps in half, everything going loose at once. You feel yourself clench around his fingers, so tight that Jimin pauses his movements, tongue licking at your sensitive pussy gently as you shake. Your hands cover your face now, breathing rapidly into your palms as the room fills with white noise. 

After a moment, your muscles start to relax. Jimin gives an experimental thrust with his fingers and you whine, making him laugh. 

“God, you came so fucking hard,” he growls from between your legs. He gently pulls his fingers from you, making you protest and drop your hands from your face. You open your eyes as the room spins, lifting your head to look where Jimin now stands between your legs. He sucks his fingers into his mouth, smirking around them. “Mmm. You’re a creamer. I like that.” 

You have no response for him. He doesn’t need one. Jimin lifts you from the counter and for a moment, the world tilts dangerously on its axis and you think you might vomit. The spinning is short-lived as he carries you to the bedroom, tossing you on the bed hard enough to make you bounce. 

“Jesus Christ, Jimin,” you mumble, righting yourself in the sheets. He laughs, pulling his shirt over his head and tossing it. Your eyes zero in on his body and your mind goes blank. “Jesus Christ, Jimin.”

“Jesus had nothing to do with this.” He smacks his abs with a hand. “This is creatine, determination, and seven days a week at the gym, baby.”

Jimin flexes his stomach. His chest and abs are toned and well-defined. The low lighting of the bar had done him an injustice that is rectified in the lamp light of the bedroom. There’s a black tattoo on his ribcage that you can’t read, but think looks really good on him anyway. 

Jeans slung low on his hips, Jimin shuffles over to the bed. You can see his dick straining against his pants. When he leans over to catch your lips with his, your hand immediately goes to his crotch, gripping gently through the material. He moans into your mouth, the kiss full of spit and your essence. 

From the way your hand presses against his straining cock, you can tell Jimin is big. With nervous hands, you pull at his zipper. He pulls away for a moment, leaving you frowning and confused.

“How do you get this fucking shirt off,” he mumbles, sliding a finger under the strap going across your stomach. “It’s confusing.”

“Like a normal shirt,” you giggle. 

“Like a normal shirt,” he mimes in a high-pitched voice. “Off. Wanna see those fucking tits.” 

Leaning forward, you help Jimin pull your shirt off, followed by the pink bra with a little bow in the middle. He doesn’t seem to have an appreciation for lingerie, immediately pushing you down by your sternum once you’re fully naked so he can lavish your chest with his mouth. 

Jimin’s mouth is always hungry. He sucks a nipple into his mouth, making you gasp and forget that you had been trying to get his pants off. You go limp as his tongue flicks over your pert bud experimentally, his other hand tweaking the opposite peak. Both bring out a response, eliciting a grin from him.

Remembering that Jimin is still in jeans, your hands surge forward, pulling at the zipper. You can see Calvin Klein briefs peaking just out the top of his jeans. With the zipper undone, there’s enough room for you to slide your hand in and grip Jimin’s cock firmly over the fabric of his briefs. 

“Shit,” he moans, head resting in the valley of your breasts. “Come on, take my cock out. Wanna stuff that mouth of yours full.” 

You don’t hesitate. You help Jimin out of his jeans, momentarily distracted by his powerful thighs and the way they flex as he bends to pull his briefs down. Your mouth goes dry as his heavy cock bobs against his navel when he’s free of his briefs. 

Jimin might be a lithe model, but his cock is anything but. 

Smooth, heavy, flushed-brown tip, and thick. Your hand goes for it as he crawls up the bed, straddling your waist and looking down at you through half-lidded eyes. Your hand wraps around the velvet shaft, making him twitch a bit. He sucks his lower lip into his mouth, watching you give an experimental stroke. 

Jimin moans. It’s such a pretty sound. You shift under him to give yourself a better angle. Your hand drifts upward, collecting the pearly precum gathered at his tip. You spread it on his shaft on the downstroke, watching as Jimin’s eyes close, head falling back. 

You gather spit in your mouth, letting go of his cock briefly. He looks down as if to chastise you, but before his comment can escape, you spit into your palm and bring it back up to his cock, giving a smooth stroke, grip firmer and more precise as you twist at the head.

“God,” he moans as you watch his muscles spasm in his abs. “Don’t just jerk me off like a middle schooler, put me in your mouth.”

“Fuck you.”

“I’m trying. Just suck me off a bit first.”

You huff at his impatience. 

Sliding further down the bed, Jimin meets you halfway, lowering a bit so that you can pull the tip of his cock into your mouth for an experimental suck. He curses and you grin, the saltiness on your tongue spurring you to take him in a little further.

It’s a vulnerable angle. Jimin can control the pace and fuck down into your mouth if he wants. Instead, he’s patient as you let the spit collect in your mouth, lifting your head to take a little more in your mouth each time.

Your tongue runs along the bottom of his shaft, providing a smooth glide as Jimin helps you out, sinking into your mouth a little more each time. He’s cursing and moaning above you, lost in the way you hollow your cheeks to provide better suction. You’re fascinated by the way his long lashes cast shadows on his cheeks, and you realize he has a few freckles that are… endearing. 

It’s a weird thing to notice, so you suck harder, trying to focus on the task at hand. 

Jimin grows more needy, fucking into your mouth so that he’s controlling the pace. You adjust, letting your jaw go slack to accommodate the stretch - and it’s a difficult stretch - making sure to guard your teeth and to let your drool help the glide.

“Your mouth takes my cock so well,” he hums. “How about that throat? Can I fuck that too?”

You nod, which is difficult with a mouth full of Jimin’s precum and cock. He grits his teeth, grabbing the bottom of your jaw gently to adjust the angle and start fucking into your mouth in earnest. 

Breathing is difficult - you remind yourself to try and breathe through your nose, letting out little sounds of euphoria around him that rile him up. You can feel your essence dripping down your thighs, turned on by the way Jimin growls every time the tip kisses the back of your throat. 

Once or twice your throat seizes up around him. He’s careful to pull out and let you breathe for a moment, spit and a little cum leaking down the sides of your mouth and down your chin, tears pooling in your eyes.

With one hand, Jimin slides the glossy tip of his cock through the mess on your chin before tracing your lips a few times, smearing the mess over your swollen mouth. 

“Lipstick,” he murmurs, nearly ruining the moment.

Before you can reply, Jimin slides his cock back into the heat of your mouth, sighing in relief as he starts to thrust in earnest again.

Just as the crown of his cock starts to brush the deeper part of your throat, Jimin pulls out, cursing. “Need to fuck this messy pussy of yours or I’ll bust,” he growls. “Turn over for me. Let me see that pretty ass.” 

Crawling from underneath him, you do as he says, too eager to care that he’s bossing you around. Your limbs are trembling as you prop yourself up on your knees, ass in the air and chest and head pressed to the bed. You look at him sideways, cheek on the mattress as he settles behind you, hands kneading the fat of your ass, giving you experimental squeezes.

It feels nice, the way his hands soothe your muscles and skate over soft flesh. He gives you an experimental slap and you squeal, making him grin. 

“Gunna rearrange your fucking guts,” he murmurs, grabbing the base of his cock. 

“Wait - condom?”

He gives you a look. “What? Are we in middle school? I’m not fucking you with a condom, I won’t feel shit.”

“What? How do I know if you’re clean?” 

“Um, does it look like I have something?”

“You can’t always tell.”

“Well, I don’t have a condom.”

You pause, glaring at him. Neither one of you moves. “Okay, well then pull out.”

He scoffs. “Obviously I’m going to cum in your mouth like a gentleman.” 

You roll your eyes. Even though he is wildly attractive and can pull an orgasm out of you with oral, Jimin is still a fucking ass. But he’s an ass who is good at what he does, so you shut up. 

Not that you can speak as he runs his cockhead through your wet folds. You moan, hearing how wet you are for him. He pushes the tip of his cock in slightly, just enough to make your hole flutter around him. You gasp, fists twisting in sheets as he sits there, letting you clench and unclench around him.

“Jimin,” you moan. 

“Ask nicely,” he teases. “Or you’re just gonna get the tip of my cock. I can feel your pussy fucking begging for it. Now you need to ask.”

“Please.”

“Please what?”

“Please fuck me.”

“Yeah? Want me to split you open?”

“Yes.”

“Want me to fuck that cervix until you’re screaming?” You pause. He pauses. “Okay that wasn’t very hot, was it?”

“Not really-”

Jimin cuts you off, thrusting in hard on a single upstroke. You gasp, mind going blank and forgetting about his terrible fumble at dirty talk as his cock does hit something inside of you that sends you into a torrent of heat and trembling limbs.

He sets a fast pace, not letting you adjust to his girth. Jimin’s hips piston perfectly against yours, your ass snapping back into his hips with each thrust. You can barely breathe, panting into the sheets as you bounce backward, sharing the effort to meet him for each powerful stroke.

It feels amazing.

You close your eyes, getting lost in the way his cock fills up every part of you, the slide smooth and velvet against your walls, the tip brushing gently against your g-spot every time he thrusts in. 

Your stomach feels like it's flipping over and over again, each one of Jimin’s thrusts so deep you swear you feel it in your chest. Your thoughts start to slip away, your front half sinking further into the mattress as Jimin’s fingers dig into the meat of your ass.

“Fuck,” he pants. “This pussy is so fucking tight. You're just fucking taking it and this ass-” he slaps your flesh sharply, making you squeal. “You hear that? Fucking getting clapped.” 

You don’t have it in you to be annoyed at him. And he has a point - the slap of hips against ass, balls against pussy is loud. 

The same feeling coils in your stomach again. You squeeze your eyes shut, barely able to breathe around the pleasure and the feeling of Jimin fucking you so full. It winds and winds and winds, and as it’s about to snap, you hold your breath.

Jimin gives a hard thrust followed by another, and you cum with a scream. You go from frozen, clenched muscles to boneless limbs in a moment. Jimin presses his hands into the small of your back, pushing you so far into the mattress that you can barely breathe as you bear his full weight.

With a few disjointed thrusts, Jimin cums, grunting and digging nails into your back.

For a few moments, neither of you moves. You can barely remember where you are, much less ask Jimin to pull his weight off of you to give you air. He’s still pressed into you, the heavy weight of him sinking you further into sweat-soaked sheets.

Jimin relents. He slowly pulls his cock out of you and you feel the mess slicking between your legs. It’s sticky and wet, more than you have ever felt before. He falls unceremoniously to the side, nearly wheezing for air.

The room is filled with heavy breaths and the smell of sweat and sex. Strands of hair and sheets stick to your skin. You shuffle, trying to roll over a bit to look at him. Your limbs are sore and stretched from the press of his hands and the force of his hips spreading yours, but it’s a good sore. 

Jimin is flushed, sweaty, and half-asleep. His hand is on his stomach, sticky with cum. 

“OH MY GOD YOU DIDN’T PULL OUT!” You scream, sitting up with sheets stuck to your back and hair all over. “YOU ASSHOLE!”

“Please stop screaming,” he groans, covering his face. “I’ll buy you Plan B in the morning.”

“You’re the fucking worst!”

“Well,” he sighs. “Give me ten minutes and I’ll fuck you again to make you feel better.” 

You cross your arms over your chest, heart racing. You stare at Jimin for a moment. Two moments. You drop your arms and lay back on the bed. “Yeah,” you huff. “Fine, whatever.”

Who were you to turn down another round like that? Your ex and his Escalade are long forgotten now.

[arcanarubinaito]

How It All Went Wrong

Inspired by the “Who Broke It” meme from Parks and Recreation.

This week I’ve decided to do a reader insert fic! I was originally planning to do a special Incorrect Quotes post, but I ran out of time to even start editing it together. I’ll probably do what I planned eventually, but to meet the deadline I switched over to a mini-fic.

(I’m still figuring out how to format my mini-fic/creative writing posts so please forgive the inconsistencies.)

Summary:

It’s the start of a new day and the familiars have all gathered in the Palace to play and run around the mostly empty halls while you and the M6 share drinks and relax on the Veranda. Unfortunately, while they were romping about and having fun, you discovered one of the familiars broke a very expensive vase Nadia was planning to auction off for charity…

Tags:

SFW (<18), 1k Words, GN Reader, Reader Insert, No Established Relationship, Asra Alnazar, Nadia Satrinava (Mentioned), Faust, Chandra, Malak, Inanna, Pepi, Mercedes & Melchior, Camio, Reader's Familiar, Whodunnit, Parks and Recreation, Who Broke It?

“So. Who broke it?”

The pack of animals in front of you all exchanged guilty glances. You’d caught them running through the halls in a panic, a mess of feathers and fur as they frantically tried to get your attention; and they had led you back to the scattered shards of what once was a very expensive, very delicate vase. Nadia had planned to auction it off, raising money to instate a proper orphanage; she wasn’t going to be happy about this. You sighed and crouched down, so you weren’t towering over the frenzied herd. “I’m not mad.” You said soothingly, reaching your hand out. Pepi was the first to rush forward, pressing into your hand with an apologetic purr. “I just want to know.”

They were all quiet for a long, long moment before your own familiar tentatively broke the silence. “I did it,” They said, but you knew it wasn’t them. They didn’t know who it was, either; the creature was attempting to take the fall for their friends. You huffed out a slight, gentle laugh.

“No, no you didn’t.” Your other hand found the top of your familiar’s head, and you gently scratched at it soothingly. Glancing up at the rest, you swept your gaze over the sea of guilty faces and focused on Malak. The raven looked a little more disheveled than usual, his beady black eyes darting around and his head cocking back and forth anxiously. “Malak?” You prompted. You regretted it almost instantly when you saw the look in his eyes.

“Don’t look at me!” Malak shot back, and his wings flared out. His talons clicked against the marble floor as he began to pace, eyeing the other familiars with a paranoid and scrutinizing glare. “Look at Chandra.” He swept one wing towards her, and the other animals turned to focus on the owl. Her eyes widened further, both surprised and indignant at the accusation.

“I beg your pardon?” Chandra brought herself up to her full height, glaring down at Malak with cold, dark eyes. “I certainly didn’t break it. Unlike yourself I watch where I’m flying.”

“That’s weird, how’d you even know it was broken?” Malak said, almost smugly. As though he thought he’d caught Chandra in the act somehow. You glance at the scattered pieces of sharp ceramic in front of you all, and then back up at the two bickering birds.

The owl extended her wing, feathers flaring as she gestured towards the broken vase. “You imbecile, it is right there in front of us and it is clearly broken.”

“Suspicious.”

“No, it is not–”

“If it matters.” Another voice interjected quickly, and you all turned to look at the two Borzoi standing just off to the side. Melchior had spoken up, Mercedes pressed up against his side and eyeing Pepi. “Probably not… but Pepi was closest to it when we ran past.” Mercedes nodded in agreement.

You saw Pepi’s tail slowly puff up, her pale blue eyes widening in disbelief. “Liar!” She yowled at them, and her ears flattened against her skull. The fur on her back spiked up. “I don’t—push things off of tables, that is a stereotype!”

Mercedes looked amused now, baring her teeth in a grin. “Oh really? Then what were you doing up on the table earlier then?”

“Cats like to be high up to watch things, everybody knows that Mercedes—”

You sighed and held up your hands. “Alright, let’s not fight…”

“Well…” Camio bobbed his head thoughtfully. “Inanna’s been awfully quiet–”

“Really?” Inanna snarled, whipping her head in the cockatiel’s direction. The bird only cackled as the rest of the familiars broke into frenzied arguments, pointing claws and feathers. You could hardly hear yourself think over the uproar, the squabbling animals making so much racket it was a wonder the others couldn’t hear them from the veranda. With a long, suffering sigh you rubbed your hands over your face.

“Okay, that’s enough!” You called out, loudly and clearly enough that your voice rang through the entire hall and shut the bickering animals up. The guilty expressions returned tenfold this time as everyone quieted down, paws and talons shuffling. Your thumb and finger ran up the bridge of your nose, pinching together while you took advantage of the quiet to think. There were a lot of fingers being pointed—so to speak—but none of them were admitting it; and you were inclined to believe they were all speaking the truth as well. You opened one eye to survey the small crowd again, doing a brief headcount. Your own familiar, Malak, Chandra, Camio, Melchior, Mercedes, Inanna, Pepi… no sign of Faust.

“Found help!” Ah, there she was. You turned your head to see Faust slung over Asra’s shoulders as he walked down the hall, the periwinkle serpent waving her tail cheerfully at everyone.

“Faust told me what happened.” Asra crouched beside you and skimmed their fingers over the shattered pottery. “Why don’t we get this fixed up before Nadia sees, hm?” They threw a wink at the other familiars, all of them relaxing just a little bit now. Asra held their hands over the shards, and you watched alongside the familiars as the pieces began to glow softly and draw back together. Glowing golden lines formed where the cracks were as the pieces fit together, melting away to reveal a perfectly uncracked and unbroken surface. They picked up the object carefully and set it back where it belonged. “There we go, good as new. Nobody has to know.” They flashed a toothy smile towards you.

“I suppose it doesn’t matter who broke it then.” The familiars relaxed completely. The only reason you wanted to know was so that whoever broke the vase could properly apologize to Nadia; now there wasn’t any reason for that. You took a moment to give everyone some pets and ear scritches before standing up. “But let’s try to not break any more valuable objects, okay?” You chided them all gently and they murmured their agreements. As you turned back to Asra, you gave him a grateful smile. “Thank you.”

“If they’re all together like this, it’s hardly surprising that something broke.” Asra chuckled, guiding Faust off their shoulders so she could rejoin the other familiars. “I was waiting for it to happen. Murphy’s law,” They held their finger up as you both began to walk. “Anything that can go wrong, will. It’s just a matter of how, isn’t it?”