#YOU might know everything I’m going to do but that’s not going to help you since I know everything YOU’RE going to do

[thewritingfairy]

↪ 09. Oh no!

PREV PART Trigger warning: (past, current) mental + physical + emotional neglect, (name) pretends everything is fine, talking down of oneself, Reader isn't out towards the batfamily yet, mental gymnastics, disabilties are finally talked about, guilt, I think this is my longest chapter yet, pls tell me if I missed any warnings main m.list        series m.list

When you woke up your body felt sluggish as you try to remember what happened, you must have a fever, why else would Alfred be at your bedside sleeping. Seeing him there reminds you of the times your heart ached for his comfort, for the times you wished he would finally stand up for you. But he didn’t, he never takes your side.

Their reaction to you passing out must’ve been extreme, because the moment you tried to manoeuvre past Alfred Dick was there, standing in front of your door with a panicked expression. “You shouldn’t get out of bed,” he says with an attempted smile. It just makes you narrow your eyes and spitefully stand up. You ignore how the room spins and how your pain spreads to your neck and fingertips. It’s almost as if Dick can sense your discomfort (it would be a first) because the moment you lose your balance he’s there to keep you standing straight. “you really are stubborn.”

His words weren’t meant to make you flinch, but they still did. You don’t trust him, and you might never, anything negative from him puts you on edge (even if his statement is true). You never know how any of your siblings will react, and quite frankly you always found Dick the most difficult from all of your siblings. Impossible to read and always wearing that fake smile, he always used that smile when he interacted with you, keeping his real smiles for his true family. “Don’t touch me,” you hiss, raising your voice enough to wake Alfred up and enough for Dick to step back.

“(name),” he whispers as he moves towards you, checking your temperature with his hand not allowing you to flinch away from him. “Good, no fever….” Yet your eyes look anywhere but at his.

“Now that you’ve done the bare minimum to keep yourselves from wallowing in guilt,” you start, ignoring how Alfred’s face falls, how Dick’s breath becomes ragged and uneven. “I want you both to leave, I need to change for school.”

“You don’t seriously think you are going to school,” Dick says as his eyebrows furrow, his arm crossed on his chest. “not after passing out like that.”

You laugh, you couldn’t help it. Now they want to care for your health. “Didn’t you guys not send me to a hospital after I was viciously beaten and possibly had internal bleeding?” you shot back, and finally they look guilty. Their guilty faces and nervous ticks make you smile, finally you feel heard. “I pass out quite often, especially since then, I am going to school so get out, I’m going to be late.”

“At least let me drop you off,” Dick says before Alfred can protests. “it would make sense, Damian’s classes are in one of your school buildings today.”

You laugh. “Oh, he doesn’t want to be seen with me. Don’t you know?” But when you see Alfred’s nails digging in his palm you start to feel guilty. Perhaps Jason’s right and you are being a piece of shit. “But fine, I suppose, just get out I need to do my hair and put my uniform on.”

They listen, but once you close your door Alfred and Dick stare at each other. Having a conversation with each other with just their eyes. You are hiding something about your health, and they’ll force to the doctor if they must. “I’ll brief Damian of the plan,” Dick tells Alfred. “I’ll try to get more information out of them.”

Alfred nods and sighs; “Duke has been helpful but evasive, but it’s clear he doesn’t trust us.”

Dick nods, and he can’t help but think; ‘Who would? If they knew what we did?’

“He’s honouring (Name)’s autonomy,” Dick acknowledges as he brushed his hair back with his hands. “more then we have ever done…”

Awh, the poor bats are becoming self-aware, and guilt is weighing heavy. Too bad that it isn’t enough to compensate for your pain.

You, who had quickly done your hair (honestly you tried, it looks terrible but it is too much for you to handle right now, so it’s alright) and put on your uniform, was now in the kitchen, grabbing a quick bite to eat and make some lunch. It was important to nourish your body after such a health incident. You need to take care of yourself, alright? Otherwise Maria and Duke would absolutely hound you on this. You just wish Cassandra wasn’t here, analysing your every move. “You’re in pain,” she says simply. “you have been for a while.”

“Wow,” you say without thinking, looking over your shoulder slightly amused. “you’ve only noticed now?”

“I’m not talking about mental pain,” she says, and that makes you freeze, dropping your lunch box in your bag and you couldn’t be more glad about getting one with an extra safety lock. “you are ill.” You chuckle, you couldn’t believe it. Cassandra knows, and she has known for a while. “Is it because of Jason?”

You turn around as you place your back on the counter. “What has Duke told you?” you aren’t angry with him, no, whatever he told them, it doesn’t matter. He’s just trying to help. “Or is that just a small personal theory?”

“A theory, Duke has been evasive with his answers,” she admits, her eyes narrowing as she tries to read your body language. But it comes up the same as always, on edge, in pain and angry. “said that he wouldn’t break his future sister’s trust.”

“Huh, so Brucie is adopting him,” you comment.

“But he has told us the full story about what Jason did,” Stephanie says, coming into the room pretending as if she hasn’t been eavesdropping from the moment she realised Cassandra was trying to get answers out of you. “I’m sorry, if I knew-”

You scoff, cutting off her sentences. Your eyes watering, you always wanted acknowledgement of what happened. You wanted these girls to tell you what your family did was wrong. But it’s too late now, and Cassandra could read that. She could see your shoulders tense, biting your lip as you try and keep your breathing steady. You feel unsafe, and she wonders if she didn’t ignore your pain. If she realised the damage they were doing to you, would you be happier? Would you be healthier?

Oh, having a moral compass can be quite difficult, can’t it?

“I don’t want none of your apologies,” you tell them, your eyes look dull and they feel lifeless. Something Stephanie often saw with the victims her father created. Is she just as bad as her father? At this point she would say to a degree. And if you will allow her to, she’ll do anything to make it right. But there is no time for that, Dick is here to drive you to school. “and our conversation is done, Cassandra, be sure to keep your mouth shut.”

While Stephanie hasn’t heard the whole conversation you two had (and could you really call it a conversation?) Cassandra obviously asked something about your health. Something that you have hidden from them all, even legally.

Well illegally, seriously, how did you perfect replicating Bruce’s signature? Even Tim couldn’t replicate it to that degree, if he were to compare your falsified signature with one of Bruce’s actual signatures it barely has any differences (Barbara would love to learn from you). The ink only looks thicker on your falsified one, Bruce always kept his pen-strokes light and precise.

But there is no time to ponder about that right now, they need to focus on you actually getting into Dick’s care. He bugged it with one of his earpieces so that the bat-family could analyse you interacting with Dick and Damian. The two you always interacted with the most before Jason’s attack, but even that was limited.

When you got into the car, you notice how Damian was sulking. Something you’ve never seen him do, besides that one time that Bruce scolded him loud enough that you could hear him from your room. You ignore him and buckle yourself in, joining him on the backseat. “Don’t you want to sit in the front seat?” Damian asks confused, and you shake your head. No way in hell are you sitting next to Dick.

“I don’t like the passenger seat.” Liar, liar pants on fire~!

Damian’s eyes narrow and scratches the skin under his nail. ‘huh,’ you think, absentmindedly. ‘we have similar anxiety ticks.’

With that Dick drives away, trying to build up a conversation. But truly, you couldn’t give a shit. You’re texting with Duke, you have chemistry the first hour, and you want to make sure that he knows that you don’t blame him for letting Bruce adopt him and such. That you just hope that he would keep your back and stay close to you when he joins the family.

Truly, aren’t you embarrassed by this? How insecure can you be?

‘Ofc, I won’t! I swear I’ll explain everything once B signs the papers. Thank you for not being mad :)’ The text makes you smile, once Duke swears something, he keeps that promise. He’s more trustworthy than your mother, she always had her fair share of secrets.

‘I could never be mad at my favourite brother, and you didn’t out me so that makes me not being mad a lot easier /hj’ you sent back before closing your phone, closing your eyes in as you feel stress leaving your body. You’re excited to see him again, you can’t wait to tell your friends about Duke joining your family. It would make your time left there a lot more bearable.

The thought of not being alone withyour ‘family’ anymore made your frown disappear. But it returned the moment you got closer to school. “Drop me off here,” you say, ignoring how Damian’s hand itches. Clearly wanting to grab your uniform jacket. “my friends are waiting for me.”

Dick nods, knowing he shouldn’t push you. You’ll just shut down even more, and it would become even more difficult to re-connect connect with you. He could feel bile rise in his throat the longer he thought about what he has done, about the behaviour he has been complicate in. Oh, but how can he make you see that it was all for the best? How can he make himself see that it was all for the best?

He can’t, he should be on his knees begging for your forgiveness, but he knew that it wouldn’t be enough. He just doesn’t know what to do.

He doesn’t know where he went wrong.

“That was a disaster,” Damian says when he can see you running up to your friends. Dick sighs, but he agrees. Damian knows it, he can see the disappointment on his older brother’s face, it makes him angry at you. But at the same time, why was he angry at you for their behaviour? Why did he give up your love for Jason when he was clearly in the wrong? Is it because of his time in the league, or is there still hatred in his body for you just simply existing?

Oh, what can the bat-family do when all they’ve done is estrange themselves from you? Can they redeem themselves, or will Duke take their place? Will your friends take their place besides your side?

With Duke you would still be apart of their family, but if you were to estrange yourself further from them, go no-contact and acknowledge your friends as your family and only allow Duke in your life they would have no excuse to try and make you understand their side. To try and get you to forgive them.

Because if they right their wrongs, you’ll have to love them. Right?

NEXT PART well, I am using this chapter as a distraction, my grandpa is getting better already tho! And I'm allowed to visit soon, so he's out of any danger zones, if you have any feedback do tell me. I have too many ideas of how to transition to the full yandere part and my brain needs to slow down fr.

taglist: @prettiest-thing-in-the-morgue, @bunniotomia, @devotedlyshamelessdetective, @princessbonnie-bell, @seemee3, @pix-stuff, @venomsvl, @amber-content, @stove-top96, @frank-vanderboom, @leeiasure, @1abi, @shadowytravelerlover, @chericia, @lithiumval, @lingxio, @cssammyyarts, @marsmabe, @foolishseven, @kore-of-the-underworld, @bunbunboysworld, @homeless-clown, @miashico, @alwaysholymilkshake, @1cxndy, @kittzu, @rtyuy1346, @exactlynumberonekryptonite, @hopingtoclearmedschool, @artistwithcreativeburnout, @alishii, @vanessa-boo, @holylonelyponyeatingmacaroni, @91-kya, @ryuushou, @jjsmeowthie, @justthere1956, @depressed--therapist, @xzmickeyzx, @cheappremingerfromdelululand, @plsfckmedxddy, @itsberrydreemurstuff, @trashlaternfish360, @leogf, @dirtydiavolo, @lilyalone, @welpthisisboring, @kenman00001, @nxdxsworld, @icefox8155, @ironsaladwitch, @holderoflostmemories, @asillysimp, @wisefuncherryblossom, @eyeless-kun, @marina27826, @muggleloveralways, @ironsaladwitch, @shyenemyperson, @iamaunknownsecret

[sinofwriting]

Engineer in Law - Max Verstappen

Words: 1,758 Summary: Max and GP are far more close than most race engineers and drivers, which might have to do with the fact that Max is dating his daughter. Note(s): Takes place in 2021. Reader is GP’s daughter. Reader is 21, Max is 23. I don’t know what GP’s wife’s name is IRL but in this fic her name is Sarah. Also, reader is only given one physical descriptor which is that she has GP’s eyes, apologies if (like me) you don’t know have that eye color, but we can imagine and/or wish! This might end up getting a part two.

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“You're happy.”

It’s not something GP normally comments on, Max’s moods. Not unless it’s to make a sarcastic comment about how thrilled he looks to be going to a press event or something of the sort, but Max is beaming like he just won a race. It’s an odd look on the young driver, an unusual one, sadly.

“I asked the girl I was seeing to be my girlfriend, she said yes.” Max’s voice is quiet and GP leans in, his eyebrows going up at the news, at the soft but excited tone the words hold.

He smiles at the younger, reaching forward and clasping him on the shoulder. “That’s fantastic, mate. Want to tell me about her?” It’s a rather stupid question because if Max didn’t want to talk about her, he wouldn’t have said anything. And GP is rather happy to sit here and listen to Max talk about this new girl in his life.

“She’s amazing, GP. I mean really smart, funny, and she never backs down. She always has a response to anything I say. And even if I’m in a bad mood, she doesn’t let me just sulk. She knows exactly how to get a response from me and she knows it. She’ll get this little smirk on her face after I snap back at her and she’s great.”

GP has to stop himself from clearing his throat at how head over heels in love Max looks. It was oddly like looking in a mirror when GP was just four years younger than him and seeing his wife holding their newborn daughter.

“I hope you're not snapping at her too much.” His dad mode is in full force, nearly shuddering as he thinks of his twenty-one year old daughter getting snapped at often by a boyfriend. He further shudders at the reminder she currently has a boyfriend.

“Not like that.” Max reassures. “It’s kind of like us in the simulator.”

GP lets out a laugh.

It wasn’t often he joined Max in the simulator but every time they did, other people would gather around to hear the pair mock argue with each other.

“Well I’m happy to hear she’s keeping you on your toes.”

—

Max is practically vibrating in his seat as he waits for GP to sit down.

“She planned a date.”

GP stills from where he was about to reach for his water.

“Like a whole date. From everything, the food, the drinks, what we watched and it was all stuff I liked and fit in my training plan.”

He watches the younger closely, hearing something off in his voice.

“I thought I missed something. Like an anniversary or something, even though we’ve only been together five months.”

GP eyes shut for a second, rage threatening to overtake him. Max was never treated kindly enough and Max had never really talked about his few previous relationships before and he can’t help but wonder if this is why. Because Max never felt truly happy in them. Always something just wrong, always on the edge.

“She just wanted to do something nice for me. Said it wasn’t fair, I had been planning most of our dates.” Max looks confused, but there’s a slight flush to his cheeks.

“Y’know, my wife and I trade off.”

Max tilts his head a little.

“I mean, we only do a date about once a month, but we trade off. I did the last one, so tomorrow, she’s planning our date. We used to do the same with vacations, but the whole thing stresses her out a little too much, so I plan them and get the travel plans sorted while she handles looking at things to do and places to go while we are there. It's a partnership, Max. It should be an equal give and take. And that doesn’t mean that it has to be you guys both are giving and taking the same thing equally, you just need to find the balance that works for you. Like you take out the trash, she does the dusting.”

“She has a dust allergy. And we aren’t living together yet.”

GP smiles, coughing to hide his laugh. “Yet, I see. And if she has a dust allergy she needs certain pillowcases and sheets, I’ll send you the ones I bought for my daughter last Christmas.”

“Thank you, GP.”

“I’m always here for you, Max.”

—

“You were out again.”

“Good morning to you as well, dad.” His daughter says, eyebrows raised even as she steps closer to press a quick kiss to his cheek before going to the fridge.

He glances at the clock, slightly miffed to see it is just after eleven am. “Closer to the afternoon.” He comments.

She signs, leaning against the counter, a Red Bull in hand, and he watches as her fingers play with the tab but not open it. It’s a habit he’s never seen from her before. “Dad,” He looks at her face at the sound. “Is me having a boyfriend bothering you that much?”

He softens a little. “No, well, yes. It’s just I don’t know anything about him. All I know is you have a boyfriend and that’s it. I don’t know his name, how old he is, what he does for a living, if he treats you well. And you're spending an awful lot of nights as his and I’ve never met him.”

Her fingers still against the can’s tab. “Is that something you want?”

“Well I’d prefer to meet him before you fully move in with him.” He gives her a look. “But yes, I would. He makes you happy.” It was a hard pill to swallow, the reason for his daughter seeming to be so happy being a boy, but that was the reason.

“Alright, I’ll text him and maybe tomorrow we could do lunch?” She offers.

“I’d like that.”

—

“I’ve been listening to Max talk about our daughter for months.”

Sarah’s lips thin as she struggles not to laugh, running a soothing hand over her husband’s back. “You said it was sweet how he talked about her.”

“Well, I didn’t know he was talking about our daughter then did I?”

His head somehow manages to drop further into his hands. “He talked for thirty minutes straight about her eyes. Her eyes, Sarah. She has MY eyes.”

Sarah can’t help the laugh that spills from her lips. “Well at least it was just her eyes you heard about.”

GP’s face screws up at that remembering the hickey he had seen high on Max’s neck last week and apparently he had some interesting scratch and bite marks as well. Those thankfully he had not seen. “Please, love, put me out of my misery.”

His hands fall into his lap and he presses his face against his wife’s neck, smelling the slightly faded scent of her perfume and her lotion.

“Oh hush.” She says, lightly swatting his shoulder. “It could be much worse. You like Max, you know Max. He’d never hurt our baby.”

GP softens, pressing a kiss to her neck before sitting straight, his back thanking him for it. “No, he wouldn’t. I just,” He sighs. “This is serious for Max and it’s obviously serious for her. She’s never invited a boy around the house that she’s been seeing. When she said lunch, I thought she had booked our usual table.”

“I know. You were all ready to go, wallet and keys in hand.”

“She let me think that as well you know.”

Sarah hums, “I wonder who she got that from.”

He smiles at her. “No clue, love.”

Her eyes give a slight roll and then she’s leaning forward. Brushing their lips together. “Max is good for her and it’s obvious that she is good for Max as well with what you’ve told me. And just think you always joked that Max was like a son. Now it’s just more official.”

“Oh my god, they’re going to get married.”

Sarah laughs at the horror and awe in her husband's voice. “I’d say don’t get ahead of yourself, but you saw exactly what I did at lunch.”

—

“Max, if you talk about my eyes one more time, I’m going to report you to HR.”

Max snickers at the older’s expression. “But, I’m not talking about your eyes.”

“She has my eyes.” GP cuts him off immediately, already knowing his defense. “We have the same exact eyes.” He holds up a finger, silencing Max. “And don’t even think of starting to list the difference between them.”

He kicks a little at the ground, faking a sigh. “Fine. Can we at least talk about you talking in the braking?”

GP sighs, but nods. “Yes, we can talk about it.”

They both fail to notice the Sky Sports camera that had been filming the conversation until much later, when Max is sitting in his driver’s room, chuckling at the broadcast that had just ended and the tweets on his phone.

“Listen to this one, Sky Sports seriously reporting that a female employee is threatening to go to HR because of Max’s comments while playing the video of audio of GP, his MALE race engineer, is seemingly joking about going to HR, is sending me. How is this a serious news source?”

GP snorts, looking at his texts with his daughter. “She just sent me this one, ‘Sky is doing nothing but proving their British bias and stupidity. How much do you think they suck Lewis’ dick for every year now?’ Honestly, they have a point.”

��More than a point.” Max says, tossing his phone to the side. “It’s one thing to say I’m a shit driver that shouldn’t be anywhere near Hamilton, but this? This is ridiculous even for them. They have the footage and audio, aired both, and are saying that it’s a female employee. Vicky is having the time of her life right now, and so are my lawyers.”

“Your lawyers?”

Max shrugs. “They’ll be working with Red Bull’s as well, but this is more than that.”

“It is.” GP agrees. “Sarah was with her when it aired. She was livid.”

“I could tell.” The driver chuckles. “My texts are filled with it. She wants to come to the next race, well, two.”

“Team home race. That’s a statement.”

His cheeks are a little pink. “She wanted to wait for Zandvoort to officially come as my girlfriend, but she wants to be with me for these next two now.”

“It will be nice to see her at both.”

[willowwindss]

This is all true but I wanted to put some possible solutions down as well:

- Regular doctor check-ups: I know the US isn’t great for visiting doctors in general but it’s still very important to not let unusual things go for too long. And to make sure your doctor always knows everything you’re currently taking. I’ve been lucky with very thorough doctors in the past 7 years or so who have guided me through various mental health hurdles. When I wanted to try antidepressants, my regular doctor suggested trying something another family member had luck with since our similar DNA might mean that type of tablet might work best for us. It did, I had no side effects. She also carries out mental health questionnaires with me every 6 months or so to make sure I’m still feeling okay within myself. A good doctor thinks beyond just “here, take this” so take note of the ones who take their time with you and get to know you a bit.

- Organic or gentle products: There’s some godawful ingredients in mainstream products, in any category. If you can, start switching out household items for simplified or organic alternatives. You never know what might be intoxicating or harming you, or what you could be allergic to. Dishwashing liquid, laundry detergent, perfumes, soaps, skincare. Start thinking about these things. If you can, make the switch. Also don’t heat up and eat food in plastic containers/bowls. Put them in a proper bowl.

- Clean living environment: Dust, dirt, mould, all huge factors into how we feel on a daily basis. Clean your house at least once a month, or more, and DON’T use bleach or dangerous ingredients to do so. Get your house checked for carbon monoxide leaks, get your windows open daily, get the mould out of your shower, stop inhaling dust every time you turn your ceiling fan on. These won’t cause psychosis of course but they won’t help you be any healthier on a daily basis.

- Reduce stress: Stress is a silent killer. You have to figure out a way to ensure stress rarely takes over. No, it doesn’t mean you are hard-working and efficient if you are stressed all the time, if anything it means the opposite. Efficiency would eliminate stress, not create it. You should not be crying after work every day, or feeling sick every Sunday before work. Or passing out from exhaustion. You should know how to unwind, and what things help you feel relaxed. If you don’t know these things, you likely never reach a point of just being, and relaxing. When is the last time you just stopped? Looked around? Took a full deep breath in and out? Had an hour completely to yourself to do anything you want? Does your partner help around the house or do you come home from work to more work? (can’t count the number of permanently stressed women I see living like this…). If you feel like you live underwater, you need to come up for air and tell someone how you feel. Boss, colleague, friend, partner, family member, discord server, your freakin’ dog or cat because they pick up on it too. Tell someone, say something. If you legitimately can’t tell anyone, write it down. Write exactly how you feel, don’t worry about spelling or grammar, then tear the paper up, throw it across the room, whatever you need to do. Your body is a pressure cooker and the more stress you stuff into it, the more it gets ready to explode.

99% of "mysterious disappearances" esp of people in their 20s who start acting weird for 48 hours and then vanish are not mysterious, thats just when a lot of reality-obliterating mental illness tends to kick in and it's pretty easy to get a short circuit in your brain that makes you go family guy death pose in joshua tree national park. it's not any less tragic, it's just a documented phenomenon and not particularly predictable. its a big reason the medical advice is for people with a family history of schizophrenia to completely avoid weed and psychedelics. "people just go crazy sometimes" is a principle of human health that used to be a lot more accepted prior to the american midcentury and to a certain extent thats a healthier way to conceptualize and prepare for the risk, as opposed to the modern assertion that anyone acting weird is dangerous and broken forever.

[arrenjo]

Summary: Your apartment floods and you do your best to make it on your own, but when Robby finds out he takes matters into his own hands.

Notes: I’m a slut for a one bed trope, whoopsie. These can probably be stand alone but I like having somewhat of a series going. Obviously inspired by Whitaker’s whole living-inside-the-hospital deal. Also omfg I’ve looked at this draft for so long I might die.

Back | Next

“Shit shit shit!!” You jumped at your alarm from a dead sleep and threw on your scrubs. Resting in this hospital was fucking impossible and you had finally gone to sleep— and subsequently overslept.

You ran a brush through your hair and brushed your teeth in the bathroom in a matter of about a minute before you threw on your shoes, slung your backpack over your shoulder, and raced out the door. Thankfully you only had a couple of flights of stairs to go down.

Your apartment had flooded earlier in the week and everything was a total loss. You had the things you had in your work bag and a bag you kept in your car, and that was it. You weren’t really sure how your apartment complex got away with not offering you another place to stay that wasn’t triple your rent, but you were fucked. You went to Gloria in a desperate time of need and she was kind enough to let you use a spare hospital room for the week and promise her discretion, but you were running out of time to find something else and there were no options.

Dana, Donnie, and the rest of the ED nurses would absolutely have your ass if they knew you refused to ask them for help, but it wasn’t their problem. You ran into the nurses station, out of breath, and got report on your patients. After a bit of running around to play catch up, Dana caught you at your workstation charting.

“Hey kid, you alright?” She asked, placing a cup of coffee in front of you.

“My angel,” you said, taking a sip and giving her a grateful smile. “Yeah, you know how I struggle with being on time for dayshift sometimes. Your girl is not a morning person.” You lied with just a little too much enthusiasm. It was partially true, dayshift really did turn your world upside down. You and mornings did not particularly get along.

“Yeah, uh-huh, okay,” Dana said and rolled her eyes. She patted you on the shoulder and walked away. You’ve got to find a place. Your exhaustion was starting to show and people were starting to notice.

__

“Hey,” Dana’s voice snapped Robby’s attention to her face as she pulled out a chair and sat down beside him. Oh shit, he thought, whatever Dana was about to talk to him about, she was serious.

“What do you think’s going on with our girl?” She nodded in your direction. Your back was to them, your head in your hands. It was clear that something was up, but Robby hadn’t put his finger on exactly what yet. He had been watching you, observing your every move. The casual touches had stayed casual, but he could feel the increased tension in your body when he first made contact. When the touch lingered for more than a second, he could feel you relax into his touch. He didn’t say anything to you. To tell the truth, he liked it, but he didn’t like that you were so tense to begin with.

“I don’t know,” He muttered, his eyes still on you, looking over the rim of his glasses. He paused for a moment to wonder if he should play it cool or lay his cards on the table for Dana.

“Abbott’s got a big mouth you know. Heard he and Princess had a bet going on and that Princess won.” Dana interrupted his thought process with a knowing smirk. Robby sighed and took his glasses off, reaching to rub the side of his head in the same motion, his eyes searching to find you across the nurses station again. You ran your hands through your hair and got up, starting towards the med room.

“Abbott doesn’t know half of what he thinks he does,” Robby countered, glancing at Dana after the med room door had closed behind you.

“I’m just sayin’, you watch her every move. I’ve seen how you look at her when you think no one’s paying attention.” Dana said with a shrug.

“Dana!” Whitaker appeared out of a room, beckoning the charge nurse to him. He looked bewildered and a little scared, but Robby had come to realize that was his normal facial expression.

“Saved by the bell,” Robby said with a chuckle.

“This conversation isn’t over, but check in with her, will ya?” Dana said, already starting towards Dennis, mentally preparing herself for whatever was behind the curtain that he had just popped out of.

__

An exhausting twelve and a half hours later, you feel disgusting. You had blood, sweat, and bodily fluids— none of which were yours— what felt like everywhere. After you gave report to the night shift nurse, you slung your backpack over your shoulder and headed for the stairwell. All you wanted was a long, hot shower and the one good thing about the hospital was that the hot water never ran out. You had one more pair of clean scrubs for the week and then you had to figure out what the hell to do about laundry. Your thoughts preoccupied you as you walked, never noticing Robby several paces behind you. He had called your name once, but when you started up the stairs instead of outside, he made the decision to follow you.

You entered the hallway on the 4th floor and ducked into the first room to the left. The hallway was empty except for you, no nurses working upstairs meant that there were no patients and the entire 4th floor was shut down. You pushed the door closed behind you with your foot, leaving the door just slightly ajar. The tunnel vision had really set in on that shower. The small crack between the door and door frame spilled just enough light into the dark hallway for Robby to find where you had gone. He pushed the door open and opted to stand in the doorway, his hands in the pockets of his hoodie. It only took him seconds to assess the scene and figure out what was happening. There were half dried out pictures laying on a few surfaces, your duffel bag sat on the chair with a towel draped over the back on the opposite side of the room. You had dropped your backpack just inside the door with your shoes. The cot in the middle of the room looked tiny and uncomfortable, no wonder you were exhausted.

In the bathroom, you had just taken your hair down and were just about to start the water for your shower when you realized you had left your towel draped over the chair in the next room.

“Shit,” You muttered and stepped out of the bathroom, looking down to untie the waistband of your scrubs as you did. The stupid fucking knot wouldn’t come out and-

“Ahem,” Your head snapped up to the sound of someone clearing their throat. Robby stood in the doorway, arms crossed across his chest, leaning cooly on the doorframe. Oh fuck. You pressed your lips into a tight line and closed your eyes for a brief second.

“Robby,” You breathed, opening your eyes to look at him. He was silent as he took you in, his eyes catching for just a split second at your exposed skin. Your cheeks immediately heated and you knew your face was red.

Fuck, how do I explain this?

“My apartment flooded,” You began as you grew uncomfortable in the silence. He had been staring at you for a solid ten seconds, never offering a word. “The only places they offered me were triple my rent and I can’t afford that,” You met his eyes from across the room.

“Why didn’t you come to me?” He asked, taking a step towards you. His hands moved from across his chest to inside the pockets of his hoodie again.

“I’m not your problem,” You said with a snort, shaking your head.

Robby groaned your name and ran a hand through his hair, resting his hand at the back of his neck before he dropped it to his side.

“Let me help you. You tell me that I have to take care of myself, but you have to take care of yourself too.” Robby’s eyes were set, determined.

“Let me spot you the cash and-“

“No, Robby, I can’t-“ You stopped short, feeling the hot tears threatening to spill. The embarrassment made your chest tight.

“Okay no, bad suggestion, I’m sorry,” He immediately apologized. You took a steadying breath, opting to come clean.

“I can’t afford it, and I don’t want to be a burden or a freeloader. It makes me feel weak when I can’t just do everything myself, y’know?,” You told him, avoiding eye contact, desperately trying to regain your composure. The tears were threatening to spill again. Robby gingerly walked towards you and stopped just in front of you. He took your face in his hands and tilted your chin up to him.

“You are not a burden. You could never be a burden. Sometimes you gotta have help.” He said, you felt your muscles relax into his touch.

“I have an apartment,” He started slowly.

“No, Robby. They said it could take months,” You said softly. “I don’t know what I’m going to do but I can’t ask you to do that.” You put your hands on top of his, he searched your eyes for a moment before continuing.

“You’re not asking, I am, please stay with me. I won’t be able to sleep knowing that you’re here, and then both of us will be exhausted and cranky.” He gave you a small smile, his thumb gently stroking your chin. Your cheeks burned at the contact, your gaze dropped to his mouth. It seemed like he was having the same thought, because when your eyes found his again, he was staring at your mouth. His eyes snapped back up to yours, waiting for an answer.

“Why do you care where I sleep?” You asked softly. He grinned and shook his head

“You want to stay with me or not?” He asked rhetorically.

“Okay,” You started “-But just until I figure something else out.” You said. You already had feelings for him and this was about to get a hell of a lot more complicated if you acted on them. You dropped your hands to your sides with a small sigh. His hands lingered on your cheeks for another second, then he ran his hands down either side of your neck and across your shoulders, he stopped at your biceps and gave your arms a reassuring squeeze.

“Come on, we gotta be back early tomorrow.” He said casually, dipping his head to look at you. The trail that his hands had made felt like your skin was on fire, and him using the word ‘We’ made your stomach turn flips. Your eyes widened. He was asking you to come home with him now.

“You mean… tonight?”

“Yeah, you have to sleep, and just looking at you being so exhausted makes me tired.” He feigned a yawn and a stretch that made the corners of your mouth twitch.

“And just how hard have you been looking, Doctor Robinavitch?” You teased, turning back towards the bathroom. He rolled his eyes at you and pulled a box from the closet.

“You coming or not?”

“So impatient,” you shot back, but then quickly started gathering your things. Fuck it, might as well go all in. Robby snorted and started helping you gather your clothes and the few personal belongings you had left into the box. You worked together in silence until Robby picked up the box and slung your bag across his frame. You reached for the box and he shook his head.

“I got it, it’s a little bit of a walk.” He said, you held your hands out for it again, making a ‘gimme’ motion.“I said I got it.” He insisted, pulling the box out of your reach to the other side of him.

Most of your walk with him was quiet, you were deep in thought about how in the hell you were going to live in the same house as this man and not embarrass yourself. Your skin still ached for more of his touch.

“You don’t have to do this,” You said suddenly as he took his keys out to unlock the door to his apartment. He glanced up at you before turning his attention back towards his keys.

“I know.” He said simply and unlocked the door. “But I want to,” he said and held the door open for you. You felt your cheeks flush as he turned on the lights. His apartment was clean and simple, the most decorations he had were books on shelves and a blanket folded on the end of the couch. He had the basics: a couch, TV, a kitchen that looked functional, coffee table. You didn’t get red flag vibes from being here, but you could tell that this was a place that he didn’t spend a ton of time. Robby walked through the apartment and you trailed behind him. You walked past the kitchen and into a hallway, and into what looked like a bedroom. He turned the lights on and you could quickly tell it was Robby’s bedroom.

“Oh I’m sorry I didn’t mean to-“ you started but he cut you off.

“No, this is where you’re going to sleep. I have other rooms but there’s not another bed.” He placed the box on the bed and reached up to scratch the back of his neck. “Never really had the need for one.” He admitted sheepishly.

“No, Robby I’m not coming into your house and taking your bed,”

“I’m not asking.” He said simply, locking eyes with you. “I’ll sleep on the couch.” He said matter-of-factly, like there was absolutely no question to it.

“Shower is off the bedroom, it’s the only one.” He pointed to the door in the corner of the room. “I changed the sheets on the bed this morning. There are towels in the cabinet, and the laundry room is through there if you need to wash anything.” You nodded, giving up on fighting him about the bed for the moment.

“Is it okay if I shower?”

“You don’t have to ask, make yourself at home, I’ll be in the living room.”

By the time you hopped out of the shower half an hour later, you found Robby sitting on the couch, reading. He had a pillow and blanket folded up beside him. You stopped to take him in, he was sitting with his legs crossed, glasses perched on his nose. He didn’t even make a move when you walked in the room, hair still wet and falling down your shoulders. Robby patted the seat next to him without looking up from his book. You sat down next to him and pulled out your phone, scrolling while nervously chewing on your lip. When you looked back at him, his book was closed on his lap and he was studying your features.

“What’s wrong?” He asked softly. You turned your phone so it was face down on your lap.

“I don’t want to fight with you about the bed, but I don’t want to sleep in your bed, Robby. You’re doing enough by letting me be here.” He chuckled at the response and took his glasses off.

“Here I am thinking that you’re in some emotional distress and you’re upset about sleeping in my bed?”

“Robby,” You sighed, running a hand through your hair.

God, no. I’m not upset about sleeping in your bed, I’m upset that you won’t be sleeping in your bed with me. You decided that confession would be a little too honest.

“I just don’t want to overstep,” you settled on that response and he gave you a grin.

“I promise it’s fine, couch is comfy.” He shifted back into the couch and spread his arms. One settled behind you and the comfortableness of the gesture made your stomach flip.

“I am going to go shower though,” He said and started to stand. You nodded and pulled out your phone again, but as he turned you looked up from the screen, watching him walk to the bedroom. You let your mind wander for a split second and a heat rushed across your chest and down your abdomen.

A hot shower with Robby was probably the best thought you had had in a while. You lingered in that thought for a moment and then shook your head to clear it, pulling your phone back out and settling into the couch to scroll. You must have been more tired than you realized, because the next thing you felt was warm hands sliding up under your back and your legs and lifting you in the air. You started to scramble and were immediately comforted by Robby’s voice.

“Shh, shh,” He soothed, “I’ve got you.” You felt him making his way towards the bedroom and your heart rate picked up. The way he picked you up with such ease made your stomach flutter.

“Please don’t drop me,” you mumbled with a half hearted giggle into his chest, clinging to his shirt tightly. Robby snorted.

“I’ve got you,” he murmured into your hair. He continued walking down the hallway, carrying you with ease. When you got to the bedroom, he eased you down on the bed, gently laying your head on the pillow. He hovered above you for just a moment and he started to pull away. You shook your head, your mouth just inches from his.

“Don’t go,” You whispered. He stopped in his tracks, his breath warm across your lips. He searched your eyes, lingering for just a second, almost as if he wanted to say something, and you swore you saw him open his mouth.

“Please,” You said softly, you weren’t sure if it was the sleepiness clouding your judgment or the fact that he cared enough to carry you to bed, but you wanted him close more than you ever had.

“Okay,” He said simply, you weren’t sure but you thought you may have heard some relief in his voice. He crawled in the bed beside you and you scooted closer to him. The smell of cedar shampoo made your mouth water, you were desperate for his touch. Both of you knew that you were blurring lines between the two of you, but neither of you seemed to care. He wrapped an arm around your waist, holding you from behind. You settled into him, he buried his face in your hair, his breath on your neck.

“Thank you… for this. For everything,” You said quietly, relaxing further into him.

“I might be a little bit selfish,” He admitted, you could hear the defeat in his tone. “I wanted you here. I mean, here,” he gestured vaguely to the room with the arm that was draped around your waist. “But here too,” he said and wrapped his arm back around your waist, pulling you closer. You smiled and ran your hand down his arm, interlacing your fingers with his.

“I wanted to be here too.”

[woollypoison]

Aprons and Ears

Male reader x (G)i-dle Yuqi x Twice Chaeyoung a/n: Might be the start of something bigger. Don't come at me if it isn't. Word count: 3.3k

“Welcome, Master!” Two voices sing out discordantly, one high in pitch, the other low. The little bell above the door hasn’t even stopped jingling yet before they’re both on you, practically bouncing on either side as they guide you into the establishment.

The outfits are immaculate. Like a fantasy come to life. Down to the little details. The lacy, frilled dresses. The chokers with the bells hanging from them. The little cleavage window. The black cat ears perched atop and the matching black tail hanging behind. And the cherry on top, you can’t forget the black thigh high socks. It sounds like a lot, trying to do a maid cafe as well as a cat cafe at the same time, but somehow these two make it seem like it was always meant to be that way.

“Please, right this way,” the one with the higher pitched voice says. The name tag says it’s Chaeyoung.  She has this airy smile about her, waving you behind her like she doesn’t really care at what pace you’re going.

“Take a seat, Master,” the other one says. Her name tag says Yuqi. She’s more playful about it, big gestures and all, with a grin that’ll have you ordering the entire menu before you know it.

She hands you a laminated menu, and you clear your throat as you pretend to study it. Everything here is themed. It’s to the point you could see someone being too embarrassed to say these names out loud. But not you.

“What can we bring you, Master?” Yuqi leans down, the dress giving you a nice view at the cleavage she’s so proudly displaying. It would almost be rude to not look, with your eyes having nowhere innocent to rest. Chaeyoung catches it though, and stifles a laugh behind Yuqi, throwing you a knowing smirk.

“I’ll take the ehh… the Iced Meowmericano and the Feline Flatbread, please,” you somehow manage without dying of shame. Has to be something in the air here.

There’s a certain brand of indifference to the way Chaeyoung scribbles it down, starkly contrasted by her smile that seems almost too genuine for the service industry. She’s no less good at her job because of it, though, her thighs dancing against the frills of her short skirt as she flashes you a knowing look before sauntering away.

“Coming right up, Master,” Yuqi purrs, giving your arm a little playful squeeze before flouncing after her colleague. 

You take a moment to catch your breath, really take in the vibes. Everything in this place is either maid or cat themed. Seeing it come to live like this, it somehow really works.

Yuqi is the first to return, carrying your coffee, both hands underneath the cup with the utmost care. Arms squeezed together tightly, forcing her chest up and together until you can’t help but wonder what kind of establishment this is supposed to be. She leans in close—too close—and sets it down, her face turning towards you and leaving just a couple of moments for you to wonder what’s next before speaking. “Enjoy, Master… I added a drizzle of something almost as sweet as me.”

There’s a weird and unclear implication that hangs between you before she follows up and makes the implication clear.

“But if you want to get a taste of this kitty, you’ll have to pay extra,” she giggles, not giving you a chance to respond as she steps aside to allow space for an approaching Chaeyoung.

She’s carrying your flatbread pizza, plate steady with both hands, but she ‘stumbles’ at the last second, pressing her tiny body against your arm as she regains her composure and sets the food down.

“Oops,” she smiles with no guilt despite the obvious theatrics, not moving away. “I’m sorry, Master. I can just be so clumsy.” She lets her tongue circle her lips, like a cat getting hungry for its prey.

“It’s fine,”  you respond, skin hot where she touched you.

“After you’re done,” she starts innocently. Not for long though, as she raises her hand subtly to her mouth, before continuing. “Would you like a dessert too?” Her hand now mimicking a quick, tiny stroking motion by her face.

You grip the edge of the table a little tighter. “What kind of cafe is this supposed to be?” you question both girls, looking around in disbelief. Yuqi beams like a kitty getting a dose of catnip.

“The kind where we make sure you don’t leave unsatisfied,” Yuqi purrs, and Chaeyoung’s eyes are trained on you with mischief, raising her eyebrows on beat with Yuqi’s final dragged out “Master.”

Yuqi plops down beside you without asking, her thigh sliding against yours, while Chaeyoung settles on the other side with an exaggerated sigh, like she could fall asleep leaning on you. The difference in size is intoxicating—the way they have to look up even when seated, the way their legs barely reach the floor dangling off the booth.

You almost forget why you even came in the first place.

“Shouldn’t you also be attending to the other guests?” you weakly ask.

Chaeyoung and Yuqi throw each other a knowing glance underneath your chin, before giggling. Chaeyoung’s hand landed on your knee. She twirls a lock of her hair around her finger lazily, pretending not to be unaware about her own hand creeping up higher on your thigh. 

Yuqi, meanwhile, leans in closer—so close her tits are squishing, giving and molding supple flesh against your arm. Her hand is also making illicit moves under the table, hooking her pinky through yours and tugging playfully. Before you know it, your hands on the bare spot of skin on her thigh in between her socks and her skirt.

“You should relax, Master,” Yuqi hums, her hand molding around yours, forcing it to squeeze her. Chaeyoung’s hand is inching higher and higher by the second, getting dangerously close to your crotch. She’s carefully studying your reaction, her expression a mix of teasing and unbotheredness, the kind you find in a girl who’s just getting a kick out of doing things to lazily pass the time.

Your heartbeats pounding, and the ice in your Iced Meowmericano is melting in negligence. “What are you doing? What if someone sees?” You hiss under your breath, disbelief and shock oozing through your tone.

Yuqi’s eyes glitter with mischief. “Just stay quiet and nobody will see, Master.”

Chaeyoung follows up in a soft and sing-song whisper, “Let’s keep this our little secret.”

Yuqi’s hand joins Chaeyoung’s as the latter spoke, both their fingers more daring now, so high they’re brushing the outline of your hardening cock through your pants. But they’re still teasing, quick and subtle, hiding the movement behind raised skirts, folds of your coat or the edge of the table.

“You know I could fire you for this, right?” you mutter, eyes darting between the two girls, an incredulous look now shared between the two at your comment.

Chaeyoung has this soft laugh about her as she responds. “But you won’t.” Yuqi follows it up, the two in perfect sync with each other, working towards their common goal. You. “If anything, you’ll beg us not to stop.”

Both their hands settle over your bulge, cupping it gently through your pants as if measuring it. Then, slowly, their thumbs rub along your length through the fabric.

“So hard already… and so thick,” Chaeyoung whispers. “I don’t think one hand will be enough,” Yuqi follows up.

You could stop this. You should, this is highly unethical, considering your position. But your body isn’t listening anymore.

Chaeyoung undoes your button with a soft click and tugs your zipper down, freeing your cock with casual efficiency. So far for clumsy. She doesn’t even bother to look at you once—not even in your general direction—her gaze remains locked forward, pretending to study the faces of the other customers. But her fingers wrap around your shaft a moment later, or at least attempt to wrap around it, her small hand dwarfed by the size of it.

Yuqi follows shortly after, her hand not much bigger, unable to resist the temptation of taking a look at what you’ve got packing. “Fuck you,” she murmurs. “That’s a lot bigger than what we expected, Master.”

Chaeyoung laughs, and they both start stroking. They’re way too good at this, the friction of two pairs of small hands getting to be too much already. You have to bite your lip to hold back a moan. They’re getting increasingly bolder, less worried about being seen. It’s hard to believe those tiny hands can cause this much pleasure, but here you are, your cock twitching under their touch.

Beneath the table, you slide your hand up Yuqi’s thigh. Her panties are soaked. She doesn’t stop you. She shifts a little to let you reach more easily. She presses her lips together tight, trying to stay quiet. Her small hand falters on your cock when your fingers push inside her.

"Fuck," she breathes, barely audible.

On your other side, Chaeyoung lifts her skirt slightly with one hand and brings your free hand beneath it. No words. Just a soft breath as your fingers meet her heat.

She gasps softly but doesn't move, letting you feel just how wet she is. The contrast is almost overwhelming—your cock pulsing in their tiny hands, your fingers buried inside both girls, every part of you claimed.

Your cock throbs in annoyance as they make you work for it now. The two girls gasp softly when your fingers push into them. They’re both soaking, so easy to push in, and so incredibly tight around you that you can barely move without them squirming and moaning into your neck.

“Faster,” Yuqi demands with a teasing pout.

“Deeper,” Chaeyoung pleads with a needy whimper.

You pick up the pace, thrusting inside their warm little holes as they keep stroking you in turn, never giving just one of them all your attention. They’re both panting now, soft little sounds escaping their lips that would be cute if they weren’t so fucking hot.

Yuqi tightens around your finger with a small cry when your thumb hits her clit just right, and Chaeyoung follows not long after with a shudder that runs through her whole body. They keep moving their hands along your shaft even as their bodies twitch and spasm against yours.

You’re so close now, their hands working you expertly, the two of them giggling as they feel your cock pulse and twitch. Your balls draw up, ready to unload underneath the table any second now. But they don’t let you.

Chaeyoung’s hand leaves your shaft, and Yuqi follows her lead, both of them looking at you with a mix of amusement and disbelief.

“Really?” Chaeyoung says. “You were going to cum like this? Blow your load against the underside of our table?”

“Who do you think would have to clean that up?” Yuqi adds. 

“Can’t be wasting a tasty treat like that,” Chaeyoung smiles. 

Their eyes meet, and suddenly they’re playing rock paper scissors with each other, leaving you hanging in the air with your cock still hard and throbbing. Rock. Paper. Yuqi grins wide.

"Damn," Chaeyoung mutters, shimmying herself down until she’s completely under the table. Her small hands are back on your shaft a moment later, her lips barely keeping from making contact. Yuqi climbs on top of the table instead, her skirt lifting just enough for you to see her cunt as all pretense of subtlety is thrown out of the window.

You blink. "Wait. You’re not actually—" You glance around the café. "What if someone—"

Yuqi cuts you off with a look, her voice suddenly low and serious. "Come on, boss. Can we stop this trial run play pretend now? There’s nobody here. Do you really want us to act a little longer... or do you want to get what we all know you really want?"

You hesitate for only a second.

Yuqi eases back, legs spreading to display her pretty little cunt. Her tail sways with delight as she speaks, voice thick with heat. "Be a good Master and show us what this pervy café fantasy was really about. Come on. I promise this pussy tastes better than anything you put on the menu."

The little bell on Chaeyoung’s collar gives a soft chime as she inches forward towards your dick. She licks her lips, dark lashes fluttering. "Don’t worry. I’ll take care of that load for you."

You give in. Head first into Yuqi’s cunt as you keep from banging your hips forward lest you give Chaeyoung a concussion.

Yuqi’s taste hits you all at once, salty and sweet and intoxicatingly lewd. You can barely keep up with it all—Chaeyoung’s lips closing around your cock, Yuqi grinding against your tongue—but fuck if you’re going to let them win this one. Not without a fight.

Your fingers dig into Yuqi’s thighs as you suck on her clit, thumb running over where sock meets flesh, drawing these high-pitched whimpers from her that make the blood rush down south even faster. She leans forward until her tits are hanging right above your face, small and perky and bouncing in time with Chaeyoung’s head bobbing up and down on your shaft.

You reach up to play with them as you eat her out, pulling them out from underneath the fabric and forcing them through the window, pinching her nipples between your fingers until she gasps and shudders above you.

Underneath the table, Chaeyoung is taking more of your cock into her mouth than should be possible for someone her size. Her throat tightens around you as she pushes down further still, holding herself there until you think she’ll choke on it for sure. But then she pulls back just enough to breathe before doing it all over again. The bell on her collar making ringing noise with each movement, like the beat of war drums dictating the pace of your fucking.

She uses one hand to jerk whatever doesn’t fit into her mouth and lets the other roll your balls between her fingers. It’s fucking amazing, the sensation enough to drive anyone insane in minutes. You don’t know how long you’ll last like this.

Yuqi is riding your face harder now, hips moving in desperate little circles as she tries getting just a bit more pressure on exactly the right spot. You can tell from how erratically she moves that she’s close already, those soft sounds escaping her lips turning into breathless cries every time your tongue flicks against her clit.

She presses down harder still when she cums, smothering you with pussy and thighs and sweet little mewling noises as her body trembles above yours.

Chaeyoung doesn’t stop or slow down even for a second while this happens; if anything she gets more vigorous about it all, barriers melting and you get lost in the urge with her.

You can’t stop yourself from thrusting into Chaeyoung’s mouth, hips moving on their own as she takes you in further with each push. Her small body is so light you accidentally bump her head against the underside of the table. You pause, brows furrowing in slight concern and a touch of guilt.

“Chaeyoung?” you ask, slowing down. “You okay?”

Her voice comes out muffled but still teasing as she gives your cock a quick kiss. “I’m okay.” Another kiss. “You can be rougher than that. Just try not to cause any brain damage while you’re at it.”

She wraps her fingers around your cock again, sits back on her heels and spreads her legs until you can see the heat beneath her skirt. “It’s definitely doing something,” she says. She slips one hand inside, fingering herself as she lets you use her pretty little mouth like a toy.

Yuqi laughs, a short breathless sound as she catches her breath above you. There’s a hint of teasing, no doubt thanks to the sudden lack of attention she’s getting. “Thank god I won the rock paper scissors,” she says with a grin. “The way you’re fucking her mouth like an animal? I couldn’t take that.”

You pull her down to your lips by tugging on her collar until it digs into her skin and she’s gasping into your mouth. You kiss her like you’re claiming ownership of something that was always yours to begin with. Your hands mold her tits through the fabric, solidifying the claim.

When she finally breaks away, it’s with a shudder, your hands freeing her tits by ripping the window on her chest open.

You lift her hips above you so you can look at where soft thighs meet socks and tease more needy sounds out of her.

“You’re such a perv,” Yuqi gasps, voice turning into shuddering words when your fingers sink into her cunt. Her voice breaks into a half-moan as your thumb rubs against her clit. “Starting an entire cafe just to get hot girls to wear your little fetish outfits.”

You try to protest, but your voice halts the second Chaeyoung pulls away from your cock with a pop. “But lucky for you,” she speaks, eyes looking up, searching for yours. “We’re kind of into this whole fucked up aesthetic,�� she muses, before diving back down and taking you even deeper.

You’re so close now. So fucking close. And they both know it.

Chaeyoung doubles her efforts on your cock, small hand tight around the base while she bobs up and down with more urgency, her throat tightens and relaxes as she takes you in again and again, her tongue flicking against the underside in a way that sends jolts of pleasure up your spine. 

Yuqi grinds against your fingers, spreading herself wide enough for you to watch her pussy stretch around them with each thrust. “You better cum for us, Master,” she commands. “Or we’ll never let you fuck us like this again.”

You hold out as long as you can, but they’re too much. The two of them together, tiny bodies and filthy mouths and more than you ever imagined possible when you started this project.

You explode into Chaeyoung’s mouth with a groan, shooting the first thick load down her throat. She chokes on it at first but doesn’t pull away, holding every drop that follows in her mouth until her cheeks are bulging with it. But she doesn’t stop or pull away until you’ve given her everything, sucking softly on the tip like she’s coaxing out the last few drops.

When she finally comes up from under the table, it’s with a satisfied look and cum she couldn't keep inside dripping down her chin. She climbs onto the table next to Yuqi and pulls her in for a kiss, sharing what’s left of your load between them.

“Mm,” Yuqi hums against Chaeyoung’s lips, licking them clean before breaking away. “Not bad.”

“You two are horrible maids,” you say when you finally catch your breath again. “If I catch you doing anything like this with an actual customer...”

“We know,” they chorus together with matching grins.

“You’ll fire us,” Chaeyoung laughs.

“Right after cumming down our throats,” Yuqi adds.

They’re both still sitting on top of the table in complete disarray—their collars askew, tits hanging out from ripped windows, thighs dripping with wetness down to their high socks. They look like this was their plan all along. The end to your plan looked something like this as well, it just had a lot more steps and time to it.

You prefer their plan. They seem to do too.

“Well then,” Yuqi hops off first, smoothing down her skirt and fixing her collar as she stretches like a lazy cat. “Same time next shift?”

Chaeyoung follows shortly after, picking imaginary dust off her dress before leaning in for one last whisper against your ear. “Or do you need a longer demonstration, Master?”

[starmaidengarden]

𝐂𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡 𝐦𝐞!

— Housewardens : x gn!reader. no cw/tw. established relationship. dividers : uzmacchiato!

contexts: doing the trust fall challenge on the Housewardens. I got lazy towards the end (T_T)

Riddle Rosehearts ༉⋆｡˚

Reaction: Panic. Pure panic. He catches you instinctively but immediately starts scolding you.

Heartslabyul is buzzing. The unbirthday party just wrapped up, and Riddle is focused on his usual after-event cleanup. Everything is just right: chairs neatly tucked in, teacups perfectly aligned, and every rule followed to a perfectly. But you, being your chaotic self, have other plans.

You approach him while he’s adjusting the angle of a sugar cubes, calling out, “Hey, Riddle.” He turns just in time to see you tilt backward toward him—no hesitation, just complete trust. his body jerked. His arms shoot out, catching you around the waist.

stumbleing back a half-step, maing sure you don’t hit the ground. Once you’re safe in his arms, he freezes, looking a bit bewildered. You’re grinning up at him as if this is the most natural thing in the world. “Nice catch!” you tease. “W-why would you do that?! Y-you can't just fall onto people!" he yells, raising his voice a pitch in disbelief. “Do you realize how dangerous that was?! You could’ve hit your head if I didnt caught you?! Or— worse!” You remain still, and his hands stay around you, warmth creeping into his cheeks, yet he doesn’t let go.

After a moment, he gently helps you stand upright again, clearing his throat. “You… trust me that much?” he asks quietly, his ears now a lovely shade of pink. You give him a playful shrug, and for a brief moment, he seems speechless. Then he finally says, “I’ll allow it this time. Just once.” Despite his best efforts to sound serious, a faint smile is beginning to appear on his face.

Leona Kingscholar ༉⋆｡˚

Reaction: Lets you fall. Then blames you. Unless you catch him in a soft moment (rare), he steps aside and watches you hit the ground. Might raise an eyebrow at your audacity.

It’s afternoon in the garden. The sun is high, it’s hot, and Leona has taken up residence under his favorite tree, arms behind his head, sleeping off another class he decided wasn’t worth the effort. You walk up, smirking like a little menace.

You see him there, peacefully napping, his tail flicking lazily from time to time. You don’t say anything. You don’t warn him. Instead, you turn your back to him… and fall. There’s a split second of tension in the air as you feel gravity take over. Strong arms rushed up to ur back. You blink. Leona half-sitting up, one brow raised, his golden-green eyes squinting at you. You just interrupted the most sacred nap of the century. “Tch. You again? What’s your problem?” You, grinning “Trust fall.”

He stares, like you grew two heads, then lets out a deep, almost growling sigh—as if you're the most exhausting thing he’s ever had to deal with. Yet, he hasn’t let you go. You’re still in his arms, and when you meet his gaze, there’s something more unreadable behind those eyes. It’s not anger. It’s not even an annoyance. It’s as if he’s trying to figure you out—and maybe, just maybe, he doesn’t hate what he sees.

“You know, herbivore… you’re real damn lucky.” But his grip on you is firm as if he wouldn’t let go even if he wanted to. He lays back down, pulling you with him. Leona, yawning “You ruined my nap. Now you’re gonna stay and help fix it.” His arm is casually draped over your waist like it belongs there, and his tail is occasionally flicking over your legs. Just when you think he’s dozed off again, you hear him murmur, low “Next time, fall toward me when I’m awake. I wanna see the look on your face.”

Azul Ashengrotto ༉⋆｡˚

Reaction: Absolutely startled, yelps a little. Catches you? Yes, and then immediately adjusts his glasses like nothing happened.

Azul sat alone in his office, looking over ledger books. His fingers were tired and stained with ink. It was quiet and peaceful. “Azul!” Calling out to him He looked up to see you standing nearby, smiling and holding your hands behind your back. You looked casually suspicious. “Yes?” he asked, adjusting his glasses. You didn’t answer. Instead, you fell. Backwards. Azul’s heart raced, but his body moved in an instant. Papers flew as he jumped out of the booth, arms outstretched, and caught you in a half-dip, your back against his arm.

Silence—You blinked up at him, upside-down, laughing. Azul’s breath hitched, His hands trembled, but he didn’t drop you. He looked at you for a long moment, eyes wide, then narrowed. “You planned that, didn’t you?”

You grinned. Azul’s voice cracked, still holding you. “What if I hadn’t caught you? You could’ve hit your head!” Still keeping you, he felt annoyed and relieved allowing a small smile.

As he set you back on your feet, you leaned against him, he chuckled and started to relax. Azul sighed “You really know how to keep things interesting, don't you?”

As the soft light of the lounge surrounded you, warmth settled between you. The night was no longer quiet; it felt full of the promise of more moments to come—filled with laughter, surprises, and possibly a bit more adventure.

Kalim Al-Asim ༉⋆｡˚

Reaction: Giggles and calls it “a game!” Catches you? Every time, no hesitation. Might even spin you around afterward like you’re on a ride.

You’re hanging out in the Scarabia dorm lounge — colorful silk banners fluttering, the smell of sweet spices in the air — and Kalim’s halfway through a story about the time he accidentally rode an elephant into a fountain. You, on impulse, turn your back to him and fall. No hesitation.

Kalim gasps in surprise and catches you immediately, laughing like he just scored the biggest prizeat a carnival. his younger siblings are always doing pranks like this, So, he’s not surprised by your bold stunt. He feels a warm buzz of happiness knowing that you trust him that much. "Aha! Is this a game? Come on, let’s do it again!"

He’s grinning from ear to ear, spinning you around before setting you back down. But it doesn’t end there; he thinks this is the best thing ever and insists on doing it back. Except, when he does it, he doesn’t just lean back. He jumps backward with all the energy of a golden retriever who’s seen a treat, and you topple over trying to catch him. Falling on the ground, you both laugh, the sound echoing in the crisp air. When you look at him, his smile is so bright that it almost hurts to see, like the sun on a perfect day.

Vil Schoenheit ༉⋆｡˚

Reaction: Catches you… then judges you intensely. Surprised that you're bold enough to try to stunt on him

You’re in the Pomefiore lounge with him, maybe helping him sift through new cosmetic samples or critiquing outfits. Everything is perfectly in order — the lighting, the mood, the aroma of elegant teas — how Vil likes it.

Then, you turn away from him and just fall. Not a dainty little stumble, but a real trust fall — your whole body leaning backward into him, fully believing that he will catch you. And he does. He catches you—barely. His hands shoot out immediately — graceful but firm. You can feel the strength hidden beneath his polished exterior. The shock of it makes him stiffen slightly. “Really now,” he says. “You could have ruined your posture. Or injured yourself.” But he doesn’t let go right away.

No — Vil's hands linger at your waist, fingers elegant and steady as you trustingly lean into him without hesitation. Inside, it rattles him more than he’d ever admit. Vil knows that people admire him. They idolize him. They envy him. But almost no one treats him like a real person — someone you can trust without fear of judgment or the expectation of perfection. You don’t treat him like a distant star to be admired. You treat him like someone real, someone worthy of your trust. And Vil, for all his composure, feels a warm ache in his chest because of it.

After setting you back upright, he adjusts your outfit casually, tugging a sleeve here, smoothing your hair, and straightening your collar. "You must be more careful," he murmurs, his voice softer now, with a secret thread of protectiveness woven through his words.

Idia Shroud ༉⋆｡˚

Reaction: Screams. Will let you fall but if you catch him off guard, will catch you purely on instinct, then looks like he’s about to short-circuit.

As you walk through one of Ignihyde’s endless hallways, the blue lights cast an ethereal glow, illuminating the cool, sterile air that hangs around you. Idia keeps a slight distance, his shoulders hunched and eyes glued to his tablet as he talks about the latest game that has captured his attention. His voice is barely above a murmur, almost lost in the hum of the technology that surrounds you.

Feeling impulsive, you suddenly let yourself fall backward toward him, trusting that he would catch you. In that moment, time seems to freeze, and the world around you fades away.

Idia yelps, his surprised shout echoing loudly against the steel walls, cutting through the quiet of the hallway. The two of you stumble together, your weight pressing against him, the warmth of your body contrasting sharply with the chill of the corridor, his hands awkwardly grasping your arms. In that moment, his heart races, not merely from the surprise of your fall but from the understanding that you put your trust in him.

His panic is immediate. “Wh-wh-wh-whY would you d-do that? My heart rate just hit 200—!” His voice shakes with a mixture of shock and embarrassment. Bright pink sparks flicker in his hair, a sign of his flustered state, betraying the calm facade he usually shows.

You can't help but laugh softly, the sound easing some of the tension in the air. you say simply, smiling up at him. Idia stiffens even more, his mouth opening and closing like he’s searching for a comeback and finding none. The words get tangled in his throat, and instead, he looks away, his face practically glowing with how pink his hair has turned.

Idia groans dramatically, hiding his burning face behind his tablet. "I'm doomed. DOOMED," he mutters. You just broke Idia Shroud in the sweetest way possible

Malleus Draconia ༉⋆｡˚

Reaction: Completely unbothered. Catches you like it’s nothing. He even is amused by the silliness of the moment.

You stand in the middle of the woods, surrounded by the gentle sound of rustling leaves and the twinkling stars above. He walks silently beside you, offering comfort with his presence in the night.

In a split second, you let yourself fall backward, surrendering to the unseen hands of him. He catches you effortlessly. His arms are strong and steady, his hands gentle on your back. Malleus does not flinch; it’s as if gravity itself obeys him—you never even got close to hitting the ground. Holding you with care, he tilts his head curiously. "Ah, are you alright?" he asks, his voice low and worried, thinking you might have hurt yourself in the fall. "I'm fine, It was a game!" Your laughter bubbles out, and for a moment, he smiles.

"You’re quite strange, Child of Man," Malleus murmurs, his fingertips lingering against your back as if afraid that if he lets go, you will vanish like a dream upon waking. "But you never needed to fall." His voice drops to a whisper, threaded with an ache older than the stars above. “I will always watch over you.”

As he sets you upright with careful hands, his emerald eyes shimmer with something ancient and unspoken—a promise, silent and eternal, that no matter where you wander, he will be there. Malleus’s smile lingers, warm and real, a secret just for you. "No matter where you are, I will always be by your side," he says softly. In the hush of the woods, you feel it—the strength of his promise, woven through the earth and sky like an unbreakable thread.

[bjlipss]

— 00:11, worms, dreams, and other emergencies;

your daughter asks wild, hilarious questions neither you nor nanami can answer—until she asks the one that matters most.

1. “how do i know my dreams aren’t the real world and this is the dream?”

the morning is barely happening. the sun hasn’t even fully made up its mind about rising. you’re in the kitchen, groggy and squinting at the cereal box like it personally wronged you. nanami’s walking in from the shower, towel around his neck, and your daughter is already up—too awake—swinging her legs at the kitchen table, biting into toast like she’s lived three lives.

then she says it.

“how do i know my dreams aren’t the real world and this is the dream?”

you stop mid-pour, nearly drowning your cereal.

“what?” you croak.

“like—when i’m asleep, everything’s weird, but also it feels real. and maybe when i’m awake, this is the fake part, and i’m actually sleeping in the dream world.”

nanami stops in the doorway. “it’s too early for existential dread.”

she blinks innocently. “what’s dread?”

“something you feel when you realize your five-year-old might be more philosophical than you,” he mutters under his breath, running a hand through his hair, but she doesn’t catch it.

“huh?”

“nothing,” you both say at the same time, glancing at each other.

she purses her lips in confusion, much like her father does when he is deep in thought.

you set the cereal down slowly. “sweetie, dreams are like… brain movies. they’re fun, or strange, but they’re not real. this is the real world.”

“but how do you know?” she says, wide-eyed. “what if you’re in my dream right now?”

“i—” you start, then shut your mouth.

she leans in, whispering: “what if i made you both up?”

nanami sits down, rubbing his temples. “this is worse than the time she asked if the moon had feelings.”

she shrugs and goes back to munching her toast as if nothing happened.

“if i wake up and you disappear,” she adds between bites, “i’ll miss you.”

you stare at her, deeply unsettled, while nanami wordlessly pushes the coffee toward you like a peace offering.

2. “do worms know they’re worms?”

it’s early spring, the kind where everything still smells a little like mud and thawing grass.

the three of you are walking home from a nearby café, your daughter holding both your and nanami’s hands, swinging her legs with each step. puddles glitter on the pavement, and the clouds look like someone wrung out the sky.

she suddenly stops, tugging your hand. “look!! worm!!”

she crouches dramatically on the path, face inches away from a wriggling earthworm.

“sweetheart,” nanami says, tone wary, “don’t put your face that close to—”

“shhh,” she hisses, waving a tiny hand. “i’m listening.”

“to the worm?” you ask, pausing beside her.

she nods solemnly. “he’s on a mission.”

you squat down beside her. the worm is, in fact, just trying to not die. “what kind of mission?”

“i think he’s going to his worm job. maybe he’s late.” she tilts her head. “do you think worms know they’re worms?”

you blink. “um… what?”

“do they know? do they wake up and think, ‘i’m a worm and i have worm things to do today’?” she glances up at you, completely serious.

“i don’t… think they wake up,” you say slowly. “they don’t really sleep like we do. or have—alarm clocks.”

“but maybe he has a worm watch,” she whispers.

nanami, still standing with his hands in his coat pockets, sighs. “then we’re probably interrupting his commute.”

she gasps, scandalized. “we have to help him get home!” she starts scooping up the worm with a stick, incredibly gentle for someone who once bit a crayon in half out of rage.

so the three of you spend ten minutes hunched over wet pavement, relocating a single worm into the safety of the grass like it’s a royal procession. at one point, nanami mutters something about “early retirement” and “this is not how i pictured fatherhood,” but he’s crouched beside you, doing it anyway.

an older couple passes by, gives you a look.

you pretend not to see it.

your daughter waves at the worm. “good luck at your job!”

3. “if i can’t see my brain, how do i know it’s there?”

it’s bedtime, and your daughter is nestled under the covers, her favorite stuffed animal tucked under her arm. the room is quiet, the only light coming from the soft glow of the nightlight you’ve had to replace twice now because it always ends up in her bed somehow. she snuggles into the pillows, a slight frown tugging at her lips as she stares up at the ceiling.

“if i can’t see my brain,” she asks, her voice unusually serious for such a late hour, “how do i know it’s there?”

you pause mid-yawn, your eyes blinking as you try to come up with a way to answer. nanami glances at you, but he looks just as stumped.

“well,” you begin, “your brain is inside your head. it controls everything you do.”

“but i can’t see it,” she insists, her little voice quiet but firm. “so how do i know it’s really there? what if it’s just pretending?”

you look over at nanami, who seems to be thinking just as hard. this is no ordinary five-year-old. you feel like you’re about to enter into an existential debate with a toddler.

“um…” nanami sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. “it’s like… trust. you can’t see the air, but you know it’s there because you breathe it.”

she stares at him, processing the comparison for a moment. “so… i can’t see the air either, but i know it’s in my lungs?”

“yes,” you say, nodding vigorously as though you’ve figured it out. “exactly. and your brain is the same way.”

she thinks about this, her little face scrunching up as she turns it over in her mind. then, without warning, she turns to you with a completely different thought.

“but what if my brain is just hiding?” she asks, her voice dripping with suspicion, as though your brain is the biggest trickster in the world, sneaking around behind her back.

you and nanami look at each other, unsure if you should be worried or impressed with how deeply she’s thought about this.

+ 1. “will you love me when i’m older, like a grown-up?”

it’s a quiet night. the house is calm, and the only sound in the air is the soft ticking of the clock and the low hum of the refrigerator in the background. your daughter has crawled into your lap, her hair soft and smelling faintly of lavender shampoo, her favorite scent. she curls up there as if nothing in the world matters more than the security of this moment.

you’re about to speak when she lifts her head from your chest and looks up at you both, her little face uncharacteristically serious.

“will you love me when i’m older, like a grown-up?” she asks, her voice soft but full of an emotion you hadn’t expected.

there’s a weight to her question that catches you off guard. nanami pauses, his hand stilling in her hair as he looks down at her, then at you.

you both know that this is one of those questions that goes beyond the usual curiosity. it’s the first sign of a child thinking about the future, about change, about the passage of time.

you swallow thickly, your heart tightening at the thought of her growing up. you lean down and kiss the top of her head, your voice gentle but firm.

“we will always love you,” you say, the words feeling more important than they ever have before. “no matter how old you get. even when you’re grown-up.”

“even when i’m a really old grown-up?” she asks, her voice filled with that same curiosity, the kind that comes from wanting reassurance.

“especially then.” nanami says, his tone unusually soft as he brushes her hair from her face, his voice a low promise.

“you’ll always be our little girl, baby.” you add, your heart full as you wrap your arms around her a little tighter.

she smiles then, a small, peaceful smile, before she snuggles into your arms, content for the night. no more questions. no more worries.

for now, the world is perfect.

[heartsforjh]

hi lovely, congrats on 100!! may i request luke hughes and acts of service, with him giving to reader? thank you so much, xoxo 🩷

ofc lovely !! this one is short and sweet, hope that’s okay 🫶 (also it wasn’t specified exactly WHICH acts of service so i just went with a brand new idea!)

main masterlist | 100 follower celly masterlist

You groan, sitting at your desk, and staring at this dumb study guide. Even with a big help like this, all hope feels lost. Chemistry is not your strong suit. But, of course, life. You have to do things you’d normally avoid like the plague… ahem… this final you’re taking tomorrow! 

Your boyfriend, Luke, quietly slips into the room, not wanting to disturb you. He’s headed towards the bed, before he notices you. Your head is in your hands and you look the farthest thing from okay. 

“Baby?” he says, a sad tone in his voice already. It’s like he can immediately feel all of your frustration. 

You pick your head up, looking over at him, unaware he was in the room to begin with. “Uh, yeah? What’s up?” 

“You okay, sweet girl?” he asks, coming over and wrapping his arms around your shoulders from behind. 

You shoot a fake smile up at him before looking back to what you’re working on. “I’m fine. Just… studying chem.” 

He groans at that last word. This guy knows everything. Including your beef with chemistry. “That sucks. I’m sorry. Need help?” 

“No,” you answer, not even thinking it through. “I’ve got it.” 

“You sure? You know, you’re not bothering me by getting some help? I think it’d be good for you to talk about it out loud. Might help you remember better,” he pushes, knowing how you can be. 

You honestly feel called out. He pretty much hit the nail on the head. “Um… well, I guess, if you want to, you can. You don’t have to, though.” 

“Of course I want to.  Are you kidding me? I’ll be right back,” he says, hurrying out of the room. 

You have no idea what he’s doing, but you decide to just get all of your topics for study set up. The both of you will be lost if you don’t. Shortly after you’re done, Luke comes back in. He’s got a crisp looking glass of ice water in his hands, and sets it–along with some medicine–in front of you. 

“For your head,” he nods. 

You’re a bit caught off guard. “How’d you know my head hurts?” 

“Baby, your head always hurts when you get stressed like this,” he laughs. 

He’s not wrong. He sits next to you on the extra chair that he had dragged in here when you first started seeing each other for moments exactly like this one. “So, what do we gotta do?” 

Luke stays and works with you, not complaining a single time. He’s patient, gentle, and helpful in the way he works through the questions with you. The two of you only wrap the study session up when you’re ready. 

“You didn’t have to do all that, Lu,” you tell him, packing your supplies back up. 

He packs your things as well, but quickly shuts your comment down. “I know. But, you deserve a little extra help right now. You’ve been working so hard.” 

You feel like you’re going to cry, suddenly getting a sense of validation. Somebody sees how much you’ve been trying finally. 

“And hey, you’re gonna kill this test tomorrow. All this that you’ve been doing? It’ll pay off. I promise you that,” he reassures, pulling you into a hug. 

As Luke places a kiss to the crown of your head then rests his own head on yours, you feel a lot more confident. To be completely honest, you had your doubts. You still do to a certain extent. But, if Luke can see your mistakes and still believe that you’ve got this, why shouldn’t you believe in yourself? 

tags: @beenucks @mainly-miracle @nic0-hischier @emsdevs @puckmedude @joesnumerouno @alex-wotton @r0wdymaize86 @macklin-celebrini-71 @randomcuboidshape @when-im-with-you @quillycrow @rainyvalentines @alwaysclassyeagle @star2fishmeg @wackomcgee @cheesecakeinahole @dancerbailey3 @hwalllllllelujah

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[dreamauri]

Hello, can you write a sub for me? I'm thinking sub!Carlos x dom!reader x sub!Charles. So, Carlos is being his usual loud and whiny self, and Charles, who's in the next room, can't help but overhear everything. The next day, Charles runs into the reader and is totally flustered, stuttering and blushing all over the place. He's so nervous that he has to come up with an excuse to get away from the reader. Later, in the paddock, Charles runs into Carlos again, and the same thing happens. But this time, Carlos figures out what's going on and invites Charles to join them for a night. Let's just say that Charles is the one making noise that night...

♪ — 𝗧𝗛𝗜𝗡 𝗪𝗔𝗟𝗟𝗦 𝗔𝗡𝗗 𝗧𝗛𝗜𝗡𝗡𝗘𝗥 𝗣𝗔𝗧𝗜𝗘𝗡𝗖𝗘 carlos sainz x girlfriend! reader x charles leclerc ( smut ) fic summary . . . Charles hears something he's not supposed to, and carlos finds out. it somehow leads charles to join in on the fun (1.7k words)

( main master list ) ( requests )

CONTENT WARNING — ( +18 MDNI, pnv, threesome, anal, reverse cowgirl, handjob, dom reader, d/s, smut w slight plot, unprotected sex [VERY BAD, wrap it before you tap it], shy sub Charles, sei bratty sub carlos )

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The walls of the Italy hotel room weren’t just thin. They were practically gossiping.

Carlos had always been vocal — and when he was with you, that volume doubled. Maybe it was the way your fingers curved just right, or the way your voice dipped low when you told him to stay still — either way, the man had zero chill.

Charles? Charles was just trying to sleep in the next room. Keyword: trying. But between Carlos’s breathy whines and the occasional sharp moan of “Please—mi amor—don't stop—”, his brain short-circuited. Every. Damn. Time.

The next morning, Charles walked into the hospitality suite with eyes like a deer in headlights. And there you were. Coffee in hand, skin glowing like sin, wearing the very same smirk that haunted his dreams.

"Charles," you greeted, lazy and warm.

His jaw twitched. His neck turned red. He stammered something in French, dropped his pass, and then promptly fled like a scared virgin in a bad rom-com.

Carlos found him later near the pit wall, and Charles looked like he was dying. Pale one second, flushed the next, hands shaking while he tried to scroll through his phone for no reason.

Carlos blinked. “You okay, hermano?”

Charles didn’t meet his eyes. “I’m—I didn’t sleep well.”

Carlos grinned, all teeth and wicked charm. “Oh?” He leaned in, voice dropping. “Too loud?”

Charles made a noise that sounded like a dying animal.

Carlos just laughed. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

Then, soft as smoke, he said, “You can join us, you know.”

Charles choked on his own breath. “What—what?!”

Carlos leaned closer, lips near Charles's ear now. “I think you'd look pretty on your knees.”

You opened the door slow, letting the air of the suite wrap around your frame like silk, and the two men looked up like they were caught doing something sinful — which, really, they were about to be.

Carlos sat back on the couch like he owned the place, legs spread and arms draped lazily over the cushions. His smirk? Weaponized.

Charles, however, was tucked in the corner like he wished the furniture would swallow him whole. Eyes wide, cheeks flushed, fingers gripping his knees like if he let go, he'd float away.

“Hey, cariño,” Carlos drawled, eyes drinking you in. “Look who showed up.”

“I see that,” you murmured, slow and sweet, walking in with the kind of presence that made oxygen feel heavier.

Charles avoided your gaze at all costs, blinking down at the carpet like it might save him. His voice came out small. “I—I didn’t know what to wear.”

Carlos snorted. “You’re cute when you’re nervous.”

“Be nice,” you said, fingers brushing under Charles’s chin, tilting his face up. “He’s trying.”

Charles visibly shivered.

“You’re doing perfect, baby.” Your voice was velvet and heat, and he whimpered, just a little.

Carlos raised a brow. “You like when they whimper, huh?”

Your eyes slid to him. “I like when you listen.”

And just like that, the grin faltered. His chest puffed a little, but his legs subtly shifted, thighs pressing together like he could hide what that tone did to him.

“C’mere, both of you,” you said, sitting back, arms stretched out along the edge of the bed. “Let’s see if you can share.”

Carlos was the first to move, of course. Eager little thing. He dropped to the floor in front of you, looking up through thick lashes, all charm and spark and fake confidence that melted the second your hand curled into his hair.

Charles followed slower, uncertain, like every step was an internal battle. But when he knelt beside Carlos and you brushed a thumb across his lips?

He sighed like he’d finally let go.

“Good boys,” you whispered.

Carlos twitched at that, just slightly. And Charles made a noise that was not holy.

The room felt charged — like something holy had been broken open.

Carlos’s lips were parted, breath shallow, trying so hard to play it cool while he knelt at your feet. But his cock strained against his jeans and his hands wouldn’t stop twitching, like he didn’t know what to do if he wasn’t grabbing something — you, your thigh, the edge of the couch, control.

Charles sat beside him like a man praying, eyes flickering from your face to your mouth to Carlos and then back again, chest rising with each breath like he was already on the edge.

You hooked a finger under Carlos’s chin first.

“Confidence looks good on you,” you said, slow and syrupy, “but it melts off you even better.”

He swallowed, throat bobbing.

Then you leaned forward, catching Charles by the jaw. “And you,” you purred, “you just want to be told what to do, don’t you?”

His moan was so soft, you almost missed it. Almost.

“I knew it,” you whispered. “Knew you’d be so fucking pretty like this. Blushing. Hard. Trying so hard to behave.”

Charles whimpered, leaning into your hand like he needed it just to stay upright.

“Take off your shirts,” you said, voice low, and they moved like they were wired to you.

Carlos was quick with it, always eager to impress. His skin was golden and warm, flexing under your gaze like he knew what it did to you.

Charles fumbled a bit, nervous, delicate. But the moment you kissed just below his ear in praise, he melted — spine curving like he wanted to fold into you, disappear between your hands.

Your fingers slid down Carlos’s chest, and he let out a breath that turned into a full-body shiver.

“You wanna be touched?” you asked, nails grazing down to his waistband.

He nodded, biting his lip. “Yes. Please. I’ve been good—”

You cut him off with a look.

“I decide when you’ve been good.”

That shut him up. Quick.

You turned to Charles. “And you, angel?”

He looked up at you like you hung the stars. “Please,” he breathed. “I want— I want your hands on me.”

“Oh,” you cooed, “you’re so polite.”

He flushed deeper, eyes fluttering shut when your hand palmed him through his jeans.

“Sensitive,” you hummed. “Perfect.”

Carlos whined, jealousy lacing his voice. “You’re not gonna leave me out, are you?”

You laughed — low, dangerous. “Baby, you’re the one who invited him.”

Then your voice turned sharp: “Lay back.”

They did. Immediately. Charles on one side of the bed, Carlos on the other, both of them aching, throbbing, waiting for you like good boys in heat.

You teased first. Slow strokes over denim. Fingers ghosting across bare thighs. Letting your breath hover over them, close enough to make them gasp, but never close enough to give relief.

“Please,” Charles begged, hips twitching. “I need you.”

Carlos arched, desperate. “Fuck—please, I’m so hard—”

“Shhh,” you whispered, climbing between them. “You’ll come when I say.”

You undid their jeans slowly. Dragged them down just enough. Took them in hand — one stroke, then two — until both of them were panting, twitching, begging, grinding up into your grip like they didn’t know what else to do with themselves.

Charles broke first. He always would. Voice cracking, thighs trembling, lips bitten raw from trying not to come too fast.

And Carlos? Carlos tried to hold out, but the second you said “good boy” in his ear, he shattered.

You didn’t stop.

Not until they were overstimmed, wrecked, whining for mercy.

Not until they were pleading, both of them, for the chance to make you fall apart.

And you? You let them.

But only after they begged prettily enough.

Carlos was spread beneath you, sunk into the mattress with his curls matted to his forehead, chest gleaming with sweat and need. His cock was buried inside you, deep, stretching you open inch by inch while his fingers wrung the sheets like they’d done something wrong.

His mouth hung open. Eyes hazy, drunk on the way you felt around him.

“Fuck,” he moaned, voice all rough and reverent. “You feel— you feel so good, cariño. So tight—so warm—shit—”

You just smirked, taking your time as you sank fully down, letting him feel all of you. Letting yourself enjoy the stretch, the way he twitched inside you like he was losing control already.

But your eyes? Your mouth?

They were on Charles.

The Monegasque was on his knees in front of you, hands trembling slightly on your thighs, watching the way you slid down Carlos like it was the most divine thing he’d ever seen. His lips were parted, breath quick, pupils blown with lust and wonder.

You leaned forward, close enough for him to taste your breath. “You want a kiss, baby?”

Charles nodded frantically, hands flying to your waist like he needed the contact.

So you kissed him.

You kissed him hard — teeth, tongue, the kind of messy, desperate kiss that left him gasping, trying to crawl into your mouth, your lungs, your soul. He whimpered against your lips, moaning so pretty, so broken, it made Carlos buck up beneath you, choked and feral.

“Shit—please,” Carlos groaned, hips twitching again.

You pulled back from Charles, just enough to speak. “Carlos,” you panted, “hands. On me. Now.”

He blinked up, dazed. “Wha—?”

“Hold me up, cariño,” you ordered, your voice sharp with pleasure. “I need to focus on Charles, and you keep making me lose it.”

And fuck, did he move. Hands gripped your hips instantly, strong and grounding, holding you steady as you rocked on him slow and filthy.

“Good boy,” you whispered, hips circling as you leaned back into Charles’s mouth.

Charles moaned at the praise, pressing his lips back to yours, needier this time — more frantic. You kissed him through it, one hand slipping down to stroke him, fingers curling around his cock, warm and heavy and leaking for you.

He gasped, nearly sobbing into your mouth.

“Oh my god—oh my—please,” he babbled, forehead pressed to yours as you pumped him slow, matching the rhythm of your hips on Carlos.

Carlos’s hands tightened on your thighs. “You’re gonna—fuck, you’re gonna make me come.”

“No, you’re not,” you growled, breaking the kiss long enough to lock eyes with him. “You’re gonna hold me, be quiet, and take it like a good boy.”

He moaned loud, eyes rolling back as his hands gripped tighter, trying so hard to obey.

Meanwhile, Charles was falling apart in front of you — knees shaking, hips stuttering into your fist as you stroked him, kissed him, ruined him.Two beautiful boys:

One trembling under you, buried deep and obedient.

One kneeling in front of you, whimpering into your mouth like a prayer.

[msfantasy-anime]

Did you hear the Rear Admiral is Married to Straw Hat Luffy?

Monkey D. Luffy x Marine!Reader

Summary: Marine Headquarters issues a summons to Marine!Reader, regarding rumours of marriage to Straw Hat Luffy

Part III of My Marine Wife Series

You are hereby summoned to appear before Marine Headquarters and report to Fleet Admiral, Sakazuki at 2100 tomorrow under the authority of the World Government, pertaining to pending allegations of marital status with wanted criminal, Monkey D. Luffy.

Your crooked smile tugged at your lips once more, that familiar glint of mischief flickering in your eyes as you stared down at the Marine-issued summons. Your heart thrummed with anticipation as you place the summons back into your pocket, to look out at the brilliant red sunset painting the sky.

Your expectant hands floating outwards, as the familiar saucer and tea cup is placed onto your palm by your trusted officers without tearing your eyes off of your favourite view at the bow of the ship and without the need to order. The crew moved in perfect symbiosis, their rhythm seamless and unbroken like a choreography from years of being on the sea together.

“Red at night, sailors delight.” You mutter quietly, more to yourself than to anyone else, as you take a sip of your liquid gold tea, but you did not dare miss the antagonistic snort behind you. You didn’t even need to turn around to know it’s Helmeppo. “Lieutenant Commander…Marine Captain… you’re still here.” You say, turning around to see Helmeppo and Koby, straight back like the boring strait laces they are. “Why?” You ask, more so rhetorically than out of interest.

You thought for certain that the two would hide under their bedsheets in humiliation after the verbal beat down you gave, and yet here they are, scurrying around your ship like the rats they are.

“How did you expect us to depart your ship when we haven’t even docked?” Helmeppo spits back with little tact making your tsk in quiet triumph. Successfully winding up your biggest antagonist.

Koby just looks onward, not biting your bait. “We were requested by transponder snail to attend your summons to report any findings of your transgression.” Koby answers hollowly. Your brilliant wide smile, crushing Koby even more; knowing you have a hold over him. Until an unexpected look of defiance beems from his eyes. “A little warning Vice Admiral,” his chin tilts up to you, an unfamiliar glint of resistance. “I thought long and hard — cowering to your demands only makes us weak as members of the Marines. If we bow to blackmail, we betray everything we stand for. Your records will no longer keep me from fulfilling my duty.”

Your mischievous smile does not falter, only deepening their confusion as they search your face for panic and find nothing but poise.

“My, my. You two might actually make decent Marines after all…” You say, almost too close to Koby when the ship rocks harshly at an unexpected wave, and with a blinding flash, Koby was sent flat on his back with a loud “oft!”with you tumbling on top of him.

“Are you okay Vice Admiral?” Your second in command says, offering a hand to help you up, and off of Koby’s chest. The mischievous smile impossibly wider than it ever could be.

“I’m okay.” You say, taking his hand as he helps you regain your balance. “We’re done here. Let’s go get some food.” You say, now moving towards the entry, all whilst Helmeppo throws a fit.

“You should reprimand your Watch Officer for failing to report a huge wave!” He shrieks, pulling Koby off the deck floor. But you merely shrug, barely putting in effort to look over your shoulder.

“My Watch Officer knows exactly what she’s doing— mind yourself.” You whip back, now turning your keen interest back towards your path to the kitchen.

Your arrival really couldn’t have come sooner at Marine Headquarters.

With the speed of your arrival, one would almost forget your summoned due to an investigation pending criminal charge.

But you rush in, as if oblivious to this fact.

“Akainu!” You call out fondly, as the Marine remains seat in his chair, grunting in acknowledgment. “Vice Admiral, I’ve heard some rather disturbing rumours about your marital status with wanted criminal, Monkey D. Luffy.” He says, cold eyes boring into you. “If that wasn’t enough, these two have jointly submitted a rather disturbing report about your crews transgressions.” He says, dropping his pen, his elbow resting on the table, his head resting against his fists as he stares at you with those calculating eyes you loathe. “What do you have to say about those accusations?” He questions, both Koby and Helmeppo turning to look at you, waiting with baited breaths to see you talk your way out of this one.

But your head remains tilted to the ceiling with that booming laughter of yours. Not a care in the world about your possible demise.

Your confidence to escape your fate was almost admirable…. Almost.

“I must admit, when I first got your summons, I was in absolute stitches— rather preposterous considering there isn’t even any records of my supposed marriage.” You say, that velvet voice of yours wrapping around your words again.

Akainu just grumbling in agreement. “I checked the registry myself, after hearing rumours on my Vice Admiral being married to a filthy pirate. No marriage certificate.”

Your confident eyes twinkling with triumph, all before Helmeppo’s outburst.

“Sir— what about our investigation?!” A lethal look is tossed their way as Akainu stared them down.

“You’ll speak when spoken to Lieutenant Commander.” Helmeppo’s proudly earnt titled deminished at the tone of Fleet Admiral Akainu. His voice commanding Helmeppo to know his place. “And what of their findings?” He queries, eyes boring into you once again.

But you merely shrug, indifferent.

“Sir— you know I run a tight ship and have one of the largest criminal call ins out of any fleet. Their investigation may have been prompted by protocol, but their findings is nothing more than petty revenge for rejecting Koby’s affections.” You say innocently.

“Excuse me? Sir this is nothing more than blatant lies—“ but before Koby could finish his sentence, you toss down photos onto Akainus desk.

The photo captured you tangled in Koby’s arms after the wave knocked the ship just hours earlier. From this angle, it looked almost… intimate. His hands awkwardly around your waist, face in his chest. A blush high on his cheeks.

Koby’s eyes went wide. “Th-that was an accident!” Akainu raised a brow at your statement, the only visible crack in his otherwise stony expression.

“I’ve rejected him,” you said smoothly, ignoring the protests. “But he’s persistent. And I believe his current actions are motivated by hurt feelings, not misconduct. So go easy on the poor boy.” You pouted, throwing the two boys a devious pout as their mouths hang open at your blatant lie.

The Fleet Admiral studied the photo. “And you’re saying this picture is… what? His attempt at revenge?”

“I’m saying he’s spiraled,” you said, with a sigh that could win an award. “He’s dramatised statements, and I believe his judgment is compromised. I’ve kept silent to protect his dignity, but I can’t let baseless accusations tarnish my name or my crew’s integrity.”

Koby looked between you and the Admiral, panic blooming across his face. “Sir, I swear—it’s not like that—!”

“Helmeppo?” the Admiral asked, not looking up.

“I—I—” Helmeppo wilted under your poisonous smile. Because how could you look so victorious already? “She’s lying!” He accuses, his panicked accusation immediately falling flat on Akainu’s ears.

“Enough.” The Admiral slid the photo into a drawer, eyes now cold as ice. “This matter is closed. Vice Admiral, you’re dismissed.”

You turned with a crisp nod. “Thank you, sir.”

As you passed Koby, you leaned in just enough for him to hear the whisper.

“You should’ve watched the wave.”

Stepping out of the office, and into the hall way where Garp stands.

“Grandpa!” You greet with a quick hug.

“How’d you weasel your way out of this one kid?” He asks, picking his ear.

“The usual,” you say, “Believable lies and manipulations.” Garp grumbles.

“You know Luffy hates those tactics.” He says, making you go stiff. Your bold and egotistical facade crumbling.

“Y-your not gonna tell him are you?” You beg, a honest pout pulling at your lips.

“Nope, but you really should stop lying and manipulating your way through life— your husband might be stupid, but he has good values.”

“… I miss him…” You say, looking back up at Garp. “Sometimes I wonder why I even chose this job… I thought I was going to make a real difference here— taking out criminals which society deserves to be protected from, and leaving ‘criminals’ that are like my dad, who are just adventuring or like Ace, who was just criminalised at birth because of his father.” You say, turning your back. “I’m growing tired of this. Being a marine is not everything you said it would be.” And just like that, you walk off, back to your waiting crew.

[f4ggydog]

lottie x reader: no need to fight it cause you’re giving in🔞

warnings: smut, noncon, top lottie, lottie has a dick, reader has a pussy, breeding, delusional lottie, dark lottie

Lottie’s dragging you out to the clearing and the next thing you register is the sounds of trees blaring in your ears. You shake your head, wanting to put this fantasy to rest. Whatever delusion Lottie was infected by, you were begging for a halt to it. The last thing you needed was to get mixed up in her little schemes.

“I know you hear it too,” Lottie says. “Can you hear it humming in your ears?”

Humming was one way to put it. It felt more like screaming for you. You cover your ears and sink to the ground, covering your face with your knees. You shiver as a giant ball of agony and fright. Make it stop. Make it stop.

“It’s okay.” Lottie rests her hand on your shoulder. “It might hurt to hear, but you’re the only one that can…talk with it. Understand it.”

No, you are not. You’ve got no connection with the wilderness whatsoever and you wish Lottie would stop insisting that you do. Her plans were going nowhere.

“Nobody else would be able to hear that yelling besides us,” Lottie states. “I can only hear it because I’m in close proximity to you. You…you can help me connect with it again.”

When does the nightmare end?

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you mutter. “I-I’ve got no connection to anything.”

“Nonsense.” Lottie shoves your side. “You have to trust me. You’re so important right now. You have great significance. And I need you to use it.”

“Lottie, I’m not the wilderness’ advocate. I’m just a person. Really, I’m not some god or spirit. I’m just me. Just leave all this stuff behind.”

“If we don’t obey what the wilderness wants, we all die. If we don’t give it what it wants, we will all suffer. You don’t want that, do you?”

Of course you don’t. You’d hate to see any more needless deaths. You’ve barely survived consuming Javi, let alone consuming another Yellowjacket. As if devouring Jackie wasn’t harrowing enough.

“Just listen to it,” Lottie instructs tenderly. “Let the sounds of the forests fill your ears. Get immersed in your environment. Tell me how deeply you can feel.”

The forest calls out to you again. You cringe as shrieks of terror fill your ears again, along with the sound of the wind swaying the trees. A leaf falls from above. The ground feels like it’s moving. The earth feels like it’s spinning on its axis. You’re getting dizzier.

“Make it stop,” you whimper. “Make it stop, Lottie. Tell it to stop.”

“What do you hear?” Lottie ignores your request. “Tell me.”

“Screaming!” You cry out. “They won’t stop screaming. Lottie, my ears are gonna bleed! It’s just yelling!”

“It’s communicating with you, in the only way it knows how. You’re doing so well for me.”

You drop to your hands and knees, on all fours like a dog. You feel a sharp pain in your ribs and your nails dig into the dirt for something to grasp onto. More yelling echoes in your ears and your back is close to giving out. You’re not sure how much more pain you can take. Why does it feel like you’re on the verge of death?

“Excellent.” Lottie nods, a menacing smirk on her lips. “Perfect. So good.”

The screaming stops. You gasp for air, rolling onto your back and heaving. You cross your arms on your chest, blinking as you watch the blue sky.

“You make for an excellent pupil,” Lottie compliments. “You did me a big favor here.”

“I don’t think I wanna do any more favors, Lot. Can we just go back to the camp please? Everything hurts.”

“We’re not done yet. There’s still other ways that we might be able to connect to the wilderness. Together. You and me.”

“I think I’m okay.”

“You can’t refuse,” Lottie says sternly, hand cupping your cheek. “I’m not letting you go until we do this. Once we’re done, then we may return home.”

“No!” You snap, standing up and shaking dirt off of your knees. “I’m not doing this shit anymore, Lottie. I’m fucking going home. You’re fucking ridiculous, you know that?”

“You can’t.” Lottie takes big strides towards you as you back away. “You’re not going anywhere.”

“Fucking catch me then!” You taunt. “Cause I’m running. Fuck this! I’m gone!”

Lottie chases after you without hesitation. You don’t make it far before she tackles you onto the ground like a football player. She pins your hands above your head and presses her knees down on your legs.

“Good try,” she sighs. “Unfortunately, that’s not gonna cut it.”

“You’re fucking nuts,” you spit. “If you think I’m gonna let you poison me into your crazy ideology, you’ve got another thing coming!”

“Fine,” Lottie huffs. “Then it turns out I’ll really have to get you to connect with it another way. Good thing I know a strategy.”

“What does that mean?” You inquire nervously. “What the hell do you mean, Lottie?”

“You’ll see. But you’re gonna have to trust me. Can you do that?”

“No, I’m not trusting you with anything! You tried to kill me back there.”

“I didn’t try to kill you,” Lottie corrects. “I was…introducing you to something.”

“Yeah, introducing me to my grave! Fuck off. Seriously, go bother Travis. Weren’t you messing with him earlier?”

“He doesn’t bear the same connection as you.” Lottie lowers her head. “I was mistaken. Thought I knew better, which is why I need you to help me out. I need to get in touch with the wilderness and its demands again. It’s important that I reach it. For the sake of you, me and the others.”

“Lottie you’re pissing me off,” you respond. “You’re pissing me off so bad, Lottie.

“I can deal with you being upset with me. As long as you get access to the wilderness in the way I want you to, it’s worth it.”

Lottie presses her nose to your forehead.

“I know this might not be easy for you to understand, but this is why I require your trust. You’re so much more important than you realize. And I need you to understand your value.”

You’re alarmed by Lottie’s proximity and attempt to wiggle away. But her grip overpowers yours effortlessly, which is a shocker. For all you knew, the wilderness could be injecting her with extra nutrients this second to keep her bones stronger.

Lottie presses her crotch against your ass. She’s laying on top of you, her dress flowing up a bit. Her hips grind against you, her bulge becoming more prominent.

“W-What kind of lessons are this?” You stutter. “W-What does this have to do with the wilderness? Lottie, you’re making me uncomfortable.”

Lottie’s arms attach themselves around your waist.

“Our bodies,” Lottie says. “They have to touch, bare skin on bare. It’s the most intimate form of human connection. It’ll ensure your connection with the woods is thorough.”

Before you can hurl another question her way, Lottie reaches for your shorts. She tugs them down until they reach the dirt floor. Then, her hands reach for your shirt.

“I can feel it already,” Lottie purrs in your ear. “It’s so much deeper. I already feel like I’m understanding you slightly more. Are you experiencing that feeling too?”

You shake your head, swallowing your hiccups. You’re frozen with fear and you wish you had one of the other girls around to save you. You couldn’t even fully blame yourself. You didn’t purposefully follow Lottie. She took you by your hand and forced you into her world of ‘wonders.’

Her hands slip under your shirt. Her fingers tease your nipples, humming with approval. You cough, unable to wriggle out from underneath Lottie’s body. Her bulge gets harder and stiffer with every movement and you’re worried you accidentally rub your clothed cunt against her cock. The last thing you need is to entice her further.

“This is great,” Lottie rasps. “I can tell that your body’s different just from its touch. There’s magic inside of you. You’re divine, perfect for experimentation.”

What the fuck? You weren’t some sort of lab subject? Again, you fail to fight off Lottie. You attempt to roll over so that she’s the one on the ground. But Lottie planned for that course of action. She’s got every weakness of yours figured out. There’s nowhere to go, nowhere to hide from her insanity.

Lottie stops fondling your buds, reaching her hands into her underwear. She grips her cock by its heavy shaft. Her dick is so huge that even one hand isn’t enough to properly secure it. However, she doesn’t pull down her panties just yet.

Does she think you’ll pull down your undergarments first? No way. You’re not going along with her trickery. You’re smarter than this. Perhaps you still have a chance to find a path back to camp and you can tell the others what Lottie tried to do with you.

More ideas pop into your mind but none come to fruition. And the more useless thinking you do, the more time Lottie has to undress you completely.

And she does just that. Well, mostly. She rips your underwear almost clean off, exposing your bare cunt to both the wilderness and its prophet.

“Shhhh,” Lottie coos. “Don’t make too much of a commotion. The wilderness won’t like it if you resist. It wants a smooth process, a firm understanding.”

“You’re a creep!” You shout. “You’re such a creep, Lottie. What is the matter with you!? Let the fuck go of me now!”

“You are the messenger,” Lottie informs. “You are the one it wants me to feel. You are the one whose body I’ve been trusted with. The wilderness expects a connection from you. Not Travis, not Akilah, not any other soul.”

“Leave me alone,” you whine, hearing the sound of fabric. Lottie takes her panties off and holds up the edge of her dress, so you get a good glance at what will crack you open. You’re not prepared to feel fuller than you’ve ever experienced before. You could deal with a lot less new experiences. Every new experience in the forest seemed to deprive you of mental fortitude day by day.

“Hush. Hush, hush. You’re so delicate, my little flower. You’re perfect for me.”

Lottie rubs the red tip of her cock against your folds. There’s hardly any wetness and Lottie doesn’t seem ready to lube you up either. There’s a certain haste to the friction and she clearly wants to ram inside of you and be as close to you as humanly possible. There was no warmth and bonding like being inside the body of another. But Lottie couldn’t cannibalize you. She needed you alive and well, willing to pass on the wilderness’ message.

In an act of scarce mercy, Lottie spits on her veiny cock a couple of times. She pumps the saliva along her shaft, a small amount hardly covering the surface. You yelp as Lottie whacks her dick against your entrance, enjoying your pussy pulsing as a satisfying reaction.

“Do you trust me?” Lottie asks.

Of course you don’t. Did she actually expect you to respond with a yes? Was there a shred of sanity left in that head jumbled with conspiracies and false prophecies? The potential answer scares you.

“N-No,” you utter.

Lottie rejects your answer. She thrusts forward, gagging your mouth with her fingers.

Your cry of pain is muffled. You are nothing but a bundle of nerves, forced to endure rough penetration. Lottie senses your discomfort, but there’s no halt to her movements. There’s desperation and need, but the only gentle part about this is the words entering your ears.

“Sweet little doll,” Lottie giggles, her cock stretching you out. “Look at the way those eyes flutter. Tell me, do you feel it in your soul? Do you feel how close we are? Do you feel us connecting on the basis of you being my student?”

What a twisted teacher. You couldn’t wait to warn the other members when you got back so they could hopefully toss out this creep. Your nails scratch the coarse floor of dirt. Your legs kick the ground like a tantrum is being thrown, except it’s a justified one.

“The fear is part of the ride,” Lottie encourages. “Think of this as a sacrifice. This may do away with your purity, but this brings us closer together. You’ll understand. You’ll get it once we’re done.”

You don’t believe a lick of Lottie’s speech. You sob against her fingers, nibbling on them until she pushes them to the back of your throat. You gag, nearly barfing at the sensation of being split open and practically choked.

“Take it,” Lottie grunts, her cock throbbing against your tight, velvety walls.

She removes her fingers from your mouth and holds you by your shoulders. Your body is forced into the dirt, her shirt covered with brown as Lottie uses your body like a fleshlight.

“Too much,” you cry. “Lottie, you’re too big. Y-You should take it out. Please, you’re way too big.”

“We could’ve done this an easier way. But you had to be difficult. You refused to listen to the sounds the wilderness offered. Now, this is the only way to get you to behave.”

Lottie kisses the back of your neck roughly, her cock still pounding away. Your body grows weaker by the moment and you internally say a prayer, wondering if you’ll ever be free now that she’s rested a claim on you.

If you were supposed to be a little flower, this felt like having all your petals torn off. You were wilted, growing ill from lack of nourishment and brightness in your life. Lottie was shielding you from the sun you deserved. When Lottie put you in your place, there was only darkness. Nothing but pitch black hell.

“Somehow your reaction is still not worse than I expected,” Lottie states proudly. “I’ll be able to tame you pretty soon. You’re going to make the perfect disciple. I just need you to understand why I’m doing this, why you need this.”

You don’t have the capacity to listen to her reasonings right now. You just desire an end to the cruelty.

Lottie’s balls slap against your ass, the slapping sound of flesh causing you to feel more nauseous. Hatred occupied every crevice of your mind. Lottie stole your innocence just for her own agenda. Yet, she still remained certain that she was doing the correct thing. She’s blinded by the belief of a moral obligation.

Or maybe you’re not so sure. Maybe she knows what she’s doing is wrong, but she can’t bring herself to care. Maybe Lottie is more callous than you imagined. Maybe you should’ve doubted her sooner. Maybe you—

“So fucking close little dove,” Lottie whispers. “You can take it for me. I know you can.”

“Lottie no,” you begin protesting. “No, n-no. You’ll give me a baby. I-I don’t want a baby. P-Please, at least don’t cum inside.”

“You don’t get to make the decision. I’m only following what it wants.”

You thrash around, hoping Lottie’s cock will pop out of you. But your pussy only squeezes harder and secures Lottie nice and snug in your delicate cunt.

Lottie parts her lips, small gasps leaving as her pace reaches its highest point. She claws into your skin, her hips moving on their own. Both of you are linked by sweat and musk, the trees watching as a pair of survivors fuck raw in isolation.

Memories of Lottie flash into your head. Her taking the leadership role during winter, her leading the hunt on Travis during one faithful night. You pondered if you would be her next victim, if a second Doomcoming was in order.

You chase that thought of your brain. You can’t afford to bring yourself more dread.

Suddenly, a splash of warmth seeps into your cunt. Ropes and ropes of hot fluids drown your pussy in white. Lottie’s eyes rolls back, phrases in French being murmured as she empties herself. She keeps you pinned down until she’s sure that no drop has been plunged into your poor, abused hole.

You lay in the dirt, not accepting that you and Lottie are now tethered. You are a child of the wilderness and no matter how far you run, Lottie’s mark will not leave you. You’re stuck with her until one of you passes. You’re only hers and you’ll have to deal with the fact.

“The wilderness will be pleased,” Lottie says with a smile wider than ever before. “We’ll have food for months.”

The wilderness has had its wishes granted. So has Lottie. But at what cost?

[caoimhewrites]

Take It or Leave It

Undying Ground (Pt 3)

Ghosts decides... do you accept?

Tags/CW: brief mentions of grief/loss, non-graphic mentions of injury, post apocalyptic world, zombie mentions WC: 2k

Pairing: Simon Riley x Reader. Reluctant allies to lovers

Series Masterlist → here

A/N- Dabbling in a little Ghost pov. Don't know if I'll keep up with it

 G

The cans were a clever move. They almost gave him away when he had snuck up on you days ago. He almost felt angry with himself for not thinking of it. Relying on the sounds of growls outside the fence he built around the cabin wasn't the most foolproof solution when it came to alerting him to get rid of any infected that wandered too close.

He's spent days watching you sleep, eat and struggle with your bandages. There's something about you, something interesting, but he can't put his finger on it. Maybe it's the way you watch him back or the few words you speak in your conscious moments that have him biting back a small chuckle.

No.

Not that. Definitely not that.

You're up now, walking around with much more ease and no more limp. He doesn't speak when he sees you moving around. You've made yourself useful by packing up your things and Ghost would be lying if he said he wasn't a little... disappointed? He may have gotten the better of you a few days ago but still... you had skills to have made it this far. Five years, alone or not, was an achievement in this world. Ghost didn't consider himself to be a curious man. Didn't bother himself with the goings on of other people, not even before the sickness spread but the intrigue of you won't fade.

He's being practical, he tells himself. A decision like this… it makes sense, it's realistic. He's not getting any younger and the infected only find his cabin more frequently, their numbers only seeming to grow. Maybe a little help wouldn't be so bad?

No. Not help.

Ghost doesn't need help. He's never needed help a day in his life but maybe... an extra set of hands wouldn't hurt. If you stay as quiet as you usually are, fend for yourself, scavenge your own meds... it could work. He could find a way to tolerate it.

He's talked himself out of it a million times. He doesn't know you. His initial suspicions could be right. You might slink off in the middle of the night with all his things, leaving him practically defenseless. Or you could just end him. He's mulled that possibility over more times than he can count. He's been betrayed before. Before and after the world fell apart and as far as he's concerned he's in no rush to repeat history.

But he had to choose. Risk you betraying him, or possibly get swarmed by so many infected that even a man like him couldn't fight them. Or worse, some other lunatic who won't sit quietly like you do, keep to themselves and get out of his space whenever he asks. Someone who wouldn't hesitate to take everything he owned and toss him out as food for the infected.

So that's exactly what Ghost does. He chooses. Against every single instinct, every life lesson, every rational thought.

He chooses.

You can stay... For now.

R

You hear him before you see him. It feels strange. He’s always appearing out of nowhere, leaving a delirious you confused and scared shitless before the details of his frame clear. But, today it’s like he wants his presence to be known. 

“Yeah, yeah I’m going,” you murmur as you shove your old tattered coat into your bag. The summer still rages outside, leaving you far too sweaty even in the relatively cool damp of Ghost’s cabin. You had used it as a blanket when the shivers set in, side aching. Now it really serves no purpose, just weighing you down until the winter comes again.

“Stop.” His voice is demanding, slightly cold. 

“What? Why?” You freeze your movements, looking up at his towering frame. It casts a long shadow across the room, blocking out the light from the oil lamp.

“You can stay.” His words come out flat, emotionless. 

“Stay?” You can’t be sure you heard him right. Stay? Why on earth would this man let you stay? You still haven’t figured out why he would take you here in the first place. 

“Under some conditions.” He adds, words keeping their flatness.

“Conditions?” 

He rubs a frustrated hand over his face, venom lacing his voice. “Will you just- stop repeating everything I’m saying and listen.”

“Sorry,” you mutter quietly.

“You can stay… under some conditions. You get your own food, your own medication and first aid. I will not help you. If you get stuck out there, people or infected. I will not help you. If you get injured. I will not help you. You will sleep in the corner. If you want a mattress, find one. And…” He pauses, his brown eyes boring into yours, “stay the hell away from my room.” 

The question slips out before you can stop yourself, “why are you letting me stay? We don’t know each other. I mean… you let me heal here but, why?”

He hesitates, jaw clenched as he chooses his words wisely. “We… could be allies.” He says it like it physically pains him, like any suggestion of having someone else around goes against every instinct and desire. 

"Why should I trust you?" Your tone is accusatory, sharp like a knife.

"Why should I trust you?" He echoes, eyes narrowing dangerously.

"You're the one who asked me to stay." You tilt your head, throwing in as much sass as you possibly can.

He lets out a huff at your words. You're right, but he's not going to admit that. He isn't the type of man to be wrong and certainly not the type of man to admit when he is. "Doesn't mean I trust you."

"Well I don't trust you either," you retort in a snarky tone, face scrunching in annoyance.

"Good."

What does that mean? Good? Good? Your stomach churns in annoyance. He's the one who brought you here. He's the one who asked you to stay. 

"Well? You staying or what?" His tone is sharp, impatient.

You didn't realize how long you had been silent, neglecting to answer his question, head spinning. What options do you have? Stay with this guy who's mildly annoying and definitely a bit out of his mind but at least have a roof over your head or go back out on your own with hardly any remaining supplies and legions of infected wandering the earth who wouldn't hesitate to make you their next lunch?

"Take it or leave it," he adds with an annoyed sigh.

"Fine. I'll stay... I guess."

---

Ghost wasn't kidding when he said he wouldn't help you. He hasn't lifted a single finger in the second week that you've been occupying his floor. You haven't bothered to do much more for him. It's tense and awkward, the atmosphere thick enough to slice with even the dullest knife. Your conversations are short and stilted, exchanging nothing more than a few words each day.

But, you keep up your end of the deal. Stay quiet and out of his space. It's not too bad, you've had roommates far worse. 

Yet, he still watches you. Quite frequently in fact, his distrust obvious. In all fairness, you don't trust him either. Sure, he lets you stay and keeps to himself, not even bothering to pretend to be your friend, but even still, he could always betray you. It's the risk you run in this world.

"So... Where did you learn the trick with the cans?" he asks, eyes studying you suspiciously as he sits across the small table from you.

"A friend." You reply, voice clipped.

"Infected?"

"Yeah... Infected," you murmur quietly, the word feeling heavy on your tongue like you almost can't speak it. Your mind swirls with memories of Vivienne. You can't be sure of exactly how long it's been, the days you spent half conscious on Ghost's floor were hard to keep track of. You think it's been three weeks since the infected found your camp. Three weeks without the one person who had been with you through everything. Thinking about her always seemed to make you feel worse. Knowing that after so little time, her voice had already been forgotten. 

"You've been traveling?" He's pushed his food away now, focusing solely on you. His words feel more like an interrogation than an actual conversation.

"Yeah. Quite a lot since the start." You give a small nod, picking at your dinner.

"Where did you start? Virginia?"

You let out a huff and finally meet his eyes, looking up from the overcooked squirrel on the plate in front of you. "North Carolina actually."

You're tempted to ask him about himself but something in his eyes stops you. Something tired and... sad? Maybe if you could see his face you could understand it better. Trying to read him just through his eyes was proving to be quite difficult. His body language reveals even less— always statuesque.

The minutes pass in an awkward and tense silence, the only sound is the rustling of the fabric of your clothes as you eat in silence. "You... uhhh you been here since the start?" You regret it as soon as you say it, your question slipping past your lips shakily.

"Yes. Military," he says simply, offering nothing else. His shortness makes exasperation rise in your chest. Who is he to ask about your life, but give hardly anything in return? He’s the one who brought you here, who suggested you be “allies”, whatever that means to him. You shake the feeling off, you’re not going to let him get to you. It’s fine. It works. You can live with it. Dealing with Ghost’s interrogations mixed with indifference is paradise compared to the last five years.

“Right. Military,” you parrot, awkwardly tapping your wooden fork against your plate. You suspected he had made them both. They had that kind of rustic quality, much like the things your grandfather had made for your grandmother years ago. But these didn’t carry the comfort of their home or any home really. Nothing cute and sweet, just made from need and practicality. 

He lifts his mask just slightly so he can take another bite of his food. You see pink lips and a strong jaw dusted with blond stubble. It’s the only clue you had to how he looked beyond his brown eyes. You tried to piece him together, playing a game in your head, creating a million different versions of the man under the mask. None seemed too convincing. There was always something off, something that didn’t fit. It bothered you day and night not to know. 

“You’re low on supplies.” He spoke without looking up. 

“I know.” You stare at him as you take a bite of the stale bread on your plate that Ghost had actually decided to share with you to your surprise.

“You’ll need more. There’s a town down the road, not too far. I checked it out a few weeks ago, not much has been taken.” 

“Many infected?” Your voice is quiet but practical.

“Just a few.” He shrugs and glances up at you. There it is again. That look. The tiredness has seeped into him so deeply that you feel it radiating out of him. Five years alone out here will do that to you. Five years in some place that isn’t anything like home. Maybe it’s been there longer, you think. Maybe it’s something he’s been carrying on his shoulders for so long that tired is just who he’s become.

“I’ll go tomorrow then,” you say as you set the bread down. You see now why he gave it to you, it’s basically inedible. You would need several more rows of the world strongest and sharpest teeth to get through it. 

He lets out a low hum and nods, “I’ll go with you. Need some things. Don’t expect me to-”

“I know, I know.” You wave your hand in dismissal, cutting him off with a small huff. “You won’t help me.”

Taglist: @little-mini-me-world @angeldemon28 @iminlovewithjasontodd @i-like-foxs @dravenskye @lilynotdilly @thatghostlykid

[monstersflashlight]

Patreon Commission for Nina

Request: Would sick or sleepy Reader being cared for (and/or "cared for") by their monster bf (big enough to be snuggled by is all I ask) work?

A bug?!

Werewolf x fem!reader || very fluffy smut, hurt/comfort, shower sex, (very light) praise kink

You were fast asleep when you heard hurried steps and your name being called.

You fell asleep in a blur of fever and snoot, and the sound of those steps is like thunder in your head right now. Fuck, you regretted everything in life right now. Especially calling your werewolf boyfriend during the full moon knowing he wouldn’t be able to reach for his phone until the morning. And he would most likely panic. But you were sick and miserable and you wanted all the cuddles, okay? So you called. And by the sounds of it, he just got his messages and ran to you directly from the pack night… Uh-oh.

At least he had your key and didn’t have to knock down the door to get to you. You had no doubt he would if he had to. “What’s wrong? You smell like pain? What happened? Who attacked you?” His questions were rapid fire, and your brain was too slow to be able to recognize them all.

But you just groaned miserably, half opening your eyes to look at him. “Sick,” you mumbled.

“What kind of sick? What’s happening? How do I help?” The way he sounded so worried almost made you smile. Almost. “Do we need to go to the hospital?” And if you weren’t feeling so bad, you’d laugh at your boyfriend’s antics.

“I don’t know, probably just some bug.” You swallowed, your throat feeling like sandpaper. You wanted water so badly.

“A bug? How did you get a bug? Aren’t you sprayed? Should I have taken you to get sprayed for flies?” That one did make you laugh, sending you into a coughing fit that left you breathless as your head pounded. You whined pathetically, your head pounding so bad a tear escaped your eyes. “Shit. Come on, lay down, I’m going to get you some soup and some pills. Is that okay?” You nodded, your eyes already closed.

You barely remember him coming back with water and food. He sat behind you, cradling you in his arms as he slowly spoon feed you and wiped your forehead with a cold towel. You moaned and groaned, complaining every step of the way, but he didn’t say anything. He stood there with you, caressing your hair and telling you stories about werewolves. You loved when he told you stories like that, werewolf culture and storytelling were so deep and complex...

At some point, you fell asleep, your body too tired and too cozy against his chest to remain awake even if you wanted to hear everything he had to tell.

You woke up again in a furnace.

You were so hot you felt like you were melting. But wait… It wasn’t a furnace, it was your werewolf boyfriend, your big furry boyfriend who irradiated heat exactly like a furnace. You tried to untangle yourself from him, but he only tightened his hold, his whole body plastered against your back.

Turns out the furnace was your boyfriend.

“How are you feeling, sweetie?” He asked with a worried tone, his whole body wrapped around you. “Are you feeling a bit better? You aren’t as hot anymore, I think the fever passed.”

His words made sense, but your body was focused in just one thing: “I feel gross.” Your whole body was sweaty and sticky and your clothes felt disgusting.

He kissed your forehead with a soft smile, his fangs glinting in the low light. “Wait here, I’ll run you a bath.” You tried not to pout as he got up and away from you. He might be hot as hell (innuendo intended), but he was comforting. “Don’t pout, sweetie. I’ll be back in a second, I promise.” He leaned down and kissed your forehead again. You sighed happily as he pulled the covers back up and walked to the bathroom. You heard the water running and he came back in a second. “Come on, let’s get you cleaned out.”

“Will you join me?” You asked, trying to be sexy, but failing when your voice breaks and you start to cough awfully. He chuckled with a nod, slowly getting naked as you stared at him with glassy eyes. You felt like garbage, but he was just so hot and sexy… damn.

He helped you get out of your clothes, testing the water before helping you in with an arm around your middle. You grabbed onto his chest-hair like a life-saver, it was so soft… You snuggled against his collarbone as he washed your head and massaged your scalp. You moaned, the feeling almost orgasmic.

By the time he was done with your hair, you were putty in his hands, your whole body relaxed against him, and your pussy so wet… You couldn’t avoid rolling your hips against his, so fucking needy. You could feel his hard on against your belly, and that only ignited your desire further.

“Let me make you feel good,” he whispered against your hair. You nodded, the cozy feeling of his body around you and the warm water cascading down your back made you feel boneless. “Just let me support your body as I make you come, sweetie.” You planted an open mouth kiss against his throat, making him whimper as his dick twitched.

You groaned, his dexterous fingers caressing down your back until they cup your butt-cheeks, making you shiver as his hand slipped lower, touching your opening from behind as he helped you up. Your legs wrapped around his middle, your pussy rubbing against his hard on as his hand explored your slit, the tip of his finger slipping inside your warm heat.

You let out soft moans as he kissed your neck and whispered sweet nothings against your skin. The pleasure was slow raising, building bit by bit as he rubbed his knot against your clit and his fingers fucked you lightly. The combination of sensations was driving you crazy, your moans getting louder and louder as he encouraged you.

“Come on, sweetie, let me hear you scream my name like a good girl.” His words were grunted against your ear, his chest vibrating in almost a purr.

The second the words good girl were out of his mouth, your eyes rolled back in your head and you arched your back, expecting him to catch you. He did. Of course he did. He rubbed your clit until you were whining in overstimulation. He let out an amused hug and stopped his movements.

You reached down to grab his still hard cock, but he stopped your hand. “Stop it, this wasn’t about me.”

“But I…” You tried to argue, but your body was suddenly so tired. You were so sleepy...

He calmed you, his hand caressing your sides as he turned off the water and walked out with your body still wrapped around him. “Shh, let me take you back to bed so we can snuggle, okay? You can make it up to me tomorrow if you are feeling better, deal?”

“Deal,” you whispered, your head hidden in his neck and your eyelids feeling too heavy to keep them open.

[mocchiixxx]

Words in Ruin Series # | 03 : Hong Jisoo (Joshua) 🦌

Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Miscommunication, Soft Fluff

Warnings: Emotional snapping, tears, guilt spiral, comfort, healing

Summary: Joshua is always calm and composed— but even angels can break. Overwhelmed by pressure, he snaps at you for the first time. And the moment your expression falls, he realizes he’s hurt the one person he never meant to. Can his gentle heart fix what it shattered?

💌🦌💌

The clock ticked past midnight. The sound of boiling water filled the quiet kitchen as you stood in the soft glow of the under-cabinet lights. You reached for the chamomile tea bags, his favorite (not sure though), and dropped one into his favorite mug. The honey swirled slowly as you stirred it, just the way he liked.

He’d been distant lately. Not cold, just… unreachable. His texts were short, his replies slower. You knew he was exhausted, running on little sleep and a packed schedule, but your heart still ached watching him carry it all without letting you in.

You turned when you heard the door click open.

Joshua stepped in, shoulders slumped under the weight of the day, wearing that neat black button-up from the evening’s radio event. His hair was slightly disheveled, his eyes half-lidded.

“You’re still up?” he said, voice raspier than usual.

You smiled gently. “Couldn’t sleep. I figured you might want something warm.”

You held up the mug.

He didn’t move toward it.

“I’m fine,” he said, sighing as he loosened his shirt collar. “You don’t need to keep doing this.”

Your hand faltered slightly.

“I just thought— tea might help,” you said.

“I don’t need tea, Y/N,” he snapped suddenly. “I don’t need you fussing over me like I’m some fragile thing that’s going to fall apart.”

Silence.

Your hand lowered. The warmth of the mug seeped into your fingers, but your chest felt cold.

“…That’s not why I do it,” you said softly. “I do it because I care.”

Joshua rubbed his eyes with the heel of his palms. “I just— God, can I breathe for one second without someone watching me? The fans, the staff, the members and now you?”

You didn’t respond right away. You placed the mug gently on the counter before stepping back.

“I'm not watching you. I’m worried about you,” you said, voice shaking slightly. “You’ve been pushing yourself too hard, and all I’ve wanted to do is be here for you.”

Joshua exhaled sharply, clearly overwhelmed, but the moment he looked up... he froze.

You weren’t angry. You weren’t yelling back. You were hurt.

And it showed in the way your lips trembled and your eyes glossed over.

He felt like the air had been sucked from the room.

“Wait,” he said immediately, stepping forward. “Y/N, I didn’t mean— God, I didn’t mean to talk to you like that.”

You turned away slightly, trying to blink the tears back. “I know you didn’t. B-but you still did.”

He closed the distance, reaching for your hand.

“You do so much for me. And I snapped. I made your love feel like a burden, and that’s the last thing I ever wanted.”

You were quiet.

Finally, you whispered, “Do you know how hard it is to watch the person you love tear themselves apart and not be allowed to help?”

He stared at you, heart breaking.

“I don’t try to take away your problems, Shua. I just try to remind you you’re not alone in them.”

His voice cracked. “You’ve been my peace for so long… and tonight, I ruined that.”

You looked at him. “Then why push me away?”

He hesitated, guilt radiating from every part of him. “Because if I let myself lean on you, even a little… I was scared I’d break completely.”

You gently cupped his face. “Then break. You don’t always have to be the calm one, the composed one. Not with me.”

Joshua let the tears fall then, not loudly, not with sobs but with the quiet release of someone who’d been holding everything in for far too long.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, forehead resting against yours. “I should have let you in sooner. I should’ve told you how much it’s all been weighing on me.”

“I don’t need you to be perfect,” you said. “I just need you to be honest with me. Even if it’s messy. Even if you’re tired. Especially then.”

He nodded, breathing you in like he was anchoring himself again.

“Can we start over?” he asked. “Right here, with the tea?”

You let out a small laugh, still teary-eyed. “It’s cold now.”

“I’ll still drink it,” he said with a soft smile, reaching for the mug. “Because you made it.”

He sipped, grimacing slightly. “Okay, yeah. It’s a little cold.”

You giggled. “I’ll make a fresh one.”

He caught your wrist gently. “Not right now. Just stay with me. Please.”

You leaned into his embrace. “Always.”

And in that kitchen, where warmth had temporarily been lost, love returned in quiet apologies and the promise of better tomorrows.

Taglist: @babycaratdeul @viacb97 @christinewithluv

[fandomfablesunleashed]

The Stakes of the Heart Pirates

Law x reader (she/her) ft. Heart Pirates

Part of the Polar Tang Chronicles but can be read as a standalone! (They're all just various one-shots featuring the Reader, Law, and the Heart Pirates)

Summary:It’s poker night on the Polar Tang, and you managed to pull Law into joining the fun

Tags: suggestive at the end (they really all turn this way)

Words: 3.3k

Notes: Originally, I wanted to describe the game more. I even did some research for it, but honestly, I didn’t want to mess it up since I’ve only played poker once or twice in my life. In the end, I decided it wasn’t that important.

It ended up turning suggestive. Apparently, every little story in this series wants to go in that direction.

I still have a lot of ideas for this, so if you want, help me decide the next story here.

English is not my first language

Masterlist

Law was sitting at his desk, hunched over various maps, plans, and some random notes, his sharp eyes scanning everything with meticulous focus. He was always like this—lost in some work, as if the weight of the world rested solely on his shoulders.

You stopped in the doorway for a moment, captivated by the sight of him. His spotted cap lay forgotten on the desk, leaving you free to admire the chaotic state of his black hair, likely ruffled even more with his hands—those beautiful, tattooed hands—whenever frustration got the best of him.

A smile pulled at your lips as you leaned against the frame, arms crossed, unable to tear your eyes away. There was something oddly endearing about how consumed he became by his responsibilities.

You always admired that about him.

Law continued scribbling notes, utterly unaware of your presence. The only sounds in the room were the scratching of his pen against parchment and the distant murmur of the crew moving around other parts of the submarine.

With an amused shake of your head, you cleared your throat.

Law's head snapped up, his piercing gaze locking onto yours. “What is it?” he asked as he set his pen down to give you full attention.

That was your first sign that you could get him away from his work.

“Nothing, just wanted to check up on you.” You stepped closer, slowly making your way towards him.

“I'm fine,” he waved his hand, dismissing your concerns. Typical.

“You always say that,” you said with a smirk, standing behind him. You put your hands on his arms, hugging him from behind. “The rest of the crew is drinking and playing cards tonight. You need to unwind a little too, you know.” You basically purred into his ear, wanting nothing more than to persuade him to join in your activities.

Law exhaled through his nose slowly, his expression remaining impassive, but you caught the subtle change as he mulled your words over. “I have work to do,” he replied, gesturing to the mess on his desk.

You scoffed, rolling your eyes as you pressed more against his back, peering down at the parchment. “You always have work to do,” you teased, pushing one of the maps aside.

“I don’t need to unwind,” he said stubbornly. “I'm fine here.”

You arched a brow, sensing an opening. “Oh, come on,” you pressed, your voice dripping with charm. “Pretty pleeeease?”

“Nope.”

“Please, my darling, my love, Captain of my heart, my Doctor Heartstealer, my star guiding me through this chaotic life, my—”

“Are you done?” he interrupted, deadpan. Completely unbothered by your theatrics.

“I’m done.” You flashed a playful grin. “But you can grace us with your presence every now and then. It won't kill you to enjoy yourself.”

Law let out a quiet sigh, running a hand through his hair as if debating whether indulging you was really worth the trouble. For a moment, it seemed like he might object again—but then, at last, his lips quirked ever so slightly at the corners. 

“Fine,” he relented.

You grinned, triumphant. “Finally.” With a playful shove to his shoulder and a quick kiss on his cheek, you straightened up. “Now hurry before they drink all the good stuff.”

Law huffed, as if exasperated, but there was a spark in his eyes as he stood, stretching his arms over his head, though you could tell that he wasn't really opposed to the idea. He never was, just liked to pretend otherwise.

You wasted no time, looping your arm through his and leading him toward the door. “You'll thank me later,” you teased.

“I doubt that,” Law murmured in his usual fashion, but you knew by now that he enjoyed being pestered to join in on the fun. Especially if you were the one doing the prodding.

You kept dragging him through the corridor, the distant sounds of laughter and clinking glasses growing louder with every step. You were almost giddy at the thought of having a relaxing evening. What made it even better was the fact that Law was letting himself be pulled into it.

And whether he admitted it or not, you knew he wouldn’t regret it. The rare moments of peace, the simple joy of being with the people who cared for him—this was exactly what he needed.

The second you entered the common room, you were met with a chorus of cheers and whistles from the gathered crew members. The warm overhead lights filled the room with a pleasant glow, as your eyes swept over half-filled glasses and scattered playing cards.

“Well, well, well,” Penguin drawled, throwing his cards down dramatically. “The captain actually left his cave. Somebody mark the calendar!”

Shachi snickered, leaning back in his chair with a knowing grin. “For a second there, I thought he'd fused with his desk.”

A ripple of laughter spread through the room, and even Ikakku joined in, crossing her arms with an amused smirk. “Pretty sure the only reason he's here is because you dragged him out.”

You chuckled at their reaction, steering Law toward the table. “See? I told you they'd be happy to see you out here for once,” you said, plopping down into an empty chair.

Law sighed as he lowered himself into the seat beside you. “Yeah, yeah,” he muttered, but there was no real bite in his tone.

Bepo beamed from across the table. “We're glad you're here, Captain! It’s always more fun when you play.”

Clive leaned forward. “Now the real question is—are you gonna let us win this time?”

“You’d better watch out, Captain. We’ve been practicing without you.” Jean Bart added.

He rose from his seat and made his way toward the bar. Without needing to be asked, he started preparing drinks for you and Law. You watched him for a moment, grateful for the kindness, and accepted the offer with a soft, murmured thanks.

“You all talk big,” Law said, picking up his cards with practiced ease, “but I’m not going down easy.”

You watched the exchange, shaking your head with a grin as you leaned in slightly, giving Law’s arm a playful squeeze. “Better be prepared to back up that talk,” you teased.

“Just watch,” he murmured, his gaze not straying from his cards.

The game began, and just as expected, Law approached it with the same intense focus he applied to everything else. He studied his cards, his expression unreadable, his brilliant mind already calculating every possible move. The crew did their best to distract him with banter, but he hardly flinched.

Penguin groaned as Law won yet another hand, tossing his cards onto the table in defeat. “Dammit, Captain, you're like a damn rock. Can you at least pretend to look phased for once?”

Shachi narrowed his eyes, squinting at Law with mock suspicion. “You’re cheating, aren’t you? No way you’re this good without some kind of ruse.”

Law barely acknowledged their accusations, simply smirking as he shuffled his cards. “No tricks,” he said smoothly. “Just skill.” He glanced at you then, an almost imperceptible smile showing at the corner of his lips, a tiny acknowledgment only you would catch.

A few more rounds passed, and Law's dominance remained unchallenged. The crew's attempts to rattle him were futile, though their frustration never soured the mood. If anything, it only fueled the playful competitiveness.

“I'm starting to hate you again,” Shachi muttered as Law raked in another pile of winnings. “No one is this good every single round.”

“Oh, accept your defeat gracefully, Shachi,” Law responded dryly, stacking his chips with practiced ease. “Not my fault you’re all so predictable.”

You laughed at their exchange, enjoying the crew’s exaggerated complaints. “He’s got a point,” you teased, nudging Shachi with your elbow. “You guys are pretty easy to read.”

Shachi pouted, crossing his arms. “Easy for you to say! You’re doing way too well, too. Maybe you’re both just cheating.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “No cheating here, just pure skill,” you said smugly, leaning back in your chair. “Right, Captain?” You turned to Law with a knowing wink.

For a split second, you and Law exchanged a glance, a silent understanding passing between you.

The truth? 

He had taught you how to play—how to spot the tells, how to bluff, and how to read people before they even realized they’d given themselves away. But neither of you was about to disclose that.

“That’s right,” Law said, his poker face impenetrable. “We’re just that good.”

The crew groaned in unison at his remark, though beneath their dramatic protests, there was just a joy of spending time together. 

“This is getting ridiculous,” Ikkaku grumbled, glaring after her latest loss. “Are we absolutely sure Captain isn't secretly psychic?”

Law chuckled, setting down his cards with easy confidence. “You’re just a sore loser.”

Shachi threw Law an unimpressed look. “You could at least pretend to lose once in a while,” he complained.

Law raised an eyebrow, feigning surprise. “What, and go easy on you all?” he replied. “Where’s the fun in that?”

Bepo grinned at his captain. “You're just too good, Captain.”

It wasn’t every day that Law let loose like this. There was a lightness to the way he played, an almost uncharacteristic charm as he gathered his winnings with that trademark smirk of his.

You couldn’t even be mad at losing. The warmth, the laughter, the carefree fun—it all felt like a small victory, one that came not from triumph over others but from moments like this, where everyone could just be present, enjoying themselves without worry. And, as always, it came with the unmistakable thrill of being with a crew you could actually call family.

You leaned back in your seat, taking in the chaos of it all. “So,” you mused, your tone dripping with amusement, “still happy I dragged his ass here, guys?”

The collective groan from the crew was all the answer you needed.

“Yeah, yeah,” Shachi grumbled, tossing his cards onto the table in defeat. “Even if he's kicking all our asses.” With that, he drowned the rest of his drink.

“You all make it too easy,” Law replied smoothly. His words were cool, casual—like he was simply stating a fact—but the twinkle in his eyes and the way his smile deepened betrayed the pride he took in each flawless victory. Even in moments like this, when the game was more about fun than stakes, Law’s competitive edge never quite faded.

You shook your head, still laughing, as you turned to Law. “See? I told you it would be fun.”

“I guess you were right,” he admitted.

The crew mumbled their reluctant agreement, still licking their wounds from their losses.

“You should listen to her more often,” Penguin quipped, though there was still a sulky edge to his voice. “She knows what’s good for you.”

Law shot him a pointed look, but there was no real annoyance behind it. Without thinking, his hand drifted to the small of your back. His fingers brushed lightly against your skin, a casual, instinctive gesture that sent a welcome sensation through you. Affection between you two was rarely displayed in front of the crew, kept tucked away waiting to be shared in private. So even something as simple as this felt deeply intimate. It wasn’t much, not outwardly. But to you, it meant everything.

Feeling his touch, you turned your head slightly, your gaze finding his. Soft, unspoken, meant only for him.

The crew noticed, of course. They always did. But, for once, decided not to comment, content in the knowledge that their captain—reserved, calculating, and stubborn as he was—was finally, slowly, allowing himself to let go.

“Alright, that’s enough poker for one night,” Law declared, pushing back from his chair. The crew nodded, still pouting over their losses, but none of them had the energy to protest.

“Yeah, I need a break from getting my ass handed to me,” Shachi muttered, rubbing his forehead in defeat.

Bepo beamed at Law, his fluffy ears twitching with excitement. “You were awesome tonight, Captain.”

“Next time,” Law drawled, voice laced with mock arrogance, “maybe you all can put up more of a fight.”

You stood up beside him, stretching slightly. “Or maybe you could just go a little easier on them,” you countered.

Law rolled his eyes dramatically. “And give up the chance to watch them suffer a little?” He smirked. “Never.”

The crew groaned once again. But even as they grumbled, they couldn’t hide their wide smiles. Because, for all his teasing and destroying them in games, Law’s way of letting go had its charm.

“You’re ruthless, Captain,” Harugan complained, shaking his head.

Shachi nodded in agreement. “We’ll get you back. Count on it.”

Law’s grin widened slightly, clearly enjoying their futile determination. “I’ll be looking forward to it.”

As much as you enjoyed your life as a pirate, all the adventures, discoveries, and endless places to explore, those small moments with the crew—with your family—were always the most significant part.

You grabbed Law’s arm, pulling him away from the table. “Alright, that’s enough gloating. Let’s give them time to nurse their wounded egos,” you said, laughing.

Law followed your lead, his arm naturally sliding around your shoulders as you both walked away from the table. His gaze drifted back toward the crew, the corner of his mouth lifting slightly. “See you all tomorrow. Rest up, lick your wounds.”

“Yeah, yeah,” they called after him, waving him off. Their complaints were empty, their eyes glinting with the promise of future revenge.

As the two of you stepped out into the quieter halls of the ship, the sounds of laughter and grumbling fading behind you, the air seemed to settle into a more peaceful atmosphere. Law let out a low chuckle, a rare softness creeping into his voice.

“Thanks for dragging my ass out there, as you put it.”

You grinned up at him, amused by his reluctant admission. “Told you it’d be good for you,” you replied, poking at his side playfully. “Besides, it was fun watching you humiliate them—even if I got a little humiliated in the process too.”

“No, no, you held your own,” he assured you. “You even beat me a couple of times.”

“Yeah, a couple,” you scoffed, though you couldn’t hide your smile. “But you still won overall. I forgot how competitive you can be.”

Law’s smirk deepened. “Can you blame me? Sometimes it’s good to remind them who the captain is,” he said, a hint of that cocky arrogance of his slipping through.

You shook your head fondly. “And there’s that ego of yours,” you teased. “You really can’t resist proving you’re the best, can you?”

“When I am the best,” he said smoothly, his voice dropping slightly. “Why would I hold back?”

Oh, how you loved that cocky edge in his voice.

You wouldn’t confess it out loud easily, but truth be told, you wouldn’t change a damn thing about him. Not his arrogance, nor the way his eyes were a little too sharp. Not even how blunt and insensitive he could be.

It was late by the time the two of you reached the captain’s quarters—your quarters now, too.

Officially. 

The air carried a familiar tranquility, broken only by the steady motion of the submarine and the distant, muffled sounds of the crew retreating to their routines. But here, behind the closed door and beneath the soft, amber glow of the lights, the world had narrowed to just the two of you.

As the door clicked shut behind you, you marched toward Law. “Thanks for teaching me how to play poker,” you said. “It really paid off in there.”

Law chuckled, leaning casually against the wall, his golden eyes studying you. “You picked it up fast,” he admitted, the usual calm in his tone betrayed slightly by the note of pride. “Didn’t expect you to catch on that quickly.”

You grinned, practically glowing at the compliment. “Well,” you said, taking a step closer, just enough for your shoulder to brush his arm, “I had a good teacher.”

Before he could respond, you closed the distance between you in a heartbeat, wrapping your arms around his neck. Your fingers slid into the strands at his nape as your body pressed flush against his.

Law inhaled sharply at the sudden intimacy, his body stiffening for just a second before his hands instinctively found your waist, pulling you even closer. His grip was firm, the warmth of his palms seeping through the fabric and settling into your skin.

“Flattery will get you everywhere,” he murmured.

You laughed, soft and smug. You reveled in the power of being the one to rattle him. “I know,” you whispered, your lips grazing along the sharp edge of his jaw before pressing a tender kiss there.

Law’s breath hitched at the contact. His tattooed fingers tightened on your waist as he tilted his head slightly, granting you better access.

Taking full advantage of the way he melted beneath your touch, you let your lips trail slow kisses along the sharp line of his jaw, down the strong column of his throat. Your fingers slipped over his chest, exploring the muscle hidden under his shirt, every rise and fall of his breath growing just a little less controlled.

“You know,” you said against his skin, the words barely more than a breath. “I think we’ve spent enough time entertaining everyone else for tonight. Don’t you?”

“Yeah…” His voice was rougher now. His hands slid from the back of your neck down your spine. He paused at the curve of your hip before gripping your thigh firmly, pulling it up to hook around him, and the shiver that coursed through you was instant. “Let’s entertain ourselves now.”

A delighted giggle escaped your lips just before Law moved, swift and decisive. In one fluid motion, he lifted you as if you weighed nothing, his grip secure. Your legs wrapped instinctively around his waist, your arms tightening around his neck, fingers tangling in his hair for balance—or maybe just to feel closer.

The world blurred as he carried you across the room with that same steady confidence he carried everywhere.

When your back met the bed, a small gasp left you, the mattress dipping beneath you as he hovered above. His gaze was heated, his expression unreadable like usual and yet entirely consuming.

“So…” You looked up at him, your lips parted, your body already responding to his touch. “What kind of entertainment did you have in mind?”

Law’s smirk deepened, his hands sliding over your body with intentional slowness, tracing every curve beneath his fingertips. His golden eyes gleamed with that vitality that was reserved just for you as he leaned down, his lips brushing just barely against yours.

“Something a little more… private,” he answered, his voice a dangerous whisper. His hands traveled lower, fingers tracing heated paths along your skin. “Something that doesn’t involve any cards… or clothes, for that matter.”

“Sounds like my kind of entertainment,” you whispered, your fingers tightening in his hair just as he finally closed the space between you.

The time you spent with the crew was important, meaningful in its own right. But this? These rare moments behind closed doors, when Law let the world slip away and gave you the parts of himself no one else saw. This was what you treasured most. 

[alexanderlightweight]

I know I prompted last week so feel free to ignore this one but I thought it might be a little amusing. I'm moving soon (new job woo!) and yesterday my work laptop bluescreened, this morning my kitchen sink stopped working, now my bedroom lamp is flickering. Given that we have some highly magical buildings in the series how do they (loft or institute) react to Magnus/Alec moving out? Perhaps Lorenzo's deal doesn't work so well if the Loft itself gets a say. I loved all the recent hair lore prompts!

this was a bit ago but jsyk I never mind people prompting in a row, I just have limited time/energy but my plans are always to get to everything answered eventually!

i hope that did not continue? but also I agree, everytime you move the place you leave and the place you go to, everything that can go wrong will happily do so!!! I hope you new job is going well and treating you good?

Magnus - did not lose his magic in this scenario because i hate that plotline. They made a deal, Magnus is bunking with Alec because he wants to, not because he has to. He changes his mind after one night and opens up quite a few properties because he definitely has more than a single loft in his territory.

I hope you enjoy <3

lumine

—-

Lorenzo doesn’t need Magnus Bane’s loft and it’s not even for the property value, despite how nice it is, it hardly compares to any of his own, old and kept in pristine condition estates.

It’s because for several centuries, Lorenzo has been living in the shadow of Magnus’ Bane reputation and the idea of cutting him down, even when he’s already low, is too delightful to pass up.

How can Lorenzo remain in the shadow of a man now at his feet?

It’s that thought, that power that adds a little swagger to his step and a swirl to his wrist as he makes himself a delicious drink.

Except a moment after he takes a sip, he frowns.

Something is wrong with the drink and it isn’t until he uses both magic and his nose, that he realizes somehow his bottles of expensive alcohol have been changed.

His old fashioned somehow ended up with everclear rather than the bourbon or rye whiskey that he uses.

It’s foul and he dumps it down the drain and carefully uses his own hands rather than magic.

It tastes better, but the spoon he used to stir the first is missing and no matter how hard he looks, or even when he uses magic, it doesn’t turn up.

Since Lorenzo has too much on his plate with his new duties, he doesn’t bother to waste anymore time or magic.

The drink is subpar without his spoon but the view is still stunning. At least until that night when — after a profoundly intimate dinner party reviewing art — Lorenzo wakes up to the entire loft not only shaking.

But moving.

Mere moments after he wakes, Lorenzo is barely managing to keep the loft intact, his magic unprepared and wildly incapable of keeping up with the sudden onslaught.

When he’s done, he chances a glance out the window only to find himself in an entirely new area.

One far from where he went to sleep and one he doesn’t recognize.

He dials Bane without hesitation, his phone never far from him.

“Alec Lightwood.”

Lorenzo pauses because... he was expecting Magnus Bane.

Not Magnus’ Bane’s infuriating shadowhunter.

“I need to speak to the former High Warlock.” Lorenzo can’t help the little extra dig, because Magnus Bane is no longer so high and mighty.

“Well, he’s sleeping. So that will have to wait.”

“You could just wake him up.” Lorenzo reminds him, because talking to Alec Lightwood increasingly becomes like talking to a brick wall the longer Lorenzo knows him. Perhaps he is in need of prompting, which Lorenzo is willing to offer.

“I could, but I’m not going to. Magnus needs his sleep.”

Lorenzo takes a long breath and rethinks his strategy, “can you at least ask him, the moment he wakes. Why has the loft he traded me for my help moved?”

“Oh, did you catch the street you’re on now? I can probably give you the address if you did. If your magick wasn’t strong enough to tether it to the new building then it probably reverted.  Magnus explained to me about magical ricochet but, well you probably know what I’m talking about. Having magick and all that.”

Lorenzo admits he did not catch the street and Lightwood hangs up like he’s done anything but gives Lorenzo more of a crisis than he already has going on.

Lorenzo doesn’t know how but he somehow feels worse after the call.

“Tethered?” 

Lorenzo really doesn’t like where it seems like this is going, but he needs answers and he finds himself calling in a few favors.

Because he still doesn’t know where he is but he is most definitely sure that it’s not because his magic is lacking in any way.

-

AN:

uh so, the loft is quite magical and it's not magnus' fault that Lorenzo doesn't have enough magic to maintain the property. like. that's on Lorenzo, wanting to take on a property he can't manage or afford the *magical* upkeep of.

magnus is planning to wait this out until Lorenzo either begs him to take the loft back, or eventually whoever Lorenzo manages to hoist it onto, also finds out that Magnus is the original owner/architect and tries to return it.

alec is currently moonlighting as Magnus' secretary since he doesn't have his normal communication wards up at the institute.

Magnus is not sleeping btw, he simply handed the phone to Alec because he didn't want to deal with Lorenzo and his boy is ride or die.

not that Magnus will let his alexander die, but still.