#all you need to know about pierce is hes a bastard whos full of himself. he has killed before and he will kill again at any point in time

[ratgingi]

😱 < me when im in a horrible vibes competition and these two walk in [pierce, he/him + oopsie, she/her]

[kissitbttr]

mafia!toji first time meeting stripper!reader

a/n: reader is fem. and since i’ve been hit with biggest writers block known to a man, this one is inspired by one of my old work called gold. enjoy!

-

toji zenin is a ruthless man. that, you can definitely count on.

he’s known to be the one who shows little to no mercy. who’s soul isn’t as clean due to the countless of lives he had taken.

as crazy as it sounds, toji craves for the sound of piercing cries from someone who begs to spare them compassion. he likes to taunt them. mock them. pretending that he would eventually let them go just to see that little flicker of hope lighting upon their gaze.

a sinister smile would play coyly upon his lips before he decides the latter. pulling the trigger and watches the victim face planting the dark tile as their brains scatter all over the walls and floor.

it’s one way to teach people a lesson to not fuck with him. to not fuck with his business. because toji zenin is crazy like that.

he has no time for patience nor pity.

toji fixes the collar of his black sheer shirt, checking himself out in the mirror to make sure he looks good tonight. who are we kidding though? he’s toji fucking zenin,

tonight was supposed to be his day off. he had plans. before a motherfucker who runs a strip club decides to mess with him about the package deal and had almost lost him half of the money he’s supposed to own,

he could’ve let his right hand man to handle it. but this is bigger than anything he had ever done. is this goes to south, then one person’s death wouldn’t be the only thing on his agenda,

he’ll track down every single one of the bastards and kill them with his own hands,

however, tonight needs to be as clean as possible.he’s aware of the reputation he has put on himself to the world, so no point of hiding or camouflage. yet, he still doesn’t want to cause too much of a scene,

stepping away from the full length mirror, he swiftly picks his black velvet coat off the hanger before shrugging it on,

“talk to me, satoru” his heavy voice echoes the hallway as he steps out of the room to walk downstairs, watching a few of his men pocketing their weapons,

gojo satoru. his right hand man, nods,

“he’s there. word from bianco. he appears isn’t expecting you to stop by” he informs, showing toji the message on his phone. “it’s going to be crowded. but bianco is taking care of that right now. he’s got nowhere to run”

toji scoffs, snatching a glass of whiskey off the table before downing the remaining drink. “good. i need him to see me when he less expects it. owes me more than some fucking money” he mutters, tucking the G21 down his holster.

gojo raises an eyebrow. “G21? you’re going soft tonight eh, boss?”

toji shoots him a hard glare, one where the white haired man only chuckle at. “the car’s ready?”

another nod, gojo leads toji down towards the basement. “as requested. Lamborghini Murcielago. your personal favorite. packed with 640 PS and 471 Kw—i think you know what that means— rules around 213 mph if you consider on going hit and run. i packed a standard aeropack wing if you wanna go slow. windows? bulletproof. in case anyone tries to kill you” toji knows for a fact that gojo is only joking about the last part.

no one dares to try to take him down before he does it. it’s a pattern everyone knows by now,

toji lets out a low whistle, head softly shaking at the machine beauty before him. fingers tracing along the hood of the car,

“shit—you know i need to lay low, man? got anything less attractive?”

“i don’t do less. you know that, boss” he winks playfully, laughing to himself when he watches toji rolls his eyes. “besides. this thing right here will for sure earns you a bird. take her out on a stroll, bring her home. women love fast cars” he comments,

humming as a response, toji walks towards the driver’s seat. “i don’t date. were you born yesterday or something?” he speaks in a firm tone before catching the keys that gojo throws at him,

“no I wasn’t. but isn’t ‘she who shall not be named’ is like what? two years ago? and you got to stop with the one night stands. go get a girl tonight” he suggests, watching the dark haired man sliding himself into the car,

toji gives him a half hearted smile. “noted”

“i’ll be right behind you, boss. slow down, yeah?”

-

it takes about thirty minutes prior to arrival. toji blames it all on the traffic and the slow pedestrians crossing the road. cursing to himself every five seconds, each time he stops at red lights.

he parks his car close to the entrance before exiting from the vehicle, tossing his keys at one of the valet but not before roughly grabbing his collar and threaten to kill him if one scratch is prominent on his car.

clearing his throat, he walks into the bar. ignoring the stares and whispers at the sight of a notorious ruthless man who decides to pay the club a visit.

one thing he first to notice, the club is indeed packed. gojo wasn’t lying. as if God knew what is about to happen later on and isn’t going to let him get away with witnesses. he needs to play it safe tonight.

as he strides through the darkened room to find the table he had been reserved for, a few half naked girls walk right pass him. delicate fingers stroking his chest and brushing against his shoulders, making him smirk. he can’t lie, most of them are gorgeous and he’s tempted enough to touch their skin, but he has to hold it. not that he isn’t interested, because his mind changed. he is definitely taking someone back to his place tonight.

fucking gojo. he has to be right every time.

speak of the devil, the white haired man appears by his side in minutes. nodding his head towards the area where the business should be conducted. toji follows him close towards the end of the room,

he gently pulls back a chair for him to sit, as gojo and the two of his other men stands behind to watch over. toji specifically asks for the furthest table, with a glass of whiskey has been prepared for him.

toji feels irritated. he hates doing all of this dirty work just because some fucking bastard isn’t able to keep up with the deal. he should’ve known not to trust alec to do business, yet when the pathetic excuse of a man begged on his knees with a gun knocked against his head, toji thought why not? if he didn’t get to fulfill his demands, he gets to kill him either way.

“alright, alright—fuck! easy man!” alec’s frantic voice causes toji’s eyes to avert from the scene of the crowd. his eyebrows knitted, threatening gaze bores upon the man whose pushed forcefully by his men to sit, “mr. zenin! it’s always a pleasure to see you!”

mind that alec owes him more than fifty grand, and this fucker had the nerve to walk in and act like nothing happened,

he is definitely going to kill him,

“you don’t fucking talk to me that way, alec. i’m not your friend. you owe me something” toji warns, his finger pointing at him as he watches the trembling man gulp. “you remember?”

alec couldn’t feel more terrified as he casts a glance of toji’s gun on the table, facing towards him. “i—i know, man—sir” he corrects himself. “i didn’t forget. it’s just that the money is tight right now. the girls aren’t earning amount of money they—“

toji could only scoff, head thrown back. “i didn’t fucking hire your girls. i hired you. stop being a pussy and own up to that. you should know that me and patience never get along. i have one body bag left in my car and it would give me the tremendous pleasure writing your name on it” he grits his teeth, looking at alec with a dark look in his eyes as he balls his fist,

“i just need more time—“

“one month isn’t enough?!” toji barks, making alec jumps at the booming voice

“i need more. i promise. give me one more month. and i will do whatever you ask me to, sir zenin.” alec begs with hopeful eyes,

toji finds it disgusting and repulsive to see someone like him begging for mercy. or anyone at all. that gesture is weak and vulnerable. “i don’t give out second chances”

alec hears a gun clicks from behind. he doesn’t need to ask, he knows that one of the two men behind him is ready to blow his brains out. “sir zenin, please! just one more chance! please”

once again, toji isn’t a very patient man. he knows enough to understand that it’s a mistake. but he would love to see how this one goes, playing along with this little game of his.

toji isn’t a fool. never was.

he looks over at gojo, as if to ask what he thinks. the answer that gojo could give is ‘your choice, boss’

toji sighs, head shaking. “fine. you give me your best girl of the night, and i’ll give you one more month” he offers, taking a sip of his drink, leaning himself back to relax. “no more than that”

alec nods. though he feels like shitting himself because one month isn’t close enough for collecting the amount of money he owes toji to. still, he thinks this is better than nothing.

“take your pick, mr. zenin. or i could bring one or two here? we have twins in the back and they sure are on high demand, everyone has been begging me to—“

toji could only hum in response, not listening to a word he’s saying. his green eyes scanning over at the scene. the girls are putting on a show, showing off their skills, some are pulling a lap dance on a few customers. he cringes when one suddenly takes her bra off like she costs nothing. seems like none of these girls are his type. gorgeous? yes. but they don’t seem to do enough to make his cock twitch,

he’s about to take back the offer until his eyes fall on her. eyes widening in amusement and toji finds himself freezing on the spot.

a slight curvier woman has her leg hooked around the pole. long dark haired brushing against the marble floor as she arches her back slightly. toji observes the way her body moves so sensually yet gracefully, almost like a feather. the way she bites onto her pink glossed lips and how her eyes manage to flirt with the crowd with one simple look. she has them lured into her presence. himself included.

her body—fuck, he doesn’t even know where to begin. delicious curves cladded in navy blue bodysuit, full breasts supported by the cup of her outfit that bounces each time she moves. soft thick thighs wrapped by a white fishnet stockings and legs decorated in white fuzzy pumps. overall it’s quite revealing, but it still presents the modesty she has on her. he’s not quite sure if it’s the outfit or it’s just her,

but only a fool would assume that it isn’t the latter.

toji feels his pants growing tight when his gaze lowers to how her hips moving in circles. in painfully slow motion too. almost like she knows how to tease and she’s doing it so perfectly. if only he had spotted her from before, he would’ve move closer.

a damn fucking beauty she is.

“her. i want her” toji speaks in a firmer tone, almost territorial. he just can’t take his eyes off the woman. watching every single move and a wink being thrown.

he chuckles when she swats a couple of old hands who seems desperate to try and cope a feel with a dirty look on her face. he couldn’t make out what she’s saying but he knows for sure that she’s telling them off,

‘gorgeous and a fighter’ he thinks to himself

“angel? you want her?” alec asks after he realizes who he’s pointing at,

“that’s her real name?”

“no. she doesn’t let anyone know her real name. she goes by that ever since she starts working here” alec informs, watching toji nods,

so she’s new?

“some calls her birthday cake”

that makes toji’s brows scrunched. he is about to ask why the name until the answer is immediately given to him when she decides to do a side split, making her plump ass bounce against the floor.

oh that’s why

“gorgeous” toji breathes, cocking his head to the side. “not taken is she? not that i care anyway. what a fucking dime she is. you’re going to give her to me, correct?” his voice is threatening enough, dark eyes moving to look at alec who nods.

“yes! of course, sir! if that’s what you want”

“fuck yes i do. bring her to me” he demands before gulping down his drink, watching how alec immediately scrambles off the chair and hurries towards where angel is performing,

toji keeps his eyes set on the mysterious lady. refusing to move. he doesn’t want to miss a single thing. especially when she’s on her hands and knees, ass up in the air for the crowd to see and eyes looking over her shoulder earning cheer, applause and money flown just for her.

gojo lets out a wolf whistle. “good choice, zenin”

he hums, the girl now up on her feet. lifting herself up after she hooks her arm around the pole and give them a twirl. “tell me gojo. have you seen anyone as beautiful as she is?”

“definitely not. you just might hit the jackpot”

indeed he did. toji may have made a lot of mistakes but he’s never wrong when it comes to choosing partners . he’s always careful with it.

there is something so different about her and he’s very sure about it too. from how she’s not afraid to tell the men in the audience off, putting that smart mouth to use. unlike the girls he has seen around where they just take the humiliation. but her?

she fights back. just how he likes his women.

“fuck off alec, i mean it! my shift is almost over. i’m not interested being passed around to your friends or co-workers!”

he hears her protest. toji doesn’t even realize that she’s walking closer towards his table with alec’s grip around her elbow,

“who said anything about passing you around? i just need to introduce you to one of the most important men here!” alec defends,

“weird way of saying you want me to suck their cocks” she comments

a foul mouth indeed toji thinks

alec throws her a hard glare, in which she only scoffs and roll her eyes. “mr. toji zenin, I would like to introduce you to angel. she’s been here for almost a year now.”

toji grins at that, standing up from his chair and looks over at the beauty with a disinterested look on her face. seemingly look like she doesn’t want to be here. yet she smiles at him anyway, and he swears he has never seen something so pretty,

“nice to meet you, beautiful ” toji extends his hand for her to take, giving a soft kiss on it. his eyes aren’t looking away from hers. “hell. you’re even gorgeous up close”

she won’t deny it. this man is absolutely handsome. and she doesn’t see a lot of them working here. most are old and married, which something that she finds disgusting. but this man, toji? he is far from ugly.

first thing she noticed was how broad he’s built. the way he towers over her and he’s not even standing that close to her small figure. even the dark room fails to hide the definition of his muscles through the black shirt he’s wearing. and the thin scar over his pulled lips, showcasing a smirk.

is this man even a man?

as handsome as he is, angel raises an eyebrow, not feeling entirely influenced by the gesture. “so have you been observing me this whole time? that’s creepy”

“angel” alec hisses, gripping her elbow a bit tighter making her flinch a bit and her body to cowers a little.

“sorry” she mutters in irritation, gaze falling down to the floor

the interaction somehow irks toji to the bone. he eyes how alec treats her in front him, it would probably even worse behind closed doors.

he doesn’t even want to know.

“you can fucking let go now alec, you’re hurting her” toji demands, throwing him a sharp stare. alec’s pupils are wide open at that, causing him to release his grip almost immediately and for angel to nurse her reddening skin.

one thing that toji wouldn’t accept, is violence against women.

toji’s gaze beginning to soften yet again when he watches the pretty girl before him. how her long hair cascading down her back, exposing the sharp of her collarbones and valleys of her breasts,

if only her look of fear is replaced with a look of comfort,

“you can leave us be. thanks” toji coldly orders at alec, not wanting to be near his presence anymore. he’s had enough seeing that bastard,

he nods, avoiding his stare but not before muttering a ‘don’t fuck this up’ to angel before one toji’s men escorts him out,

“don’t worry about him doll. he’s gone, yeah?” he comforts her almost immediately, not wanting her to be scared anymore,

“oh—yeah, uhm thanks” she shoots him a smile. a genuine one this time, taking his hand in hers when he offers it. "so how do you want this--''

“if you don’t mind” he puts a hand behind her back immediately to guide her to the couch behind, earning a quizzical look on her face. “i want to get to know you first”

“mr. zenin. with all due respect, this is not a date. i’m working”

he chuckles at her forward response, still she lets him lead to the velvet couch. angel sits first, eyes glancing up for a moment and see a handsome white haired man with his arms crossed. he quickly removes himself from the presence and walk out. his other men following him from behind.

and now there’s just two.

“i just want to take my time with you. is that okay?” toji sits back down, watching her crossed her legs as she keeps the distance between them,

she smiles with a shrug, toying with the strap of her bra, “you could do that while i’m giving you a dance—if you want?”

toji makes a mental note on how her eyes glow under the violet lights when she stares at him. almost like it’s so easy for him to see what goes beyond that. they’re so so pretty. prettiest he’s ever seen indeed. despite the flirty tone lacing under her response, she still has the look of innocence that makes him smile back.

she’s no better too. the way he’s looking directly into her eyes should be a crime. his gaze speaks something. something… lustful and dangerous.

he nods, letting out a breathe of relief as he leans himself back before spreading his thighs as an invitation.

“show me what you got then gorgeous”

angel swears she can hear the beat of her heart getting louder the moment she sits herself down on his lap. still, without him having to suspect anything, she keeps her flirty persona for a show.

“my, my—you really are a fucking dime” he lowly whistles, eyes falling to the curve of her breasts. “i can see why people were loving you back there. hopefully they don’t get jealous when i stole you away”

she giggles, a small blush creeping on her cheeks. “aren’t you a flirt. you do this to every girl?”

toji places his hands on her plump ass, resting it there. he knows that there are rules where it’s forbidden you touch the dancers. but he doesn’t give a shit. and it’s not like anyone had the balls to tell him off anyway.

“only to those who i find interesting, baby” he says, eyes not looking away from the beauty as be squeezes her flesh making himself groan. “fuck me. that’s an ass? right here?”

his comment makes her laugh as she throws her head back. loving how genuine he actually sounds when he said that.

“so—mr. zenin” she begins, giving him a naughty smile as her hands finds their way to his shoulders, feeling how tense they are under his grip. “what brings you to this awful depth of town, hm?”

he clears his throat, wetting down the bottom of his mouth while keeping his hands steady on her hips. finding no desire to move them. “business. your bastard of a boss owes me something. I didn’t think i would actually be here right now, accompanied by a gorgeous woman like yourself”

damn. he sure is charming and cheeky. definitely a player. “you sure are a sweet talker, mr. zenin” she tells him before slowly beginning to grind against his bulge causing him to exhale another deep groan. “are you sure—you don’t make bitches wet talking like that?”

he mutters a low ‘christ’ when he feels himself growing hard under her sultry move, yet she isn’t stopping. and she only had just started. “believe me doll, i’ve had my fair shares with many—but damn, they sure don’t make me hard like you do—cross my heart”

her hips the move in tiny circles, keeping a painfully slow pace but enough to keep him satisfied. “i don’t trust you but okay—anyway, what did you and alec talked about anyway?”

“nosy, huh?”

she rolls her eyes. “i have the right to ask since he practically sold me to you for tonight—my shift was supposed to be over, mr. zeni—“

“toji” he cuts her off, thumb softly stroking against her hip bone

“what was that?”

“just call me toji” he repeats with a small grin. “and okay that’s fair—he has something very important of mine. was supposed to pay a month ago, but that piece of shit isn’t known to be the one who keeps his promises”

she hums in response, leaning herself back slowly and rests her palms upon his knees to keep her body steady. her hips are now moving back and forth.

toji shamelessly let his eyes wander down from her breasts to her thick thighs. “i was going to blow his brains out tonight. right here. on this one spot. but he begged like a bitch and i wanted to see how far he goes” he laughs almost darkly,

it scares her a little by how calm he’s being about murdering someone. with the way his eyes staring at her aren’t really helping too. like a predator eyeing his prey. almost like he knows how to make her weak on the knees.

“looks like he’s in big big trouble, then” she giggles cutely. “not surprised anyway. he owes alot of money to the girls too. mine included”

he cocks an eyebrow, feeling himself tensing. “does he now? how long?”

“can’t count. i had to pull bunch of shitty excuses to the landlord just so he won’t kick me out of the apartment. half of our earnings each night, goes to him. saying that he’ll pay me back but I know he never will” she spills casually, then her movement comes into a halt. “oh fuck, don’t tell him i said that”

with a chuckle, his head shakes. “i won’t. but i could kill him for you, if you want me to. just say the word” he speaks lowly, continuing to admire her body. “mind if i ask how long have you been working here?”

it takes her a while to answer. “almost a year. I quit college for this. not because i love it entirely, but i couldn’t pay for it anymore.” she sighs,

“i’m sorry to hear that. what were you studying?”

“bio-engineering” she smiles, “people tend to be surprised when i told them that”

“count me in as well, sweetheart, damn. not only she’s hot as fuck but she’s smart too?” he shakes his head in disbelief. “you even real, right now?”

she laughs, flipping her hair. “thank you, toji—can i ask you something?”

he hums, callouses hands move towards her back, holding her steady,

“what happened there” she points at the scar, struggling to find the urge not to trace her fingers across it,

he shrugs, “was from a fight years ago. nothing major”

“can i—touch it?” she softly asks him, looking so innocent yet teasingly,

toji smirks, head nodding. “go ahead, baby” he speaks in a low baritone. voice so deep and flirty that it almost makes her squirm,

she ignores the butterflies in her stomach when he calls her that. and without being told twice, she leans closer and her fingers reach out to pad the scar gently. feeling how soft his lips against her skin, paying attention to every single detail of it. wondering how on earth could a scar fit someone so perfectly.

there is no doubt on her mind, that he is the sexiest man she has ever come across to. she can feel the weight of his palm lowering itself down to her plump cheek, squeezing it. usually, she would tell anyone off for touching her like that. but this time, she doesn’t say anything. not because she’s afraid of him but she feels strangely turned on.

“fuck” he breathes out, feeling her ass one more time. hearing him like that just makes her giggle as she gradually picks up the pace grinding on him, catching toji off guard.

“such a naughty little girl—bet you wouldn’t mind having that ass spanked now would you?” he whispers against her ear, biting his lower lip hard.

though she would admit that she wouldn’t, she won’t allow him to win this game. she slowly shakes her head with a smirk, removing herself off his lap causing him to whine. angel spins around, not without swaying her ass side to side, sneaking a glance to make sure he’s watching,

her hand immediately circles around the pole in front of them. “dinner is mandatory if you want to go down to that path, mr. zenin”

toji watches carefully with lust and admiration as she now securing her arm around the golden pole, lifting herself off easily and give her body a gentle spin. eyes screwed shut and head thrown back. coming back down slowly, she re-enacts the movement from where she performed for the audience. legs spread apart, landing in a perfect split. long brown hair covering the side of her beautiful features, tongue licking her upper lip.

he follows the curve of her ass, eager to get his hands on them but he knows that he has to wait. there, he spots a small heart tattoo inked on her ass cheek,

angel is a little teaser. that’s for sure. enjoying herself too much in making a man hard yet refuses to be under the spell of a man’s touch. he likes that actually. likes that a lot. it may be painful to have his cock hard at the moment while she’s not doing anything about it but she’s worth it.

so, so worth it.

“you are so. fucking. sexy.” his voice switches into something darker, a seductive grin slowly forming as he thirsts over her. “must have made a lot of men mad out there”

“so i have been told” she declares with confidence, innocent smile pulling upon her lips as she begins to gently crawl towards him, eyes never leaving his.

she halts in between his open legs, settling on her knees. being the little minx she is, her hands find a place on top of his thighs. “i sense you carry danger everywhere you go, mr. zenin—am i wrong?”

she’s not dumb. she spotted his gun strapped against his holster an hour before she was even being introduced to the man.

he delicately caresses her soft cheek, almost came in his pants when she leans against his palm. “why? that scares you?” he moves a few strands of hair that are blocking his view of her pretty face,

she shakes her head, a smile doesn’t leave her face. in fact, he hears a soft giggle escapes her.

his eyes move from the curve of her breasts and up to her mouth. eyeing the way that pink gloss compliments her pretty skin.

“would love to have a taste—right here” toji whispers, his thumb grace her lower lip. his breath immediately hitches, and a groan rumbles deep in his chest the moment she opens her mouth.

“fuck—what a good girl” he moans lowly when she lets his thumb rest upon her warm wet tongue. the angelic look in her eyes disappears and is replaced with a look of lust. “s-shit” it takes him by surprise when she decides to suckle it, head bobbing her head up and down painfully slow,

“jesus—i wish it was my cock you’re sucking right now, baby” nonetheless, the amount of pleasure she’s giving him is enough to keep him satisfied,

“holy fuck, wow” she pops her lips off his thumb. wiping the saliva from the corner of her mouth before giggling again. the sound makes toji smile. genuinely.

“you’re trouble” he comments with a tsk, chuckling at the way she shrugs innocently as if she has no idea what he’s talking about. “alright. up you get, baby”

she gives him a questionable look, following his movement and rise to her feet. “mr. zenin, we still have thirty minutes left. alec gave me at least an hour and he would be upset if i—“

“if he touches you, you tell me and i’ll kill him. understand?” toji sternly orders, brows furrowing at the thought of that lowlife bastard putting his hands on her,

she’s baffles at that. how could he know what goes behind closed doors? still she nods anyway. “yes, sir”

“toji, baby. toji” he corrects with a smile. “besides, if i stayed for another ten minutes, i’ll l cream in my pants and that would be embarrassing” he shamelessly points out. she blushes at that and it makes toji’s heart skips a bit,

“this doesn’t mean it’s a one and done. i would love to see you again, sweetheart. can’t let you go too far now can i?” he pulls out his wallet from his back pocket and hands her thick amount of hundreds. “here you go, angel”

she gasps softly as her eyes go big, shocked by the bundle of cash in his hand. if she counts it right that’s gotta be at least close to one grand.

“toji this is—fuck this is too much, I—i can’t take these. twenty or fifteen is enough for me”

he frowns. who in the right mind think it’s okay for men to tip a gorgeous woman with a rocking body some loose change? fucking assholes.

“baby, you do realize who you’re talking to? i don’t give out twenty or less” he quirks an eyebrow, watching her adorable expression. “money isn’t a problem to me. a grand isn’t a problem to me. come on, you deserve it”

she stares down at his hand and hesitantly takes the money. flashing him a wide smile. “mr—i mean, toji, oh my god thank you so much. thank you, thank you!” without any second thoughts, she jumps out and wrap her arms around his neck,

“you don’t know how much this means to me. i needed this”

toji stumbles a bit, the sudden movement surprises him but he appreciates it. the way she keeps thanking him, muttering couple of blessings has somehow gives his heart a little kick,

a good one.

“no need to thank me, baby” toji grins, holding her by the waist to keep her secured for a moment before pulling away. “you take care of yourself yeah? don’t be wandering too far. would love to take you out on a stroll” he leans down to peck her cheek,

“I’ll be sure to stop by and see you again, gorgeous” with one last devilish smile, he walks out of the room. leaving her still in complete shock,

he is no ordinary man, alright. it kinda makes her feel a bit weird by all the butterflies that are erupting her stomach by how he acted earlier. has it been.. what? two or three years since she had been engaged in any sort of relationships with a man. and there has been no real man crawling around this city. only rats. she fucking hates rats.

but toji zenin? there’s definitely something about him that makes his whole aura and appearance a lot more sexier. again, she’s not stupid. she has seen the gun. observed his interaction with her boss. and the men he had protecting him suits?

that’s no 9-5 man. it’s dirty work.

and it should’ve scared her. it should’ve been a warning made for her to run and avoid him because he’s a man that carries danger everywhere he goes. toji zenin is a man that would not hesitate to paint the whole town in blood of his victims if one ever crosses his territory.

yet as she glances down at the bills being handed at her and promise from him that he would see her again, it makes her smile. heart thumping at the thought of the beautiful man coming back only for her.

angel clutches the money against her chest, squealing as she does little bounces in her heels with a giggle. overjoyed with the amount of cash that would help her,

she’s definitely making toji her new favorite client

[sunni-stuff]

I've been thinking about pirate!Ghost for the past couple weeks. I needed to get this out now.

-🌤! Tags: Afab, Uncontrollable Horniness, nsfw, age-gap. (early to mid 20s.)

The Sea Dogs were an entire ship full of ragtag men, each with his own story and reasons for joining the crusade across countless seas. Captain John Price, the leader of this crew, was a renowned figure known for his leadership and countless achievements. He had led his crew through years of wear and tear on the unforgiving waves, making their name heard far and wide.

None were as infamous as Ghost, his trusted gunner, known for his quick dagger throws and even quicker shots. A hulking man with a standoffish demeanor and unwavering cautiousness, Ghost never fully showed his face. He wore a black bandana tied around the lower half of his face, with black paint smudged around his eyes, revealing nothing yet leaving his harsh brown orbs to pierce the soul of anyone who stared too long.

To those who did not know him, Ghost was intimidating, deadly, and most of all, someone to avoid. He was fine with this. He relished the benefits his appearance gave him, how people shrank away at the mere sight of him, even from a distance. It made sense–who in their right mind would want to be near a man who had put a bullet through so many men that he couldn't count them all on his fingers?

Ghost was ruthless.

A silent marauder who took what he wanted without a second thought, plundering from men and women alike. Wherever he walked, the bodies and blood of the lives he took at sea seemed to follow. The culprit, his calloused hands bore the weight of his trusted flintlock, a companion who would even accompany him to his very grave.

A dirty bastard indeed.

Too dirty for the likes of you.

You.

You, who he sees, enter the blacksmith's forge. You, who wore a simple white dress with a black corset tied tightly around your waist. You, who smiled so innocently to the islanders as you carried out your chores. Running errands for your father all around the quaint island, carrying a simple woven basket filled with bread and biscuits in your delicate arms.

His mouth runs dry.

Ghost can't take his eyes off you as you walk past him, saying, “hello.” to a nearby merchant. Your sweet voice renders him speechless, drowning out everything else around him. He can’t hear Price bartering anymore. He can’t hear Gaz and Soap ribbing on who can pull in the most lasses. All he can hear is the sound of his heart beating and your brief yet lovely hello. He watches the sway of your hips beneath the fabric of your dress, how your stays lifts your delectable bosom with each breath.

He wants—needs to sink his teeth in you.

Ghost is desperate to touch you, to possess you completely. He craves the feeling of his hands on your skin, his lips ravishing yours as he listens to the sweet moans in his head. He wants nothing more than to thrust himself inside you and claim you as his own, burying his thick cock deep within your weeping pussy.

You’re a real peach. All smiles and fluttering lashes. A young thing, he assumes, based on the way the people dote on you so as you pass by shops, making your way back to your father’s bakery.

He’s an older man, one weathered by storms and battles, which do nothing to deter him from his new conquest. After all, the older the berry, the sweeter the juice.

And Ghost believes himself sweet enough.

Ghost discreetly adjusts the growing bulge in his pants and conceals any weapons he may be carrying.

He couldn't afford to scare off his darling pet.

And with that, Ghost followed after you, a maiden worth more than any treasure.

🌤 I had really bad writers blocked and was unable to write for a while, but this has been floating around in my pea brain for so long, so please enjoy.

P.S. This wasn't proofread.

[fanfic-gallery]

manger's random tots #8 [ NSFW MDNI ]

|| cw (dead dove) : implications of stalking, spying

» manager's note: with the trending of the milkman over all my social media nowadays, i've decided not to hop on this train- but instead, write about some other type of pretty boy with a low paying profession (no, this is not a 'that's not my neigbour' fic, thank you) hope you guys enjoy...? (i had the idea him being an oc in mind but you can slap whatever character you want <3)

the neighbourhood mailman; absolute sweetheart, can do no wrong- sometimes giving away small little treats and nick-nacks along side the letters, pulling off light tricks and pranks to gargle a laugh or two, trying to brighten people's days.

yet, most don't seem too kind about his selfless gestures; impatient and grumpy bastards telling him off, yelling at him to knock it off with his piercing bike bell and 'nice guy' act.

on days like those, the only thing that seemed to be his light at the end of the tunnel, after gurgitating hours of cycling about under pretty harsh weathers, being chased off walk-way after walk-way... was you, his last patron of each day.

you weren't one of the first few in his delivery route; yet, you barely lived far down, so why is it that you were always his last? "...don't know... your letters always seemed to be at the bottom of the pile~" is what he claims; when in truth, he just wishes to spend the rest of his late-evening chatting your ear off with fun little misadventures he had during the past week.

he felt... cherished for once in his life; not someone needing to deal with the sour attitudes of people when they're all huffy or some boy-toy, taking his acts of service as an invitation to go running their hands all over him. he loved how he could play around, joke and complain without having the need to refrain himself. he felt... alive.

so it was to no one's surprise that he developed a massive crush on you; always giving you a little extra compared to the other townsfolk. full length handwritten letters, extra savings of candy and snacks he's been distributing that day, that box of pastries you seemed to have been eyeing up for the last few days or that prize you didn't manage to win during on one of your latest trips to the arcade.

seems light-hearted enough, right? if only you knew what other little treats he placed within your regular delivery... envelopes holding typed-letters; pouring his love for you over the many, many pages... each line, each paragraph... sometimes even rambling off into tangents- tangents of what he had been dreaming to do to you since day one... since the day you noticed his pains and took upon yourself to heal him back up.

yet, these sick fantasizes, these twisted thoughts on paper- you never blamed him for it, why would you went the initials signing off the letters eerily matched the creep that lived a few houses down from yours, who always seemed to have brought themselves false hope in charming you even after you said no.

no... you would never blame the innocent, naive mailman who's barely paid enough to suffer from verbal abuse every day of his life; barely having the funds to keep a himself together; yet, still cherished the happiness of others over his own.

maybe that's why you always seemed to accept his 'lustrous' gifts, especially that medium-sized stuffed bunny he so graciously sewed for you for valentine's to rid you of your loneliness. its soft yet limp body still laying on your bed, oblivious of the shine behind its dull black spheric eyes.

"...hah... hah...~" lustful eyes smiling as his flushed features melted against the monochrome screen he's stuck himself to, body trembling with each stroke of his throbbing cock, relishing in the soft breaths as you slept, spurring more pre to drip down his plush thighs, drenching the ground beneath his cheap desk chair. "...soon... soon, my love... i'll tell you the truth..."

[giorno-plays-piano]

Trustworthy

Pairing: Toji Fushiguro x reader

Warnings: noncon, implied stalking, home invasion, smut, Toji being a part of a gang.

Words: 1k

Summary: How could you walk up to Toji Fushiguro, of all people? Him, the embodiment of trouble? Naturally, you had no idea who he was, just seeing him exiting a supermaket with a bag of food, but you should have had a better look at his menacing form and seen the way he carried himself to figure out he was NOT the person you were looking for.

_____________

"Feels good, baby?" He whispers into you ear, his bulging muscles glistening with a sheen of sweat as you squirm beneath him, his cock fully sheathed inside you.

His broad frame blocks the dim light coming from a single table lamp somewhere behind, and you are forced to stare into his piercing eyes as he keeps thrusting into you ruthlessly, beads of sweat forming on his brow. Toji bares his teeth in a smirk, and it feels like a shark opens its maw in front of you.

You can't run away. You're stuck beneath him with your head in between his hands pressed into the mattress, and you're stuffed full. He knows you can't even move, and you think it brings Toji some sort of sadistic pleasure as he looks at you with hunger, pupils dilated.

"You can't say no to me," he whispers almost gently into your ear, and you feel your insides twitching. "You can never say no, pretty girl."

Squeezing your eyes shut when he hits that spongy spot inside you, you murmur his name and bite your lips to shreds as Toji lets out a breathy laugh. Bastard. Has he planned it the moment you had spoken to him, asking for his help while he pretended to help you out?

You were so blind. Sure, you didn't know you moved into a not-so-safe area in a city farther away from your hometown until you had to go back to your new home late for the first time. Scared of every shadow, you were desperately seeking help from anyone who could safely walk you home. How could you walk up to Toji Fushiguro, of all people? Him, the embodiment of trouble? Naturally, you had no idea who he was, just seeing him exiting a supermaket with a bag of food, but you should have had a better look at his menacing form and seen the way he carried himself to figure out he was NOT the person you were looking for.

But how could you have known? He had such a commanding presence, his chest a solid shield of strength, that you momentarily thought he would scare weirdos just with his looks alone. Moreover, he seemed too unfazed and relaxed for you to consider him malicious. You thought he was just a man of formidable build who might give you a hand and walk you home. It would have only taken 10 minutes.

Toji did walk you home, actually. He exuded an aura of undeniable authority but was impassive enough for you to feel safe around him, and you were really grateful to him for accompanying you, some woman he didn't even know. He said it was fine, grunting you shouldn't have been out that late at night.

"Take a pepper spray with you next time," he hemmed, watching you enter your apartment and waving to you before he left, too.

Miraculously, you did see him the next time you were out late just a week after. To be fair, it wasn't your fault: your new colleagues decided they needed to take you to their weekly outing on Friday, and you couldn't refuse. Although you did carry a pepper spray that time just like he had recommended, it was still such a relief to see Toji walking out of a gym you almost rushed to him, feeling very self-conscious about asking him for help for the second time.

He didn't refuse you that time either, walking you back home like he was your giant guard dog. You couldn't stop saying thank you.

Since Friday outings of your colleagues were pretty much an ordinary thing, you ended up walking next to that broad-shouldered, menacing man with a heart of gold so many times you almost considered him a friend.

He was a stranger who had been keeping you safe for so many nights without any reason. You felt secure only because of Toji, and you couldn't help but gravitate towards him: his deep, commanding tone, the way he conveyed confidence in every aspect of his demeanor just made you drawn to him to the point you started seeking his guidance and approval. Considering how smug Toji was being about it, you thought he actually liked you looking at him with awe.

It's funny he is exactly the type you have always been afraid of when walking the streets at night. The infamous Toji Fushiguro, a former marine who chose a different road after his dishonorable discharge from the military. The man your neighbors recognize all too well and keep away from at any given moment.

You didn't know until you found a little note in front of your door right when Toji walked you home one last time. You were stupid enough to read it with him peaking behind your shoulder.

And here you are, with his cock pulsating in you as he sweetly whispers into your ear, "Don't tell me you didn't want it."

You did. You did want him before you discovered who he is. Who wouldn't? Toji seemed like a man every girl dreamed of, strong but sensible, sarcastic and yet respectful. If he ever touched you, you felt a jolt of electricity running through your body, and you couldn't stop yourself from wondering what it would feel like to be kissed by him, touched by him.

You know now.

"Toji, it hurts," you whine, squeezing your eyes shut again as he tuts, dropping a kiss to your brow.

"It'll get better," he exhales into your face before his hand lands on your stomach, and you freeze, afraid he's gonna hurt you. "Here, feel me."

His palm is large and warm and feels wonderful on your skin, and when he stops and slowly starts massaging your tummy, you can't help but love every second of it. He's drawing circles with his hand, and it makes you melt, makes you soft and pliable and unable to think as you squirm, enjoying his touch much more than you should. What is he doing to you? Does he even care if it hurts?

Toji takes your hand in his, placing it on your tummy and applying just the right amount of pressure to make you feel him inside of you, and you suddenly come undone, watching him smiling at you, his hungry eyes gleaming in the dark as you cum, whispering his name. He groans and stills, dark brows drawn together, as your pussy squeezes him tight. Then he starts rubbing your tummy again, drawing a sigh from you.

"You're safe, baby girl," he mutters, his face inches from yours. "If you're with me, you'll always be safe."

________

Tags: @minshookie29

[johnsbirdie]

blue collar!price and white collar!fem reader

cw: i don’t really know

(i just thought of this and was like this is like totally price)

john is on his break, his rough, callused hands, caked in grime and dirt embedded deep within. he’s smoking a fat cigar to ease the pain (in his knees), he’s getting old now, which is quite easy to tell because his beard is greying - but to his luck you can’t exactly see his salt and pepper hair because his wide-brimmed bucket hat fortunately covers that.

surely he looked disgusting to people outside of the job. the other workers on the site, simon, kyle and johnny, saw him like this everyday of their lives and shrug off the fact he looked like a pig after it rolled around in mud.

and it just so happens that the construction site he works on, there’s a little office building right beside it. how lucky is he?

the chain-smoking, rugged older man set his sights on a little birdie in a tight little pencil skirt. he whistles unashamedly, so you can hear it. he knows you heard him. and you did. you’re walking along, cup holders full with coffee to bring back for your boss, you were a little surprised when he told you to get what you wanted with his card, he seemed to be in a good mood lately.

the wolf-whistle is the thing that nearly makes you drop the coffee-filled plastic cups, and when you look over, there’s a man double your own age with a smirk on his face. what a smug bastard.

“oi, pretty! you in a rush?” he calls out to you, stepping off of some planks of wood he was stood on.

god, you really did not have time for any chit-chat at the moment. you had to get back to work, not that it was any better than the man who had whistled at you, because your quite the talk of the town in the marketing department. all the old men must really like you, huh.

“i am, actually. sorry about that.” you brush him off, the noise of your heels clacking against the pavement infront of the site increasing the faster you walk. you did not want to speak to some roughed up, man old enough to be your dad.

but, does that stop john? absolutely not. he catches up to you before you can even make it into the office building, and he blocks your path.

“nah, you can’t be in a rush, you’re stood here with little ‘ol me.” he says that just to spite you, and when you try to step around him, he blocks your path once more.

“i’m only stood here with you because you’re not letting me move.” you huff. did he not understand that you didn’t want to talk? he was probably just some creep that liked to hit on girls half his age, which, to be fair, is what he was doing right now.

“aye. c’mon love, giv’us a twirl.” he cocks a brow, looking down at you. he towers over you by nearly a whole foot if you weren’t wearing heels.

ugh, who was this guy? a complete and utter prick, you thought. you really shouldn’t pay him any mind.

“do you mind moving, please? i need to get back to work.” you look up at him, your lips pressed into a thin line. you were on the verge of just throwing the starbucks drinks all over him, just to be a bitch about it.

he stands there. he doesn’t say anything for a moment, just watching you with his piercing blue eyes. he knows he shouldn’t pressure you, he didn’t really mean to come off as a creep. he just thought you were a pretty little thing and he liked pretty little things. but you didn’t seem to like him very much.

“mm. go on. i didn’t mean to be a dickhead, sweetheart. i’m sorry.” he eventually speaks, moving out of your way. which surprised you initially, not expecting that at all from him.

“oh, i… yeah, no, it’s okay. thank you.” you say, your voice a little small as you give him one last glance before heading into work.

until next time birdie. he thinks to himself as he watches your figure disappear into the office building.

[ewanmitchellcrumbs]

Upon reading your response to the servant girl question you have me yearning for a one shot to where he and this servant girl had show interest in one another and decide to act on it 🥹🥹🥹🥹 please if you’re not complete swamped with requests

Sorry I've made you wait over two months for this. I hope it's worth it!

Warnings: Smut. Male masturbation. Word count: ~1600

Author's note: No gods, no masters, no tag lists. Only scabs community label fics. If you find yourself tempted to slap a label on this, please block me instead.

She is nervous when her mother tells her she’s managed to secure her a position as a serving girl at the Red Keep. Her mother has worked as a scullery maid in the kitchens for as long as she can remember, and she sees how bone tired she is each evening when she returns home. That, coupled with the stories she’s heard of the Targaryens make her uneasy. Their expectations will doubtless be high, considering they are royalty, and she fears being punished if she is unable to live up to them.

However, as her mother says, it is time she began to contribute towards the household and goodness knows they need the money.

Her anxiety worsens on her first day when she begins to overhear rumours regarding her predecessor and how the position she now holds came to be available in the first place.

The eldest Prince is a little too handsy, I hear.

Forced himself on her, I heard.

The Queen sent her away to the North with hush money.

Pregnant with a royal bastard.

She prays her interactions with Prince Aegon will be minimal. She has no wish to meet the same fate.

Throughout the day she is kept busy refreshing the pitchers of wine that are kept in the respective quarters of each person occupying Maegor’s Holdfast. She turns down beds, lends a hand preparing food in the kitchens and prepares a bath for Princess Helaena’s children.

She doesn’t catch a glimpse of a Targaryen all day, until it is time for the evening meal and she is stationed in the dining hall to refill the cups of those seated at the table.

It’s then she realises she has spent all day worrying about the wrong Prince. Her gaze is immediately drawn to the head of the table where he sits. She summises that this must be Aemond, based on the brown leather eyepatch he sports. He cuts an imposing figure, long white hair drawn back from his face, his angular features illuminated by candlelight.

His stare is piercing, the blue of his seeing eye boring into her with an intensity that sends both a shiver of fear up her spine and the warmth of arousal pooling between her legs. He pays rapt attention to her as she moves around the table, filling cups as she goes.

When she stands beside him to fill his, he looks up at her, studying her carefully. She can feel the faintest tickle of his breath upon her neck and it causes her heart to hammer wildly in her chest. His fingers brush hers as he moves to lift his cup and she pulls her hand back as though scalded, in the wake of the gooseflesh his touch causes to erupt upon her skin.

That night when she climbs into bed, despite her exhaustion, her hand drifts between her legs, her mind filled with thoughts of the One Eyed Prince.

The next week continues in much the same way. Aemond’s eye never leaves her as she serves wine at dinner and she revels in every little accidental touch that he bestows upon her whenever she is in close enough proximity.

It is early afternoon as she places the full pitcher of wine upon the table. She has been into this room every day since she began working at the Red Keep, changed the sheets on the bed and brought wine, but it’s never occupied and nothing within gives any indication as to who it might belong to.

She turns around, with the intention of leaving now that her task is complete, when she is met with the solid expanse of Aemond’s chest. Oh gods, of course this would be his bedchamber.

She gasps as she knocks into him, staring up at him wide-eyed. “I-I beg your pardon, Your Grace.” She stammers. “That was clumsy of me.”

His lips quirk upwards into the faintest of smirks as he looks down at her. He says nothing for a few moments, his eye travelling the length of her before settling back on her face. “You are trembling. Do I frighten you?”

She shakes her head. It occurs to her that this is the first time she has ever heard him speak. His voice is much gentler than she was anticipating. 

“No.” She whispers. It is only half a lie, but she dare not tell him of the desire that flutters in her lower belly in his presence. She is certain he must be able to hear her heartbeat, such is the power of how it thuds against her ribs.

“Hmmm.” He continues to loom over her, unmoving.

“I should go.” She murmurs.

“I’m not stopping you.” Comes his soft response.

Reluctantly, she looks away, moving around him before hurrying from the room. It is not until she is a respectable distance away down the corridor that she stops, pressing her back to the cold stone wall and sucking in steadying breaths to calm herself.

She is unsure of what exactly just transpired between her and Prince Aemond, but she knows she wants more of it.

Another few days pass by, the lingering looks at dinner continue alongside touches which she is now sure are deliberate. She feels as though she is a mouse being toyed with by a cat, but cannot find it in herself to mind. Their minimalist, yet charged interactions have grown to be the highlight of her day.

She is peeling potatoes in the kitchens when the Keep’s steward approaches her.

“Prince Aemond has requested your presence in his chambers. You are to go at once. Take wine.”

Her mouth runs dry at those words, a mixture of excitement and nervousness prickling under her skin, that she does her best to mask with a neutral expression. She nods, wiping her hands on her apron and making haste to fetch a jug. 

Moments later she arrives outside of Aemond’s chamber door, knocking softly with her free hand.

“Enter.” He calls out.

She pushes open the door, closing it behind her once inside, and almost drops the wine she holds in shock.

Aemond sits naked in a bathtub beside the lit fireplace, his elbows resting on the sides, his tall frame bent slightly to fit within the tight confines. He is not wearing his eyepatch and she is stunned to see that he wears a sapphire in the socket. The wound is not quite so gruesome as she had suspected it might be, the overall effect makes him all the more alluring.

Her cheeks burn as she tries to look anywhere but at him. “So sorry, your Grace.” She says quickly. “I just came to bring you wine, as requested. Please forgive the intrusion.”

She sets it down on the nearest table, turning to leave.

“I won’t be able to reach it from there.” He says, his voice smooth as silk. “Bring it closer.”

She gulps, picking the jug back up and carrying it over to the surface closest to the bath.

It is impossible for her not to stare as she takes in the damp ends of his long, white hair, spread out across the planes of his well defined chest.

“Like what you see?” He asks her, clearly amused by her ogling.

“Apologies, Your Grace. I didn't mean to stare.”

“Oh, but I think you did. And I feel it’s only fair that you return the favour.”

“What do you mean?”

“Take off your clothes. Let me see you too.”

“I-I can’t, that is not appropriate.” Despite her protests, she feels a familiar warmth spread between her thighs.

“I am not my brother.” Aemond says with a shrug. “I will not force you. If you don’t wish to, you can leave. But I don’t think you will.”

“I…want to.” She admits, beginning to push her dress from her shoulders.

“Good girl.” He murmurs, a hand disappearing beneath the water to stroke at himself. “That’s it, everything, even your smallclothes.”

She does as she’s told, but finds she is unable to look at him once stood bare before him, too embarrassed by the intimacy of it all.

“So beautiful.” He tells her. “See what you do to me?”

Her eyes travel to where his fist moves up and down. Much of him is obscured by the water, but she can see enough to know that he is big. Her breath hitches at the sight. “Will you-”

“Fuck you?” He finishes for her. “No, I would not be so foolish as to risk putting a bastard inside of a serving girl.”

She is disappointed by the admission, her heart sinking a little as she continues to watch him fuck his fist to the sight of her undressed. 

“Do you ever touch yourself?” He asks.

She nods shyly and he hisses a “fuck”, moving his hand over his length faster than before.

“Do you think about me?”

She does not know where it comes from or how she is able to let the admission go so freely, but the words have left her mouth before she has a chance to think about them. “Every night since I started working here.”

Aemond emits a low groan, his jaw going slack. “Perhaps one day you will permit me to watch.”

She inhales sharply at this, her core clenching around nothing, certain he must be able to see the slick which now coats her inner thighs.

With a grunt and a stutter of his hips, Aemond comes undone, spilling pearly ropes of his spend over his fingers and into the bathwater. His eye is hooded and hazy when he finally relaxes back into the tub.

“You may dress and leave now.” He instructs. “Next time I will allow you to touch instead of just observing.”

The words make her feel light headed. Next time.

Read on AO3

More Aemond fics

[iamthemain-character]

Gauging Reactions

draco x reader

she/her

TW: draco is a brat

a/n: i’ve basically dedicated my tumblr now for my irl friend/editor who got gauges recently (slay) so this is all for you bby girl. who knows if i will ever post normal content again ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

The scratchy sound of crisp sheets pooled around Draco’s hips filled the air as the blond man kept trying to adjust his position in the bed. The two of you had agreed that you would sleepover, the first time you would be staying over the whole night. While Draco had managed to keep his cool for the majority of the evening, it was catching up to him. His heart was pounding, butterflies fluttering irritability in his stomach as he gazed at the sheets, the same ones that had held you a few times now, but this time you wouldn’t leave until the morning. There was something so intimate, so romantic about truly sleeping together, and Draco was divided between the urge to bolt out the door and the desire to remain in the bed forever.

He glanced at the bathroom door as you exited, a soft smile adorning your face. If you were the sun, his insides were ice cream, melting the moment he saw you all cute and cozy looking in your pajamas. Your face was freshly cleaned, and he knew he’d have to resist kissing off all of the product you must have carefully applied. His hands twitched against the mattress, wanting so badly to pull you into him immediately. Instead, he watched with a full heart as you climbed into the bed beside him, sliding into the quality sheets. He followed suit, laying his head on the pillow, gazing at your backlit form. It was like you had always meant to be there, filling up the empty space that for so long had gone cold night after night.

“Comfortable?” He murmurs, reaching out to stroke your hair back from your face.

You nod, your smile growing as you lean into his touch. “Very. Are you?”

Draco returns the smile, shifting as he gets closer, and his hand trails down to squeeze your hip. “Absolutely.” He pulls you tight against him, dipping his head so he can taste your lips. He kisses you slowly, sensually, savoring the sensation of having all for himself. It quickly heats up, his body pushing yours down into the mattress as he gets on top of you, caging you in with his forearms and knees.

Draco can’t help but smirk against your lips, loving the way your body lifts to meet his, your hands intertwining in his hair. The way you tug him closer, your desire just as apparent, fuels the flame within him, encouraging him to continue. He moves his lips down to your jaw, leaving trails of heat on your skin as brushes his cool lips against your neck, his nose brushing your ear.

Suddenly, his stomach flips with horror, concern making him pull away from you. His hand immediately seizes the side of your neck, thumb pressed firmly into your jaw as he forces you to face the side. “My love, your ears...what happened?” He asks, worry dripping off his tone; inside, anger flares, his eyes narrowing as he thinks of someone hurting you, or perhaps even cursing you. “I swear to you, I will end the sorry bastard who dared even look at you-”

“Draco, Draco, calm down.” You laugh lightly, putting your hand against his chest as if you need to stop him from going and fighting everyone in that moment. “My ears are fine. They’ve always been like this, remember? My gauges?”

Draco blinks, looking at the hole in your earlobe, the pieces still not connecting. “Gauging what?” He asks, confusion evident in the scrunch of his face.

That only makes you laugh again, amusement lighting up your eyes. “Gauges, my love. Those circles that I wear in my ears.”

For Draco, however, he has no clue how the circles that adorned your ears could possibly result in an open hole like this. “Your earrings?”

This makes your eyebrows quirk up, trying to hide the mirth that you feel at your boyfriend's cluelessness. “Close. Gauges are a different kind of jewelry; they start out as a large piercing, but then you slowly stretch out your ear to fit larger gauges. Like how the circles in mine have been slowly getting bigger?” You try very hard to not laugh, even if it feels like you are explaining this to a toddler.

Draco twists his face into a look of disgust, scoffing. “You purposefully put holes in your ears? What are you, a piece of swiss cheese? Or perhaps a moth-eaten sweater?” His disdain is clear in his tone as he eyes your earlobes warily. Now that he recalls, the jewelry in your ears did grow larger every few weeks, but he had always assumed you just kept finding larger earrings.

Your mouth turns down a little, your own eyes narrowing. “For your information, I like them very much, Draco. There’s no need to be rude.”

The blond huffs, rolling his eyes. “Please, who told you you needed to put holes in your ears? You’re perfectly beautiful without such a silly thing, my dear. In the morning, I can take you to a wizard I know who’s an expert in repairing the body, and we’ll have you fixed up in no time.”

Irritation grows in your chest, and you push Draco off of you, glaring at him. “I spent months and a fair amount of money to get these, so no, we will not be “fixing” anything.” You snap, a little hurt by his reaction. “And I didn’t do it to be pretty or because someone told me to, I did it because I thought it would be fun and I like how I look with them.”

Draco looks at you for a long moment, contemplating your words. This was a choice? In Draco’s mind, it's an odd thing to do, but he looks into your eyes, seeing the pride and confidence in yourself, and he softens, feeling a little guilty. “...Do they hurt?” He asks softly, trying to soothe over the feathers he ruffled.

You glance at him, as if trying to determine what he’s getting at. “They were sore at first, but they feel fine now.”

He nods, and he tentatively reaches out an arm, grateful when you allow him to pull you into his side. “Can you wear different colors or...?”

A small smile tugs at your lips, his genuine interest healing the hurt that you felt from his earlier words. “You can get almost any kind of gauges, a lot of people make them in all kinds of designs. They can be kind of pricey, though, which is why I stick with the starter set.”

Draco sniffs disdainfully at that, his arm tightening around you. “Well that is unacceptable.”

You quirk an eyebrow, glancing up at him. “What is?”

He looks into your eyes, a smug smirk crossing his face. “If your desire is to wear gauges, then I can’t have you walking around with a basic set.” He declares, his snobby side returning to him. “You must have the most beautiful, extravagant, hand crafted gauges. I will only accept the best for your ears .” He leans down, brushing his lips against yours, a silent apology. “We’ll go shopping tomorrow.”

[melanieph321]

Pedri x Black Reader - Our Secret Part 3/10

*Pedri's POV

⚠️Warning ⚠️

*mentioning of needles

The story of Marcella and Pedri. As students of the most prestigious high schools in the country, the two are very focused on developimg their indvidual talents. Marcella has music whilst Pedri has football. However, worlds collide when Pedri's secret is revealed, he has diabetes.

Enjoy!

A  day in the life of Pedri. He woke up to the sunlight invading his bedroom. He yawned and turned over, reaching for his phone to confirm that "Jupp" he had indeed slept through his alarm.

After taking a few minutes to say goodbye to his bed, Pedri stood and made his way towards the bathroom. He brushed his teeth in front of the mirror in the same way he always did, from the bottom left to the bottom right. Followed by the top right, to the top left. This routine has never changed in his eighteen years of life. One thing had changed however, and Pedri hated this part of his morning routine. He back up in front of the bathroom mirror, viewing his full body. Alot of people like what they saw, outlined abs, tanned skin and a hairless chest. Pedri however, hated it, because only he knew that his body was broken.

He sighed clipping the lid if his insulin pen. The nurses in the hospital showed him how to do it correctly, but it never managed to feel right. He pinched the skin on his belly and pierced the needle through it. It hurt and would never seize to hurt. The doctors recommend that he brought at least three or four needles with him to school, Pedri however, only brought one.

Good morning cariño, did you sleep well?"

"Yes Mami."

She put a plate of scrambled eggs on the table, pulling out a chair for him to take a seat. Since his diganos of type 1 diabetes last year, his mother made it clear that eating breakfast was not negotiable. She kissed him on the cheek once he sat down. "Don't forget to help your father at the restaurant after school. He's gonna need all hands on deck to prepare for Martina's quinceanera this weekend."

"Isn't Martina a little too old to be having a quinceanera?"

She was about Pablo's age and Pedri only knew that because his friend had a huge crush on her and wouldn't stop talking about her during training.

"Yes, but Martina and her family moved from Mexico when she was fifteen and did not have time to throw her one then, so your father and I are helping them throw one now."

"Why can't Fernando help? I have training this afternoon."

His mother left the sink and returned to him, kissing the top of Pedri's head. I know you do cariño. But you know how your father is, he wants you and your brother to get along again."

"Making us decorate the whole restaurant in pink won't bring us closer together, trust me."

To Pedri his older brother was dead to him. He died when he got put in jail for drinking and driving, and stayed dead upon his release three months ago. No. Pedri only had one brother and that was Pablo Gavi.

"Pedrito!"

The little bastard had yet gotten his driver's license so every morning Pedri took the liberty to pick him up and drive him to school.

"It's a beautiful day, no?" Pablo walked down his driveway, hair still dripping from his shower as he got into the passenger seat.

"You're in a surprisingly good mood, why?"

"Love, Pedrito. I'm in love."

"Of course you are."

"Guess who invited me to a party this weekend."

"Martina?"

Pablo frowned. "How did you know?"

"Her family is throwing her quinceanera at the restaurant. I'm suppose to go down there this afternoon and help decorate."

"Can I come?"

"She won't be there Pablo."

"She might." He said, draping the seat belt over himself. "And what have I told you about calling me by my first name. I'm known as Gavi now."

It was an honor for any player to make it into the Estudios Filántropos football squad. Being formally adressed by once last name came along with that honor, that's how people in the streets knew that you could play.

"How about you stop calling me Pedrito, then we can talk."

Pablo chuckled. "Don't make me get rid of Pedrito. It sounds so cute."

"Cute, eh?"

"Yes. Isn't that what Rosie shouts when you make her..."

Pedri's hand left the steering, smacking his friend upside the head.

"Puta!" Pablo rubbed a hand where it hurt the most.

"Don't talk about her like that."

"It was a joke. A joke man."

"Yeah, but we don't joke about stuff like that."

Locker room talk. Pedri had worked hard to get rid of the misogyny within his football squad. As the captain he worked to install the players to focus only on what was important during training. What they did and how they behaved outside of the pitch he couldn't careless. Although he cared how Pablo spoke about women outside of training. To him Pablo was his successor and needed the right values handed to him as soon as possible, even if it meant handing out a slap or two now and then.

"Why are we just standing here." His friend complained. "We'll be late for school, drive!"

Pablo was right, however Pedri's car remained parked alongside the sidewalk. His attention was drawn to the house next door to Pablo's. The house where she lived.

"What is it, what are you waiting for?"

Just as his friend asked the question she emerged out of her house, grabbing the bike parked in her driveway.

"You've got to be kidding me." Pablo sighed. "Not this again."

Pedri rolled down the window. "Hey Marcella!"

Passing his car she looked to him with furrowed brows. "What do you want?"

"You need a ride?"

"No." She snorted and waited until she got on the road to mount her bike, disapearing with it down the street.

"Everyday." His friend shook his head. "Everyday since, what, Tuesday? Everyday day since Tuesday you've been waiting for Marcella to come out of her house, asking her if she wants to ride with us to school. Why? Is it because I hit her with the ball? Is that it, do you feel bad for her? Because I told you that she was crazy, didn't I?"

Pedri smirked as he reached for the button to push the car to a start. The two of them left Pablo's driveway on their way to school.

"Like what's your deal, you're into crazy chicas now?"

Pedri found it funny, letting Pablo's words slide without a slap.

"I mean she not ugly." He said. "But did I tell you about the time she glued my hand to a wall."

There were many stories like that, of Pablo and Marcella. Apperently the two had been neighbors all their lives, thier parents even throwing cookouts together in the summer. Pedri had asked alot about Marcella lately. If Pablo could tell him about what she was like. Her personality and such. "Crazy." Was his friends answer.

"If you're dumping Rosie for Marcella can I have a shot with her incase Martina rejects me this weekend?"

Pedri smiled, "What makes you think you have a shot with a girl like Rosie?"

"She's into footballers, no? I'm ten times better player than you are."

"You wish."

"Watch me play a full ninety minutes on Friday. At least coach won't sub me off after halftime like he does you. Shouldn't that be illegal, subbing off the team captain? They should make Rodriguez captain, he's a goalkeeper, he never gets subbed off."

Pedri let Pablo go on with his rambling, not knowing that his words had struck him right where it hurts. Yes, Pedri's diabetes was discovered after one of his coaches suggested he got checked out for his worsened stamina. It had all come up on his first visit,  the reasons for suddenly feeling drowsy and unable to perform during training. The doctor told him that his body had stopped producing a hormone called insulin, causing his glucose levels to drop, resulting in his severe health problems. The day Pedri found out that his body was broken was the day he started fearing for his dreams of becoming a football player.

"Hola clase, today's lessons is...."

School went by in a flash. Pedri didn't share any lessons with Pablo since the two weren't in the same grade. However, he did share most of his lessons with Rosie. Apart from the occasional hook up, she was also a good friend.

"Guess what?" She said, stopping him in the hallway to peck his lips with her own.

"What?" He smiled, as she was quick to wipe away the excess lipstick that had rubbed off on him.

"Angie and I made a bet."

"A bet? Sounds fun."

"It is. I bet that I will make out with whichever player scores the winning goal on Friday."

Pedri raised a brow.

She nipped a few hairstrands off his t-shirt. "Make sure it's you."

With that she strutted down the hallway, looking back to make sure that Pedri was checking her out.

He was.

"Man, did you hear?"

There was commotion as Pedri joined his teammates. Most of them sat gathered around one table during lunch hour.

"What?" He asked Pablo, who looked to want to fill him in on what was going on.

"Coach is gonna make us run windsprints for today's warm up. WARM UP."

"Windsprints." Pedri frowned. "In April?"

"Yeah, and we have a game on Friday,  I can't be sore for that."

"Strange, must be something up."

"It doesn't matter. The team wants you to talk to him, tell him to cancel the warm up, or at least change it."

"Why me?"

"You're the captain, aren't you?

And it came with his perks. All eyes were on him, his teammates nodding their heads, agreeing with Pablo.

"Alright, I'll see what I can do?"

He left lunch early, although his mother would curse him out for that. However it was best to get his rest now incase coach wouldn't change his mind about the windsprints this afternoon. He made it to the far ends of the building, where the school had its auditorium. There was a classroom near by, the door unlocked. Pedri plotted down on the old sofa behind a dusty keyboard. There he could hear señor Garcia tinkering away on his piano, and Marcella, warming up her throat as she was getting ready to sing. There were others singing along with her,  but Pedri preferred to focus on Marcella's voice. It brought him comfort as he removed the lid off his insulin pen with his teeth, pinching the skin of his belly. Pedri squinted his eyes as the needle went into him, followed by the pain of inserting the insulin. He fell back against the warn out pillows, relaxing his muscles after tensing up during his shot. He drifted off to sleep to the sound of her voice, Marcella, with a voice like no other.

[actuallycassidyiambusy]

If you have enough written, could we get a little teaser of your Demon!Buggy and church boy!Luffy AU?? Please🥺🥺

As you wish anon. Here's a little excerpt from the au I'm working on. I don't have a name for it, yet, but who cares lmao.

Words: 1,660

Buggy x Luffy

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ, it’s cold in here.” Buggy mutters dismally, rubbing one of his bare biceps as he follows Luffy into the abandoned library below the church. “No wonder nobody comes down to this shithole.” He pulls a stone out of the wall and flicks it to the floor boredly.

Luffy freezes and looks over his shoulder, his hair breezing over his glaring eyes. “Watch your mouth, demon.” He says firmly.

Buggy tilts his head slightly, drawing one eyebrow up as his hand falls slack away from his arm. “I have a name. Thank you very much.” He retorts snidely.

Luffy turns his back to the man, eyes closed with slight irritation. He pulls his cloak tighter around himself. It is cold down here. He thinks, his breath coming out in small puffs of white. “You shouldn’t be able to feel this. Demons are hot by nature.”

Buggy smirks and leans down to speak into Luffy’s ear from behind, folding his hands behind his back. “You think I’m hot, huh?” He purrs, wiggling his eyebrows.

Luffy’s face becomes a violent shade of red and his composure slips. He whirls around and shoves the cocky bastard away. “Six feet. Remember?” He states lowly, his glare remaining.

Buggy rolls his eyes at what he considers a dumb and unfair rule. He straightens his posture. “Yeah, yeah. I remember.” His tail waves lazily behind him and he looks around the creepy old library. “You’re wrong, by the way.” He steps away, walking past Luffy to pick up objects and juggle them.

Luffy busies himself by looking through various shelves of books, focused on finding the one he needs. “About what? Put those down before you break them.”

Buggy mimics Luffy in a small, squeaky voice before setting the objects back down. “Not all demons are hot by nature, and not all of Hell is a blazing inferno.” He yawns and scratches the inside of his ear with his pinky. “Some levels look like cities and others are actually covered in ice. Like this fucking place.”

Luffy’s eyebrows raise with curiosity. He didn’t know that. He figured everything was on fire. His response is a short grunt, careful not to show too much interest. “Can’t you just conjure some fire to warm yourself up? It wouldn’t kill you to wear something with sleeves either.” He sneaks a glance at Buggy’s arms. He clears his throat and looks away.

“Oh, sure.” Buggy crosses his arms, standing with one hip out, a judgemental gleam in his piercing eyes. “Let me conjure flames in a room full of dry, crusty books.” He sneers sarcastically. He grins when Luffy glares at him again.

Luffy’s shoulders fall and he sighs, fingers slipping from the binding of a book. “You’re very annoying.” He frowns, not knowing where to look. Is it even here? “There’s a supply closet in the back of the room. I remember seeing some hoodies in there. Quit whining and go get one.”

Buggy sweeps the whining comment under the rug and turns his head, spotting a door on the far back wall. He uncrosses his arms and walks over to it, his footsteps echoing lightly. It’s locked, so he rips the doorknob off, earning a scolding stare from Luffy. He shrugs and throws the doorknob to the side. It lands with a loud clang.

As Buggy digs through the supply closet, Luffy continues his search for the right book. He knows he needs it. If he’s familiar with Heaven, it’s important for him to be familiar with Hell. Though… He glances towards the noisy closet, somewhat endeared when he just sees Buggy’s tail. What could be a better source than an actual demon?

“What the hell is with all these smalls and extra smalls!?” Buggy growls angrily, tossing black hoodies out the door and making a mess. He holds one up to himself for size. “You know, this borders on body shaming.” He throws that one too. It hits the wall and crumples to the stone floor. “I’m a big guy. I want a hoodie, not a crop-top.”

Luffy forces himself not to smile at the demon’s predicament. “Yeah, well, I don’t think the church considered a seven foot tall beefcake of a demon to hunt for clothes here.”

Buggy snorts contemptuously and rolls his eyes again. He relaxes when he finally finds a hoodie his size, pulling it over his head. It catches on his horns and he growls with exasperation. He manages to get it on and he looks down, brow dipping. “Hey, pretty boy.” He speaks with a mischievous snicker, stepping out of the room. When Luffy looks at him, he points to the quote on the front of the hoodie. “Got Jesus?” His snicker erupts into a booming laugh. “Got Jesus!?” He wheezes, his eyes beading with tears and closing tightly.

Luffy stares at the expressive man with an unamused gaze. “I called on you for help, not stupid jokes.”

Buggy wipes under his eye with the knuckle of his index finger, black nail polish gleaming. “Don’t tell me. Tell the fucker who actually thought it would be cool to make hoodies like this.” He chuckles and sighs. He pulls his hair out of the hoodie, letting it drape down his back. “Like I said before, I’m a demon, not a genie. I don’t grant wishes, and I don’t help people for free, sweetheart.”

“Don’t call me that.” Luffy mutters darkly, regretting his decision to summon Buggy. He can’t take anything seriously. He turns his warm face away, pulling out books and reading the covers. Where is it!?

“What are you looking for, anyway?” Buggy asks after almost twenty minutes. He doesn’t like the smell of this library. It’s musty. He’d rather hang out in the other one. The lighting is better. He shoves his hands in the front pocket of the hoodie, watching Luffy buzz around the room.

“Names Of The Damned.” Luffy explains briefly, putting books back with a disappointed exhale. He rests one hand on his upper arm and bites the nail of his thumb on his other hand, thinking. His foot taps quietly, and he shifts his attention to Buggy. “Could you seek it out?” He asks softly. “Please?”

Buggy jerks his head back subtly, brow furrowing. He inhales and exhales with defeat. “Fine. I’ll give ya a freebie. Just this once.” He focuses and his eyes glow for a few short moments. He flicks two fingers, gesturing to the other side of the room. “Case three, second shelf, fifth book from the left.”

Luffy perks up, eyes gleaming. That’s so cool! He follows Buggy’s directions, rushing to the other side of the room and finding the book with ease. He grabs it and brings it over to a cluttered table. Pushing books and crumpled papers aside, he sets the large book down and flips through the pages.

“What do you need the Names Of The Damned for?” Buggy asks curiously putting emphasis on the book title. He walks over and stands on the opposite side of the table. “What use is it to you?”

“It’s always helpful to know your enemies, isn’t it?” Luffy continues to look through the book, eyes scanning every other page. It’s like he’s looking for something more specific.

Buggy takes notice of Luffy’s intense concentration. This must be about what happened to his parents. He thinks with a tilt of his head. “Why summon me? Why not just ask your mentor?”

“He told me not to seek out this book.” Luffy admits quietly, a sad, faraway look in his eyes. Shanks cannot know about this.

“Pfft. You’d think he woulda hidden it better.” Buggy strides around the table, standing directly behind Luffy with a deep chuckle. “Calling on a demon and breaking the head priest’s rules?” He twirls a lock of Luffy’s curly hair around his finger, leaning down. “You sure you belong in a church?”

Luffy exhales shakily, Buggy’s hot breath on the back of his neck. The smell of scorched amber wood and bourbon floods his senses. He spins around, attempting to push Buggy away. His hands slam against the demon’s firm chest. “Six!” He tries again, failing. “Feet!”

“Actually, it’s seven feet.” Buggy stands up straight, hovering his hand above his head and showing off his dangerous canines with a wide, smug grin.

“Buggy!” Luffy snaps, reaching into his cloak to pull out a vial of holy water. He’s not bluffing.

Buggy holds his hands up in surrender. “Okay, okay. Geez. Lower the weapon, killer.” He steps back, his shoulders relaxing when Luffy puts the vial away. “Fuck.” He breathes, his tail twitching. “You just keep that shit on you?”

"Of course I do." Luffy fixes his clothes, looking up at Buggy haughtily. He closes the book and holds it under his arm. "How else would I keep rogues like you in line?" He turns away with a small smile. "Thanks for the book. You can go now."

“Ugh.” Buggy grunts with a shudder. He wraps his arms around himself and gazes at Luffy deviously. “I feel so... So used.” He’s about to snap his fingers when Luffy stops him.

“Aht.” Luffy shakes his head disapprovingly. “No stealing from the church, slick.” He points to the hoodie. “Take it off.”

Buggy holds his hands over his chest, pretending to be bashful. “No. I’m shy.” There’s a hint of laughter in his tone.

Luffy taps his foot, expression becoming stern. “Buggy.”

"Killjoy." Buggy scoffs and removes the hoodie, his movements lifting his vest enough to reveal his blue treasure trail. He discards the hoodie onto the table haphazardly. Then he gives Luffy one final dirty look, one eyebrow raised before disappearing in a burst of blue flames.

Luffy closes his eyes and sighs, finally able to relax. He turns to leave the room, pausing to glance back at the hoodie on the table. He bites his lip subtly and looks around before grabbing up the hoodie and exiting quickly.

[reallyintoscience]

July Kinkfest: Nothing to Hide (Day 1)

Link to the prompt list

Begging | Degradation | “You have to tell me what you want.”

Am I three days late to my own fest? You bet I am but I'm serious about "you make your own rules" for this!

Sandman TV | Dreamling | M Rating | They're just talking and eyefucking today

I'm going to try to stay in one universe for the kinkfest, but probably not in a linear way. Here's the premise: Hob and Dream meet in 1389 and Hob's sure he knows the pretty lord wants his dick sucked in the stables. Dream is a weasel and a bastard and sees no reason not to take the offer. Hob now thinks this is part of his immortality deal so expects to service Dream at each meeting. Dream is a weasel and a bastard... and Hob's just his perfect match.

_

It's been years since anyone was so bold with Hob in a tavern. He likes it, the direct approach. It's nice to know he's still comely enough to turn a head here and there. His back is to the man who has spoken, but Hob already knows he'll go with him. He's half in love with that voice even now, deep and smooth and sure. So utterly certain. It's curling up snug and warm in his belly and Hob wants it to stay there.  

The man is uncanny, when Hob turns to look up at him. Hob's eyes go wide as saucers. He's the most beautiful person Hob could ever have dreamed of, fairer than any maid or youth, with eyes full of wicked humour. He looks at Hob like he's got a jest to share and thinks that Hob will not like it. A touch of the cruel, perhaps, but Hob is not averse. Not when he has the pinkest, plushest lips in creation to look upon, not when the man's skin is so smooth and white. Never seen a day's work nor the winter's bite nor even the sun's touch, for how pale he is. Wanting for someone rough to take care of his baser needs. Clearly. 

Well. His lordship has chosen aright. Like seeks for its like and finds its mate. 

"That's right," he tells the lord, answering his opening tease about Hob's declaration of immortality. He will want confidence and boldness to match his own, for it is Hob's boisterous nonsense that’s drawn his attention.  

"Then you must tell me what it's like," his lord says, and the curl of his lip is both soft and mean. 

Hob chuckles, for he loves nothing so well as a partner to entertain his verbal play. The man should signal now, where they are to meet, be it the privacy of a room upstairs or the stables in the straw. Or perhaps he has a private coach to match the king's ransom that hangs from his pretty neck. 

"Let us meet here again, Robert Gadling," the lord says, and his voice is like lightning in Hob's belly. And how has he come to know his name? "In this tavern of the White Horse." He pauses, the better for his gaze to pierce Hob right through. "In one hundred years."

The table erupts into laughter around them, and it feels like being shocked awake. It was just the two of them in the world, and now Hob wants to duck all his friends in the nearest pond. If they should drive his lord away... but no. The lord's gaze does not waver from his. And oh, whether this man has coin to gift after a pleasing tumble or not, Hob does not care. He'll suck his prick for the pleasure of it and call himself rich for the memory.

Whatever game this lord wants to play, Hob is willing. He hushes his friends, looks only at his man. Tells his lord he'll meet him whenever he likes, be it in one hundred years or this very moment. The last is told in the flick of his brows and the incline of his lord's pretty head. The stables, then; the vivid image of himself on his knees in the straw enough to snatch his breath away when it leaps into his thoughts. Oh, yes. 

He drains his tankard, watches his lord slip away. Stands, to the jeers and cheers of his friends, and steps toward that lovely daydream.

[kariachi]

Fic presented itself. Argit's had A Night and Ben is on Rat Watch.

Warning for abuse.

~~

There was something between confusion and concern that always came with waking up in the middle of the night to Kevin in his room. After a point one got used to the fact he could and would break in- if his mom woke up and found an outside door open she just automatically made an extra plate and mug of coffee anymore- but it would probably never stop coming with that inkling that something might be very wrong.

Having him all but shove Argit onto his bed only served to heighten those feelings.

“Argit’s staying the night,” he said in a low, clipped tone edging on a growl that brooked no argument, “anything happens to him and I put you in the hospital.” Ben was still in the process of sitting up, rubbing sleep from his eyes with the heel of his hand, as he turned on his heel and stormed out. Not a single explanation of why he was even there when he should have been like four towns over with Gwen.

“…the fuck..?”

“Don’t worry, nobody’s coming after me, he’s just in a mood.” Blinking blearily, Ben turned his attention from the door to Argit, his confused frown twisting as he gave a painful hiss. The alien looked to have gone through the absolute wringer. It was dark, and while Ben had learned in the past few years that he had better night vision than full humans it was hard to get a good look, but there was a point where ambient moonlight was enough to tell someone was scruffier than normal. He rolled out of bed, crossed the room, flicked on the light, and hissed again. “It ain’t that bad.”

Between the bandages, the spots that were already scabbing over, the wrist that had been wrapped, it was that bad.

“Who did you piss off!?!” No matter whether he got on with the bastard or not, there was no hiding the concern in his voice as he went to check him over himself. Argit leveled a glare at him, then rolled his eyes as he began searching for any damage Kevin might have missed.

“My guy decided he was tired of my tone,” Argit said, “Ravrsa’s off to make sure he knows my tone’s not his problem.”  Ben would forever blame the fact he’d just woken up for the long heartbeats it took for his brain to translate that, his jaw tightening as soon as it did. And Kevin hadn’t even had the decency to take him along, like he wasn’t a fucking hero. “Don’t worry, he hasn’t offed any of my exes yet. Might put the fucker in the hospital, but he won’t kill him.”

“Well at least there’s that,” Ben said, as if that had been his concern. “You’ve had more than one guy pull this?” Argit shrugged, favoring the shoulder with the bad wrist.

“He says I’ve got bad taste in men, like he doesn’t have bad taste in general.” Meeting his eyes with a sharp look, not at Gwen’s level but close enough he hoped, Ben pointedly didn’t respond. Argit rolled his eyes again. “The sorta fuckers we go for aren’t exactly upstanding sweethearts.”

“Hey now, he’s got Gwen.” There was nothing that needed more patching that he could tell, and Ben just hovered a moment before what of his mom and aunt’s lessons in manners kicked in. He gestured for Argit to follow him and headed for the kitchen.

“She’s been okay so far,” Argit said, trailing after him, at least he didn’t seem to have any sort of limp or anything, “least if she’s raised a hand Kev hasn’t said anything.”

“She’s a good person.”

“Yeah, so he tells me, I still worry.” Ben gave a small laugh, looking back at him.

“I think he’s the one who needs to be worrying.” Argit flashed a toothy smile back.

“Think he’s about one bad day from just offing every guy who eyes me, save himself the trouble.” Snickering, Ben started digging through cabinets as Argit climbed onto a counter.

“You can’t do chocolate, right?” He’d swear Kevin had mentioned it once, and Pierce hadn’t been able to eat the stuff…

“Yeah. No chocolate, no caffeine, no alcohol.” Humming, he nodded and only pulled out the one pack of cocoa. Another cabinet would get him a mug and a bowl, and there was some juice in the fridge.

“Okay. Hey, you got a safe place to stay?”

“Benny,” Argit teased with a snort, “are you worried about me?”

“Don’t tell Gwen or she might disown me,” Ben answered, glancing over with a smile to see Argit shake his head.

“I’ll be fine. Think Kev’s just happy to have someone he trusts to keep an eye on me while he’s all worked up.”

“Guess I can’t blame him being a bit paranoid. Orange or cherry?”

“Orange. It’s not paranoia when people actually have the worst intentions for us.” For a moment Ben paused, considered the statement, then nodded.

“Okay, yeah, none of us are really paranoid at this point.”

“Especially not Kev.”

“Especially not Kev.” Handing Argit his bowl of juice, Ben set to work getting his cocoa together. “You wouldn’t believe some of the shit I’ve seen people try to pull with him.” He paused. “Actually, maybe you would.”

“Been hanging with him a lot longer than you,” Argit snickered, “I definitely would. Most of my body count’s from saving his ass.” Ben turned from the microwave to try to stare him down.

“You should not be so comfortable telling me you’ve killed people.”

“You hang out with Kev, and he’s killed like three times as many people as I have.”

“Touche.” Bastard. “But somehow not any of your exes, even though they were bastards.”

“In his defense there, normally we leave the area before he finds out what pissed me off.” With a curious hum, Ben mixed his drink and leaned against another counter.

“Pretty smart, if his response is gonna be to put somebody in the hospital.” He mindlessly took a sip, flinching and huffing as he burned his mouth and throat. Argit was polite enough to wait. “Seriously though, you have got to date better people. Fuck, I know enough criminals by now, I’ll find you better.”

The kitchen fell into silence, Argit looking at him with a narrow-eyed look somewhere between suspicion and amusement. Ben didn’t rescind the offer, as much as he’d just been running his mouth. He was, after all, still sore that he hadn’t been given the chance to go help beat this guy up. It was a blow to his pride as a hero. If setting Argit up with somebody could keep him out of that kind of situation again, it would make up for it. If it got one of his enemies off his back then all the better.

A curious noise came across the kitchen.

“You realize if it went badly Kev’d blame you for setting the whole mess up?” The same Kevin who was, as they spoke, heading out to give a guy twice what he’d given first. But also, the same Kevin who was Ben’s best friend and not about to piss off Gwen by killing him over something like this.

“I’m not that scared of him.” Because you had to be stupid to not be at least a little scared of him, no matter the relationship. Argit snorted, flashed him a toothy smile.

“May take you up on that, just to see you try.” Gwen would have words, but if he never did anything that would annoy his cousin was he really Ben Tennyson? Besides, he could already see Kevin’s romantic ass chilling out when it came up in the morning, and they both knew it would come up in the morning one way or another. Even if just in the form of Argit teasing him for caring. More cautiously this time, Ben took another sip of cocoa.

“If nothing else, it gives me an excuse to avoid my paperwork.”

“Aw,” Argit said, snorting again, “the big-name hero can’t manage a little paperwork?” Ben laughed back.

“The ‘big-name hero’ would rather be doing good than bending over a desk.” Argit’s ear and mouth twitched. Ben glowered at him. “You know what I mean.” For a moment everything settled into an almost easy quiet as Argit lapped at his drink and Ben carefully sipped his own.

“So,” Argit said after a moment, tone quiet, bemused, a little patronizing, head tilting just a bit to the side, “you’re classing trying to find me a new guy under ‘good guy hero stuff’?” He didn’t even like Argit. Could’ve lived a perfectly happy life never seeing or hearing about him again. He was a untrustworthy, cowardly bastard of a con, sat in his kitchen looking like he’d been dragged along a cliffside for what was, this time, no fault of his own. Something he wasn’t even making a fuss about.

Ben smiled over his mug at him, wide and honest.

“Of course.”

Even he deserved better than that. And if Argit tried to hide wide-eyed surprise in his drink, well…

That just proved the point.

[repentarium]

the truth is i've been dreaming of this tired, tranquil place tag 12/??

ao3

Steve hasn’t really celebrated Halloween for the past few years, for what he likes to think are pretty obvious reasons. He kind of thought Eddie would be on the same page as him, but he had loudly insisted that it was his favorite holiday, actually, and no shitty underworld or death experience was going to take it away from him, thank you very much. 

There’s a little costume party happening at the bar on Center Street, and Steve knows it’s going to be full of the kids they went to school with, and that most of them still aren’t convinced Eddie isn’t some sort of devil kid, and that even if they ignored them all completely it was going to be loud and overwhelming. But Eddie seems to be so excited about it, and he really lights up when Steve agrees to go. Maybe he needs this. 

They pull a Han Solo costume together for Steve the night before by rummaging around both of their closets, and Steve does think he looks good, even though the white button-up shirt is really some kind of weird blouse that Eddie found. He has to get changed in the back room at Family Video (a Monday ? They’re going out on a Monday…), and he smears eyeliner across and into his poor eyes because Eddie insisted it added to the drama. It takes way too long and makes his eyes burn a little, but he guesses it looks dramatic.

Eddie insisted on being a vampire from a movie he really likes; Steve had bailed out on watching it the time they tried because of the blood and gore, but he insists it’s somehow both ‘gnarly’ and ‘high art’.  

When he was talking about his costume (he refused to try it on beforehand because of ‘the mystery , Steve’),  it sounded like he was going to wear his normal clothes, but Steve thinks he just wasn’t getting the vision because when he meets up with him he is struck a little by how cool Eddie looks. Just, like, a little.

Eddie’s mostly stopped smoking after everything (who knows what they breathed in the Upside Down; Steve finds himself short on breath sometimes, but he thinks Eddie got it worse, and quitting smoking was a necessity), but he does indulge from time to time, mostly just when he’s drinking. He’s leaning against the brick wall of the bank across from the video store indulging . He’s got sunglasses on even though the sun has started to set and the sky is all reds and purples, and his hair is pushed back from his face, slicked to the sides and tall up top. There’s an earring dangling from one of his ears, and he’s not sure if it’s always been pierced or not because it’s usually hidden but he wouldn’t put it past him to just do it on impulse in the bathroom mirror this afternoon.

He’s got an old white shirt ripped in a way Steve would call ‘artfully disheveled'. There’s a little blood smeared across the thin fabric and the pale skin underneath the tears. It’s way too bright to be real, but it makes him push down thoughts of the Upside Down anyway. It’s easy enough to do when he’s looking so paradoxically alive. 

There’s a smudge of the blood across his mouth, and when Eddie catches him crossing the street and smiles at him, Steve sees little plastic fangs pressed onto his teeth. They pick up the shine of the streetlight as it flickers on, and for a second Steve has to catch his breath because he looks a little weird, a little dangerous. 

‘You look scary.’ Steve says to him as he comes up close, and it makes him smile even brighter. 

‘You look good too, Stevie, like a real rebel hero.’ His smile turns a little teasing as he pushes off the wall and heads down the street. He doesn’t even check to see if Steve is following him, the arrogant bastard, but of course he is, even if he’s shaking his head as he does. 

The bar is darker than normal, lit in mostly purples and pinks and greens. Steve is glad it’s not red lights. There’s some DJ who’s playing pop hits that Steve knows Eddie hates, but they’re effective in making the people in all their costumes dance around and get thirsty. The horror sounds of hokey screaming and growling monsters probably help Eddie feel more at home, because he’s still smiling as Steve catches up to him, pressed tight against the bar and shouting an order.

Steve has to push past someone in a Ghostbuster costume (not nearly as good as the ones the kids had, this looks like something off the rack of a department store) to stand next to Eddie. The Ghostbuster gives him a pretty nasty look, but Steve channels a little King behavior and arranges his face in a way that he hopes is mildly intimidating. When he looks at Eddie again, he's laughing at him and pushing his sunglasses on top of his head. He throws an arm around his shoulders easily, and hands him a shot of something clear and slides a beer across the bar at him. 

They clink their glasses and throw back the shot, then chase it with the shitty beer. Steve doesn't know a lot about alcohol as far as types and brands, but what he used to steal from his parents or convince older kids to buy him didn't taste like gasoline in the same way.

Eddie tugs on his sleeve to lead him around the dancefloor and up the stairs to some tall tables that overlook the lower level. It's a little less chaotic upstairs, but it's still crowded, full of people who are already on the way to drunk, rustling plasticy costumes and masks around. There's a smaller bar upstairs that isn't as overwhelmed, and Steve thinks this is actually not so bad. It's kind of fun to people-watch, to laugh with Eddie about folks being a little foolish or making out or falling over. 

'You should wear eyeliner more, Stevie.' Eddie says when he comes back from the bar for their next drink. 

Steve laughs at him and makes a comment about not being enough of a rockstar, but he hides a little bit of a blush behind the last of his first beer. For all his 'popularity', he didn't get a lot of direct compliments that weren't at least a little backhanded or mean. If he were anyone else, he could almost think Eddie is teasing him. He knows Eddie, though, and knows he's not. He’s smiling and sincere. Kind.

As they finish their drinks, Steve realizes that he's not just tolerating it so Eddie can have a good time, he's having fun . The weird blouse he's wearing under his vest is a little scratchy and he keeps forgetting he's got makeup on and rubbing at his itchy eyes, but he hasn't laughed so much in years. 

He's still laughing as he gets up to get them another drink. He's waiting on the bartender, hasn't been away from the table for more than a few minutes when he feels movement behind him and a hand at his back. It startles him for about a millisecond, but he realizes quickly that it’s just Eddie, familiar like he's an extension of his own body. He leans in close to Steve and murmurs into his ear. 

'Not to panic you or anything but I did just see Tommy H. dancing around like an idiot downstairs. He looks a little, ah, inebriated.'

'Ugh.' The muscles in Steve’s back tense. Mostly it's just pissing him off because he was having fun goddammit .

'Look, it's probably fine! He probably isn't gonna even see you or anything. But. If you want to go…?'

'No, no way, it's okay, you’re right. Can I please have two tequilas, neat, and two Pabsts?'

'Two tequilas neat from the fanciest bar in town.' Eddie teases him and leans with his back against the bar. Steve shoves an elbow into his side in retaliation. He yells and cackles and walks away, back to the table, leaving Steve to pay and juggle the drinks. 

He makes it back without any spilling, and Eddie is leaning out over the banister, looking down on the people dancing. Steve joins him with the drinks; they clink glasses and down the tequila, sip the beers in sync, and Steve sets the empty glasses back on their table. He rejoins Eddie at the banister and looks down, and it’s like riding a bike; his eyes find Tommy H. almost immediately. 

He’s wearing some kind of black robe like the kind that comes with a plastic mask, but he’s clearly ditched whatever face it was at some point. He’s dancing with some girl that's barely wearing anything, but she leaves when he gets too close and yells something into her ear. Steve wonders where Carol is, if they’re not together anymore. He hadn’t realized Tommy was still in town. Or maybe he was visiting? Robin was coming back for Thanksgiving, and some of Eddie’s bandmates/Hellfire goons, but that wasn’t for another couple of weeks. 

‘We kissed once, you know.’ Steve doesn’t know why he said it. He's immediately sweating and red and wide-eyed. He gulps his beer and hopes Eddie didn't hear him over the music, but when his eyes flick over nervously Eddie's jaw is dropped in delight and he's staring at Steve. 

'No, Steven, I do not know, please elaborate.'

'It's. It wasn't. It wasn't like a big deal, like, it wasn't a gay thing or whatever, we just had too much to drink at a party once and…'

'Riiiight, of course you did, Stevie.' Eddie is sparkly and teasing. 

'It was just the once! I don't even know why it happened.'

'Was it fun?'

'I mean, yeah, kissing is fun, so of course it was fun.'

Eddie hums into his beer and looks back down on the dancefloor, and Steve is staring at the opening of his own can. 

'I don't know why I even said that, that wasn't cool, I don't know what Tommy's story is or whatever.'

'It's alright, Stevie, your secret is safe with me.' 

Steve frowns a little, because it's not really a secret , not to him, it's just that it's a story that no one really knows, Robin doesn't even know, and it’s something that would hurt Tommy. He shouldn't have said anything. It wasn’t a big deal, not really, it was just that Tommy and Carol were off-again and he and Steve were complaining about striking out, and, well.

And now, god, now maybe Eddie thinks he's being weird, or that he said it's not gay because gay is a bad thing and it's like not . It's just that he's you know. Not. He likes girls, like, a lot actually. 

He sips at his beer again and watches Eddie sip at his. Hmm.

At some point Tommy must have wandered off, because when Steve checks the dancefloor again he can’t find him. He hopes he went home, and that he got there safely. They weren’t friends anymore, not at all, but he knows how he gets when he’s like this. 

‘You’re frowning, Stevie.’

‘Sorry, I’m okay.’ He shakes his head and takes another drink, feels the room-temperature bubbles hit the back of his throat. 

‘You’re overthinking it, okay? Everything’s fine.’ Eddie claps a hand on his shoulder and levels his head to meet his eyes, sincere through his lashes. He lifts his beer to cheers at him, and gestures with his head back to their table, which now has some people at it that Eddie apparently recognizes through the dark and their costumes. Someone in KISS face paint and a very inebriated Beetlejuice, whose makeup has smeared and melted all over his face like a sad clown. Somehow KISS guy’s still got pretty crisp lines. Steve follows Eddie to the table and introduces himself, makes a little small talk but mostly just listens as they talk about some concert that was going to happen in a couple of months, and whether they were going, and what songs the band were going to be playing. 

He excuses himself to the restroom, pushes through the crowd and past a couple making out against the sticker-covered wall. The door to the bathroom is sticky. 

After he’s finished, he’s washing his hands in the sink and trying to make the eyeliner around his red eyes look as cool as it did earlier, and thinking about what the fuck he was doing talking about Tommy H. to Eddie like that. He knew Eddie wasn’t going to go around telling anyone, but that wasn’t the point. 

Maybe Eddie was right, that he was overthinking it. 

Of course, as luck would have it, Tommy is coming into the bathroom as Steve is trying to push out, and he runs into the stall to evacuate the contents of his stomach. Steve winces. He hasn’t been that drunk in a while, and he doesn’t miss it. He’s just pleasantly coasting towards properly drunk, a little bubbly and warm.

He has a minute where he flips and flops, trying to decide if he should do anything, before he sighs and grabs someone’s abandoned glass off of the counter, rinses it out and fills it with tap water. 

‘Tommy.’ He calls into the still-open stall. ‘You okay in there, buddy?’

‘Stevie-boy, that you?’ His voice echoes into the toilet. 

‘Yeah, it’s me.’

‘Haven’t seen you in a while, man, how are you doing?’ He’s slurring a little, but he pulls back from the toilet enough to spin around and plant himself into a seat on the definitely-wet ground next to it.

Steve flushes for him and hands him the glass he’d found. ‘Oh, you know, getting by.’

‘I get that.’

Steve watches as he drinks the water, wonders if he’d be pissed and catty at him if he’d had less to drink. Wonders if he’s still as much of an asshole, or if the few years since high school have made him grow up at all. His face has smears of makeup on it, like he’d been rubbing against people wearing it the way a cat would. Steve fills the water up for him again. 

‘Well, if you’re good, Hagan, I’m gonna…’ he points his thumb out the bathroom door. 

‘Yeah of course! I’ll see you around, maybe?’

‘Yeah, maybe!’ Steve nods and backs out of the bathroom. He feels no different. He’d thought casually before that maybe running into him again would bring some sort of closure, or at least maybe a fistfight. It was so… anticlimactic. He’s kind of grateful. The couple outside the bathroom are still making out.

[nicoxmacavoy]

(JAKE WEARY, CIS MAN, HE/HIM) Oh, is that DOMINIC "NICO" MACAVOY? I heard the THIRTY TWO-year-old is CREATIVE. But don’t let that pretty face fool you, they are also DISLOYAL Makes sense seeing how they are a HEIST OPS in the SOCIETY gang. (LEILA)

TW: Kidnapping (in semi detail), torture, murder, death, abuse, and PTSD are all mentioned but never in detail.

BASICS

Full Name: Dominic "Nico" Kyle Macavoy

Nickname: Nico, Nic, Nicky, Mac

Age: 32

DOB: January 9th

Parents: Michelle & John Macavoy. Atticus Lynch

Siblings: Sister - Heidi Macavoy, Half-Sister -Aspen Lynch

Children: unknown

Hair color: blonde

Eye color: Blue

Height: 6'2

Tattoos: many

Scars: tbd

Piercings: ears

Sexuality: bisexual

Occupation: owner of Liberty Diner

BACKGROUND

A mistake. That's all Nico has ever known himself to be. His older sister was already in her pre-teens when he came shooting out, forcing his parents to start all over again. And when Heidi came around saying she was pregnant, their parents didn't think twice before kicking her to the curb, not wanting to raise yet another child, not with a five-year-old running around.

What Nico didn't know was that he was the product of an affair. His mother, Michelle, had a thing going on the side with Atticus Lynch the up-and-coming Lawyer.

Growing up, Nico was reminded time and time again that he was the mistake, mainly by his father. John was also riding his ass to do better in school, pursue more sports, stop wasting his time playing outside, and get serious. With Heidi running off to raise her baby, his parent's attention fell on him. Heidi was supposed to be the perfect daughter and failed, now he had to compensate for those losses.

By the time Nico turned 12, news of his sister running off and abandoning her son had set his parents off into sargent mode. His father was starting to crack down on him, declaring any bad behavior to be a disgrace to the family name and that his sister had already embarrassed them enough. They pushed him too far for someone that young.

He felt the pressure and needed release and that is when he met his best friend, Charlie Monroe. Charlie introduced him to the finer things in life and so he started using drugs and drinking. He would stay out longer, and lie to his parents. They would think he was at a school activity when really he snuck out with Charlie and his brothers to go surf on Long Island. Charlie was equally the best and worst thing to ever happen to Nico. He made him feel free but it was also his downfall.

Charlie was the son of a Monroe of the Crimsons and was sent to scope him out and befriend him. With his guard lowered one evening, playing video games turned into having a bag over his head and duck tap holding his wrists and ankles.

Nico had never felt more betrayed in his life. Charlie had made him feel something again, feel alive, like a valued human being. But he was just being used. Within the first night, he learned the real reason he was being held against his will. Ransom from Atticus Lynch. It was then that he learned he was the bastard child of the hotshot lawyer, who also didn't really care enough about him to pay it. So they did what they did best. The ruined Nico.

The first few months the Monroe's didn't know what to do with him. They couldn't just let him back. Either way, the Society was going crazy to know what had happened to him and surely he would talk. It seemed that Lynch had kept it hush, not wanting the fallback of everyone finding out that he left his own child to be condemned and tortured by another gang. So they locked him in a basement and let him sit there and rot while time passed.

After a while, he got used to being there. The Monroe's had no real purpose for him yet and the Crimsons were still discussing their options, killing him being one of the main ones. While Charlie may have betrayed him, he was also his saving grace in lock up. He would bring him food and water, but Charlie's father was a vindictive cunt and took out his frustrations on the young boy. After a year of abuse and isolation, they decided to get some use out of him.

He had small jobs to do like clean the torture tools after a kill, those took place in the very same basement he resided in. He had to listen to each agonizing scream while the targets begged for mercy. If a kill was being dragged out for days or weeks, he was tasked with keeping the person alive and treating them until the Monroe's decided it was time for the person to die. He liked the company really, having someone to talk to.

When he hit 15 they made him start administering the torturing. They were slowly training him to be their weapon. Suddenly they were feeding him more, allowing him to work out, and even gave him books to read and study. He was already doing some of that on his own but now they were giving him more specific material to learn.

All while this was going down, Nico was planning. He was using every opportunity to give him the best chance of survival. Learning the torture techniques taught him how to handle weapons and clean up after bodies, taught him how to heal his own wounds. They were creating a monster that they thought they could control but sadly they were mistaken.

By the time he was 17 Nico had gotten rather huge standing at 6 foot 2. He had spent most of his time locked up in that basement and hadn't felt the outside light in six years. But as each day passed, they slowly let their guard down whenever in their presence.

And then suddenly it hit.

The time had come when they had gotten just a bit too careless and he took his chance. And everyone died.

Charlie was the only one, not home that day and the only person in the family left breathing. And to this day, Nico has vowed to not rest until he pays for what he has done. As far as he was concerned, Dominic, the sweet caring boy, died in that basement along with his humanity.

Upon Nico's return, his family and former gang demanded answers as to where he was and what happened to him but he stayed quiet. He was not about to let anyone get a chance at finishing his own revenge. He used that time to officially pledge his loyalty to the Society and use his newfound skills to start out as a lookout for heists. He spent time learning and watching allowing him to move up. Now he was one of the senior people running the gangs heists.

PERSONALITY

Nico has suffered a lot at a young age. These are things he never really recovered from. With having mommy and daddy issues and being betrayed by the people he trusted, he refuses to form emotional attachments which results in him being flakey, uncaring, cheating, and overall emotionally unavailable. He is focused on his work, can be laid back with it, and goes with the flow but also has high expectations for his work. He suffers from PTSD from his days being a captive.

CONNECTIONS

Nephew - Jason Macavoy Half-sister - Aspen Lynch Best friend/downfall: Charlie Monre - Open, read the intro for info. The name can be changed! Exs - either guy or girl. He is extremely disloyal when it comes to relationships and would have cheated Hookups - he likes getting spicy

[aloudplace]

Chapter 17 temperature

At first, he thought she must have ventured into one of the other wings of the bunker. He checked them all.

Nothing.

And then he figured she'd gone outside again for some reason. He put on a pair of ill-fitting leather trousers and went up into the greenhouse.

It was blazing hot, though the sun hung just above the horizon still. He could see it, like a great, searing eye, distorted through the greenhouse panels.

The rows of skeletal trees were just as forlorn and abandoned as they had been before. The dry soil showed two sets of tracks leading up to the door where he stood—and a third set heading out the way they'd come.

Eiara’s footprints.

Where the hell had she gone?

When he reached the broken panel through which they'd entered, he saw it.

The sandy ground outside bore a distinct impression. The three triangular imprints of an Eladani skiff's landing gear.

No.

No no no!

Loklan stepped out of the greenhouse and followed Eiara's trail. Stood there in the searing sunshine for several minutes, mind racing.

Her footprints stopped not far beyond the broken greenhouse panel. Two sets of larger footprints met with Eiara's smaller ones. The dirt where the three came together was disturbed. Like someone had kicked at the ground. Struggled. Been dragged.

They'd taken her. Carried her aboard.

Loklan's world began to crumble, looking out across the barren moon.

He was alone.

Again.

Maybe forever this time.

Rage and anguish gripped him.

Son of a bitch!

"Otyris!" he bellowed, as though the old man could hear him.

Maybe he could. Maybe the Second King of Eladan had been watching all along. Aiming his telescopes and his seers at them without their ever knowing.

But why take her?

Just to punish Loklan?

"You bastard!" He screamed at the sky, knowing it was mad. Pointless. "Bring her back!"

But of course, that wouldn’t happen. If he wanted to see her again, he would have to find a way to return to Eladan himself.

It was stupid. He knew full well what he would be returning to. Otyris's judgment. Imprisonment. Public shame and humiliation.

The gaping absence left by his brother and mother.

Going back wouldn't guarantee that he would be with Eiara, either. If they'd taken her, it was because someone on Asatyru wanted her back. She was a priestess, after all. A powerful healer.

And possibly a wanted criminal.

Even if Otyris permitted Loklan to see her—if they hadn't already returned her to Asatyru—what could come of it?

He was better off in exile.

Yet staying here alone suddenly seemed like a fate worse than death.

No Eiara. Just a barren moon and his own bedeviled company.

It was worse than any prison cell, he realized. Or better, from Otyris's perspective. Because Loklan could never escape and needed no guard. He could receive no visitors, yet he had everything he required to go on living here for years.

Perhaps they would even send him supplies when he ran out. It would be simple enough.

He could live out the rest of his days on this abandoned rock without harming anyone ever again.

The realization made him so furious—so frantic—that he began to pace in the sand like a madman, tearing at his hair and cursing under his breath, grasping wildly for hope.

Eiara wouldn't leave me here, would she? She would insist they bring me back.

No, that's stupid. Why would Otyris agree to that? Just to appease a woman with no memories, who likely committed a crime against the Goddess? A woman who'd been cavorting with the infamous Bastard Prince, like a common whore—

No, they won't blame her for that, will they? She doesn't know what I am—not really.

And then the shock of painful realization.

They would tell her everything he’d done.

It pierced his heart like Alistair’s dueling blade all over again.

She would know. Otyris would tell her everything and she would... but she claimed to love him. And he believed it, despite himself. Despite everything.

Would that just go away? Would she care about his past?

Would she be sent back to Asatyru? Or perhaps Otyris would put her in prison for whatever she’d done to get herself wiped.

Fuck!

He couldn't stand it—the thought of Eiara in a prison cell alone. Suffering as he had suffered.

"Otyris!—please!" he cried, looking up helplessly at the blank white sky. Not caring that he was begging. Not caring that his return to Eladan might result in even greater heartbreak.

Because he did love her.

How long had they been here together? A few weeks? And they'd been making love for only three days.

Three days of her body, her tenderness, her cries of pleasure. Three pathetic little days, and he was in love. It wasn't just stupid—it was positively moronic.

But it was true.

The pain of her loss was proof enough.

"Father," he said in utter defeat, speaking to the desert. The sky. To nothing and no one.

"Please," he whispered. "Please. Don't leave me here like this!"

But of course, there was no answer.

***

Three days later, the Eladani skiff returned.

Otyris' guards dragged the Bastard Prince from the bed where he and Eiara had slept. At first, the two men shrunk from his Zenopelti form in shock and confusion.

And disgust?

Loklan didn’t care. He was stiff and cold with rage.

He hadn't slept or eaten since Eiara had been taken. For the first day and most of the second, he'd been anxious and restless. Pacing, thinking. Cursing Otyris. Cursing himself. Agonizing over what they would do with Eiara. Wondering if she had already been sent back to Asatyru. If they’d hurt her. If he would see her again.

After that, he'd settled into stony resignation, emotions hardening to an icy crust on his heart.

He began to wish he’d never met her. That she hadn’t been there to save him. To love him and make him feel again.

Pleasure. Joy.

Hope.

It should have ended with Alistair. With that sword in my chest.

I should have died.

But then his father’s men appeared in their black and gold livery. He heard their heavy bootsteps in the hallway outside and thought it was a hallucination.

They announced that his father had summoned him back to Elandan.

Why? To face justice?

They didn’t say.

They bundled him to the skiff and flew him home.

He arrived on Eladan shirtless, still in the same ill-fitting leather trousers, and stood before Otyris and his private guard.

Only his father—perched on his dais in ceremonial black and gold robes as though this were some grand event—failed to react openly to Loklan's Zenopelti form. A few of the guards gasped. Otyris's pale eyes widened, but his craggy face remained otherwise still, white hair slicked back under his crystal-tipped crown.

The richness of his dress and the throne room itself—the marble pillars and the golden arches above them, the blue sky peeking beyond the high windows—was both familiar and strange after weeks on Asatyru’s desert moon.

Everything glittered blindingly.

Loklan hated it.

He felt no shame, standing before them all in his true form. Only that cold, cold rage and a vicious gratification at their discomfort. Especially his father’s.

Here I am, old man. Your shameful secret come to light. How does it feel?

"Loklan." Otyris’ voice echoed with authority. And something else.

Was that... regret?

"Otyris," Loklan answered smoothly, though his voice rang with disdain. "So kind of you to fetch me back. Shall I return to my cell? Or perhaps an execution is in order."

The Second King of Eladan regarded Loklan silently, as though gauging his response.

"We believed you dead," he said finally.

"Dreadfully sorry to disappoint."

Otyris' eyes flickered with some emotion Loklan couldn't place. "We know of your service to the Goddess."

Loklan laughed bitterly. “What have I ever done to serve the Goddess?”

This seemed to surprise Otyris even more than Loklan's Zenopelti form. Behind him, the guards exchanged a look. Disdain? Confusion?

Loklan didn't give a damn.

“Where's Eiara?" he demanded.

A pause. Loklan could see the calculation in Otyris’ eyes.

"She is here, in the palace."

Relief drained some of Loklan's anger. Not all though. Not nearly.

"What have you done to her?"

Otyris's brows lifted. "Done to her? I've done nothing. She is well and safe."

"And her memories?" Loklan demanded.

"Her memories have been returned."

Loklan cursed, surging forward a step. The guards tensed, hands to their weapons.

"She didn't want them back!" he snarled.

"Her wishes were unfortunately moot on that point," the old man replied levelly. "It was essential that we know what happened to her on Asatyru."

Loklan was shocked to find his eyes burning as rage and dismay chased themselves around his heart in an agonizing loop. "Why?" he spat. "What benefit was there in forcing her to remember? Some political gains in your relations with the Asatyri?"

Otyris' face remained still, but his blue eyes sparked with anger. Still, there was that odd little ghost of something else. Not regret, but maybe...sadness?

"Perhaps you should speak with Lady Eiar yourself on that count," the old man replied.

Loklan glared. What the hell is going on here?

“You’ll allow me to see her?” he said with suspicion.

Otyris nodded once. “It is her wish.”

Loklan’s suspicion increased, warring with other feelings.

The thought of facing Eiara now was horrible. Loklan's heart shrank from the prospect and at the same time began to ache—indeed, to burn—with longing.

"And how shall I accomplish that?" he hissed. "Will you send her to visit me in my cell?"

"There will be no cell, Loklan. You will return to the palace."

Loklan's anger faltered under a bright surge of shock. "What?"

"Your sentence has been commuted," Otyris returned. "Eladan welcomes you home."

The words rang loudly in the room, heavy with import.

Stunned, Loklan could only stare. His thoughts tumbled, heart expanding and contracting at once.

His sentence was commuted? Elandan welcomed him?

“I don’t understand,” he said.

Otyris once again regarded him in inscrutable silence. Loklan had almost forgotten how much he hated his father’s silences. The penetrating, ever-impassive gaze.

How many times had he acted out as a child just to see those blue eyes fall upon him with something other than this coldness?

“The kingdoms have been in a panic since the day you disappeared,” Otyris said.

Loklan’s bewilderment deepened. “Why?”

The pale blue eyes were unwavering. “Because on that day, the Goddess also disappeared from Her temple on Asatyru.”

Everything inside Loklan stilled.

The Goddess…?

“In our search for Her,” said the Second King of Eladan, “we also found you.”

The words struck him like a slap.

No.

No, it can’t be.

Loklan shook his head. Opened his mouth.

No words came.

Otyris continued, unaware or uncaring of Loklan’s state of paralyzed denial.

“For your compassion,” said the old man, “and for your care of our Goddess in her most vulnerable state, your crimes against the Second Kingdom of Eladan are forgiven.”

[moscnios]

headcanons  %  losing an arm to protect them.

☻  /  characters . . .  luffy, zoro, sanji, robin & law.

☻  /  content warnings . . .  brief mentions of amputation, blood, violence. not proofread.

☻  /  commentary . . .  was at the dentist yesterday and while the guy was working on my teeth, i had so many ideas and this was one of them for some reason. don’t ask why, i’m not sure. but i like how these came out.

he knew you were hurt BAD. he just didn’t understand just how bad at first because he was so blinded by pure rage. he just wanted to get even

but then he sees it

your arm.

or at least where your arm should be

tears of both anger and sadness fill his eyes as it has happened again. someone has sacrificed a piece of themselves just to save him.

he immediately feels so guilty.

you will have to promise that you’re fine before he lets you go

he will leave you to chopper before going to continue to fight, this time making sure whoever did this to you isn’t walking away without a few injuries.

after everything is all done, he’s running to the sick bay to check on you

he’s still going to feel so guilty about it. he won’t be able to stop looking at it

the best way to take his mind off of it would be butterfly kisses all over his face because he’s ticklish and he loves how they feel

plus you get to hear him laugh and be happy, and not sad

you understood how swordsmen felt about slashes to the back. you couldn’t allow that to happen to zoro. you ran in attempts to guard him, underestimating your opponent until they took your arm.

the world around him slowed down after your ear-piercing scream from behind him.

he looked over his shoulder, eye widened as he watched your now detached arm fall to the ground.

he was livid. 

the man already has wado ichimonji out, and is ready to return the damage done to you to them

however, after it is all said and done and chopper has you all taken care of, he’s still upset, this time with you

he’s scolding you like a child, saying he doesn’t need protection and what you did was reckless and it could have been even worse

in reality, he’s doing this to keep himself from crying at the thought of losing you. and it’s not working all that well

the tears are already flowing

he’ll pretend to forgive himself for your sake. but he knows deep down he’ll always deeply regret what happened and wishes he could have stopped it

it happened all too fast. he could barely even process you pushing him out of the way and taking the attack full force. 

all he remembered was seeing you being flung into the ground and when the smoke cleared seeing you hurt

he wanted to run to you, to make sure you were okay. but the bastard who did this to you was still standing, laughing.

sanji was PISSED. the fight was already over by the time he brought his flaming leg up and set his sights on the person who hurt you

when everything was over he rushed to you, picking you up and that’s when he noticed how your arm had dangled. there was no chance in hell at saving it he already knew that just by how bad it looked. it has to be amputated

when you wake up sanji is at your bedside, holding your hand gently. he cannot sleep until you wake up so he can be the first one to see you

and he wants to know why? why would you push him out of the way? why would you get yourself hurt?

when you explain that you wanted to protect him for once like he always does for you, he’s nearly in tears. he can’t even be mad at you.

he’s already smothering you in kisses and telling you how brave and strong you are

she just barely hears your scream of her name before you’re already trying to tackle her to get down. however, you are hit in the process.

you’re in shock. you are aware of what has happened but robin isn’t yet. she doesn’t understand why you aren’t saying anything, why you aren’t moving.

she doesn’t understand until she tries to reach for your arm and it isn’t there, rather an immense amount of your blood began to fill her hand.

she quickly puts two and two together, realizing that you were hit when trying to protect her.

she is no longer worried about the enemy. she is worried about you and getting you to safety in order to treat your wounds. she’s using her powers to carry you back to the sunny, leaving the enemy to any of the monster trio.

robin doesn’t realize it immediately but she’s sobbing.

you have to make it. she NEEDS you to make it. you are one of the only good things she has left in this world, and she can’t lose you, not like this

robin is helping chopper the best she can in order to help your chances of survival

when everything is over and you wake up safe and sound, she can’t help but hug you.

she’ll take your face into her hands, using her thumbs to massage your skin as she tells you to NEVER put yourself at risk like that again

it was too late.

law was at his limit, just barely hanging on. he couldn’t use his powers. he needed to rest but there was no place to rest. he had to keep running, you both had to keep running.

the enemy was catching up. he believed this would be his last moment. of course, that is until he heard a blade plunge into your skin as well as your whimper.

his eyes shot open at the scene of you attempting to save him, no you were trying to buy him resting time. you were using yourself as a decoy

he wanted to scold you for doing something so dangerous, but because of you he had gained enough stamina to utilize his powers and take out the enemy...at the cost of your arm

he took too long to recover and you paid the price

he’s swiftly trying to heal you, but in the end, he can’t save your arm.

don’t think you’ve heard the last of him about this though. the minute he knows you’re okay, he’s immediately lecturing on how dangerous what you did was.

it’s better to just let him get it out of his system

however, once he’s finished, he does thank you for saving his life

as a treat you’ll get snuggles :)

© MANGEKYUOU. / ☻