#but then i kept fucking with it and accidentally plucked it out

[hy6erion]

Ok so hear me out, roommate!jayce "accidentally" finding readers panties and getting off smelling them, getting caught and then punished by basically being used (thigh riding, face sitting... whatever?) and cumming untouched... WHO SAID THAT?!? I didn't, you have no proof I did🧍‍♀️... please💐❤️

~🍒

𝐂𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭 - 𝐉𝐚𝐲𝐜𝐞 𝐓𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐬 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

⇢ 𝐟𝐞𝐦! 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫, 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐭, 𝐦𝐝𝐧𝐢, 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐭! 𝐉𝐚𝐲𝐜𝐞, 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐛𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧, 𝐞𝐝𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐝𝐞𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧, 𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐞-𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐜𝐫𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠/ 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐲 𝐉𝐚𝐲𝐜𝐞

𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐭𝐨𝐨 𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐭𝐟, 𝐢 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐰𝐚y 𝐭𝐨𝐨 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐟𝐮𝐧 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬...𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬! 𝐄𝐧𝐣𝐨𝐲 𝐩𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐜 𝐣��𝐲𝐜𝐞 o( ❛ᴗ❛ )o

Living with Jayce had been easy—too easy. You should’ve been more suspicious of how well he respected your space, how he never barged into your room uninvited, how he always knocked before entering. He was the perfect roommate.

Or at least, that’s what you thought.

Jayce had a secret. A filthy, shameful secret.

And it involved you.

It started as an accident. At least, that’s what he told himself the first time. He’d gone into the laundry room, needing to toss in a few of his gym shirts, when he saw them. A delicate scrap of fabric, pale and lacy, barely covering anything at all—your panties.

He should’ve looked away. Should’ve just ignored them. But his fingers twitched before he could stop himself, reaching out and plucking them from the pile. The second he felt how soft they were, something in his brain short-circuited.

He wanted to put them down, really, but the scent of you was still clinging to the fabric. And before he could even process what the fuck he was doing, he brought them up to his nose, inhaling deeply.

That was where it all started.

Now, it had become a dangerous addiction.

Jayce knew it was wrong, knew he was crossing so many lines, but every time he found himself alone in the apartment with your laundry in the basket, he couldn’t stop himself.

And tonight was no different.

You’d gone out earlier, telling him you wouldn’t be home until late. Which gave him plenty of time.

Jayce sat on his bed, muscles tense, the familiar thrill of guilt making his cock throb as he reached under his pillow and pulled out the pair he’d stolen earlier that day. His fingers trembled slightly as he unfolded them, spreading the soft, lacy fabric over his palm.

They were tiny. He could barely imagine them covering your pussy, the thought making his mouth dry as he sucked in a sharp breath.

His dick was already hard, thick and leaking against his stomach, but he took his time, savoring the moment. He lifted the panties to his face, eyes fluttering shut as he inhaled.

Fuck.

The scent of you hit him like a drug, sweet and addictive, making his cock twitch in his fist.

His free hand wrapped around his length, giving himself a slow stroke as he kept your panties pressed to his nose. He imagined you wearing them, imagined them clinging to your cunt, soaked through with your slick.

His strokes turned rougher, more desperate, precum leaking from the tip as he gritted his teeth.

“Fuck…” he groaned, low and wrecked. “Bet this tiny thing barely covers your cunt, huh? Wonder if you know how good you smell.”

The thought of you walking around in these, completely oblivious to how much they were ruining him, made his stomach tighten. His thumb swiped over the tip of his cock, smearing precum down his length as he rutted into his fist, panting now.

He was so close—so fucking close.

And that was when it happened.

The soft creak of a door opening.

“Jayce?”

His whole body froze. Oh, fuck.

His head snapped up so fast it nearly gave him whiplash, and there you were, standing in his doorway, eyes wide.

For a split second, neither of you moved.

Then, your gaze dropped—to his lap, to the panties still clutched in his fist, the way his cock twitched against his stomach, flushed and aching.

Silence. Thick. Heavy. The tension so suffocating it made his chest burn.

Then, you took a slow step forward.

Jayce swallowed hard, heart hammering against his ribs.

“Wait—” But you didn’t wait.

You tilted your head, eyes darkening as they flicked between his face and the mess between his thighs.

You should’ve been shocked. Maybe even disgusted. Any normal person would’ve been.

But you weren’t normal. Not when it came to Jayce.

And especially not when you’d just caught your perfect roommate rutting into his own fist, whining into your stolen panties like some pathetic pervert.

Your gaze dragged over him slowly, letting the moment stretch. His cock twitched under your scrutiny, his grip tightening around the soaked lace still in his hand.

You watched the realization creep across his face, the way his jaw clenched, throat bobbing as he swallowed hard.

He knew he was fucked.

Good.

You took another step forward, eyes locked on his, and something in him shrank. The confident, charming Jayce you knew—the one who always had a cocky grin and an easy way with words—was nowhere to be found.

Now, he was just a wreck. A desperate, guilty mess, caught in the act.

“Well,” you murmured, voice syrup-thick. “Aren’t you a filthy little freak?”

Jayce let out a strangled sound, shame burning high on his cheekbones. His fingers twitched, as if debating whether to drop the evidence of his crime, but it was too late.

Your panties were still soaked with his precum. The proof was right there.

“You—fuck, I—” he stammered, voice hoarse, but you cut him off with a sharp look.

“Shut up.”

His mouth snapped shut instantly.

Your lips curled. Oh, this was interesting.

The ever-dominant, ever-in-control Jayce Talis, reduced to a shaking mess just from getting caught.

He shifted slightly, as if to cover himself, but you weren’t having that.

“Hands behind your back.”

His brows twitched together, like he was about to protest—until your gaze darkened.

“I said hands behind your back, Jayce.”

A pause. Then—slowly—he obeyed.

The moment his arms moved, his cock was left bare to you, flushed dark and leaking, the veins along his shaft throbbing as he throbbed helplessly in the open air.

God, he was so fucking hard.

You smirked, then undressed slowly, teasing, keeping eye contact with him. Jayces mouth watered, head spinning as he watched you. He wanted to touch you so badly, take your tits in his hands, run his hands along your things- but he can’t.

You stepped forward until you were standing right at the edge of the bed. Until he had to tilt his head back to keep looking at you.

His breaths were coming in short, shallow gasps, and you could see how badly he was fighting the urge to close his legs.

Cute.

“You know,” you mused, voice saccharine sweet. “I should be disgusted by this.” You reached out, plucking your panties from his lap, watching how his cock twitched at the loss of them. “But I’m not.”

Jayce swallowed hard, lips parting slightly as he stared up at you, waiting.

“But I am pissed,” you added, letting your tone drop. “Because this? This is fucking pathetic.”

A full-body shudder ran through him. His hands flexed behind his back, muscles tensing.

“I mean, really, Jayce? You steal my panties, jerk off like some desperate little bitch, and think you deserve to cum?”

A sharp inhale. He looked ruined already.

You tilted your head, watching the way his thighs tensed, the way his cock jumped at every degrading word you threw at him.

“Did you even think about what would happen if I caught you?” you continued, stepping forward again, until your knees brushed against his. “Or were you too busy humping your own fist like a needy mutt?”

A whimper. He fucking whimpered. Oh, this was fun.

You reached out, fingers sliding along his jaw, tilting his chin up. His lips parted automatically, his pupils blown wide, desperate, waiting.

Your next words came like silk-wrapped steel—soft, but unforgiving.

“If you want to act like a bitch in heat, Jayce,” you purred, “then you’re going to be treated like one.”

And with that, you moved.

Before he could react you pushed him back, climbing onto the bed and straddling his broad shoulders, your knees pressing into the sheets on either side of his head.

The second he realized what was happening, he let out a wrecked groan, his breath hot against the inside of your thighs.

His hips jerked, his cock twitching, leaking onto his stomach as you hovered just inches from his face.

He tried to move—tried to lean up, to get closer, but you planted a firm hand on his throat, pushing him back into the pillows.

“Did I say you could move?”

His breath hitched. His jaw clenched, muscles flexing under your palm as he forced himself to still.

“… No,” he rasped, voice strained.

“Good boy.”

A shudder racked through him, his fingers curling into fists behind his back.

Slowly, slowly, you lowered yourself until your soaked cunt was barely ghosting over his lips. Close enough that he could smell you, close enough that he could taste the heat in the air—but not close enough to give him what he wanted.

Jayce shook. His mouth parted on instinct, trying to bridge the gap, but your hand on his throat tightened.

“Ah, ah,” you scolded, smirking as he choked on a moan. “You’re not getting anything until you beg for it.”

His breaths came in shallow, panting gasps. His hips kept twitching, his cock smearing precum across his stomach as he fought to keep still.

“Please.”

A single word. Wrecked. Shattered. Almost painful in its desperation.

But it wasn’t enough.

“Louder.”

“Please,” he gasped, eyes wild now, hands trembling where they were locked behind his back. “Fuck, please—need to taste you, need your pussy on my tongue—”

That was more like it.

You hummed in satisfaction, then—finally—lowered yourself fully onto his face.

The second his lips met your cunt, Jayce groaned, deep and guttural. His tongue flicked out instantly, licking into your soaked folds, lapping up everything you gave him like a starving man.

You smirked. Now, this was how he was meant to be.

Ruined. Desperate. Drowning in you.

You rolled your hips slightly, grinding down, loving the way his moan vibrated against you. His tongue was frantic, fucking into your cunt with so much need, like he was trying to make up for every single depraved thought he’d ever had about you.

But you weren’t going to let him off that easy.

You reached down, threading your fingers into his hair, gripping tight.

“Don’t stop until I say,” you ordered, rocking your hips harder, forcing him deeper against you. “And don’t you dare cum until I tell you to.”

A whimper. A muffled yes, fuck, please, lost between your thighs.

You grinned, rolling your hips again.

“Good boy.”

—

You weren’t sure how long you’d been sitting on his face.

Long enough for Jayce to lose himself completely, that was for sure.

His tongue never stopped—lapping, flicking, thrusting into your soaked cunt like he needed it to breathe. His moans were wrecked, almost pathetic, vibrating against your clit as he devoured you with no restraint, no hesitation.

Like he was starving for you.

You, on the other hand, were perfectly in control.

Perched atop him, legs spread, your fingers tangled in his hair, holding him there, you took exactly what you wanted from his mouth, grinding your pussy down against his lips, using him like he was nothing more than a toy.

Which, really, was all he was at this point.

Jayce had no power here.

Not when he was flat on his back, hands locked behind him, hips twitching pathetically every time he moaned against your cunt.

Not when he was this desperate.

You smirked down at him, your thighs flexing as you rocked against his tongue, dragging your soaked pussy over his lips, teasing yourself with the pressure.

“Fuuuuck,” you sighed, head tilting back. “You’re so good at this, Jayce. So eager. So fucking needy.”

Jayce let out a muffled whimper beneath you, his hands twitching.

You knew what he wanted.

He wanted to touch you. Wanted to grab your hips, hold you down, grind you against his tongue harder—fuck, maybe he even wanted to flip you over, take control, rut his cock into your cunt like the desperate mutt he was.

But he couldn’t. Because you hadn’t let him.

And that was the best part.

You glanced down, taking in the sight beneath you. His face was soaked with your slick, lips shiny, chin glistening. His muscles were shaking with the effort of keeping still, his chest rising and falling in shallow, panting gasps.

And his dick?

It was a mess. A thick, flushed, aching mess, twitching wildly against his stomach, completely untouched. Precum smeared across his abs, dripping down his length in humiliating little spurts every time you moaned for him.

He was so hard it had to be painful.

And you weren’t going to give him a single second of relief.

Not yet.

You shifted your grip in his hair, tugging his face up just enough for him to see the way you were using him.

“Tell me, Jayce,” you murmured, voice all silk and poison. “How bad does it hurt?”

A wrecked whimper left his throat, muffled against your folds. His hips jerked, cock twitching.

“Be a good boy and use your words,” you ordered, rolling your hips over his mouth. “Or do I need to make it worse?”

Jayce groaned, his head moving frantically beneath you, like he was trying to shake his head no but too desperate to stop licking you.

You smirked, fingers tightening in his hair.

“That’s what I thought.”

He whined, the noise sharp, helpless.

God, he was so fucking close.

You could feel it—feel the way his whole body trembled, the way his cock twitched harder, precum dribbling down his shaft like it was trying to spill without permission.

Which was not going to happen.

You sat up slightly, just enough to pull his mouth away from you, ignoring the wrecked little gasp he let out.

Jayce’s lips were red, swollen, dripping with you. His pupils were huge, his expression glassy, wrecked.

He throbbed wildly, straining against nothing, the head an almost angry shade of red. His thighs flexed, desperate for friction, but he didn’t dare move.

Not unless you told him to.

Which you wouldn’t.

You hummed, dragging a single finger up the underside of his cock, just barely grazing the sensitive skin.

Jayce jerked, a sharp, choked-off gasp ripping from his throat.

“That bad, huh?” you mused, cocking your head.

“Please,” he croaked, his voice completely wrecked from moaning into your cunt. “F-Fuck—please, I can’t—”

“You can,” you corrected, smirking as you dragged your finger back down his cock, watching the way his abs twitched under the stimulation. “And you will.”

Jayce let out a low, broken sob, his hands shaking where they were still locked behind his back.

“You thought you could get away with it, huh?” you murmured, nails scraping lightly along the base of his cock, watching as his stomach clenched. “Stealing my panties, touching yourself without permission like some depraved little perv?”

He shuddered, head tilting back against the pillow, throat bobbing.

“N-No,” he gasped, voice hoarse. “I—fuck, I didn’t—”

“Didn’t what?” you interrupted, letting your nails scratch lightly over his thigh. “Mean to be a filthy slut?”

A choked-off noise, his cock twitching violently.

You grinned.

“Didn’t mean to get caught,” you corrected for him, dragging your fingers back up his shaft, stopping just short of the tip.

Jayce howled. His hips jerked up on instinct, cock flexing, seeking even a second of friction—but you were faster.

Before he could even think about it, you moved—slamming your hand down onto his stomach, forcing him back into the bed.

The growl in your voice was nothing short of dangerous.

“Did I say you could move?”

Jayce froze. His whole body locked up beneath you, his chest heaving.

“N-No,” he rasped, voice barely a whisper.

“No, what?”

Jayce sucked in a shaky breath, his throat trembling.

“… No, ma’am.”

A slow, satisfied smirk curled at your lips.

“Perfect”

A wrecked whimper left his throat. His cock twitched again, so hard it looked like he might cum just from those two fucking words.

You leaned down, brushing your lips over his ear, whispering your next words like they were the cruelest thing in the world.

“You don’t get to cum, Jayce.”

His whole body jerked, a strangled gasp punching out of his chest.

“You can beg all you want,” you continued, dragging your nails over his abs, avoiding his cock completely. “You can whine. You can cry. But you don’t get to cum until I say.”

Jayce sobbed. A real, broken, helpless noise, his cock flexing wildly, desperate, ruined.

You grinned.

“Hope you’re ready to suffer, baby,” you purred, settling back onto his face. “Because we’re just getting started.”

Jayce was gone.

A complete, fucking mess. And you had done this to him.

He was sprawled out beneath you, shaking, soaked in sweat, his hair damp and sticking to his forehead. His chest heaved with ragged, uneven breaths, his lips swollen, still glistening with your slick, his jaw slack as he whimpered softly, brokenly.

He was still twitching, so flushed it almost looked bruised, straining untouched against his stomach, leaking in humiliating little spurts every time his muscles trembled.

He had been so close for so long. So unbearably, painfully close.

But you hadn’t let him cum. Not once.

Not through all the times you had used his mouth, grinding down onto his tongue until you were a moaning, trembling mess, not through the wrecked sobs and choked-off pleas he had spilled against your thighs, not through the way his cock had dripped onto himself, untouched, denied, ruined.

He had been your personal fucking toy for what felt like hours—licking, sucking, begging, but getting nothing in return.

And now?

Now, he was completely fucking wrecked.

“P-Please,” Jayce sobbed, his voice hoarse, ruined from crying out against your cunt. “Please—fuck, I c-can’t—”

His hips twitched helplessly against nothing, cock flexing again, precum pooling onto his abs. His thighs were trembling, muscles locked tight, every single inch of him screaming for release.

You sighed, dragging your nails lightly down his stomach, watching as his whole body jerked like he had just been electrocuted.

His cock twitched wildly, as if even that tiny touch was too much, but you still didn’t touch him.

“You can’t what, Jayce?” you murmured, watching him squirm beneath you, weak, ruined, crying.

“Hngh—” He choked on his own breath, head tilting back, tears slipping down his cheeks. “C-Can’t—fuck—can’t h-hold it—”

You smirked.

“But you will, baby,” you whispered, dragging your fingers back up his stomach, avoiding his cock completely. “Because I own you right now. You only cum when I say.”

Jayce sobbed.

His hands, still locked behind his back, shook with how badly he wanted to grab you, to force your hand around his cock, to make himself cum after so fucking long.

But he couldn’t.

Because he knew—if he even tried to touch himself, you wouldn’t let him cum at all.

And he would fucking die if that happened.

His whole body trembled beneath you, his hips shaking, cock so desperate that you swore he might start cumming untouched if you kept this up.

“You’re crying,” you cooed, watching another tear slip down his cheek. “Poor thing. I must’ve really fucked you up, huh?”

Jayce whined, wrecked and needy, his cock leaking onto himself now, his stomach shiny with precum.

“Bet you’d do anything to cum, wouldn’t you?” you continued, reaching up, brushing a single thumb over his flushed cheek.

“Anything,” he gasped, voice completely fucking wrecked. “*Anything—fuck, please—please—I c-can’t—I need—”

“Need what?” you teased, letting your nails graze over his inner thighs, watching his cock jerk.

“Need to cum,” he sobbed, his thighs flexing. “Please—please, baby, f-fuck, let me cum, I’ll be so good—”

You sighed, as if thinking about it.

Jayce held his breath.

“Fine.”

Jayce let out a wrecked sob of relief.

“T-Thank you—fuck, thank you, I—”

“But,” you interrupted, your smirk sharp. “You don’t get to touch yourself.”

Jayce froze.

His cock twitched violently at your words, precum dripping onto his stomach.

“You wanna cum so bad?” you murmured, running a single finger through the mess smeared across his abs. “Then you do it just like this.”

Jayce let out a strangled, choked-off whimper.

Cumming untouched? Like this? After hours of denial? When he was this overstimulated?

He couldn’t.

He shouldn’t.

But fuck—fuck—his cock twitched at the thought, his balls aching, body trembling with need.

“Come on, baby,” you cooed, settling back on his thighs, watching the way his whole body shook beneath you. “Be a good boy and cum for me.”

His hips jerked up on instinct, his stomach tightening so fucking hard it looked like his body was fighting the orgasm, like he had been holding it back for so fucking long that now it physically hurt to let go.

And then— He broke.

“Oh—oh f-fuck, fuck—!”

His body snapped taut beneath you, thighs flexing, muscles locking—

And then he was cumming. Untouched.

A wrecked, violent orgasm, thick spurts of cum spilling onto his stomach, so much it was dripping down his abs, hot and messy and never-fucking-ending.

His body shook through it, breathless sobs spilling from his throat as his cock twitched wildly, spurting again, and again, and again, like his balls had been so full that they physically couldn’t stop releasing.

“Fuck—fuck, oh fuck, please, I-I can’t—”

But he could.

And he would.

Because you weren’t stopping him.

His whole body was screaming for it now, his hips twitching, his cock still dripping cum even though his stomach was already covered in it.

It just kept coming. It hurt, it felt so fucking good, his body on fire, his brain completely blank, nothing left except the satisfaction of finally cumming—

It was over.

Jayce collapsed beneath you, his body giving out, boneless, ruined.

His chest was still heaving, his stomach sticky, his cock twitching weakly, completely fucking spent.

Tears still clung to his lashes, his lips parted in a soft, broken little whimper.

And you—You just smirked, reaching down, dragging a single finger through the mess on his abs.

“You really are a filthy little slut, huh?” you mused, lifting your hand, inspecting the thick, sticky cum now smeared across your skin.

Jayce didn’t answer.

Couldn’t answer.

He was gone.

You grinned “Hope you’re ready for round two, baby.”

[hoshifighting]

✨🎧 god of the music!woozi x fairy of the music!reader

— SYNOPSIS: after a moment of lost creativity, the god of music accidentally evokes a beautiful music fairy who is willing to help him.

— WC: 6.400

— WARNINGS: winx musa!reader, fantasy + smut, reader have a size of a polly pocket at first (she goes human-sized after), reference to when captain america picks up thor's hammer, shiny cum, he can stimulate reader with his voice + other powers, mind reading, penetrative sex, oral (f. receiving), reader is referred as: little fairy/pretty fairy/pixie, woozi referred as: woozi/god woozi/god boy, sub!reader x dom! woozi.

this god, sitting there with his head in his hand like the weight of the whole damn universe was gonna break his neck. the throne he sat on was ridiculous, all sharp edges and glowing veins of gold, like someone tried to make it scream power but forgot comfort was a thing. his other hand held this pen—this otherworldly thing, like it was plucked from the cosmos. the handle was black obsidian, smooth as sin, and at the top, a sparkly feather. shimmering, iridescent, like it could hum if you got close enough. it wasn’t just a tool; it was him. his power. and now it clattered against his marble table like it wasn’t worth shit.

he groaned, deep and low, running his fingers through his hair, messing it up like that would fix anything. “fuck’s sake,” he muttered, voice heavy like a bassline that shook your chest. “who the hell’s supposed to help me? i’m the god of this shit. who can i even turn to?”

you almost tripped over the sharp corner of an s etched onto his scroll. the lyrics sprawled out beneath your boots, some half-written, some already glowing like they’d been sung into existence. your little red boots—thank god for those, you weren’t about to ruin your feet for a god’s hissy fit—crunched against the shimmering ink, leaving tiny sparkles in your wake. your wings fluttered behind you, catching the light like shattered glass, but you kept your head down, pushing on. he didn’t need to know you were here.

but then you heard it: the hitch in his voice, that broken sigh that made you stop dead in your tracks. you glanced up, your aura glowing faint blue, like the soft hum of a melody in a quiet room. his eyes were still closed, lashes stupidly long for someone so divine. his face, though—sharp jaw, lips pressed into a thin line like he was biting back every curse he wanted to throw at the universe. your chest tightened.

“oi!” you shouted, your voice barely carrying over the expanse of the table. no response. figures. you huffed, stomping on the o of “hope” like it owed you rent. “oi! big guy! you gonna sit there and sulk, or are you gonna pick that fancy-ass pen up and get back to work?”

his eyes snapped open, golden irises swirling like they held every song ever written. for a second, he looked confused, head tilting like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. fair enough, you thought, wings giving a little buzz. it wasn’t every day a music fairy decided to trespass on godly property.

“what the…?” his voice rumbled, like thunder tuning itself into a melody. he leaned forward, elbows on his knees, staring down at you. “you’re... tiny.”

you crossed your arms, boots planted firmly on the glowing e under your feet. “and you’re a fucking drama queen. what’s your point?”

his lips twitched, almost like he wanted to smile but didn’t know how. “who the hell are you?”

“musa,” you said, wings fluttering behind you. “fairy of music. and you, mr. god-of-all-sounds, look like you’re about to throw a tantrum ‘cause your pen won’t do the work for you.”

he blinked, then sat back again, rubbing his temple. “i don’t need a fairy.”

“clearly, you do.” you pointed at the lyrics, your sparkles spreading like wildfire with every step you took. “this shit? half-assed. what’s got you so pressed you can’t even finish your own damn song?”

“and you think you can help me?” he scoffs, his golden eyebrows lifting under his perfect blonde hair. you gasp, loud and dramatic, arms stretching out like you’re about to deliver some life-changing monologue. instead, you just sulk, feet stomping on his paper with tiny smacks, your boots crunching the shimmering ink. “don’t be a dick!” you huff, fists clenched as you glare up at him, wings flickering behind you.

he leans back in his throne, clearly amused, that godly smirk pulling at his lips. “oh, i’m the dick? you’re the one stomping on my lyrics like they’re trash.”

“they are trash,” you snap, spinning on your heel to fly toward his pen. the damn thing is practically glowing with untapped power, bigger than your whole body. you hook your tiny arms around it, wings buzzing like crazy, trying to lift it. nothing. the pen doesn’t even budge. “ugh, come on,” you groan, digging your heels into the paper for leverage. still nothing.

his laugh fills the air, the vibration of his voice making your wings shake. “you’re gonna hurt yourself, pixie. maybe stick to critiquing from the sidelines.”

“shut up,” you snap, giving him the nastiest side-eye you can muster. he smirks down at you, all smug and insufferable, like he already knows he’s won.

but then you close your eyes. you pull every ounce of energy you’ve got, feeling your aura pulse, faint blue and purple light spilling over the pen. it moves. barely—like, not even a full inch—but it fucking moves.

his smirk drops instantly, replaced by a sharp inhale. his eyes narrow, gold swirling serious, or even worried. “wait. you—” he doesn’t finish, watching like a hawk as you strain, wings fluttering so fast they’re almost a blur. but the pen won’t go further. you let out a shaky breath, hands dropping from the cool obsidian.

he exhales too, shoulders slumping. “thank fuck,” he mutters under his breath, glancing at the pen like it betrayed him for even considering you.

you shoot him a glare, crossing your arms. “what’s the matter, god-boy? scared a little fairy might show you up?”

he snorts, leaning forward now, elbows on his knees. “hardly. but you still haven’t explained how you plan to help me, pixie.”

“for the last time, it’s fairy!” with a frustrated huff, you fly straight up until you’re level with his face. his nose twitches the second your sparkles hit him, and before you can even deliver some sharp retort, he sneezes.

“ACHOO!”

the force of it makes you tumble mid-air, wings flapping wildly to steady yourself. “seriously?!” you yell, zipping back to his eye level.

he blinks at you, nose crinkled. “what the—why are you so sparkly? it’s like breathing glitter.” he rubs his nose, voice muffled. “couldn’t you warn me or something?”

“maybe next time don’t breathe through your nose when a fairy is trying to help you, genius.” you roll your eyes, but before he can argue, you press a hand to his forehead. the touch makes your body vibrate until you fade, and suddenly, a beam of light shoots from your palm into his pineal gland.

“what the fuck—” he freezes as the light connects, his body rigid, eyes wide.

“relax,” you mutter, your voice now echoing inside his mind. “just making a little connection, no big deal.”

“no big—get out of my head,” he growls, the words coming out half-stuttered as he smacks his hand on his temple.

“can’t help you if I’m not in here, dumbass,” you snap, floating deeper into his consciousness. the light around you pulses, shifting into a kaleidoscope of melodies and half-formed ideas. it’s chaotic, but there’s brilliance buried in the mess. “wow,” you mutter. “your brain’s a disaster.”

“gee, thanks,” he grits out, rubbing his temples. “and why the hell are you shaking my head?”

“because this part sucks.” you jab at a sour note in the melody, the whole space vibrating as you try to shift it into something better. his head jerks like he’s been hit, hands gripping his throne as he steadies himself.

“stop doing that!” he barks, glaring at the empty space in front of him.

“then stop writing garbage,” you fire back. but as you dig deeper, tweaking and smoothing out the rough edges of his thoughts, something starts to click.

his fingers twitch, reaching for the pen again. this time, it flows. lyrics spill from the tip, glowing with every stroke. your light pulses in time with his writing, the melody building, making him close his eyes and even languidly let his head follow the melody with lessen shakes.

by the time you pull your hand away, the song is complete. he sits back, staring at the paper, chest rising and falling like he just ran a cross-kingdom race.

“holy shit,” he mutters, golden eyes flicking to you. “you actually… helped.”

you smirk, brushing imaginary dust off your boots. “told you so.”

you watch him from the edge of his ridiculous throne, eyes narrowing as you spot the heavy energy clinging to his shoulders. two globes of black aura hover there, fuzzing and sparking like they’re actively pissed off that you’re even in the room. “no wonder you’re all hunched over,” you mutter, crossing your arms. “music’s not supposed to make you look like you’re carrying the world’s worst hangover.”

he tilts his head at you, golden eyes narrowing, lips quirking into this half-smirk. “easy for you to say. you’re tiny. flying around like a bug with no problems.”

your wings snap open indignantly, your hands flying to your hips. “excuse me? are you mocking my size?”

“mocking?” he echoes. he crosses his arms dramatically, shoulders hunching as he shakes them to mimic your movements. “oh no, look at me, i’m a tiny little fairy, fluttering around, telling gods how to do their job!”

“ha! real original,” you scoff, stomping over to the middle of the papers and plopping yourself down. the glowing ink beneath you sparkles faintly as you lean back on your hands, wings flicking. “if I were you, i’d focus more on fixing those depressing-ass vibes on your shoulders than making fun of me.”

he leans forward now, his stupidly perfect face breaking into a smile. “you’re so small,” he muses, holding his hand out like he’s measuring you against his fingers. “look, you’re barely the size of my thumb.”

“don’t you dare,” you warn, already catching the glint in his eyes.

too late. his hand moves faster than your wings, scooping you up like you’re some kind of doll. “put me down!” you yell, thrashing against his fingers. his grip is annoyingly gentle, like he’s toying with you.

“what are you gonna do?” he teases, bringing you closer to his face, eyes gleaming. “punch me? you’d break your hand.”

you don’t think, you just bite. your teeth sink into the side of his palm, and he bursts into laughter, the sound shaking his chest. “that tickles!” he laughs, pulling his hand away and shaking it gently like you actually did any damage. “are you always this rude to gods?”

“maybe!” you say, wings buzzing angrily. “you deserved it.”

he quirks an eyebrow, still grinning. “you’re lucky I’m nice. I’ve got more powers than just writing lyrics, you know.”

“like what?” you challenge, arms crossed as you hover in the air.

his smirk deepens. he snaps his fingers, and in a blink, you’re no longer floating midair. you’re human-sized, sitting right on the edge of his desk, as you swing your legs. your wings twitch behind you, still shimmering under the golden light of his realm, but the sudden weight of your body makes you gasp.

“what the fuck?” you sputter, looking down at yourself. your tiny red boots now fit your feet perfectly, and your skirt—shit, it’s so short now that your pussy is almost on his face. you clamp your legs shut instinctively, cheeks burning as you notice his eyes briefly flicker there before darting away.

“see?” he leans back in his throne, folding his arms behind his head. “now I can actually see you properly without all the sparkles.”

“oh, how generous,” you deadpan, tugging at your skirt. your top doesn’t help much either; it’s cropped just high enough to show the underside of your boobs, and his gaze catches there for a second too long. “did you have to make my clothes stay this small? perv!”

his grin widens, unabashed. “not my fault you dressed like that, fairy. besides, you should be thanking me. now you can really help me without me worrying about sneezing you into oblivion.”

“oh, please.” you roll your eyes, crossing one leg over the other, the movement causing your skirt to ride up even higher. “this is just an excuse to stop me from calling you out for being a stressed-out mess.”

his eyes linger on your face now, taking in the pout that’s settled there. “still, I’ll admit you look… different like this.”

“different how?”

“you’re…” he hesitates, tapping his chin. “less annoying when I’m not worried about stepping on you.”

you flick one of your boots at him, the sole clacking against the throne. “and you’re just as annoying no matter the size difference.”

he laughs again, this time softer, his eyes trailing over you as you shift uncomfortably under his gaze.

you glance at him from the corner of your eye, trying to be sneaky about it. his golden hair moves faintly, like the gravity in this room doesn’t quite work the way it should. his clothes are black, gauzy enough to show the hints of muscle underneath, way buffer than any of the little elves from your village. his fingers tap a melody on the arm of his throne, a quiet rhythm that seems effortless.

do the big guys do it better?

the thought comes unbidden, making your head tilt slightly as you wonder.

like, are they… bigger everywhere?

his fingers stop mid-tap, and he raises an eyebrow. he straightens in his seat, narrowing his eyes. “you know I can hear you, right?”

your eyes widen, your wings stiffening.

“huh?! no, you can’t!”

he clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth, the sound sharp and mocking. “oh, I definitely can. clear as day.”

you feel the color drain from your face. before you can even try to stop it, it’s like a floodgate bursts open, and every single intrusive thought you’ve been trying to suppress spills out.

his hands are so big… i bet they’d feel insane running down my tits.

oh my gods, imagine those fingers. fuck, they’d probably ruin me.

i wonder what his tongue tastes like. would it feel hot? does he even—

no, no, stop it, but like… what if he just pinned me down on that table and—

holy shit, i want him to eat me out.

like, bad.

you slap both hands over your mouth, but it doesn’t stop the thoughts. in fact, it’s like your brain takes the panic as a challenge and just doubles down.

that stupid smirk. i’d kill to bite that lip.

i bet he moans. like, right in your ear. shit, he’d—

“wow...” he interrupts, his voice dry. his head tilts slightly as his golden eyes bore into youe. “you’re… a lot. i don’t even know where to start unpacking all of that.”

you yank your hands away from your mouth, pointing at him accusingly. “you’re lying! there’s no way you can hear—”

“what were you expecting? i’m a god after all,” he says, his tone so smug it practically drips off his words. his golden eyes twinkle with fun, and he leans back in his throne, arms casually draped like he has all the time in the world to gloat.

you glare at him, wings twitching behind you as your indignation bubbles over. “oh, yeah, sure, big scary god who writes music and apparently spies on everyone’s thoughts and turns fairies into—”

his laughter cuts you off, rich enough to make you shiver. “if you keep talking, you’re going to spend your whole life here,” he says, grinning as your words falter.

your mouth opens and closes a few times, but nothing coherent comes out. instead, you huff and turn your head away, arms crossing as you sulk. “whatever. it’s not like i wanted to be here in the first place.”

he doesn’t miss the flush creeping up your neck, though. “do you know what else i can do?” he asks, his voice dropping just enough to make the air around you feel heavier.

you blink, still facing away, trying to ignore the way his tone slides over your skin like silk. “what…?” you mumble, sneaking a glance back at him.

he straightens in his seat, clearing his throat with a soft “ah-ah~.” the sound is nothing but a casual warm-up, but the second it leaves his lips, the vibrations seem to travel directly to your pussy, buzzing against your clit making you jump, gasping.

“h-haah…!” the sound escapes you involuntarily, and you slap a hand over your mouth, eyes wide with shock. your thighs press together instinctively, one hand darting to your lap to cover yourself as your skirt shifts dangerously high, leaving you feeling far too exposed.

his eyes sharpen, a grin tugging at his lips as he watches you squirm. “something wrong, fairy?” he asks innocently, though his gaze is anything but.

you shake your head quickly, refusing to meet his eyes as your legs shift restlessly. the vibrations haven’t stopped; in fact, every hum he makes, everytime he talks, seems to resonate deeper, sending little shoves of pleasure that make it impossible to sit still.

“hmm~,” he hums again, dragging the sound out, and you feel the ripple of it like a physical touch.

“nghh—!” you bite your lip, a sharp gasp escaping before you can catch it. your hips twitch forward involuntarily, and you grip the edge of the desk with one hand, the other still futilely trying to shield yourself.

“oh?” he says, tilting his head as his smirk broadens. “is that all it takes to get you worked up?”

“s-shut up!” you snap, though your voice comes out breathy and weak. your thighs part just a fraction, almost without your permission, and the vibrations seem to grow stronger in response, buzzing relentlessly against your clit. “stop—ahh—stop doing that!”

“but why?” he leans forward. “you seem to be enjoying it.”

“i—mmh…!” your hips roll forward unconsciously, your wings tremble behind you, your grip on the desk tightening as your body betrays you further, your legs parting even more in front of him.

“tsk, tsk,” he murmurs mockery. “such a shameless little fairy. look at you, moaning like that. do you even realize what you’re doing right now?”

your cheeks burn, and you shake your head, trying to stifle the whimper that escapes as his voice seems to play with your clit with more strenght “ahh—s-stop…!”

but he doesn’t stop. instead, he leans back again, one hand lazily tracing patterns on the armrest of his throne as he hums another note, watching with fascination as your body reacts helplessly.

the vibrations feel relentless now, your clit throbbing with every sound he makes. your legs spread wider, your hand no longer able to fully cover yourself, and your hips rock forward in a rhythm you can’t control.

“nnngh-fuck!—a-ah…!” you moan, head tilting back as your grip on the desk tightens.

“tell me, fairy—how much more can you take?”

your arms tremble, not able to hold your weight. you gasp, your body betraying you, and before you realize it, you’re slowly sinking back onto his desk, the cool surface pressing against your wings. your back arches instinctively, hips canting forward as if begging for more, your legs spreading wider until you’re completely uncovered. the realization burns you with embarrassment, but your body refuses to obey your mind’s frantic protests.

you can’t bring yourself to look at him, but you feel his gaze, heavy, raking over every inch of you. “oh,” he hums, “even your cum sparkles. everything about you shines, doesn’t it?”

a pitiful whimper escapes your lips as you try to close your legs, mortified at how vulnerable you are. but his hands are quick and strong, smoothing over the delicate skin of your inner thighs with a touch that makes you shiver. he presses gently, coaxing your legs apart again as he clicks his tongue.

“don’t hide from me now~” he murmurs, his thumbs brushing the sensitive skin of your thighs as if to emphasize his point. “not when you’re this pretty, dripping like that for me.”

“p-please…” your voice is a soft whine, but you don’t even know what you’re begging for. the words die in your throat as his gaze drops lower.

“ah... look at this..” he says, almost to himself, as his eyes trail over the mess between your thighs, glistening and utterly shameless. his fingers ghost along your cunt. “you’re already soaking through my papers, little fairy. how do you expect me to concentrate on anything else when you’re like this?”

your head tilts back, a soft moan escaping as you squirm beneath his touch. “i—I can’t…” you manage, though even you’re not sure what you’re trying to say.

“you can’t what?” he asks as his fingers press just a little firmer, enough to make you gasp. “speak up, sweetheart. i want to hear you.”

“i can’t… ahh—s-stop—!” the words spill out in a breathy rush, your hips roll toward his hand betrays your real feelings.

“stop?” he echoes, tilting his head as his smirk grows. “but you don’t really want me to stop, do you?”

you whimper again, heat flooding your cheeks as your body arches helplessly under his gaze. his hands shift, one sliding down to trace the edge of your slick folds, and the lightest touch has your legs twitching.

“you’re so soft, so wet. i bet you taste just as sweet as you look.”

“ah-ah!” your breath catches, and your hips jerk involuntarily as he leans down, his golden hair brushing your thighs.

he pauses, his lips ghosting over your skin as his breath fans against you. “tell me,” he says, “do you want me to taste you? or should i keep teasing until you can’t even think straight anymore?”

“p-please,” you manage to choke out, your voice trembling and high-pitched. your hands clutch at the edge of the table, knuckles white as you feel yourself twisting further. “please—don’t tease…”

he hums, his lips press against you, leaving a wet mouth-opened kiss, the first swipe of his tongue is slow, too slow, collecting all of your juices insidethe little bowl formed inside his tongue.

your head tilts back, a broken moan spilling from your lips as your thighs tremble. his hands keep you in place, thumbs pressing gently against your skin, holding you open for him.

“you taste even better than i imagined.” he murmurs against you, his tongue diving back in to lap up every bit of you.

your back arches again, your wings fluttering uselessly against the desk as the pleasure builds, white-hot and enormous. “ahh—p-please… i can’t—!”

“yes, you can,” he whispers, his voice sending another vibration under the little hood of your clitoris as his lips and tongue work tirelessly. “you’re doing so well, little fairy. let me have all of you.”

your body tightens, every nerve aflame, your legs shake, your hands scrambling for purchase as you feel the coil deep in your belly snap, the pleasure tearing over you, leaving you crying out his name, your body trembling in his hold.

his tongue and lips coaxing you through every aftershock, kissing your cunt messily, until you’re left out of breath and boneless on his desk, weary. his golden eyes meet yours as he finally pulls back, his lips glistening as he sneers.

when his lips part again, and the first syllable of his voice goes straight to your puffy clit. you cry out, the overstimulation dragging you further into desperation.

“ahh—please, stop!” you manage, your voice cracking.

“stop?” he drawls, his voice honey-smooth and deadly, the vibrations coursing straight to your clit again, making your body arch. “but you’re so sensitive, little fairy. wouldn’t it be cruel to stop now?”

your hands scramble to the hem of your skirt, twisting the fabric in your fists as your head tilts back, wings fluttering erratically. “nngh—s-so much—ahh…!” the sounds tumbling from you are broken, whiny, your chest heaving.

and then, as if sensing your limit, he stops. not just the words, but the power behind them—the vibrations cut off like a switch, leaving you gasping for air, your body twitching in the sudden silence.

“better?” he rises from his throne with an unhurried grace, and your breath catches as his presence looms over you.

he’s massive. not just his height, though he towers over you, but the sheer weight of his aura, his power pressing down on you like gravity itself. his hair gleams in the low light, his black, nearly sheer garments clinging to his broad shoulders and lean frame. his muscles shift, and your eyes flicker down to his hands, strong as they rest on either side of the desk, caging you in.

“what are you thinking about, hm?” he asks, almost coaxing, though his smirk tells you he already knows the answer.

your fingers fidget with the hem of your skirt, tugging at it as if it could somehow shield you from his gaze. but his eyes are relentless, sharp and knowing, and you feel the heat crawling up your neck as his question hangs in the air.

“n-nothing,” you stammer, though the word rings hollow even to your own ears.

his smile widens. “nothing, is it?” he murmurs. “then why do you look like you’re about to combust just from me standing here?”

your cheeks burn hotter, and you force yourself to look away, but it’s no use. his hand lifts, brushing your chin with the barest touch, guiding your gaze back to his.

“let me guess,” he says, leaning in close enough that his breath ghosts over your skin. “you’re curious, aren’t you?”

you blink up at him, heart pounding, unsure how to answer.

“curious about what’s been under your nose this whole time,” he continues, his voice dropping lower, richer. his hand trails downward, stopping at the waistband of his sheer pants. “you didn’t notice, did you? too distracted by everything else.”

your breath catches as he pulls the fabric down, just enough to free himself, and your eyes widen as the truth hits you. it had been there the whole time, half-hidden in his lap, slightly concealed by the translucent material. but now, with nothing obscuring it, you can’t look away.

he’s huge, his cock thick, long and flushed, curving upward with an intimidating weight that makes your thighs clench instinctively. veins trail along the length, pulsing faintly, and the sheer size of him makes your head spin.

“is this what you’ve been thinking about?”

you swallow hard, unable to speak, your hands clutching at the desk as your wings flutter weakly behind you.

“well?” he presses, leaning closer until his golden hair brushes your cheek. “go on, little fairy. say it.”

your voice trembles as you finally manage to whisper, “y-you’re… so big…”

he chuckles, the sound vibrating through your body in a way that makes your thighs squeeze together again. “and you’re so small,” he replies mockingly, though there’s an undeniable thirst in his eyes now.

he shifts closer, his hand reaching for you, his fingers brushing against your thigh. “are you afraid?”

you shake your head quickly, though your heart is racing, your body trembling as you lean back against the desk. “n-no…” you whisper.

“good.” he murmurs, his smile softening just slightly as his hand moves higher, his thumb brushing against the sensitive skin just below your skirt.

woozi hears it—feels it—the relentless pulse of your arousal like a drumbeat in his head. It’s maddening.

his cock twitches, an almost painful throb that draws a frustrated sigh from his lips. he slides his thumb over his slit, smearing the beads of precum that gather there. It’s meant to offer some relief, but it only makes the ache sharper, the sight of you sprawled on his desk only fanning the flames.

and then he feels it—a gentle spark, tiny but potent, that dances across his wrist. his gaze snaps down, and there you are, your hand hardly covering a fraction of his skin, glowing faintly with your unique magic. the pulse of it travels through him like a ripple, and for a moment, he stills, captivated by the delicate power in your touch.

“god woozi,” you murmur, he tilts his head, watching you as your fingers curl slightly against his wrist.

“yes?”

you swallow, your cheeks flushing as you meet his gaze. “please, let me… help you.”

his brows lift, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips as his hand shifts, his thumb brushing lightly over the back of your fingers. “help me?” he repeats. “and what exactly do you think you can do for me?”

your eyes flicker down, catching the way his thumb strokes himself again, and you bite your lip. the sight makes your thighs clench, and you force yourself to look back up at him.

“you’re suffering too, aren’t you?” you say softly, your voice gaining a hint of confidence as you lean closer. “i can feel it.”

his smirk falters, but he doesn’t respond, his silence almost daring you to continue.

you take a shaky breath, your hand sliding up his wrist, leaving a faint trail of glowing sparks in its wake. “you’ve done so much for me already,” you say. “let me return the favor, god woozi.”

“you’re awfully bold for someone whos used to be so small,” he murmurs. “but boldness doesn’t always mean you’re ready for the consequences.”

“then show me,” you challenge softly, your fingers brushing against his palm, his skin impossibly warm under your touch.

a chuckle escapes him, and he shakes his head, his golden hair catching the light. “you really don’t know what you’re asking for, do you?” he says, though there’s no malice in his tone—just a quiet, almost entertained resignation.

before you can respond, his free hand moves, sliding beneath your chin to tilt your face up to his. “if you’re going to offer yourself to a god,” he says, “you’d better be ready to handle what comes with it.”

you nod, swallowing hard. “i am,” you whisper, the weight of your own voice surprising you.

his smirk returns, and he leans closer, his breath ghosting over your lips. “then let’s see how much you can take, little fairy.”

before you can process his words, he shifts, his cock pressing against your thigh, the heat of him searing even through the thin barrier of your skin. your breath hitches, your wings fluttering erratically as his hand slides down, guiding himself between your legs.

the first press is slow, and you gasp, your fingers clutching at his wrist as your body adjusts to the sheer size of him. “oh—god…!” the sound spills from your lips, high and breathless, and you feel him watching you.

“taking me so well.”

your cheeks burn, but the fire pooling in your belly only grows as he moves, his hips rolling, his tip kissing your cervix in insistent careful rubs. your hands grasp at his forearms, your shiny nails digging in as you whimper, your wings trembling against the desk.

“does it feel good, pretty fairy?” he asks. “tell me.”

“y-yes—ahh, yes god woozi!” you cry, your voice breaking as he thrusts deeper.

his smirk widens, and he leans down, his lips brushing against your ear. “then take it,” he growls softly. “all of it. every inch.”

your wings flutter wildly, your cries filling the room as he takes you higher and higher, his name spilling from your lips, echoing like a beautiful song note.

his hands trace the curve of your waist, teasing the sensitive skin there before they slide upward, brushing just under the hem of your top. his fingers ghost over your underboobs, the touch featherlight, then, with a slow motion, he pushes your top higher, revealing more of your flushe body.

when your breasts spill free, he watches, entranced, as they bounce with each sharp thrust he delivers. his cock moves each slide drenched in the testimony of your past orgasm. the wet, slick sounds fill the air between your whimpering cries, blending with his low groans.

“you’re a mess,” he says, his thumbs come up to circle your nipples, brushing them with a maddeningly soft touch before pinching, tugging just enough to draw a strangled moan from your throat.

your back arches off the desk,your body trembling under his hands. “ahh—fuck, woozi—!” you cry, your voice breaking on the edges.

he smirks, his eyes half-lidded, drinking in the sight of you. every twitch of your body, every gasp and whine, seems to spur him on. his head tilts slightly, his blonde hair falling into his face as he leans closer, his lips parting just slightly. And then he blows.

a soft, glowing aura escapes his lips as he exhales, a warm, golden light that drifts down, guided by some unseen magic. it swirls in lazy circles, a hypnotic dance as it floats lower and lower, until it reaches the swollen, sensitive bud at the apex of your thighs.

the moment it touches you, you swear the world tilts. the aura massages your clit in circles, the warmth of it spreading through you like liquid fire. your breath hitches, your eyes rolling back as a fresh orgasm crashes over you, your thighs trembling.

“oh—oh my god—ahh!” you cry, your voice pitching higher, your hands clawing at the desk for some kind of anchor, but it’s no use. you’re lost, spiraling further into the haze as his magic works over you.

his thumbs continue their torment on your nipples, pinching and rolling the sensitive buds, your chest heaves as your head lolls back, your lips parted in a silent scream as the pleasure mounts, agonizing and perfect all at once.

“that’s it,” he growls softly, his eyes closing briefly as he listens to the melody of your cries, each note sinking into him like a drug. “sing for me, little fairy. let me hear everything.”

your voice breaks as you sob his name, your body convulsing under the force of your orgasm. the magic at your clit seems to pulse in time with your release, dragging the pleasure out, making it endless.

“fuck, you’re beautiful. beautiful my pretty fairy...”

his hips stutter as the tight heat of you squeezes around him, pulling him closer to his own edge. his hands never leave you, his touch grounding you as you fall apart.

his hands squeeze your breasts firmly, jolting you back from the fog of pleasure you’re lost in. your eyes flutter open weakly, your breath hitching as the sight of him comes into focus. his head is tipped back slightly, blonde hair sticking to his damp forehead, and the throaty sounds he makes vibrate through the room. it’s deeper than before, louder, and you can feel the his release as the pulse of it fills you.

the space around you seems to shift, the room vibrating with his climax as a warn, a golden glow radiates from his body. the black auras that clung to his shoulders earlier unravel in an explosion of furious, dissonant notes, fading into silence as woozi finally lets himself go. his hips press into you one last time, burying himself so deep you swear you feel every inch, and then you feel it—the hot, heavy rush of his cum spreading inside you.

his forehead drops forward to rest near yours. “you... you’ve ruined me, little fairy.”

you feel it too—the way his cum fills you, a glowing sensation blooming in your belly. you glance down weakly, and your eyes widen at the faint shimmer under your skin, like your body is glowing with the power of him.

“you’re... shining,” you whisper.

his chest rises and falls against yours, his hands still cradling your body like he’s afraid to let go. he lifts his head to meet your gaze. “so are you,” he says quietly, his voice tender. “you’re radiant.”

your lips part, but no words come out. he leans down, brushing his nose against yours before capturing your lips in a kiss. this kiss feels like gratitude, like reverence, like something divine, his tongue for sure tastes different by the way.

when he pulls back, his eyes scan your face, taking in every detail. “you’ve done more for me than you realize,” he says softly, his thumb brushing against your cheek. “i’ve carried that weight for so long... those damn shadows. but you—” he pauses, his lips quirking into a faint smile. “you’ve made them disappear.”

you blink up at him, your heart pounding as his words sink in. “i didn’t... i mean, i wasn’t trying to—”

he cuts you off with a small laugh, leaning back slightly as he runs a hand through his tousled hair. “you didn’t even know you could, did you?” he teases, his smirk returning. “typical. little fairy, barging in, turning my world upside down without a clue.”

you pout, your cheeks heating up as you cross your arms weakly over your chest. “you’re welcome, by the way,” you mumble.

his laughter deepens. “oh, i owe you more thanks than i can ever give,” he says, his tone softening as he looks at you again. “but i think we’re past formalities, don’t you?”

you shrug, trying to play it cool, but the heat in your cheeks gives you away. “yeah, well, i guess saving a god’s sanity makes us even or something.”

his smirk widens, and he leans down to press another kiss to your lips, softer this time. “even?” he murmurs against your mouth. “not even close, little fairy. you’ve given me clarity, peace... and, frankly, the best fucking inspiration i’ve had in centuries.”

you can’t help but giggle at that, the sound light and breathless. “glad i could help.”

he grins, his eyes glinting. “you’ve done more than help. you’ve changed everything.” he leans back, his hands brushing over your thighs as he straightens, his expression growing thoughtful. “now,” he says, his voice turning playful again, “how do you feel about sticking around? i think i could use a muse like you.”

you blink, taken aback by his words, but before you can respond, he adds, “oh, and i promise—no more turning you human-sized without warning. unless, of course,” his smirk returns, too devilish for a god, “you’re into that.”

you smack his chest weakly, your laugh echoing through the room in funny notes.

inspired by this request/drabble

[love-toxin]

The way you write Tommy is just UUGH

I just wanna pin him down and ride him until he has nothing left to give :((( like gimme his chunky babies!! 😭🙏

oh noooooooo........my gears are turning......tommy with an obsessed s/o that wants to bump uglies constantly......MMMRRRROOWWWW!!!

he's so flattered, but so edgy about it cause momma can't overhear him engaging in premarital sex!!! especially not the type you like where it's just messy and raw and rough and you leave spit and slick everywhere, all over his hairy chest and his lap and your clothes. you have to do it in the barn in the hayloft and its STILL loud, still so sloppy he has to carry you in the house just so none of his family notice the dark stains on your clothes.

but can he complain? no. cause you're the only one who's ever seen him as a man and not just a mistake, and it's not like he doesn't like seeing you so needy all the time. you could be doing this to any other guy but you wanna do it to him--him! a nobody, a wretched defect like him! you must be an angel. or maybe you're a devil cause you fuck as nasty as one. he loves the scrape of your nails through his hair as you drag them down his sweaty chest, when you're perched like a pretty sculpture on his lap. his thighs jiggle every time you bounce on it--his cock, that's what you call it--and you can't help but grip them, squeeze them for balance but also cause you just love the feel of him everywhere. his belly doesn't bother you nor does the grime and sweat caking his skin, nor the dirt under his fingernails or his maddening, untrimmed bush that radiates out to his thighs like a curly black cloud.

it doesn't matter if he's been working in the slaughterhouse all day, shoveling pig shit, or doing any of his other messy chores. when you give him that look like you wanna eat him right up, he's completely at your mercy and he loves every fucking minute of it. you look at him like he's a piña colada in the desert and you'll die if you don't get a sip.

and that's before you start getting hit with baby fever. suddenly, almost out of the blue, you're picking through baby clothes in the trunks upstairs and finding old rattles and toys that are barely holding together. Tommy's baby bottles that Luda Mae kept and never threw away cause she could never bear to part with her sweet baby's things, even after he'd grown up and out of them. it's the sentiment that really gets you and then you're stuck thinking about babies, not just about what Tommy was like when he was that young, but what your babies together might look like. would they have his nice dark hair? his height? would they be hardworking and loyal like he is? would they be so committed to their family they would...

well, that part isn't important right at the moment. you're more concerned with making the babies than anything else--that's the fun part, after all. you keep dropping hints here and there but it's when Tommy finds you sewing together a stuffed bear he loved as a boy that he really starts thinking. you're so gentle with it. you clean him up and polish his little button eyes and patch up a hole on the arm where Hoyt 'accidentally' burned it with a cigarette while he was drunk. you put him back together and he looks almost brand new, newer than when he first had it and Luda Mae tenderly plucked it out of the dumpster to give to him for his birthday.

he gets it then. that night is deplorable when you two sneak out to the barn. Tommy's just as riled up as you are and when you realize he's not just fucking you for pleasure--this time, he's fucking to breed--your sobs and choked-up squeals have to be muffled by his thick fingers stuffed in your mouth. he hooks them and drags your face closer to his chest for you to suffocate between his pecs, cause he needs both hands to grip your waist and jam you down on his cock like he's shoving a cork back in a wine bottle. you're just so little compared to him and such a tight squeeze, he can't help getting a little rough when he wants in! it's just prepping you for birth. you're gonna need to squeeze out plenty of kids for him after this, and with his size? they're gonna be little monsters to try and deliver, just like he was.

but you love him and that's why you're doing this. that's why you let his nuts drag down your ass on every deep, near-painful thrust, and why you let him beat your cunt like he hates you when there's nothing but pure love and possessiveness in his eyes. that's why, when you squirm to get away, he knows you don't really mean it and slams your hips back down for you to howl like a cat in heat. that's why he can't let you sleep until sunrise, when you're half-conscious and spasming with leg twitches, cause the seed pooling in your tummy hasn't stopped leaking out from every time he's planted his roots into your squishy womb. he's gotta make sure it takes just in case you change your mind. once you get pregnant, then you really are part of the family--you'll be a Hewitt just like all the rest of them, birthing the next generation of Hewitts to keep the family roots strong <3

[whereismymindnow]

Hear me out...

Twin!Homelander?

Homelander x reader x Rutledge?

...my brain went places after seeing the G20 trailers the other week!

If I do make something of this, it's my first time writing a reader character and not OC so I may need to iron out some kinks throughout the process.

“Homelander, you’re taking this the wrong wa-”

“Wrong way? You’re trying to add another member to The Seven without even asking me!”

“He’s not joining The Seven! He’s here to deal with the less delicate matters… the dirty stuff that your pristine gloves can’t be allowed to touch.”

“What? He’s the fall guy?”

“No. He’s the shadow. He’s the man in the dark that no one sees until it’s too late. He’s the one that takes care of the things that your reputation needs to be kept away from. He’s the problem solver.”

---

Homelander stiffened as the new guy walked into the room. He heard Deep gasp and watched as Maeve went incredibly pale.

His shoulders were broad, like his. He walked with purpose, like he did. He didn’t acknowledge the lesser beings in the room. No, pale blue eyes were locked directly onto Homelander's face. His mirror image walked into the room and sucked all of the oxygen out of it. They were the same, but different. His hair was the darker, dirty blonde that John’s naturally was without the bleach. His facial hair was dark and kept short, whereas John shaved and plucked his daily to perfection. The smile… the smile was the same. As dangerous and toothy as a shark about to bite. For the first time in his life, John felt sick. His nostrils were overcome with the scent of gunpowder and blood, along with a masculine musk. Traces of something sweeter could be detected, but John was certain it wasn’t him that the scent belonged to.

“Homelander, meet Edward.” Madelyn gave a bright smile as she motioned towards the man in black.

“What the fuck is this?”

“Vought knew you were strong from a young age… but they needed to make sure there was insurance just in case they did accidentally go too far one day. So, Vogelbaum replicated your DNA."

“I-I don’t understand.” Homelander stood toe to toe with his doppelganger. He felt like he was drowning. He’d always been enough, he’d always been the best, and now he was faced with something that shouldn’t exist. They doubted him?

“Things have been getting muddied. The water is murky, Homelander, and we need that to stop.” He knew Madelyn was referencing the few instances where his publicity hadn’t been squeaky clean. “So, we use Edward to do things in the dark whilst you’re out and in the public eye. If someone decides to say Homelander did it then we have the evidence that that is impossible, because Homelander was right in front of all of those cameras.”

---

“Well, this family reunion has been fun, but I need my bag.” As if on cue, an intern lugged a black suitcase behind him. “Be careful.” Edward chided, his eyes flashing in warning, as they tugged a bit too hard and caused it to tilt. “I’ll take it from here.” He grabbed the handle and effortlessly hoisted the luggage on to the table. He waited for the intern to disappear before carefully unzipping the top.

“Holy shit.” Maeve exclaimed as he reached in and grabbed a handful of hair, a flushed tear-stained face became visible. The girl had a gag in her mouth but she took in deep breaths through her nose as she was finally released from the small, dark space.

“There’s my girl.” Her face looked tiny being cupped by his black gloves. “Tut. I told you not to panic, it was only temporary.” More tears spilled down her face as she tried to nod and agree with him. “We have a whole new life ahead of us.”

Homelander didn’t think he’d ever heard a human’s heart beat so fast.

[handful0fteeth]

pull on your pout (just open your mouth)

stranger kinks 1: pegging

summary: eddie has some kinks he's never told anyone about, let alone explored, and you're more than happy to help him out.

pairings: eddie munson x fem!reader (eddie munson x afab!reader if you squint)

warnings: smut, minors DNI, explicit language, lots of dirty talk, sub!eddie, dom!reader, rough sex, (mild) painplay, (slight) puppy play

words: 4.5k

The moment you laid eyes on Eddie Munson, you knew you had to make him scream.

He was so pretty, so cocksure as he floated through the crowd of the metal show you’d happened to meet at, and his easy smile ignited something within you that you hadn’t felt in a long time. A few people called out greetings as he strolled past them, and he’d return them in kind, either with a flourish of his hand or an exaggerated bow. He had a red cup he’d been sipping from when he sauntered up to where you were, leaned against a metal barricade just after the show ended, and the grin he flashed over the lip of it only confirmed your newfound desire.

“Mind if I bum one of those off you?” he asked, pointing a ringed finger at the cigarette that dangled from your mouth. You puffed once, twice, looking him over in thought before reaching into your skirt's waistband and pulling out your pack.

“Thanks, gorgeous,” he crooned. He plucked a cigarette out and tucked it between his lips, shifting his cup to his opposite hand so he could pat down his pockets, clearly in search of something. After a moment, you reached into your shirt and retrieved your lighter from its place inside your bra.

“Need a light?” you asked, flicking the wheel and illuminating Eddie’s face with firelight. His dark eyes, smeared in black kohl, glittered at you, and the way his smile stretched around the cigarette as he bent toward your flame made your stomach flip. He smelled of cheap weed and beer, sweat and cigarette smoke, cologne and earth - you had to physically restrain yourself from leaning down and taking an indulgent whiff of his hair only because you knew it’d make you look like an absolute lunatic.

“Much obliged,” he said, smoke curling from his full, pink lips. You watched them purse, and his cheeks hollowed as he sucked on his smoke, the end flaring cherry red, before he tipped his head back and exhaled audibly. When his eyes met yours again, you realized they sparkled all on their own without the assistance of a lighter.

“Wha’s your name?” His speech was just the slightest bit slurred, and you huffed out a laugh before angling your body toward him.

“Y/N. Yours?”

“Eddie Munson. ‘S a pleasure.” He draped one arm across his stomach while the other swept out dramatically behind him - unfortunately, it just so happened to be the arm that clutched his drink. As he bowed toward you, his hand accidentally tipped his cup just a little too far, and dark liquid began to pour out onto the asphalt freely. It splattered noisily for a few seconds before Eddie seemed to realize what he’d done, and he swore as he straightened up and snatched his arm back. 

“Fuck. Aw, well, ‘s for the best, I guess,” he reasoned, staring into the nearly empty cup as if it’d personally offended him. You surmised that, at this moment, it probably had. “Tastes like shit anyway.”

Even in his inebriated state, talking to him was easier than talking to most men - hell, it was easier than talking to most people in general. No awkward silences or lulls compelled you to drag on your cigarette just to give your mouth something to do - the words flowed out of you effortlessly, as if you’d known him for years. His laugh was like music, loud and sincere, bursting out of his mouth with abandon even when you didn’t think you’d said anything amusing. He kept edging closer and closer to you the entire conversation, and you let him, mainly because you wanted a closer look at his pretty face.

His hair, long and curly and matted to his forehead with sweat, coiled softly around his high, pale cheeks, and if you’d had enough alcohol in you, you would’ve reached up and pushed a lock behind his ear for him. He towered over you, which made the filthy thoughts swirling around in your head all the more thrilling. Something inside you, something mean and wicked, wanted to make this boy cry beneath you.

When Eddie stumbled into you, tripping over his own two feet, you asked if he needed a ride home. He shook his head but didn’t move to pull away from you. His hand was behind your body, curled onto the barricade for purchase, and you were so close you could feel the warmth radiating off his body as you tilted your head up to look into his eyes.

“Got a friend ‘m stayin’ with,” he murmured, hooking a thumb over his shoulder. “I’ll be okay. You can gimme your number though if you wan’ me to call you when I get to where I’m goin’.”

It was so forward that had it come out of anyone else’s mouth, you would’ve snorted and left him cold. Eddie wasn’t anyone else, though.

“You got a pen?”

Shockingly, he did - he extracted a fat-tipped permanent marker from the pocket of his leather jacket. You kept it to yourself how funny it was that he didn’t have a lighter but was carrying around a huge marker.

Without missing a beat, you lifted a hand and tugged down the collar of his shirt, exposing the creamy flesh of his collarbone. The little whoosh of air that left his lips didn’t escape you as you touched the felt tip of the marker to his skin and slowly wrote down your phone number. Beneath it, you signed your name and punctuated it all with a small, black heart. Eddie stayed still as stone while you wrote on him. It was as if your audacity, the arrogance of marking his flesh, had shocked him into a state of placidity. 

When your eyes met again, there was a heat in his gaze that hadn’t been there moments before. You smirked, capped the marker, and slipped it back inside his jacket.

“Make sure you call,” you said, your voice low. “You wouldn’t wanna worry me, now would you?”

Eddie shook his head slowly, almost dazedly. You watched his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed and flashed him a cloyingly sweet smile. 

“Good.” You raised one hand and rested it gently against his cheek, silently reveling in how tiny shivers rippled throughout his entire body at your touch, and patted him on the face condescendingly. You swore that, for a moment, right as you were pulling your hand away, you saw Eddie go to lean into your touch.

“I’ll be waiting.”

With that, you untucked yourself from against Eddie’s body and traipsed away.

He did, in fact, call you the very next morning and ask you on a proper date.

Whether or not that date ended up with Eddie fucking your brains out while you bent over the front seat of his van, scratching grooves into the cracked leather seats and practically drooling at the way his cock felt as it drilled inside you, was another matter entirely. (It did; you offered to help pay to fix the upholstery; Eddie refused, and the scratches still stare up at you knowingly every time you enter the van.)

That said, it didn’t take long at all to figure out that sometimes - a surprising number of “sometimes” - Eddie loved foisting control over to you just as much as he loved wrenching it away. He’d first admitted as much a few weeks after you started seeing each other. You’d been making out, ass planted firmly in his lap and hands plunged in his thick mass of hair when you gave a handful at the nape of his neck an experimental tug. Nothing too hard, just a test of the waters.

Eddie moaned.

He looked positively scandalized the second the sound had left his mouth, but you didn’t give him enough time to be embarrassed. Instead, you twisted your hand, yanking the curls in your fist until they were taut; Eddie’s eyes rolled into the back of his head, lids fluttering, and his jaw dropped wide open to loose another pathetic, delicious sound.

“That feel good, baby?” you asked. 

“Y-Yeah,” he whined. You slackened your grip just enough to let his head bob forward a bit and then snatched it straight back by tangling both hands in the hair on either side of his neck. He sat up straighter, his spine snapping into one long line as you gave him a wolfish grin. You only paused when you noticed the tears pricking at the corners of his eyes.

“D’you need me to ease up?” You would have, of course, in a heartbeat - pain for pleasure’s sake was one thing, but it was another thing entirely to inflict pain just for the hell of it, especially when the person you were inflicting pain on couldn’t handle it. But Eddie just blinked at you, his brown eyes glossy and distant, almost as if he was starting to drift off somewhere, and smiled dreamily.

“No,” he said. “Pull harder.”

And so you did.

Later, when he was bucking into you from below, keening and whimpering like he was dying, scalp no doubt burning from the consistent abuse you’d demonstrated toward his hair, you leaned down into his ear and asked him if he liked when you hurt him like this. 

“Yes, fuck,” he gasped. “I love it, I love it, please, more, please.”

“You think I should do this more often? Hm?”

“Whenever you want, Jesus Christ.” His back arched beautifully as you dragged your long, sharp nails down his bare chest, staining his pale skin with angry red lines. He grabbed your hips and held you in place, fucking into you desperately, unable to contain himself.

“You like it when I mark you up?” you growled, determined to stay focused through the stars exploding behind your eyes and the pleasure burning its way through your body. “When I own you like this? You’re just a little painslut for me, aren’t you, baby?”

When Eddie came, and he came hard, he was sobbing, “Yes, yes, yes, own me, use me, fuck, hurt me, I’m yours.”

You made sure that afterward when you could extricate yourselves from his bed, you took great care in tenderly washing and kissing the marks you left on him in the shower. You also washed his hair for him, choosing to massage his stinging scalp for so long the water was cold by the time you both hopped out. 

You asked him later, while he was snuggled up behind you in his bed, arms wrapped possessively around your middle and nose buried in your wet hair, if he really, really liked everything you’d done.

“Most definitely,” he murmured, kissing your neck. 

“You made such pretty sounds,” you said, and Eddie squirmed. He could sing your praises all day, wax poetic about how beautiful and sexy and perfect he thought you were, but when you returned that sentiment in kind, he tended to shrink. You resolved to fix that habit at a later date.

“You never told me you liked all that,” you said, reaching back to rest a hand on his flank. “I woulda done it sooner.”

“You never asked,” Eddie said simply. “‘Sides, that stuff is tame compared to other shit I’m interested in.”

Oh? Eddie tensed as soon as it seemed to register what he’d said, but you couldn’t stop yourself. He piqued your curiosity; that wasn’t your fault, and besides - you needed to know what else could make Eddie Munson whine for you immediately.

“You don’t say? Pray tell, what would be that ‘other shit?’”

“Uh…sorry, can’t hear you, sleeping.” He crushed himself against your back and faked a loud, raucous snore right in your ear. You laughed, and to his credit, he did actually fall asleep rather quickly after that, but you both knew you weren’t going to let that go so easily.

It took a while, months, before you could chip away at the embarrassment barring you from all of Eddie’s desires. You never pushed, never wanted to make him feel like he had to tell you anything, just gently encouraged him by promising there was nothing he could say that would scare you off or gross you out. Mostly, Eddie just liked pain - receiving and giving. He made the sweetest sounds when you satiated the more masochistic side of him: slapping him squarely across the face, scoring marks into his smooth back and chest, winding his hair around your fist, and pulling. 

He liked it when you whispered filthy, degrading things into his ear, too, possibly even more than the pain. You discovered how deeply he appreciated being called a slut early on, but it wasn’t until one night when you were riding him into the mattress, that the phrase “good dog” tumbled past your lips without much thought. Eddie’s orgasm swept through him without warning, and you drank in the shocked, blissed-out expression that contorted his face while making a mental note of that particular kink.

His final confession came after the fog of intoxication had settled over the pair of you one day, beer and weed buzzing through your veins and making Eddie’s inhibitions low enough to admit that he’d always, secretly, been curious about what it’d feel like to get fucked in the ass.

“Oh?”

“I…yeah, I guess,” he said, throwing an arm over his eyes as he lay on his back. 

“How curious are we talkin’ here?”

“Like…I dunno…very?”

“Baby. Look at me.”

One of your favorite things about Eddie was how quickly he obeyed when you lowered your voice. It was like it didn’t even occur to him not to listen. He peeked at you from around his forearm.

“Do you want me to fuck you in the ass, puppy?”

The sweet, high noise that bubbled up his throat as he nodded stoked that need in your belly, which demanded you do everything in your power to bring Eddie to tears as he writhed underneath you. 

That conversation is how you got here tonight.

Eddie waits for you patiently on his bed, naked, rolled onto all fours with his head bowed low between his shoulders, the pale globes of his ass arched skyward. His dark curls pool around his face, so you can’t see it, but you watch his back rise and fall rapidly with his breathing, and the backs of his thighs are trembling with anticipation. 

Fenagling a strap-on is more challenging than you’d originally thought. Slotting the dildo into place was unexpectedly tricky - it’s one you purchased years ago, and admittedly, the pink, sparkling hunk of silicone looks a little silly nestled amongst the otherwise imposing black material. But when Eddie caught a glimpse of it coming out of your bag tonight, his eyes went wide as saucers, and it took a moment for his brain to stop short-circuiting enough to carry on a conversation with you. You told him to stay put while you fought with the smooth, cold leather around your hips, and he has, wanting so badly to be good for you. His cock hangs hard and flushed between his hips, twitching intermittently as precum beads from the tip and drools onto his bedsheets.

“Just a minute longer, puppy. Are you okay?” you call, and Eddie nods.

“‘M fine, angel.”

“Good. Why don’t you stroke your cock while I finish up here, hm?”

He obeys, slipping a hand down between his legs to grip the base of his cock. His body slumps slightly, and he turns his head out as it’s pressed into the sheets. Eddie mewls softly as you tighten the last strap against your thigh, and you steal a glance at him. His fist moves slowly over himself, stroking from base to tip and then back again in carefully measured pumps. 

He doesn’t notice when you sidle up behind him, totally unaware of your presence, until you drag your nails featherlight over the back of his legs. He shudders, gasping sharply through his teeth, and his hand stills on his cock.

“Will you hand me the lube, baby?”

Eddie releases his dick to pat a hand around the bed, and eventually, he presses the small, cylindrical bottle of lube into your palm. It’s half-empty, thoroughly used in the weeks leading up to tonight, and the plastic sticks to your skin a bit as you snap the cap open and drizzle lubricant onto your first two fingers.

He’s taken more than just two fingers, many times now - a few nights ago, you squeezed four inside his ass before he came all over his stomach. You’ve taken this entire process very slowly, partially because you’d hate to hurt the poor thing and ruin his fantasy before it even really had a chance to begin and partially because you just love how he cries when you tease him open nice and lazily. 

You lean over him, pressing a kiss between his shoulder blades as you swipe a dollop of lube over his hole. He hisses, flinching away from your fingers a bit.

“Cold,” he complains, and you shush him gently.

“I know, baby. Just relax, you’re shakin’ like a leaf.”

“‘M excited,” Eddie mumbles, and you kiss his back again.

You swirl your fingers around his puckered hole, teasing the rim and nudging the tips just the slightest bit inside to coax the muscle into softening for you. Eddie sighs and shifts a bit so he can grab his cock again.

When you press your index finger inside him, up to the first knuckle, Eddie keens and drives his face into the bed. That just won’t do.

“Uh uh,” you admonish. Your free hand tangles in his hair at the root, and you yank his head back up, forcing him to steady himself on one elbow. He gasps, then whines, trying to cast a look over his shoulder at you. 

“You don’t hide from me,” you remind him. “‘Specially when it muffles those pretty noises. Understand?”

“Y-Yes. Sorry, angel,” he breathes, and the slick, hurried sounds below you alert you to how much faster he’s stroking his cock now. You probe your fingers inside him further, watching and waiting for any sign of distress or pain he doesn’t enjoy until you’ve sunk all the way to the top of your palm. After you’ve given him a moment to adjust, you pull out almost entirely and bend over him until your chest presses into his back. 

“D’you remember what you say if you can’t take it, puppy?” you whisper against the shell of his ear. He shivers and nods.

“Mmhm. Mercy,” he says. 

“Good boy, that’s right. Feel that?” You release your hold on his hair to fist the dildo in your hand and tap it against where your fingers stretch his hole. Eddie chokes on the breath he tries to suck in, and his hips stutter forward.

“This is goin’ in your ass tonight, baby. Do you think you can handle all that?”

“Fuck, yes, yes, I can,” he assures you. 

“Yeah? Gotta finger you open first. Make sure you’re ready. Although, I bet you’d love it if I just stuffed my cock inside you right now.” You never would, and you both know that; you mutually agreed that foregoing necessary prep work would end disastrously. But the way Eddie swears and clenches around the tips of your fingers is so fucking cute that, for a moment, you’re tempted.

You drive your fingers inside him again, pumping it in and out fast enough that Eddie doesn’t have a moment to catch his breath. He splutters pathetically below you, bucking into his hand while simultaneously trying to fuck himself back on your fingers, and you just let him - far be it from you to deny yourself the pleasure of watching Eddie Munson act like a complete slut.

A few minutes pass before you feel comfortable enough to add a third finger inside his ass, and this time you purposefully thrust them right against his prostate. His back curls like a cat’s before he allows himself to fall flat on his face. He’s a wonderful, obedient boy because he makes sure no sheets or pillows obstruct his pretty mouth, just as you asked.

“Fuck, that feels so fucking good, angel, Christ,” he moans, brows knitted together so tight he almost looks pained. “More, please, I want more. I can take it.”

“Aww, my puppy’s so excited,” you croon, and he nods fervently. You crook your fingers and settle them deep inside his ass, circling that sensitive bundle of nerves until he’s panting and thrusting sloppily into his fist. You could make him cum like this, you know you could, but where’s the fun in that? You want him to cum on your strap-on; you want him to experience spasming around something thick and hard and unrelenting, just as he’s fantasized about. 

He hiccups when you slot your pinky finger inside his ass alongside the three other slick digits. When you start pumping into him earnestly, spreading all four fingers inside the loosening ring of muscle, Eddie gives you what you’ve been craving since the moment you met.

Eddie cries.

Sobs wrack his lithe frame as you work him open, dribbling more lube onto his hole and pressing it inside. If you weren’t so turned on that your pussy was drooling down your thigh, you might’ve giggled at the obscene, wet sounds his ass made every time you stuffed him full again. 

“You’re doing such a good job taking it, puppy. My good little slut. That’s what you are, huh?”

“U-Uh-huh, shit.”

“I know, baby, I know. You’re so pathetic for me, crying on my fingers like this. You gonna cry on my cock, too?”

“If you - fucking hell - if you want me to, angel,” he offers, and you laugh, licking a stripe up the side of his neck. His skin is rich with the salt of his sweat, and you can’t help yourself. You force his head to one side with a hand in his hair and follow the trail you licked with your teeth, setting their edge against his soft, welcoming flesh until you bite. Eddie whimpers and trembles for you, so pretty, so perfect, and you bite him even harder. You want him to bruise; you want him to walk around Hawkins tomorrow with your mark proudly emblazoned on his pale throat. 

“I-I need, I need, angel, I n-need,” Eddie stammers, breath coming in shallow, short puffs around the fragments of his sentence. You detach your teeth from his neck and straighten back up.

“You need? What do you need?”

“You, I need you,” he weeps. “Need you inside me, please, please, I can’t take it anymore-”

“You’ll take whatever I decide you’ll take, puppy,” you say. When you pull all four fingers out of Eddie’s twitching hole, he cries out like he’s in pain, like you’re trying to kill him. You admire your handiwork, spreading his ass apart with both hands and watching his red, slick hole flutter as it attempts to remain open despite its newfound emptiness. 

“You’re so beautiful down here. All gaped open for me like a whore.” Eddie nods, though you aren’t sure if he actually registers anything you’re saying. He’s so blissed out already, so eager, you think he’d agree to whatever happened to fall out of your mouth right now.

“What color are you on, Eds?” you ask, and the way your voice swings upward into its usual cadence seems to snap him back to reality. He reaches for you, fingers outstretched until they manage to graze your thigh and squeezes it in reassurance.

“Green. I’m so fuckin’ green, baby.”

You smile. “Yeah? Havin’ fun?”

“Absolutely. I’m alright, angel, don’t worry.”

“Alright. Keep yourself spread for me, puppy. I wanna watch my cock disappear inside you.”

Eddie swears and complies instantly, releasing his slippery, dark red cock and placing both hands on either side of his ass. He pulls his cheeks apart dutifully, black nails digging into plush flesh, and even deepens the arch in his back for you as he settles into this new position. 

You slather an abundance of lube on your dildo, so much that it drips onto the sheets, and line the head up with Eddie’s hole. 

“Ready?”

“Mmm.”

“Take a deep breath, baby.”

The head pops in with little to no resistance, vanishing completely inside Eddie’s hole, and though you obviously can’t feel it, a moan tumbles out of your throat. It’s so fucking hot, seeing Eddie like this, knowing you’re the cause of it, and it takes quite a bit of self-control not just to feed him the rest of your cock right away and pound him into the mattress. He’d like it, too, the slut. But you refrain.

You drag in a breath through your teeth and press into him slowly, filling him bit by agonizing bit, and he voices his need loudly beneath you. One hand claws his mattress desperately, almost like he’s trying to crawl away, while the other jerks his swollen cock thoughtlessly, and it seems all he knows how to say right now is “please.” Please, please, please. After a while, when you’re more than halfway inside him, the word loses all meaning for you. You have to wonder if it even had meaning for Eddie in the first place or if it was just the only one his brain could conjure up to say.

“That’s it, baby, look at you,” you pant. Your hips are pressed flush to Eddie’s ass, the dildo buried inside him to the base. He writhes, gasping, sputtering, the picture of desperation. You want to keep him this way forever - speared on your dick, aching for it, needing you more than air, crying so prettily just for you. It’s selfish, but fuck, maybe you’re okay with that.

“Do you need a second, puppy?”

“No,” he wails, apparently offended by the question. He bucks against you so hard you almost lose your balance, and you steady yourself by laying your hands over where he’s still spreading himself. “God, fuck me, fuck me please, fuck my ass, angel, I’m going fucking crazy here.”

A wicked smirk curls across your lips. If that’s what he wants, who are you to deny him? That’d just be plain mean.

You yank him toward you, dragging him to the very edge of the bed, causing him to lose his balance - and his grip on his ass. Before he can collect himself, you gather his wrists into one hand and pin them to the small of his back. It looks a bit silly, you have to admit; his hands are so much bigger than yours, rough and callused from hours of guitar practice, and truthfully, if he wanted to break free of your grasp, he could do so with not even half the strength you’re currently exerting just to keep him somewhat contained. But that’s the beauty of Eddie’s submission - he doesn’t want to break free. He wants to be manhandled, thrown around like he’s so much smaller and weaker than he truly is; he wants to be used.

Most importantly, he wants you to use him.

It’s fucking intoxicating.

You twist a long, thick rope of his hair around your free hand and tug his head back, forcing his gaze skyward. You notice the shimmer of drool on the corner of his lips and chuckle.

“You wanna take it, then take it.”

You pull out, just until the very edge of the dildo is left inside Eddie’s quivering hole, and then slam back inside him again. He slackens against you, and you’re confident he would collapse if you weren’t forcing him up by the hair. You can see his lashes twitching, no doubt from his eyes rolling straight into the back of his head. Your name wrapped inside his wrecked, watery voice is all you need to keep thrusting.

You set a brutal pace almost immediately. Eddie’s bed squeaks and rattles from the force of it, lifting far enough off the ground that the frame starts to screech into the adjacent wall. The sound of Eddie’s strained, keening cries, punctuated by skin slapping viciously against skin, is like the sweetest harmony you’ve ever heard. You pull him toward you, forcing him almost back on his haunches and plaster sloppy, open-mouthed kisses across his back and shoulders.

“You’re doing so fucking good, puppy,” you grunt. “You’re taking it like a fuckin’ pro. So hard for me, too, I bet you’re just aching, huh?”

All Eddie can do is nod. You twist your hand, compelling him to turn his face toward you, and crane your neck to capture his lips in a kiss that’s mostly teeth and tongue. He whimpers into your mouth, allowing you to lick your way inside and swallow all the beautiful, agonized sounds he’s making just for you. You don’t have enough hands, you decide - you need more to scratch him with, to stroke his cock, to choke him and slap him and make him gag on your fingers. You need more of him; you need to take anything that he can give you all for yourself. It belongs to you, just as he does.

The possessiveness that burns through your belly spurs you on, and you growl filth huskily into his ear. “You’re mine, you understand that? Mine. No one else’s ever gonna make you feel this good, are they, puppy?”

“N-No, angel, jus’ you…yours, all yours,” he slurs. 

“That’s right. Your pretty little hole is mine, mine to fuck and fill as much as I want, isn’t it?”

“Fuck, uh huh, yes.”

“Next time, I’m gonna fuck you on your back. Have you spread your legs for me like a little whore. I wanna watch your face while I wreck you, watch how much of a cockslut you are-”

“Jesus Christ, God, angel, I-I’m cumming, I can’t st-ah!”

Eddie shudders and falls silent for a moment, just long enough for you to look around his shoulder and see how his cock pulses before the first rope of cum splatters onto the sheets below. Then, Eddie screams. It’s a sound torn straight from the depths of his soul, suffering and ecstasy all rolled into one perfect package. You keep fucking him through the shockwaves of his orgasm and watch the cum dribble down his throbbing cock, spilling onto the bed and dripping messily down his thighs. 

“That’s my good boy, you did so fuckin’ well for me, baby,” you coo. “You didn’t even have to touch yourself, I’m so proud of you, sweet thing.”

It takes a while for Eddie to come back down to Earth after that. He mumbles nonsense as you ease out of his ass and lower him onto the bed - in a dry, unsullied portion next to the wall - and doesn’t even notice when you leave for a moment to grab a wet, warm washcloth to clean him up with. He seems to snap out of his haze when you loosen the harness straps, and it falls to the ground with a thud.

He reaches for you wordlessly, long, thin fingers shaking as he clenches and unclenches them against his palm. Your heart swells and aches inside your chest as you clasp his hand and press a kiss to the back of it. 

“I’m so proud of you, baby,” you repeat. You gingerly brush a lock of hair out of Eddie’s face, revealing his flushed, tear-stained cheeks and swollen lips. He blinks wet lashes at you, brown eyes foggy and unfocused. His smile is sweet, shy even, and he tucks himself against you as you settle into bed.

“Wanna…do that again,” he rasps after you’ve wrapped him up in your arms. You chuckle and kiss the top of his head.

“We can do that whenever you’d like, sweet thing.”

He hums in approval. You lay like that for a while, bodies curled around each other, stroking Eddie’s cheek and occasionally pressing a kiss to his temple. You don’t realize you’ve nearly dozed off until Eddie calls your name, and you shake yourself awake.

“Hm?”

“D’you hear what I said?”

“No, puppy, I’m sorry. What was that?”

“I said my arm’s asleep.”

You snort, and so does Eddie as he rolls himself out from under you enough to free his tingling appendage. He drapes it around your shoulders, and this time, he drags you in against his chest. His hair tickles your cheek as he kisses the tip of your nose.

“Thank you,” he breathes. 

“My pleasure. Oh, and baby?”

“Hm?”

“Next time, you’re taking something bigger.”

The shiver slithering Eddie’s spine tells you all you need to know.

[where-does-the-heart-lie]

Deuce in my One Piece Modern AU :)

Now ive never read the Ace Novels,

HOWEVER! ☝️

I just read the Wiki on this guy.

Honestly this is more of a soul read than anything else, sorry if i mischaracterize him :)

Additional headcanons 👇

Deuce’s father was in the military and their family often had to move around when he was young. During his 12 grade year, that landed deuce in the same high-school that Ace went to. They met eachother in the school’s Jazz band, He played Sax, Ace played Bass.

On their very first day of meeting eachother though, they accidentally found themselves locked out of the school building, which lead them to have to walk around the campus banging on doors until someone opened one.

During their little adventure, Ace kept trying to get Deuce to tell him his name, in which he was withholding from his classmate. At this point in moving around so much, he got tired of introducing himself, but that just lead to Ace making up the name ‘Deuce’ for him, and the name just stuck!

They started to have some banter between eachother because of their escapade and quickly became friends. Deuce wasnt really interested in making friends, but Ace pulled him into his friend groups and gave him a social life that made him happy :)

During their school year, Deuce started growing a crush on his new friend. He never thought that getting locked out of the school one day would lead to being head over heels, but here he is… shhhit.

Eventually, he plucks up the courage to tell Ace how he feels, and Ace responded by placing a big ol’ kiss on Deuce’s lips, much to his surprise.

They start dating, but onward, it felt like something was missing. Deuce had never dated anyone before, but this isn't what he thought it would be like. They did all the normal couply physical stuff, but it still felt like he was just a friend to Ace.

One day, he voiced his concerns to Ace who just looked sad. Ace bows the deepest bow Deuce had ever seen and apologized.

He expresses that he doesn't know how to love like deuce does. Everytime he tries, he fails, and he winds up hurting the ones that he cares for. He thought that he was doing better with deuce, but obviously not, and now Ace has hurt him, too.

They wind up breaking up, but remaining friends. deuce understands that Ace has some self development that he has to go through, and that a romantic relationship between them wouldnt work out.

Ace was his first heartbreak, but he's glad they can still be friends.

and sometimes they fuck idk

thanks for reading :) i hope you enjoyed my Aromantic vent piece

heres some ship art for them on my ship art account

[the-quaint-quail]

COUNTRY SINGER TREY-

-country singer trey who has someone else write hos own songs. embarrassingly enough he canr write a love song for the life of him, and thats his specialty!!

country singer trey who spots you in the crowd in the same dingy, tacky bar he sings at. golden eyes pierced through yours like a hawks as he kept singing, his lyrics feeling a lot more intentional then before

country singer trey who is absolutely RIPPED and JACKED because he helps out with his family’s barn, his shirts straining to contain what is trey. he would’ve been an amazing farm hand if he didn’t have dreams of making it big one day. when he was a young’n, he’d pretned to be singing to sold out crowds!! the illusion broken when one of his audience members ‘mooo’d him off stage’ because he kept trying to sing an orginal

maybe that’s where you come in? your country singer trey’s ghost writer who write every song about him, yet he’s singing them to you.

country singer try making a face at tge latest song you wrote, eyes scanning the paper until they’re stuck on one word. two actually. “golden eyes… i think we should change it to [eye color,] and compare it to-“ “you’re not comparing it to a cow again trey.” “…i wasn’t going to..” but the coy look on his face and the unimpressed on le on yours was evidence enough.

country singer trey who asks you to record the demo for him. so there you are in the recording booth with producers and trey on the other side of the glass. although knowing the producers by first name, you couldn’t look at them from embarrassment. you weren’t- you weren’t a singer what was trey-? you fumbled with the sheet music as the track started playing instinctively looking to trey for guidance who gave you a big smile and thumbs up in encouragement.

there was no way this was happening right. why the FUCK were you here, on stage, in a cute country outfit singing with trey. this wasn’t supposed to happen. it wasn’t supposed to turn into a duet for sevens sake!! yet the crowd eats it up. saying your voices were meant to sing together, that it was destiny, fate even. trey simply laughs at the bar groupies, tugging you in closer as you drowned in his muscles and unbuttoned flannel.

sevens you wished he stopped looking at you like that with those golden eyes of his. reflecting the midwestern sun thats known to boil and broil anything and everything indiscriminately. you stay under it’s gaze for too long and you’ll start to melt.

the other ladies certainly did, that woman at the bar certainly did, the waitress certainly did. you certainly did

he was bad for you, you know he was. trey clover was a country singer with rippling muscles and a pearly white smile and intrusive eyes. a heavy belt sat on his heavy hips it clinked with each boot fall. his warm hand flushed against the small of your back as his chest sometimes bumps into you, the crowd had been larger than usual tonight resulting in a sold out show.

“they’re all here for you, us” he’d whisper after fleeing the bar that was packed tighter than a hay barrel and into the nipping night. the nights were always much colder, unforgiving than the days as ironic as it sound. they were cold, harsh, and dangerous.

yet trey’s bicep under your head made you feel safe, protected, even if you’re in the middle of the desert looking up at the starry night sky on the head of his family’s pick up truck. the rust covering the dark emerald paint under your fingers grounded you, distracted you from your jack rabbit heart that was beating a mile a minute almost like it was trying to break free and run. run far away from the man that his trey clover because you just know he’s going to break your heart like he has to so many.

his calloused finger from years of labor, chores, and plucking guitar strings brushed sensually against you temple, it was accidental as he moves a strand of hair behind your ear. you can’t bare to look at him right now. you can’t- shouldn’t wouldn’t couldn’t but sevens you know you wanted to. lyrics upon lyrics, sonnets and poems flooded your mind as you thought of ways to compared him to a nebula, so powerful yet so far away. to the shining stars that littered the sky like the freckles on his face, constellations of him tattooed in your brain every time you close your eyes..

you sit up,trey follows. you grab your hat, as does trey, and drive away.

you never should have written that song for trey clover all those years ago. you may be singing them together on stage, but off stage he’s changing the lyrics.

[bunny-jpeg]

bets made (and mistakes happened) - a restaurant au

john 'soap' mactavish

cw: restaurant!au, one night stand, smut/pwp, cocky!soap, bets/wagers, dirty talk enemies-to-lovers, (accidental) pregnancy, semi-long

bunny says: like this fic? leave a comment! really like this fic? suggest your own! reblogs are always welcomed!

you could stand toe to toe with whoever got in your way. you REFUSED to be talked down to like a dog. you were a good sous chef, you didn't need the guy who washed the dishes to tell you how to do your job! you could've KILLED john.

and he probably would've let you. he wanted to see those blunt nails of yours dig into his throat. he'd take it as a challenge and give you the same energy. he'd probably grin as you like a madman before he could finally sink his teeth into you. he had been wanting to for years.

so in order to keep some semblance of peace in the kitchen, chef price sent you two out in the back for a smoke. you sat on the milk crate near the door and john pulled out his pack of cigarettes.

"i like yer fire." he said.

"i wish you'd go to hell." you replied.

he chuckled and shook his head, "yer too sweet. i'm surprised you didn't poison me when you had to show tonight's dishes to the rest of staff."

"i didn't expect you to count as staff. it was meant for the other cooks."

he put his hands on his hips, apron on and a cigarette hanging out of his mouth he tilted his head to the side and chuckled, "i'm staff, bonnie. more of the backbone than you are."

you stood up, and got close to him. you were facing each other and painfully close. you plucked the cigarette out of his mouth before you took a inhale of it. he looked at you in shock as you placed it back in his mouth. you turned away from him and said, "how about this, soap. you come to my place, we see who's the better cook."

he stood up a little taller and asked, "what do i get when i win?"

you narrowed his eyes at his words, you amped up the stakes. you replied simply, "i'll let you sleep with me."

the cigarette almost fell out of his mouth from the shock. he soon took it out his mouth and exhaled, "nah, nah. really, what is it?" there was a smile on his face. he leaned in a little bit to you.

"i told you... you, me, sex. do i need to spell it out for you?"

he laughed, "oh yeah. that's a good prize, that sweet cunt." he closed the gap between you two and took your chin in his hand, he held his cigarette in the other, "deal. maybe i can finally put ya in yer place. talkin' big game for such a little girl." he shook his head. he pulled away to have another drag of his cigarette.

-

the first thing you noticed at the end of the week. john 'soap' mactavish didn't taste like an ashtray when he kissed you. currently it was friday night, the only night you two had off, and john had just won your little bet.

he had you up on the kitchen table with his hand spread out on your thigh, pushing up your dress. his lips were on yours and you tried your best to NOT melt into the kiss.

when he pulled away he pressed his forehead to you and said, "how was that?"

"it's a bet, it shouldn't matter how i feel." you replied as you kept your arms around him. his laugh pulled something in you when you were so close to him.

you expected him to make some pasta with packaged noodles and a jar of sauce. you had seen what lunches he brought. but instead in your tiny apartment, he made you a scotch pie with a cigarette hanging out of his mouth the entire time. even with the ash, it was still the best thing you had ever tasted.

he knew he won because you couldn't hide the expression on your face fast enough after the first bite. when he laughed,you hit him then went in for seconds. who would've thought the annoying dishwasher could cook this.

"how?" you asked.

he put a finger over his lips, "family secrets. only shared through marriage, doll."

after the meal, then he took his dessert. his winnings from your bet. and in all fairness, if/when he was going to fuck you, he'd rather he did with after you had a good meal. it was going to be quite the energy waster.

you broke the kiss and looked at him, those big blue eyes stared back at you. you held his face for a moment to stop him from leaning in again. you said, "i'm not fucking on a table i got from goodwill."

he chuckled, "of course, my majesty. would you like for me to fluff the pillows first." then made a noise when you squeezed his face.

"i'm saying because the fucking thing will break." then let go of him. he backed up enough for you to get off the furniture and head towards the bedroom.

he trailed behind you, his cock stood at full attention in his jeans as he get his first glimpse of your bedroom. while he noticed that there wasn't much life to the decor of the walls. he did notice that your bed was unmade and looked very comfy.

but what drew his attention was the sight of you undressing. he watched you zip down the button of the dress. you stepped out of it then quickly got your underwear off. he was barely out of his socks by the time you were naked. your curves glowed under the light of the city outside.

you sighed and approached him, "i guess i have to do everything, huh?"

he was brought back to reality and stepped back, "you don't have to do shit, love. i just need you to lie there and look pretty. if you really wanted to put on a show, make the girls bounce a little." he chuckled as he pulled his shirt over his head. he showed off his lean body and caught you staring a moment before he went to his jeans.

soon both of you were naked, and you led him onto your bed. you kicked the covers further down the mattress as you laid in bed with the other man. you kissed once more trying hard not to fall for him with each linger of his fingertips across your back.

he held you like a protective force, even if his words were often biting. he wanted you. in a carnal, lustful kind of way. the kind that sent shivers down your spine.

his hands roamed your backside, his cock twitched against your thigh as you continued to make out with him. finally that cocky mouth of his was quiet.

you pulled away soon after and placed both hands on his chest. he looked up at your curiously and you gazed down at him. those blue eyes were like dark like rocky seas as you rubbed your knee up against his cock. he hissed through his teeth.

"careful, doll." he said quietly.

you held his face once more and gave him one last kiss before you moved away and got into his lap. your ass rubbed against his cock. the sensation made him exhale deeply to try and hold back a moan.

he placed his tattooed hands on your hips. you always did find his tattoos quite appealing. you did have a dream once where he was shoving those digits inside of your pussy. at the time it made you want to put bleach in your eyes. but now... you were second guessing it.

"like this?" you asked.

"oh yeah. i love a good girl on top." he purred as the two of you began to move your bodies against one another. his eyes closed for a moment as he pressed his head into your pillow. he was drowning in the scent of the strawberry shampoo you used often. he could get whiffs of it at work when you walked by, but to be smothered in it made his cock hard.

you placed your hands on his chest and leaned forward so his cock was pushed inside of you at an angle. you panted which was accompanied by his own heavy breathing.

"feel real good. like a glove." he said, heavy on the accent, "like two pieces the same puzzle. you and i, doll, are meant to be."

"one night." you affirmed.

he chuckled as he dug his fingers further into your hips. he watched you take all of his cock and replied, "that's what they all day." before he started to meet your pace more aggressively.

the bed creaked from your movements. the heavy thrusting of sex in the cramped room of your one bedroom apartment. you funded this life through cooking and you got out cooked by a dishwasher.

you should hang the apron up already!

the thought made john smirked as he felt his cock deep inside of you. he wondered for a moment if you could still run a kitchen while caring for his brats. but that thought was pushed away from the intense rush of pleasure through his body. made his head feel full as he got closer to orgasm.

"shit, soap. ah." you moaned.

he gave your ass a slap and chuckled, the sweat dripped down his back, "you can't get enough of me. you just love it so much. you love me."

you groaned, "in your dreams." the sex was amazing. you could feel the sweat on your brow as you rutted against him. your nails dug into his pecks as you moved.

he hissed through his teeth and drove his cock deeper into you. he could feel his heart hammering in his chest. nothing like a feisty chef to get his blood pumping! with a spark on inspiration, he took you by the hips and rolled you onto your stomach.

he lifted your hips up with ease and pounded away at your cunt with vigor. the angle took the air out of your lungs, you could feel his ramming against sensitive areas. your legs were practically in the air!

the angle was amazing for both of you and soon you were gripping onto the mattress under your head.

"who would've thought scotch pie would've let me fuck ya." he laughed as he scratched at your hips due to the force he was holding you.

"shut up!" you whined as your back arched. with a few more stokes of his cock, you both came. your mind went blank. you came so hard that you honestly forgot that he wasn't wearing a condom and had dumped a bunch of his scottish seed into your aching cunt.

this wouldn't be a problem later, right?

-

a month later you're sitting on top of the toliet with a pregnancy test in hand. your hand over your mouth as you watched the test read positive.

for a second you tried to rationalize that it COULDN'T have been john who got you pregnant. not that blue-eyed, mohawk having, smug dishwasher! but you sure as hell weren't pregnant before your night together.

you pulled your hand away from your face and putt he test down on the counter. you cupped your middle and sighed. you had no choice but to tell john about it. he was going to find out eventually.

you sent him a text message, 'soap. need to talk. urgent." then put the phone down. instantly you were on the phone with him, when you heard his voice you broke down. the normally cocky john sounded sincere as he asked what was wrong. you composed yourself for a moment and wiped your eyes and said, "you are your stupid scottish cock got me pregnant."

there was silence on the other end for a moment. he then said, "anythin' ya need, doll. it's yours."

you swallowed and replied, "you and some more scotch pie." you felt your heart do a somersault.

"ay." he said, "already got the scottish in ya."

xoxo, bunny (might do a sequel, let me know!)

[bakugotrashpanda]

Hawks x F!Reader Word Count: 2.9k

A/N: I feel rusty af with my writing right now. Also reader is lowkey @kweenkatsuki coded :3

!!: sex, talk of having kids

Hawks is normally suave and charming… except for when you’re around.

It started so innocently.

Ding! The elevator door opens and Keigo watches as a tall stack of boxes labeled Bedroom wobbles precariously. 

“Careful now!” he says and swoops in to grab the top two before they topple off. “If you need help moving in, all you have to do is-” The last word dies in his throat. He can barely make out the top of your face peering over the rest of your boxes, but your eyes have already captivated his.

“Thanks for catching that,” you laugh. God your laugh is beautiful. “I don’t want to take any more of your time though.”

Keigo shrugs and smiles wryly. “If I don’t have time to help a pretty woman, then I’ve been slacking at my job.” He adjusts the boxes in his hands and takes another from your pile. Stepping to the side, he lets you lead the way.

“You might’ve seen me on TV before,” he says smoothly, “But don’t feel you have to call me Hawks. We’re neighbors now, call me Keigo.”

“Alright, Keigo,” you laugh, “I’m in unit 902.” Keigo’s heart skips a beat. Literal neighbors. He stares at his corner apartment, unit 903, not even four yards away. You fumble with the keys and he can make out a collection of keychains. There’s got to be something he can use here to keep the conversation going.

“You like raccoons?” he asks lamely. It was the first thing out of his mouth. What if it was a gift? Something you didn’t actually like but kept for sentimentality? Wincing, he scrambles for a plan of how to salvage this.

“Y’know that video of a raccoon accidentally putting cotton candy in water and then looking all confused about it?” you keep walking to the back of the apartment, your voice bouncing off the empty walls.

“Yeah, I’ve seen that once or twice.” Most of your major furniture is moved in, and your bedroom is no exception. The headboard rests against the shared wall with Keigo’s apartment. 

“It makes me cry,” you say, “Every single time.” There’s no hint of a smile, no ‘gotcha’ moment, just pure seriousness.

“Every time?” Keigo laughs and sets the boxes down.

“Every. Damn. Time.”

“There’s no way.”

“Pull it up right now and I’ll be in tears.” There’s something in your eyes, a challenge? Goading? He likes it. Someone who, for once, isn’t trying to suck up to him because he’s a pro hero. Not that he wouldn’t mind you suck-

He all but shouts the first thing that comes to his mind to end that line of thought. “The walls are thick, so you and your boyfriend don’t have to worry about being heard.” 

Smooth. Real smooth. 

“Funny, I don’t have a boyfriend. But I do have a phone number, and you should let me know when you’re free so you can show this new girl around town.” You pull a marker out of one of your pockets and write it on the palm of his hand. Damn. Here you are, pulling out all the stops, and he can’t get his fucking foot out of his mouth.

“If we’re exchanging things, you should have one of these.” His wings rustle and a feather darts out and hovers in front of you.

“A feather?” you ask and pluck it out of the air. Warm. Rolling the quill between your thumb and forefinger, Keigo watches you inspect the small red feather.

“It’s linked to me, so if you’re ever in trouble, just –” A shiver runs down his spine, and it takes all his willpower not to physically respond. Your finger runs along the edge of the feathers. So light and curious, but fuck all Keigo wants is your hands running along his – 

No.

That’s only because you’re doing it right now and it feels good. You’re neighbors. There’s no way he can think of you as anything other than a friend. For fuck’s sake, you haven’t even moved in properly.

“Just stroke it,” Keigo finally chokes out “I’ll feel it.” Your finger freezes. A ghost of a smile passes over your lips.

You clear your throat. “I’ll make sure to put this in a safe place.”

As Keigo closes his front door, there’s a soft click to his left as you also leave yours. “Morning, Keigo,” you call out to him.

“Hey, Chickadee,” he chuckles. Not even a week in and almost every morning the two of you happened to leave at the same time. It must be fate – if fate is another word for Keigo listening for the jingle of your keys and telltale singing as you get ready to start your day.

“Off to work?”

“Another day making sure everyone stays safe.” Keigo tucks his keys in his pocket and turns to see you standing by the elevator in a yellow sundress. He lets out a low whistle and lifts his glasses to see you in all your glory. The skirt hit your midthigh, and while the top had thick straps, the sweetheart neckline drew his eyes to your chest – and based on your smirk, you knew exactly how you looked in it. “Where’s a pretty lady such as yourself heading?”

“This really cute guy showed me a cafe a while ago, and there happens to be a bookstore rather close to it. I figured I’d get a book and a coffee and enjoy the sunshine,” you shrugged. “Oh c’mon Keigo, it was you. Like I’d let just anyone show me around.” Apparently he hadn’t been able to conceal his frown at your mention of a ‘really cute guy’. 

But his feathers stayed ruffled the rest of the day. You were on his mind so much that Keigo made blunders at work. You had him tongue tied and jokes with coworkers came out punchline first. Paperwork didn’t get done. The fastest man alive slowed down for a little bit. 

When he got home, he decided to call it an early night and catch up on some much-needed sleep. Maybe that was the problem, not that he couldn’t shake your dazzling smile or infectious laugh, but maybe he was simply sleep deprived. It wouldn’t be the first time. 

But even sleep is hard to get when his mind keeps drifting. 

Mmm… Keigo lifts his head from his pillow. His wings practically vibrate with energy. A small gasp fills his mind, a hitch in the breath. He feels it deep in his chest – his blood hums from one of his links. 

Shaking away his sleep, he sits up, silk sheets falling away from his bare chest. Absentmindedly rubbing an old scar on his shoulder, he runs through all his feathers. The one at his office is fine, as are the ones with his top three sidekicks.

Oh god… just like that.

It’s none of the ones he tucked away in potential hideout locations… That leaves –

I-I’m almost… Ha- oh fuck… oh FUCK

A short scream followed by breathy panting echoes in his ears. And then it’s silent. Even the low hum of vibrations that initially woke him up. 

That… was you. Right next door. Did you realize he could hear everything? Probably not. You said you were keeping his feather in a safe place, and what safer place than the bedroom?

Keigo spent all night staring at the ceiling trying not to replay the sounds you made. Every time his mind drifted, the glorious sound of you coming would stir him and he’d find himself hard. 

He debated the ethics of jacking off to you – he hoped the ‘ethics’ part of it would be enough for his raging boner to die down. On one hand, you didn’t have to know. Ever. Does anyone really know how many people get off to the thought of them? Or hell, even him, the number two hero, how many people in the country fantasized about him? He doesn’t know. But on the other hand, what if he started getting feelings or you got a boyfriend or something?

Somehow he was able to get you off his mind and sleep.

“Do you ever think of leaving from the window of your apartment?” you ask as his door shuts. You’re waiting for the elevator, back to him. Keigo looks you up and down. Another sundress. Is this your normal clothing? Do you wear this to work? A stab of jealousy rips through him at the thought of your coworkers getting to see you like this every day and getting to hear your laugh. “Or is that not allowed?”

“Morning to you too,” Keigo says carefully. The ruffle at the end of your dress stirs as his wings flutter slightly. A good gust and - “You’re… glowing this morning.”

“Got a good night of sleep,” you grin at him. Your smile falls though, replaced with concern, when you finally look at him. “You should try it some time.” Your lips turn down, a slight pout sending pure lust to his groin.

Not now. Please, not now. Nothing like an elevator ride with a hardening dick that you will notice because that’s how his luck is.

The door dings and slides open. You walk on and turn, holding the door for him.

“Are you coming?”

If only.

“I- No I forgot something,” Keigo waves you off. “Go on ahead.”

A shower. Oh god he needs a shower.

Cold water pelts his skin, each droplet a shock to his system.

Oh god

He tries to focus on the cold, but your voice persists. It curls around his ear, teasing him, begging him.

Just like that

Keigo’s nails dig into the palm of his hand. His cock twitches as he remembers the way you moan. 

Mmm just like that

His eyes close and he can imagine you bracing yourself against the shower wall. Your ass pressed against his dick. And he wants nothing more than to slip inside you. 

Oh fuck

Keigo’s hand wraps around his shaft and he starts pumping his cock. How he wants to grab your hips and thrust into you instead of his fucking hand. Your cute panting would fill the room, and your tits. Fuck. He could leave marks on them just high enough that they’d peak over the edge of your dresses. 

I’m almost…

What if he had fucked you in the elevator? Slipped your panties down and taken you against the wall? He’d slide so easily into you. He’d leave you with a love bite to remember him by, and he’d take your panties as his own memento.

Keigo grunts and thrusts once, twice more before shooting ropes of cum. He inhales deeply and braces himself against the shower wall. All at once everything assaults his senses; the freezing temperature of the water, the sound of water hitting him and the walls before running down the drain, the whine of the bathroom vent. It’s all too much. 

Keigo wouldn’t say he’s avoiding you… but he definitely went into work earlier and stayed later than normal. Whenever he sees you all he can picture is his head between your thighs, pressing kisses into your soft skin, your hands lacing through his hair trying to get his mouth to find its target.

He barely knows you. He doesn’t even know what you do for work, if you have friends in the area, anything. 

But he’d like to know you, if only he could get his brain, dick, and heart on the same page.

His wings hum with pleasure and he searches through his feathers to see who has grabbed his attention. Again, it’s you. He’s tempted to listen in, see what has you in a good mood, but he shouldn’t be eavesdropping. Another hum. Laughter. Loud, soul filling laughter. He can’t not peek now. 

Your voice is muffled, but he’s able to make out your conversation.

“But you know who I live next to? Hawks. I get a lil eye candy on my way into the office every morning… At least when he’s not swamped with work.” He can practically see the pout on your face. “Now he’s someone I wouldn’t mind having a productive one-night stand with.”

Oh?

Blood pumps to his face and groin at the mere thought of a one-night stand with you. If he heard you scream his name, he’d instantly nut.

“Ugh, yes, the baby fever is real, but you don’t understand. He’s so fucking hot. And c’mon. We’d have cute kids.”

Oh?

“And he looks like he needs to let off a little steam. He’s so… tense nowadays. Barely get a ‘good morning’ when I do see him.” Keigo stews in your silence as your friend no doubt responds. You seemed interested, but what if it was all talk? Your laughter breaks through his thoughts. “Yeah, if he showed up at my door asking me if I wanted to bang, I would say yes, but that’s not going to happen.”

Like hell it won’t. He tears his way to his front door and yanks it open. Frantically, he pounds on your door as if you’ll take back what you said. He waits. Each second you take drives his blood pressure higher and higher.

Cautiously, you open the door. He catches a glimpse of your breathtaking eyes through the crack. Your wary scowl is replaced with a wide smile when you realize who it is.

“Hey, I gotta go. Call you later.” You end the call and shove your phone in a pocket. “What’s up?”

Keigo opens his mouth only for nothing to come out. He’s smoother than this! Where are all the one liners that come to him so naturally? Where’s the suave motherfucker who can charm the pants off anyone? Who are you and what have you done to him?

“Wanna bang?” It’s the first thing he can think of – the one line that got him out of his apartment and scrambling for yours.

Your eyes widen for a moment before narrowing. Keigo had never seen you mad before. Annoyed, sure, but never mad. But now… now he feels like a storm is brewing, and you’re the center of it all. 

“How did you know that?” you ask slowly. 

There’s no easy way to explain it. Actually, scratch that. He probably could explain it, but it’s easier to show you. For some reason, whenever he speaks around you, his words betray the cool, confident man he portrays.

The little red feather he gifted you zips through your apartment and hovers between the two of you. Glaring, you snatch the feather out of the air and stroke the edge of it. Keigo barely catches and swallows a moan. You had to know what you’re doing to him. 

“You can listen with this.” It’s not a question, but he nods regardless. “You were listening to me?!”

You’re furious with him all right and he’s in no state of mind for an argument. “I thought you knew! I thought I told you th-”

“You told me no such thing!”

“I gave it to you for emergencies!” he says desperately. You’re still stroking the feather and he’s losing control. “How do you think I’d know if you’re in trouble?”

“YOU TOLD ME TO STROKE IT!” you snap, “You never mentioned that you could hear everything!”

“I- Okay that’s on me. And I’m sorry.” He braces himself against your doorframe and exhales deeply. He is fucking this up beyond belief. “I’m sorry.” Again, with feeling. “I’m sorry. I’ll leave y-”

Soft arms wrap around his neck and tug his body against yours. Your lips are against his, a hint of strawberries subtly playing with the taste of you on his tongue. He can finally feel you, your curves, your chest against his, your perfect ass. 

“If you’ve heard everything, what took you so damn long?” you demand. Your fingers are just as demanding, pulling him into your apartment and stripping him of his shirt before shedding your own.

“You’re not angry with me?” Keigo asks as you finger his belt.

“Oh no, I’m angry,” you arch an eyebrow at him, “But you heard what I said. If you came to my door wanting to fuck, I’d say yes. I’m angry, and you better start apologizing.”

Oh.

Oh.

He can do that.

Keigo scoops you up in his arms and rushes to your bedroom. He worships you, pressing kisses over your body, lavishing you with attention. You want an apology? He’ll give you the best damn apology he can. 

He may have struggled with words, but his tongue does wonders at conveying his thoughts. He doesn’t stop until your grip on his head reluctantly relaxes and your body is shaking with release. Your chest rises and falls rapidly

“That,” you clear your throat, “That was a pretty good apology.”

“Aw, Chickadee,” Keigo gently places a kiss below your navel, then ribcage as he works his way up the bed to you. You shiver each time his lips make contact with your body, your trembling inhale music to his ears. “I’ve barely started. What did you say again? We’d have pretty cute kids?” His body hovers over yours. “We can start working on them now if you want, and besides, I haven’t done my job until you’re screaming my name.”

With a smirk, you hook your arms around his neck and pull him into a passionate kiss. “So what are you waiting for, Keigo?”

Image in banner from unsplash

[suzukiblu]

Five headcanons from the obligatory sugar daddy Tim/sugar baby Kon AU for Plot Bunny, which may or may not all make it into the actual fic itself. Headcanons are slightly leaned towards Kon’s powers because Plot Bunny was specifically interested in my headcanons for those in this AU, but also including Tim being a useless bisexual.

Kon brags constantly about the things his TTK does that are either Superman-esque abilities or that he thinks are either impressive or flashy enough to pass for impressive. He does not think to brag about things like “technically I have a 360-degree field of perception”, because he’s like “well it only works if nothing’s flying or hovering and it’s not like vision, so it’s just whatever” as opposed to being like “most things/people cannot fly or hover and it also accounts for things like people hiding behind cover, so actually it’s real fucking useful, isn’t it”. Frequently he just doesn’t think to mention little utility-specific uses of his powers at all, in fact. No, this acid isn’t touching him, he can be acidproof if he wants. No, he can’t actually choke on anything. Yeah, he can set bones and relocate dislocations on himself and others without needing an X-ray or an MRI involved. Sure, he could just stop somebody’s heart, but why would he?? 

Tim has gotten out of the habit of a lot of his hobbies in favor of Robin-ing. Robbies. He has Robbies now, not hobbies. It’s not like he never picks up a camera or a skateboard or a video game anymore, just . . . well . . . like, not never, that’s all. He’s pretty sure he touched his skateboard last week? When he . . . moved it to the other corner while he was cleaning his room . . . uh. Well. Still counts, right?? 

Kon has much better fine motor control over his TTK than he usually bothers to demonstrate in the field because he actually spends a lot of his time bored and understimulated in a lab environment, so he just fucks around with it to entertain himself. For him, it’s an extension of his sense of touch, which makes him incredibly tactile as a person. But he also thinks it might be a little weird how tactile he is compared to other people, so he is much likelier to be petting the soft silky thing with his TTK than his actual, oh, I don’t know, hands? Because people don’t even notice when it’s his TTK, obviously, but they definitely notice when he's doing it with his hands. He actually does a lot of little things with his TTK that people don’t usually pick up on, because it’s just things like adjusting crooked frames and plucking lint off people’s clothes and fixing their hair or tucking their shirt tags into their collars and picking inconvenient locks, and if Tim knew Kon could do that kind of thing so subtly and easily, he would immediately lose his ever-loving mind about it. And also teach him how to pick pockets and crack safes, probably. Kon, obliviously, does not realize just how fucking useful those little things could actually be in hero-ing, because to him they're just normal little tricks he can just do whenever, not anything special or impressive. And like, why would he pick the lock when he could just punch the door down? Superman would punch the door down, right? And punching the door down looks cooler! So obviously he's gonna do that! 

Tim accidentally developed his initial crush on Kon via constant exposure through stupid teen magazine posters. He will swear on his life it started when they first met and fought supervillains together, but no, it was definitely that Kon was hot in those stupid cheesy posters that Tim kept running into while he did research on the new kid in the superhero community. Also he read so many of those lame tabloid interviews. Just . . . so, so many. Ugh. And he actually does keep up on Kon's Twitter and probably his Insta too. 

Kon absolutely accidentally holds himself back from his full potential as a superhero without really realizing it because he thinks “what would Superman do?” while mostly knowing Superman through hearsay, information uploads from biased sources, and what few facets of his personality Clark is actually willing to show him. So he has a very skewed image of him, obviously, and is trying to grow up and be a person Clark isn't and no one really could be. But Kon identifies himself as Superboy because he doesn’t have anything else he knows how to be, and Superboy came from Superman, so he concentrates less on certain aspects of his powers and more on the Kryptonian-imitating ones. Again: he could just unlock the door, but Superman would punch it, right? Right??

[cx-boxbox]

I was going to write a fic about Lando wanting to wear pretty clothes, but I gave up after a couple scenes. Anyway, here's the only part I kept:

Lando’s fingers twitch nervously as he collects his packages, fiddling with the corners and ducking under the tape sealing the flaps shut, but he’s careful not to accidentally open them where anyone can see. It was already embarrassing enough to ask the concierge for them, and he cringed at the heavily branded boxes. The lady probably now thinks he has a secret girlfriend or something.

It’s nice out in Melbourne, and Lando is more than happy to swap the polo and jeans he wore to the paddock for a new purple v-neck that’s so soft and light to the touch it might disintegrate between his fingers and shorts that are just a tad bit shorter than the ones he ran around the city in. He has already been photographed without his shirt within days of arriving, so if he does bump into someone, it shouldn’t come as too much of a surprise.

But it is really just Lando’s luck that he quite literally smacks into his teammate’s back as he rounds the corner.

Oscar straightens with his bucket of ice, blinks at him, and asks, “Where are you going in such a rush?”

Lando folds his arms over his chest.

“Dinner. Not a foreign concept to you, hopefully.”

“‘Course not.” What is a foreign concept is how Oscar’s gaze keeps drifting south, flickering between the plunging neckline of Lando’s shirt and his upper thighs.

Oh, how interesting, he thinks, amused. Out loud, he asks, “Wanna come with? I have no idea which places are trainer-approved.”

It takes a moment for Oscar to shrug and respond, “Sure, why not. Teammate bonding and such, right?”

Lando gasps and plucks the bucket from Oscar’s hands. He pokes Oscar’s shoulder for good measure. “We’re plenty bonded, mate!” Not as much as he’d like, but still. “Just admit that you’re simply leaping at the idea of spending time with me away from the paddock.”

“I’m going to bring you to a seafood restaurant.”

“Aah! No, no, don't do that. I dressed up so pretty, I even shaved, and you’re not ruining my hard work with, eugh, fish.”

Once again, Oscar’s gaze travels over Lando’s figure, and Lando is incredibly delighted to see red tinting his cheeks. He preens a little, which he cannot be blamed for.

It’s so flattering that it more than makes up for Oscar’s simple affirming, “Hm.”

God, Lando would be so over this whole flirting-not-quite-boyfriends thing if it wasn’t so entertaining. He just hopes that Oscar’s patience doesn’t run out before either one of them gives in and just confesses. He also hopes that he isn’t misreading anything either. That would be fucking humiliating.

The little smiles and full-body laughter Lando regularly receives from him keeps him hopeful at best and delusional at worst.

On the way to Oscar’s hotel room, Lando asks what he planned on doing with the ice, and he only receives a shrug and a mumbled, “You never know when you just need a bucket of ice.”

“That’s fair.”

“Speaking of ice, are you going to be cold in just that? It gets cooler in the evenings, and your circulation sucks.”

“A price I’m willing to pay. Have you considered that maybe your circulation is working overtime? That it might be doing too much?” Lando retorts in lieu of admitting that he didn’t actually think that far ahead in his nervous excitement. A green hoodie promptly hits him in the face.

It’s not McLaren merch. It’s OP81 merch, and it smells like Oscar. Lando resists the urge to ball it up and shove his face into it.

“Just hold onto it if you don’t wanna wear it now,” Oscar says before disappearing into the bathroom. He re-emerges in a long-sleeved shirt and trousers that don’t have drawstrings. Lando almost breathes a sigh of relief. Small mercies.

Oscar’s hoodie also ends up being one of those small mercies, and Lando burrows into it comfortably as they take a longer route back to the hotel because the city after dark is nice. Oscar raises an eyebrow at him in his subtly gloating fashion, which Lando ignores in favor of tucking his nose into the collar.

“You look prettier in my hoodie,” Oscar mumbles.

“Huh?”

“Never mind. We’re here anyway.”

[snippychicke]

Legend of the Selkie and the Pirate --Two--

Fandom: One Piece (LA mainly)

Rating: Teen/mature (we have non-graphic nudity stated)

Pairing: Buggy/Selkie!Reader

Warnings: None except heartbreak?

Summary: Even in a world of monsters, devil fruits, pirates, and fishmen, selkies were considered a myth. Especially in the East Blue where the waters were too warm for seals to live anyways. 

Except that myths were always seeded with truths, and stories always had a habit of coming to life. 

Tagging: @tfamidoingwithmylife; @yellowbbear ; @skullr0se; @chiyo-juice

Masterlist|Ao3

(psst, if you're a long time reader of mine and noticed that I had posted part one without dramatic use of italicized words... that was because tumblr ate my formatting. It is fixed now along with a few spelling/grammar corrections.)

Prompt:  Something/Someone missing

The joy of a large trove of treasure disappeared as Buggy watched the seal slip beneath the railing and over the edge. Without thinking, he called out your name as he raced to the edge, just to watch you gracefully disappear beneath the choppy waves. He was somewhat aware of the rest of the crew torn from the treasure, but was frozen as he watched the water. Hoping--Praying-- that you'd break the surface. That you would reappear--either human or seal-- and he could pluck you up once more despite the earlier ocean spray on his hands had already made them painful and weak. 

He'd do it again. And again and again. 

If you would just reappear. 

"Not even a goodbye," Mohji whined eventually. "Richie is going to be so heartbroken." 

Who the fuck cared about the lion? He was heartbroken. The necklace he had in his fist--the one he was about to insist you try when he had first turned around-- cut into his hand as he clenched his fist. 

Why? What did your family or kind or whatever have that he couldn't provide you? Were any them as flashy as he was? Making you constantly smile and laugh? Did any of them take you and accept you as easily as his crew had? 

Did any of them love you like he did? 

Or was it his one flaw? His one weakness? That he couldn't swim. That the ocean hated him for fucking accidentally eating that damn fruit. 

That damn Shanks. If he ever saw him again, he would rip his throat out. 

(Don't let it be his nose. It couldn't be his nose, right? You said it was fine, and he didn't think you were lying.) 

"Cap'n?" Mohji asked, breaking Buggy from his thoughts.

The crew was looking towards him, which he usually didn't mind. Except there was pity in their eyes. As if they could tell--as if they knew--how he felt. 

"What are you freaks looking at?!" He shouted with a manic grin. "We just hit the jackpot! It's time to celebrate!" 

The cheers were less than heartfelt, but Buggy let it slide. This once. 

--

Granted, later that night, while the crew was sleeping off draining half the beer they had on board, Buggy made his way to the small room you had claimed. 

You had been with them for just a few short months, and yet you had made the tiny room your own. Hammock full of blankets and pillows stolen from who knew where. A chest brimming with clothes donated by the crew. A vanity with a cracked mirror, yet you.hadn't seemed to mind. You had placed shiny rocks and shells in the canister meant to hold makeup and brushes.  

He took the necklace he had kept in his pocket and put itt in the main drawer, next to the hairbrush (your hair mixed with a few of his since it had been a spare he had found in his own room). He knew he was being foolish, but he held on to the sliver of hope you'd be back. That you would look at his gift with delight and grin happily at him. That the sparkling gems would look as beautiful as he imagined against your skin. 

And, well, if he happened to fall into your hammock, pulling your pillow close to his chest, it was merely because he drank too much. But in the moment, he knew the truth as the sway of the ship rocked him into an uneasy sleep. 

He missed you. 

Prompt: Forgetfulness 

You had forgotten how lonely the sea was. 

As the sun set and everything became dark, you pulled yourself up to an outcropping of rocks before shifting and looking to the stars. Except the sky was clouded, obscuring everything. 

The night would have been silent if not for the sound of water splashing against the rock and your legs. It was impossible to tell where the sea and sky separated--all that you could see was inky blackness. As if you had somehow appeared into an abyss. 

You shivered, but you weren't cold. You still pulled your fur tighter as you continued to shake, chest becoming painfully tight. 

You wanted to be on the pirate ship right now. You wanted to hear the rumble of snores of the crew. The soft boot steps of those taking watch. The soft glow of the lamps and candles. 

Buggy finding you and ending the lonely night often brought alongside insomnia. It had become a little routine, making you wonder what made it so hard for him to sleep at night. 

You never asked. 

Finally the tightness erupted into a scream, hot tears stinging your eyes. 

You had forgotten what true loneliness was like.

You forgot the heartache of missing those dear to you.

Your heart wasn't sure it even knew where 'home' was. The arctic where your pod was. Where your parents, siblings, aunts, uncles, cousins, were.

Or a ship where you were surrounded by people so unlike but had wormed their way into your heart nonetheless. 

(Or maybe where a blue haired pirate grinned at you with bright eyes and a red nose. Like you were the most amazing thing he had ever seen.)

Prompt: Unexpected 

"We're going to the Grand Line!" 

The crew of freaks stared at their captain in confusion. When he had called them together, this was not what they expected his announcement to be. In fact, no one had cared to even place bets considering they all believed it to be the same. 

To go after you. 

"The… Grand Line, Captain?" Mohji was brave enough to ask, clearly as confused as everyone else despite the fact he was technically Buggy's second in command. 

Thankfully, Buggy grinned at the white curly-haired man. Though there was a hint of mania yet again to his blue eyes. "You heard me. We've pittered about the East Blue for long enough, it's time to go after the grand prize--the One Piece!"

"Don't we need a map for the Grand Line?"

"Does the One piece actually exist?

"Well, rumor has it Buggy was on Rogers ship. So if he thinks it does, then it must, right?" 

Buggy wasn't too concerned about the talk amongst the crew, that was to be expected. After all, it was a big change. 

But then…

"What about our selkie that jumped shipped?" Mohji asked, and everyone quickly grew silent, looking towards the captain expectedly. 

Buggy felt his eye twitch as he gritted teeth behind his smile. 

Waking up in your hammock had made the truth hit him like a sledgehammer. You were gone. You chose to leave, without so much as a goodbye.

 Escaping to the one place he couldn't follow. 

"Our little seal made her choice," he said, turning to his first mate with murder in his eyes. "And I don't want to hear another word about it." 

Because his heart was bruised enough as it was. 

He wasn't going to chase after someone who didn't want him. (Just like everyone else in his life he had cared for. He had opened his heart to you, only for you to devour what little had remained before jumping overboard.)

Prompt: Undone

"Well, she's rather special. I mean, can you blame him?"

"Hmph. Captain Buggy has made it a point to build a crew of people that don't fit in. We're his band of freaks. But at least we're human. Or fishperson. The bitch is as useful as a one-legged man in an ass kicking contest. I mean, she had to be taught how to wash dishes." 

"Either she sharpens up, or the Captain will realize how useless she is and send her overboard too."  

The words still echoed in your head despite it being weeks since they were spoken. The conversation you weren't meant to hear but did. The one that made you realize you didn't belong among the land-kind. 

That you weren't meant to be one of Buggy's crew. That the chore girl position you had been given was just to keep you entertained and out from under others feet.

Oh sure, many of the crew acted like they enjoyed you being there-- especially Buggy himself-- but not all of them were such great actors. The scoffs. the sneers. 

Some things were universal no matter what. 

The cry of a seagull roused you from the half-sleep. You groaned when you realized the sun had moved, meaning you were no longer in the shade of the towering cliffs but in the hot sun. 

You grabbed your fur and moved into the new shaded area. Hoping to get a little more sleep before the sunset and you could resume your attempt at finding home.

Goddamn tropics being so hot. It was way too warm to try and swim during the day, so you resorted to trying to sleep while the sun bore down. Yet always alert for any land-kind, so sleep was a relative term.

But at least there were plentiful fish in the waters. 

Yet… your time on the pirate ship had spoiled you. All that different food.

Baked.

Roasted.

Toasted.

Fried. 

And the fruit. The cool and sweet juices from biting into one busting into your mouth. Sometimes too much and escaping the corners of your lips. 

Buggy laughed as you tried hard to catch the juice with your hands. He eventually reached over and wiped some you didn't notice from your chin and made a show of licking it from his glove. "Juicy little thing, aren't you?" 

"I-it was," you agreed, trying to reign in your impulses that you didn't realize what he truly said.

How were you supposed to enjoy going back to eating merely to survive after that? (Were you ever going to get him out of your head?) 

You continued to try and sleep, ignoring the pain any dreams brought once you woke. 

Prompt: Eyes 

For being stuck in a sack, bodiless, and more or less prisoner of Arlong, everything had been going fine. Listening to Luffy's antics was always entertaining. The boy was so clueless and full of optimism that it was almost unbelievable at times. As well as rather annoying, considering how the rubber-cursed teen and his tiny crew had beaten him 

What was wrong with this kid? 

Maybe the Gum-Gum fruit had done something to his brain too. 

Okay, things were massively sucking for Buggy right now, but he held out hope. He had escaped worse situations. Yes his body was too far away for him to literally pull himself together. But after they tracked down the Straw hat, Arlong said he'd let him go. 

Granted, Arlong was the kind of pirate to lie straight to your face, but all Buggy had at this point was hope. 

And then he heard you. He knew wherever his body was it jerked, instinct to whip around to look for you before he remembered his ear was miles away at the Baratie restaurant hidden in Luffy's cap. 

What the fuck were you doing there. 

He wiggled his ear slightly in hopes things weren't so muffled. As angry and hurt as he still was, there was no denying that he was desperate to hear your voice clearly. 

He wanted to see you. Touch you. Talk to you. (Demand to know why you had left him the way you did. Hadn't any of the time you spent with them, with him, meant enough for at least a goodbye?)

"--I'm lost," you admitted slowly, sounding as cautious as when you first boarded his ship. Back when you didn't know who to trust and expected someone to do something. "I'm trying to head north, but--"

He silently groaned, rolling his eyes, the Baratie was south of the Deadman Stacks. No wonder you ended up in the East Blue. You were absolutely clueless when it came to directions, weren't you?

(He could have helped. If you had just asked. If you had just waited another minute.) 

"Where's home?" Luffy asked, full of innocent optimism that set Buggy's teeth on edge. 

You wouldn't. You wouldn't dare accept help from the brat after leaving him. Right? There was nothing that kid had that he didn't. (Except a normal nose-- no. You didn't care about his nose.)

"North?" You answered awkwardly, and Buggy wasn't sure if you were avoiding the question, or if you really didn't know. 

"Like, Shells town? Syrup Village?"

"Um… further… north?"

You… didn't know. At least, none of their names for places. And you didn't trust them enough to divulge that truth. His innocent little lamb lost at sea for how many months now? He didn't think his heart could stand another knife in it. 

"I mean, Cozia is the northernmost isle of the East Blue I know," A new voice peeped in. One of the waitstaff if he recalled right. Sangria? Sojo? Something like that. It didn't matter, not really. 

"That sounds… kinda familiar?" You answered, though your voice was tinged with obvious doubt. You were such a horrible liar. (Which only confused him more, because he had thought you at least liked him. Yet you ran away. Why?)

"Don't worry, my cherie, you rest and eat your fill. We'll find a way to get a beautiful woman such as yourself home." The waitstaff flirted, making Buggy grit his teeth as he tried to keep his snarl silent, well aware that Along's crew was probably listening. 

Hell no. No suave fucking waiter was going to try and steal you from him. (Completely ignoring the fact you obviously weren't his to be stolen.) 

Wait. 

Shit. Fuck. 

Arlong was heading for the Baratie. Where you were. 

And as happy as he was to find you, for the chance to just see you again, there was no mistaking the fear rolling in his gut even if he wasn't attached to his body. 

What if you got caught up in the inevitable fight? You could defend yourself, but against Arlong's crew? One Selkie against three fishman that were stronger than himself? 

What if Arlong decided he wanted you as a trophy? What if he took your fur from you again? Unlike Buggy, Arlong was known to hold people captive for long periods of time, doing as he pleased. (Buggy held on to the fact he wasn't that bad since he only gave the towns and villages a mandatory free show for a few nights and before he'd leave and allow them to rebuild their boring little lives.) 

And all Buggy could do was watch. A bodiless head, unable to do anything but watch. Listen. Maybe beg but he already knew any pleading would fall on deaf ears. 

Prompt: Crowds

You had impulsively followed the smell of food, sick of fish, and ended up giving a few humans--Luffy and Sanji-- heart attacks when you pulled yourself halfway onto the deck asking for food. 

And well, you had gotten what you had asked for that ruined your usual diet even more because it tasted divine. But as you ate, the two had been full of questions and one thing led to another and… 

They wanted to help you. Apparently their navigator might know more about where you were heading. 

Except chaos erupted before you could even meet their navigator. Maybe it was because you were surrounded by too many humans, but you felt exposed. Overstimulated. The constant chatter of the patrons. The clinks of silverware against plates. 

The animalistic part of your brain finally won out, and you ran yet again. There was a storm on the horizon and you didn't want to be caught in the middle of it. 

You didn't care which way you were going, you jumped into the water and dived deep and fast, allowing your body to follow the urge to run and hide. 

~*~

You weren't at Baratie. 

Hours later as Buggy helped the Straw Hat idiots navigate.to Arlong Park, the mantra repeated itself in his head. You weren't there. You hadn't been amongst the crowd of diners that Arlong threatened. You weren't part of Lyffy's little crew. 

Buggy was relieved. Angry. Devastated. Thankful. 

Oh, you had been there. Your voice hadn't been a figment of his deranged imagination. But apparently between Mihawk's attack and Arlong’s arrival, you had slipped off into the night without so much as a word. (Which did help a little. Especially as Sanji mourned the fact two 'lovely ladies' had disappeared on him without so much as a goodbye.)

"Wait, you knew her?" Luffy asked after Buggy not-so-subtly asked if they had seen a curvy gal in a seal-skin coat. 

Buggy grinned, though he felt an eye twitch. "You could say that.  But I mean, what man really knows a woman, am I right?" 

"She's running away from you, isn't she?" Zoro guessed-- making Buggy grit his teeth. 

God, if he had his body right now he would have decked the grass-haired man. Right in the swordsman's chest wounds. (See how he liked a knife in the heart.)

"That would imply I actually gave a shit about what she's up to." Okay. He couldn't lie to himself. He did. Hearing you were still so lost had taken the edge off his anger. He was still mad, but it was tempered with worry now. "She's merely an old acquaintance and I was surprised to hear her voice is all. She doesn't like hanging around crowds." 

"She was a jumpy little rabbit," Sanji agreed with a dreamy hint to his voice. Okay, forget the dramatic samurai-wanna be, Buggy was going to slaughter the chef. "I should have offered to protect her. To keep her safe from whatever frightened her." 

That madeBuggy laugh. "That is a riot. Friend, buddy, pal, let me tell you a little secret. Those sharp teeth aren't for decoration. I've seen her kill half a dozen men in just a few minutes with those chompers of hers alone. She'll bite your hand off if it wanders a bit too much-- and I do mean literally." 

And yet… you were still an innocent little lamb he felt compelled to protect as well.

Or maybe just stand back and watch you protect yourself, clapping and cheering the same way you did during one of his performances. 

But the fact.remained, you had left him. You did not want him or his crew. 

 He was in the midst of his body being kidnapped and sailing into the territory of one of the most vicious pirates of the East Blue with a ragtag bunch of idiots. That should be what took precedence in his mind. 

Not you. (Yet it was.)

[folliesandfolderols]

Writing prompts days 22, 23

From this prompt list. I set a goal of writing at least 150 words per day in 2024, which sounds pretty pathetic but if you take into account the fact that I haven’t written any fiction since 2019 it felt like a feasible target. And then somehow it turned into “I’m going to write a single interconnected story utilizing all of these prompts” which ?????, what can I say, I am incredibly foolish and there's no limit to my capacity for self-deceit. Anyway, the first draft is finished (at around 88k words) and I'll be unlocking posts here on tumblr as I edit.

read from the beginning here

Day 21 here

***

28. "Oh, I can think of many ways to shut you up right now."

121. "I'd fuck you right here, right now, if I could."

***

Steph wasn't wrong. Tim really, really hated to apologize. Not because he saw it as losing face, or anything like that. It was because then he had to admit he fucked up, which might possibly mean he was a piece of shit. It just seemed like at some point he should be able to be the type of person who only caused harm because he meant to, and not because he hadn't slept in too long, like a cranky toddler.

But he was also not a chickenshit, so he suited up at home and left through one of the two concealed exits in the basement level as soon as he knew Damian would be on patrol. (And three nights in a row was a lot—he made a mental note to check the patrol rotation again when he returned home, because Tim wasn't the only one who needed sleep.)

He found Damian sitting on top of one of a huge stack of containers at the harbor, overlooking the ships being offloaded. Without trying to make the process soundless, Tim landed on the opposite end of the container. Damian's shoulders stiffened, but he didn't bother turning around.

Tim bit the inside of his lip, considering. He hadn't been able to work out the most appropriate method to begin this conversation despite all his brainstorming on the way over, so he'd finally decided he would just wing it. But now that the reality was staring him in the face—or determinedly giving him its back—he found himself nearly speechless.

Which was unacceptable. Right. When in doubt, dive in, and fix it later if it goes tits-up. (The part of his brain that offered constant commentary on his own thoughts gave the notion a hazy attribution to John Constantine, who was hardly a stellar example, but the principle was sound.)

Accordingly, he opted for the straightforward route. "I've come to apologize."

Damian gave a derisive tt but made no other acknowledgement.

"Would you mind taking your comm out for just a second? I'd prefer this not be accidentally shared with the entire crew."

He could tell Damian struggled with the concession, too angry to want to give an inch, but in the end discretion won out. He plucked the comm from his ear but kept his back turned. "Despite whatever Brown's inevitable gossipy meddling may have led you to believe, I do not require an apology."

Tim took a deep breath and paced a little closer, still keeping a prudent six feet between them. "I'm not here because of anything Steph said. I'm here because I fucked up and I need to make it right."

Damian snorted in contempt. "I assure you, there is no need. For me to accept such a thing would indicate you inflicted some sort of injury upon me. Which would imply you somehow developed skill and significance enough for that to occur. Which in turn is nonsense."

"Believe me, I'm well aware," Tim replied, and couldn't keep his tone from going dry as the desert. Damian's hands gave an inexplicable twitch at the words. "But be that as it may, we are still on the same team, and yesterday I acted like you were the enemy for no good reason. Yeah, you overstepped. But it was out of concern for my well-being and the safety of the family, so I should've been more understanding." He drummed one fist against his thigh, waiting for a response, but when none was forthcoming, braced himself and gave one more offering of vulnerability. "I was maybe still a little off-kilter from the dream. That one—ever since Insomnia fucked with my head, I've had the nightmare he gave me recur sometimes. Where it's not just Boomerang and my dad who die. It's most of us too. Except me. So I was definitely not at my best." A long pause, and still no sound. "I'm just gonna keep talking until you shut me up, but I'm pretty sure you're going to have to face me to do that, so . . ."

Damian's shoulders lowered the slightest bit. "Oh, I can think of many ways to shut you up right now, and at least three of them don't involve turning around." He did give a quarter-turn, though. He wasn't looking at Tim, but his body was angled so Tim could at least see his profile. "They do mostly involve some sort of bloodshed, however."

"What a surprise. Not that I'm saying I don't deserve it." Tim dared to come within arm's reach. "I really am sorry. I shouldn't have gotten so angry and I said a lot of shit I didn't mean." He had turned off the white-outs on his domino, but Damian's were still firmly in place, so Tim couldn't tell which way he was looking. His ear was tilted toward Tim and he was clearly listening, and that would have to be enough to keep going. "You were right. I was being a baby."

Damian's chin dipped, and he angled his face away again. "Perhaps you were correct about some things as well. I regret not bringing up the issue with you instead of Father. And . . . other actions." Color crept up his cheeks.

Tim drew close enough to feel Damian's body heat radiating against what little skin he had exposed. A sudden sensory memory assailed him: leaning his face into the crook of Damian's neck, pressed together in a line from chest to dick. A wave of remembered arousal washed through him and left him aching with its recession. "If I made you regret we fucked, I'm ten times as sorry. You shouldn't have your memory of that ruined by me having been a jerk later."

Damian shrugged, a quick jerky motion entirely at odds with his usual grace. "I cannot argue with the final accusation you leveled at me."

Tim's mouth twisted as regret carved a hole in his chest. "Yes you can. You should. Don't agree with Temper-Tantruming Tim. He's an asshole and he only tells the worst part of the truth. I don't regret fucking you, Dami. I'm flattered you asked me. I'd do it again in a heartbeat." Damian leaned toward him at the confession, every muscle betraying how badly he wanted to hear it. Tim suppressed a smile. He should have known praise would be his way in. "I'd fuck you right here, right now, if I could."

He reached out a cautious hand and grasped Damian's gauntleted fingers. Damian heaved a sigh of his own but didn't pull away. "I suppose you're aware that you could."

Tim couldn't stop himself from laughing aloud at that. "Fuck you right here? Yeah, if I want Oracle to take video and give notes on my performance." He reached up to tap the tiny depression on his domino that cleared Damian's white-outs.

Damian met his gaze straightforwardly, but it clearly cost him some effort. "Then perhaps you should do it where she can't see."

Tim pretended to consider, but it was a done deal as far as his dick was concerned. "You think so?" At Damian's firm nod, he grinned. "Better head back to my place after we're done, then."

Movement down at the harbor caught his eye. A group of men were creeping toward a particular container, hiding behind others as they went. "Hey, there's something going on. Wanna take a closer look together?"

"Naturally. I have not been standing here for my health. Let's go."

But before they did, Damian brought Tim's knuckles to his mouth, and Tim could've sworn he felt the burn of the kiss even through the Kevlar that separated their skin.

days twenty-four, twenty-five, and twenty-six here

[cherryfairytwist]

RickFic Ch2. You’re Not Invited

(Tags: substance abuse / harassment / intoxication / adult situations and themes / Minors DNI)

—- HELLO —-

—- INITIATING DOWNLOAD SEQUENCE MEMORY CLUSTER #2 —-

—-PULLING UP EARLIEST ASSISTED MEMORY RECORDS —-

—- NARRATION SIMULATING NOW —-

 The next few weeks and month ended up roughly similar to how things went that other day at school. Astrid kept finding herself in seemingly awkward or uncomfortable run ins with Rick Sanchez as she tried hanging around his grandkids more. Getting used to working at the school really started to open her eyes as to how much Rick really did show up unannounced. Always plucking Morty and Summer off the face of the Earth and going off on some insane quest for personal gains. Part of Astrid felt a little envious of all that freedom Rick had no problem abusing. Even going so far as getting a little excited when she was accidentally teleported along with the three off planet yet again. 

 “Fuck. N-not this again.” Rick groaned while  looking at Astrid in his rear view mirror. Astrid sat in the back seat next to Summer in the space ship.

 “Mr. Sanchez you’re the one who teleported me here.” Astrid almost annoyed stared directly back at him through the mirror. 

His eyes narrowed even more after receiving the comment, “Oh y-yeah. RIGHT. I’m s-supposed to know my dumb grandkids are still *burp* b-barking up the same tree.” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Summer asked annoyed as Morty quickly blurted, “Please Rick! Come on! Let her come with us.” 

“It means Summer…..” Rick shouted over Morty, 

“I’m not h-humoring another little unrequited *burp* crush Morty has-“ 

Morty’s face went red as he was about to yell when Summer interrupted him, “Well what about me grandpa?! I want her around. What are you going to say to that?” 

“T-that’s self explanatory.” He smugly laughed, “You’re a stupid teenager. Y-you’d get bored of her. End up being-becoming enemies. She would end up flirt-taking your *eeeruuhg* boyfriend or something stupid and petty like that.” 

 “Well you seem to have it all figured out old man.” Astrid said sarcastically as they propped their feet up against the back of his seat. 

 “That’s it.” Rick huffed and pulled out the portal gun. 

“NO! RICK!” Morty protested. 

Rick fired his portal right next to Astrid and reached back from the driver seat and grabbed her hard by the upper arm. 

“Try again next time.” He sarcastically smiled at her and shoved her through the portal back into an empty school classroom. 

She heard Summer complain, “You fucking suck grandpa!” Right as the portal snapped shut again in her face. 

 “God. Fuck you Sanchez!” Astrid said to herself but stood up grinning. 

She thought about how fun it might be to make her new personal mission to get under Rick’s skin. She laughed and headed home. Maybe things could get more interesting if she started not taking things so seriously. Could be a fun experiment. 

  Easier said than done. It had been weeks since being kicked out of Rick Sanchez’s space ship. She had still caught wind and tail of him in the past days popping in and out of the school. However today ended up not being so great for everyone. Summer and Morty had both freaked out after a mission had almost gone wrong with Rick. They explained to Astrid not take it personally. They just needed alone time after whatever it was that went down. They refused to go into details. This made Astrid always worry about them, relating to how they felt in those moments. It reminded her of how bad training days at the agency went in the past when she was around their age. But she respected their space, worrying it could make it worse if she tried to persist on the topic. 

  It had been hard on her lately too. She had found herself on a drinking binge that previous night after yet again checking in with her Handler and being told to return back to her post. He barely looked at her these days. Always keeping his back to her. So she fell back on old habits and got too plastered to think what was a good vs bad idea. Astrid haphazardly tried to use her “magic” abilities to open a makeshift portal off planet while intoxicated to a popular strip club on a distant planet’s moon. They used to work there during their honeypot training days for the agency. In spite of their current Handler warning them not to return anywhere near the club after the “incident”. Of course they did anyway. In their drunk state of mind they figured they could at least make some cash and be a complete mess at the same time and no one would say anything. In fact the Club’s owner was almost a little too thrilled by their return. The owner went by the name Glacks Asmodeus. Playing into his roll as the said club owner of “The Room”. As loud music boomed through the building he slid over to greet Astrid.

“Hey baby, it’s been tooooo long~” he crowed to her in a sickly sweet voice. 

This sent a shiver down her spine. But she was drunk enough to power through it. She played it up as if she had missed him too. Fake love was currency here. He fancied her as his favorite trophy due to her natorious reputation around the universe.

“Hey daddy.” Astrid quickly replied and braced herself for a hug he would inevitably give her. 

He smoothed back his hair that looked like a slicked down Mohawk full of thousands of sharp quills. His body looked like that of a leather gimp suit if it were for a reptilian. He wore a large fur coat with pink,red,purple and yellow patches all over it. Under that he had a black combo of a button up, vest and matching pants. Multiple chains and pearl strands hung from his neck. And to finish it off he had pointed steel metal toed shoes with custom engraved designs of alien words in the metal. 

“Like the new coat? Hunted it myself.” He hissed proudly, “Finally decided to come back hmm?” He whispered in her ear as he came in for an overly tight and dominating hug. 

“You know I was about to send people to go find you.” he said in a joking manner even though it was clearly a threat. 

“Well you know the agency…” Astrid forced a fake smile, “They insisted I needed a little time off, but you know I couldn’t stay away from you.” She playfully glanced up at him. 

He grinned wide showing his endless rows of horrifying dagger like teeth. 

“That’s right baby.” He pulled her over to his VIP booth and sat her down on his lap with is leather glove covered hands. 

“You’ll always come back to me.” 

He grabbed her chin and took a large hit of some type of cigar and pulled her in close to his face. He pressed her cheeks together making her mouth open and blew a huge puff of smoke in her face.  

“Perfect timing, you showing up.” He laughed as she coughed, “My crew just pulled up to the docks this afternoon looking for some fun tonight.” He gripped her tightly from behind. 

“You can handle a little partying with us like old times right?” He growled in her ear, “That little incident got fixed up by the agency …right?” He curiously pried as his yellow/green reptile eyes locked in her gaze. 

“Yeah…. Completely resolved.” Astrid laughed. “Got reprogrammed with new codes and triggers.” 

“Oh really?” He hissed having a hint of suspicion in his voice, “Well that’s too bad… it was kind of fun hearing you had gone completely ape shit just because of a little office scientist.” he breathed heavily in her ear. 

“Got me all excited seeing what I could have done with all that power if I had gotten the chance.” He chuckled as the velvet curtains around the booth moved to reveal his crew entering.  

As the group of fellow shady looking aliens came in, his attention was completely taken by them as he slid Astrid off his lap to get up to say hello. Astrid knew it was going to be a long night so she took out a small bottle from her bag and chugged some more of the mystery liquor she had thrown in for this exact moment. The rest of the night was a blur again. Partying with hardened criminals, keeping up appearances and numbing the horrible discomfort she felt deep inside. But money was money. The agency only funded things that helped keep her cover. Like her apartment, food, car and gas on Earth. This made it so that she was limited in what she could do besides having a little bit of money being a teacher’s assistant. 

She’d fetch drinks for the group and put up with them toying with her for entertainment. She didn’t dance that night but clearly they got plenty of entertainment by messing with her all night as they’d throw her tips and random jewelry they had definitely stolen on “jobs” they had gone on. After having too much of quite a few different substances, she quickly slipped away from the group. Stumbling through the club’s crowd and down a darkly lit hallway to the bathroom to hide. Being that heavily intoxicated normally meant some of them would end up getting belligerent and try making real passes at her. So she tried attempting another portal back to Earth. However sometimes her “magic” abilities (outside of shape shifting and the agency’s specific training) could get a little unpredictable. Especially when she was fucked up. 

She started getting paranoid about being at the club again. The “incident” that got her in this “vacation” mess was actually partly because of an ex co worker from Cognito Inc. She started to panic and sob in the bathroom. And quickly threw up. As she muttered incoherently some spell like combination, a hole cracked open with bolts of electricity flying in and around the small bathroom. Clearly it was unstable. She continued to persist. Promising out loud to no one in particular that she’d sober up and do better next time. That she just needed a break. Just this once. 

“Please. please. please work.” She breathlessly muttered as she started to slump against the bathroom wall. 

“I know they are waiting out there for me like sharks.” She moaned looking in the direction of the locked door almost falling unconscious trying to grip onto the edges of the portal. 

“Please just send me somewhere safe on Earth.” She said loudly trying to keep herself awake. 

She just had to focus on a location… her mind wandered back to the nights she’d pass the Smith’s house on the way home from the bar. She thought about when Rick had grabbed her arm and shoved her through his portal. 

“What a dick” she thought as she slipped out of consciousness and her body fell sideways through the quickly closing portal.

 She shot through the Earth’s atmosphere like a comet. Little bits of electricity and burns appearing by her sides while slamming into someone’s front yard. She had been lucky it was in the dead of night when no one was around…. Well almost no one. Rick had been up late tinkering in the garage when he turned in the direction of a distant crash outside the house. He went to the dining room and looked out the large window to investigate. He spotted something crumpled up inside a crater that had now formed on the front lawn of the neighbor’s from across the street. He pulled his welding mask off and squinted to see in the dark. But no such luck, so he moved toward the front door wanting to find out what the mystery thing was. But as soon as he opened the front door and peered out, it was gone. He sighed and went back inside. He thought about how he could have sworn he saw something familiar..

 Astrid had momentarily gained consciousness after being awoken by the impact. The first thing she saw in the dark was the faint glow from the Smith house and Rick’s silhouette in the dining room. Her mind instantly raced to not wanting Rick to get the upper hand. She refused to be perceived as weak. With the last of her strength she forced herself up on her feet. Stumbled a bit and attempted to run but instead hobbled over to a nearby fence. Lunging up over it and collapsed on the other side of the wood boards. After she heard the front door of the Smith house open, then close again, she disappeared into the neighborhood limping it off and huffing the cold night air. Astrid wasn’t going to let Rick Sanchez have the satisfaction of finding her a mess in his neighbor’s yard. 

—- PART TWO COMPLETED —- 

—- SHUTTING DOWN —-

—- GOODBYE —- 

[doorrobloxstuff]

“I swear to fucking god if I accidentally missed something like a paragraph or repeated a word please message me I will scream” that’s the title.

————

“And if you ever need help, scream at the top of your lungs.” Seek quipped as it carefully adjusted the tie around Hide’s neck.

Hide rippled a little in embarrassment, something which Seek took notice of and laughed a bit.

“It’s not going to be like that!” Hide said tiredly as it plucked out one of its eyes and rubbed it before popping it back into its sludge nervously.

“This time it’s going to be different..! And so much better too.”

“Well, it’ll certainly be better then when you dated Jack.” Seek said as its eye narrowed and it flicked some irritating pieces of dust off of Hide’s shoulder.

“EeEGh..don’t remind me of that-“

Seek laughed again, giving its sibling a playful flick of the shoulder as it tucked a small flower into the small front pocket of Hide’s tuxedo. Hide shuffled nervously as its sibling stepped away to review its handiwork.

A satisfied look grew in its eye before being quickly replaced by a wave of nostalgia.

“..You know, I remember my first date with Figure.”

Seek cooed. “I was as jumpy and as nervous as you are now.” Seek carefully sprayed just the tiniest hint of perfume on Hide’s shoulder before bashfully putting a hand on its cheek.

“But that part usually melts away if it’s someone your comfortable with..and it seems to me that you are quite comfortable around it, dear sibling.”

Hide closed its eye in contemplative silence for a brief moment. “I’m…just worried that Glitch w-won’t..feel the same way..” it murmured, it could feel that familiar nervousness etch its way into its chest once more.

Seek carefully put a hand on its shoulder, as it remembered many peeked diary entries that very much said otherwise. “Trust me Hide, I have the feeling that Glitch very much does..”

Seek looked towards a nearby door. “-Anyways, I think your date is waiting for you to arrive.” It said, the dark liquid around its eye manipulated itself in a way that it almost looked like a smirk.

“W-wish me luck..!” Hide said with excited nervousness as it adjusted its tie one final time.

“Don’t worry! I’ll be right there with you!” Seek said impishly before dissolving into a puddle and dashing into the shadows.

Hide didn’t need to wonder what that meant.

….

Glitch sat awkwardly on a blanket nearby with two empty glasses and a small wine barrel it had dragged over for them to share. Sweet scented candles propped themselves on the on large barrels and scattered rose petals surrounded it.

It perked up as a nearby door quietly opened. There stood Hide, who stood there for a few seconds taking in the sight before murmuring a soft yet eager “Hi!” Before carefully making its way down the stairs and carefully placed itself next to Glitch who couldn’t help but feel flustered at the sight of the well-dressed Hide.

Glitch gestured to the blanket it was sitting on before signing back a “Hello!” politely. “I have something for you..” it signed with a gesturing hand pointing to something behind its back.

Hide did its best to keep relaxed as its sat itself down near Glitch. Even though it secretly felt as though it was on the verge of exploding into pieces.

“I found this in The Rooms.” It signed, before pulling out a small bowl of candy.

Hide scooted over and carefully pulled out a single peice of chocolate. A tiny ‘Thank you!’ few happy crunching noises could be heard as it enjoyed the tiny piece of candy.

Glitch watched in amusement, “You look stunning, by the way.” It signed.

Hide choked a little on its chocolate and rippled a tiny bit as a blue tiny covered it’s face. “O-oh thank you!”

Its hand drifting towards the barrel as it kept eye contact with Glitch Picking it up and putting it in front of them for the two to share. The two remained silent for a moment as they both took in another.

“You know..” Hide began softly as it moved just a tiny bit closer to Glitch. “You look pretty stunning yourself.”

“Thank you..” Glitch signed, its hands grew shaky and confidence melted into fluttery shyness as a small purplish blush grew over its face.

After a few seconds it shook its head quickly before reaching over to the barrel and pulling the cork off a little and pouring itself some wine before offering Hide a glass, of whom nodded and Glitch poured it some.

The two clinked their glasses together and drank a tiny bit.

..And it tasted like mushrooms..

Hide lurched a little in disgust and coughed out a bit of wine. “Is it just me..or is Seek’s taste in wine….off….?” Hide swore it could’ve heard small voice grumble nearby in some dark corner.

One of Hide’s eyes rolled as its gaze turned back to Glitch, who shrugged before suddenly perking up in excitement and raising a hand to quickly sign a few quick words. “Oh! I have something else too.” It raised a hand and a few glitches crackled for a few seconds.

A small handheld radio appeared in the air above it before landing neatly in its hand. It turned to Hide with a proud posture. Hide gave a neat little clap with the glass in its hand before leaning over curiously to have a better look at the radio. “Ooo, These are really rare!”

Hide said excitedly. Glitch nodded proudly and began to sign. “Oh yea, I asked ‘120 if I could borrow it for a few hours..” it placed the radio on the ground and politely gestured to Hide.

“Wanna listen to something?” It signed again a hand reaching eagerly towards the dial. Hide nodded excitedly and nestled into a little ball at Glitch’s side.

Glitch messed with the dial for a few seconds before putting on its favorite radio show and It poured itself a bit more of the wine. The radio host chattered away stories from their life and pair listened intently.

The two listened for awhile side by side in silence. Hide still in the its little ball in abject glee.

After awhile, it couldn’t help but look up at Glitch and slowly a hand reached up from its little ball and wrapped its arm around Glitch’s shoulder.

Glitch perked its head up a little before looking down at Hide before silently nesting its head on Hide’s goopy arm. The glitches and static around it distorted themselves happily.

The two lay there together and continued to listen in undisturbed peace for what may have seemed like an eternity..

..

A lone eye opened up in the wall to study the room around it.

It saw a couple, snoozing peacefully away in each-other’s arms.

It narrowed in satisfaction before disappearing into the darkness to give the pair some privacy.

—-

HAHAHA I wasted my entire day for the most chill date ever.

Also Seek’s wine like shit because it likes its wine fermented into absolute perdition. Seekgure likes to get drunk while they read and make fun of the content. And then make out before passing out on the floor you know, typical Seekgure activities. Also, yes it watched/listened the entire time.

I still don’t have an idea what to make Glitch’s personality-..I’m working on it..I did like the idea they were mute though, so Asl! Yay!

[atomic-lullaby]

god. fuck. i hope he can forgive me. is there any love truer than feeling the blood and meat slip out of another's throat as you handle their head, scraping meat off bone and plucking out eyes that you may bleach the skull carefully hidden under neath the thick of flesh and display it as a memory? or is it a perversion, a desecration, a crime against the corpse of someone you loved so deeply? whittling away at the flesh and blood and brain that kept them alive, that made them who they are, just because it's of no use to you anymore? if he knew what i was doing would he be happy because i was keeping a memento of his life? or would he be angry because i let him die, and was now throwing away everything that made him, him? would he even have the brain capacity to feel happy or mad? I saw him flail and scream, i saw the blood. i heard the chop of a hatchet slipping through bone and into wood, again and again and again and again. i heard my poor mother cry out as she backed away. i saw his headless body thrash one last time-- whether postmortem muscle spasms or the painful case of a chicken accidentally surviving without its head, i wasnt sure. i figured it was the latter but i desperately want to believe it was the former-- and i did not feel. i have never been empathetic, i knew he was always to die, but when i started talking to him. to his warm, lifeless head, eyes closed with a peaceful frown. i cried. i cried all night as i scraped away the lightly cooked meat (thats why he couldnt be eaten like he was supposed to, the scalder accidentally cooked him and the chicken plucker tore his body to pieces) from his head and his leg. i wanted to keep all of his bones but i dont know yet how to string a skeleton together. its because im forgetful. its because i want to remember him. because if i dont have something physical to remind me i will forget everything i ever loved. i didnt ask for that. i dont want to forget. i murmured desperate apologies to his severed head as i plucked off his long, beautiful feathers and cut away as much meat as i could bear in the winter cold with only a t shirt on. when you have the warmth of an undercooked soul in your hand you tend not to notice the frost on your fingers for a while. i dont know how long i talked to him i dont know how many times i asked him to forgive me i dont know how many times i apologized i dont know how many times i tried to rationalize it by telling myself and my family that he was supposed to be dead days ago anyway. that it was inevitable. that its always someone else's choice when you will die and thats just the unfortunate reality of things some days. i dont know how many times i told him that if it was up to me, he wouldve lived longer and i dont know how many times i promised that his brothers would get a quicker, less painful treatment i dont know how many times i told myself that someone must die for someone else to live i dont know how many of the tears stung at my eyes like salt instead of peacefully slipping out as all the tears of my life were supposed to have done i know it was a lot