#double tagging just in case lol

[simplybolkonsky]

i haven't seen much of the bullet dance saloon extras from the japanese trimax omnibus editions but ever since i caught wind of their existence i have been deeply curious

here are the vol 5 pages ✨

[toneth-toneth-toneth]

huh wym paul isn't trans?? what's this then???

[pixlatedvampire]

I havent finished anything in a bit so please enjoy my favorite Grima doodles lmao 💗🥰

[glitteringpeachy]

They just like me

I headcanon Noelle uses they/she (mostly they) and is asexual. I was gonna make her aroace like me but I don't really wanna take away her thing with susie so yeah asexual rep lol

[ridl]

warframe is a truly fascinating game in how it never stops being unashamedly weird. it says "ok now you can play as a space infested biomech pregnant woman" and u just go "yeah okay". she looks like a biblically accurate angel, does like 10 diff things and is a "support-nuke" btw

[sp4mja]

omg not to talk about twitter too much, but i had to delete it because people who i followed kept hating every player that wasn’t on a specific team (i think it’s obvious which one i’m talking about) and i was getting tired of it

Oh yeah, tumblr isnt perfect but the amount of people hating aren't nearly as big as in twitter, its 100% better to avoid them. Good for you! Do what you must to enjoy the series and have peace ♡

[vxlvted]

How do you think angry sex with Chris would go? Like, after a fight, maybe a jealousy fit? We all know he is hella respectful, but I truly believe in this case his mouth is spitting fire. The degradation is on another level, he'd say and do the most messed up shit. Of course, afterwards, he would be a puddle to your feet.

Jealous

synopsis: Chan seems to think you and Jisung are a little too close.. and he gets a little jealous…

tags: smut, afab!reader, possessive (lowkey kinda toxic chan i think. idk but he’s very possessive), degradation, unprotected sex

a/n: idk what to think of this? I lowkey hate it lol, but let me know what you think!

You, Jisung, Minho, and Chan are hanging out in Jisung and Minho’s shared dorm. You’re currently curled up on the floor near the coffee table, practically leaning into Jisung as the two of you share a ridiculous story from when you went out to eat earlier that week. His hand brushes your arm while he mimics someone’s voice and you double over laughing.

Across the room, Chan watched. He’s sat on the couch, one ankle resting on his opposite knee, jaw tight, arm sling over the back like he’s comfortable—but he’s not. His eyes flick to you, then to Jisung, then back to you again.

Your laughter is too.. free. Jisung is sat way too close. And you haven’t looked in Chan’s direction once in the past ten minutes.

He tells himself it’s nothing. You love him, not Jisung. But the way that you tilt your head at him with that soft smile, it stabs at something hot and unsettling in his chest.

You finally—finally—glance over to him. Chan’s gaze doesn’t waver. The look in his eyes is a little darker than usual, hooded and unreadable, but you don’t comment on it. You just offer a soft smile before standing up.

“I’ll be right back,” you say, the words directed more towards Jisung than him, as you head your way down the hall towards the bathroom.

The second the door closes behind you, Chan pushes himself to stand and quietly slips out of the room following right behind you. You’re halfway though washing your hands when there’s a soft knock on the door. “…It’s me.” comes Chan’s voice.

You blink, staring at the closed door.

“Can you let me in?”

Your stomach flips, you unlock the door and crack it open. Chan doesn’t wait, he pushes inside and shuts in behind him, and it locks with a click.

“What the hell was that?”

You narrow your eyes, “What was what?”

Chan scoffs, “You two were all over eachother. What the fuck was that about?”

You roll your eyes, “He’s just being nice.” Chan stops in his tracks, jaw clenched, eyes dark.

“Don’t play dumb with me. I know what you were trying to do.”

“What are you talking about? I’m not allowed to laugh with our friends? Am I supposed to sit around with my head down so no one gets the wrong idea?”

“I’m not stupid. You were flirting with him.” Chan whisper-yells, keeping his voice low so that the two in the living room don’t hear him.

“I wasn’t even flirting. You’re just being insecure,”

In one second he closed the space between you two, hand gripping your jaw firmly, tilting your face so you had no choice but to meet his furious gaze.

“I’m not being insecure, but if that’s what you think, fine. But don’t you dare act like you didn’t know what you were doing in there.”

You inhale sharply as your back hits the counter. “Chan..”

He bites his lip, “I just want you to remember who you belong to.” His mouth crashes onto yours before you can even think of a response, a mix of anger, frustration and desperation. His hands grip your hips, backing you into the counter and lifting you onto the counter like you weigh nothing.

“You want attention so bad?” He hissed against your mouth, “You’re gonna get it. Every. Fucking. Inch of it.”

You gasp against his lips as the cool marble meets the backs of your thighs and he swallows it greedily. His hands are already under your shirt, skimming your waist, pressing your bodies closer.

“You think I didn’t notice the way he looked at you?” he mutters against your mouth, dragging your shirt over your head. “The way you leaned into him?”

Your jeans are gone before you even realize he’s unbuttoned them, you tug at his shirt in retaliation, teeth grazing his jaw as he yanks it over his head and throws it somewhere behind him.

One hand slips between your legs as his mouth trails down your neck, teeth grazing your skn. You squirm beneath his hands, heat pooling fast and thick into your stomach.

You’re whimpering when his hand slips under the elastic of your panties and his fingers rub against you slick folds. He smirks against your neck. “That’s right. Only I get to touch you like this, make you this wet.”

“You like making me jealous, don’t you?” he growls. “You like when I lose control over you.”

You shake your head, breath ragged as you try and grind your hips against his fingers. “I don’t—I wasn’t trying—“ You cut yourself off with a moan as he presses one finger into you. You pull him closer by the front of his hoodie to try and connect you lips again.

Chan groans in response, deep and desperate. “You’re mine,” he grits out, finger quickly thrusting in and out of you, curling every so often to hit that one spot. “Say it.”

His words were filthy and his tone was mean. You let out a strangled moan, “Yours.. I’m yours.” you whisper. But the sudden loss of his fingers as he slides them out of you makes you whine, hips instinctively changing his hand.

You barely have anytime to catch your breath when you feel him slide into you and you grip his shoulder with a loud moan.

“That’s it. Louder.”

You let out chocked moans and whimpers of his name again and again, tears begin to run down your cheeks and your voice cracks as he thrusts into you with a ruthless rhythm. “Look at you,” he groans, lifting a hand to gently wipe your tears away. “So needy for me now.”

You bite your lip when you feel his tip graze onto your sweet spot, tucking your head down to his shoulder. His fingers tangle in your hair to pull your head back up.

“Don’t hide now, baby. You wanted this. Acting like a brat all night so that i’ll fuck you like this, yeah?” You shakily nod against his neck in response.

He gives a sharp tug that pulls a loud moan from your lips. So much for trying to be quiet, there’s no way they didn’t hear that, but at the moment, you couldn’t care less.

He leans in, lips brushing your ear. “Good girl. Let everyone hear you, baby.” His voice send a shiver down your spine. He shifts slightly, adjusting your legs so that your thighs are wrapped tightly around his waist. The new angle has him driving harder and deeper into you, and you can help but grind your hips down against him, desperate to meet every thrust.

His hand grips your hips, holding you in place like he’s afraid you’d disappear. Every thrust is rough, angry, desperate. He makes you feel every word, every breath.

You voice starts to falter a bit and your legs tremble around him. “You gonna cum for me?” he groans into your ear, “Cum on my dick baby, c’mon.”

You let out a moan and your body trembles with your release. Chan keeps thrusting into you as your legs fall slack around him, no longer able to hold themselves up. “Please—too much.” You whine as your nails dig into his arms. “Chan—“

“You can take it. Just a little more.” He grunts. Each snap of his hips sending an overwhelming wave of pleasure coursing through your veins. You feel the pace of his hips falter against you and his voice cracks with each hushed moan that escapes his lips.

“Fuck. I’m so close-“ he breathes. You lean in, pressing your lips to his in a desperate kiss, the two of you swallowing each moan that escapes each others lips.

“Come inside me.. please,” You whimper against his lips. Chan lets out a strained grunt in response, his thrusts growing faster, more desperate as he chases his own pleasure. One hand drops between your bodies, and his fingers rub at your clit in harsh, relentless circles. The overstimulation makes your breath hitch and you cry out as you feel another climax quickly building.

His hips still, and you feel him twitch inside you as spurts of warm cum begin to coat your walls. The sensation of him releasing inside you sends you spiraling all over, and your climax crashes over you as your legs tremble against the counter.

There’s a long silence filled with nothing other but the sound of your heavy breathing. Then you feel his arms tighten around your waist, pulling you close.

“I.. You know I didn’t mean that right?” Chan murmurs into your neck, voice hoarse and wrecked with emotion. “I was just…fuck. I was jealous. I’m sorry. I took it out on you, and I shouldn’t have.”

You don’t answer right away, your body still trembling. You finger find their way into his hair, gently threading through the strands. “I know,” you whisper. “But really, I wasn’t trying to do anything.”

He pulls back enough just to look at you, guilt flooding his eyes. “I know, I know. I just.. the thought of anyone even looking at you like that, touching you..” He trails off, jaw clenching as he presses a kiss to your temple.

“It messes with my head.” He admits softly, “But it’s not your fault. I just can’t loose you. Even though I know the kids would never.. the thought of someone else even trying just—I’m sorry.”

“You’re not gonna loose me.” Your voice is a bit hoarse, but there’s no hesitation in it. The reassurance seems to calm him a bit and he nods. He finally pulls put, breathing still a bit shaky. His fingers lazily trace your thigh as he watches, completely hypnotized as a slow, messy is of both yours and his cum begins to slowly drip out of you and down onto the counter.

“Fuck..” he mutters, low and gravelly, thumb brushing your inner thigh, almost in awe. “Look at that…”

You chest still rises and falls with each shaky breath you take as you glance down than back up to watch as he steps away and grabs some tissue for you (and to clean the counter).

You smirk, “You think Jisung will be mad that we fucked in his bathroom?”

Chan lets out a breathy laugh and his eyes flicker to yours. He leans forward, kissing your collarbone.

“Oops,” he murmurs, voice low and smug and clearly not sorry in the slightest.

“It’s no secret, i’m sure they heard,” His words send a flush down your neck. “I’ll just turn the fan on when he leave.”

You laugh, quiet and breathlessly, taking the tissue he offers you to clean yourself up while he cleans the counter.

Taglist:

If you’d like to be put on (or taken off) the taglist, feel free to let me know

@yaorzu-blog | @pixie-felix | @compersian | @tshyn | @kittenchaos2024 | @lze325

[ittybittyfanblog]

Error 404: (Self-Aware!AU, Sylus Edition) – Pt. 2

Summary: A LADS self-aware!AU featuring Sylus and a–less–oblivious player. That’s it, that’s the plot. A/N: Ok, I’ve decided to make this by series, so this one’s just going to be purely Sylus. I hope nobody minds the specific names/places/etc. I wanted to create a personality for the “player” and add a bit of backstory work (loosely based on yours truly lol) for the sake of storytelling, but there won't be any distinct description of the player’s physical appearance <3 Tags: player!reader x sylus, fem!reader x sylus, reader x lads, self-aware!au, suggestive language, bouts of delusion

Pt. 1 - Pt. 2 - Pt. 3 - Pt. 4 - Pt. 5 - Pt. 6 - Pt. 7 - Pt. 8 - Pt. 9 - Pt. 10 - Epilogue

Riiiiing– RiiiNGGGGG––

...

“Huh… whazat—?” 

A shrill—earsplitting, headache-inducing, completely fucking loud—noise wakes you up rather rudely from your peaceful slumber at… Jesus Christ, what time is it? 

You blink your bleary eyes open, once… twice—fuck, all you know that it’s too goddamn early for all this ruckus. Groaning, you clumsily try to find the source of the unexpected wake-up call. Quite literally in this case. 

Your hand bumps the vibrating phone straight off the edge of the mattress—along with the charger cord still attached to it—and you cuss up a storm when you hear it clatter on the hardwood floor.

The ringing finally stops, and you’re perfectly content to leave it there and fall back to sleep when, not even ten seconds later, the blasted thing rings back to life, taunting you awake. 

Angrily, you wrestle against the threadbare blanket wrapped around your body like a warm cocoon, pushing yourself out of bed with all the rage of a sleep-deprived insomniac who’s been up til the buttcrack of dawn to grab your—huh, relatively intact—phone off the ground, while the charger cable swings haphazardly from the weight of the power brick on its tail end.  

Without checking the caller, you swipe right to answer. “What?” 

“Don’t use that tone on me, young lady,” Your mother grouses on the other end of the line. “It’s almost noon! Did you just wake up?” 

Barely five hours of sleep. Pinching the bridge of your nose, you shut your eyes and sigh. “No, mom. Sorry, just had a late night,” you clear your throat in an attempt to sound more composed. “What’s up?” 

“Oh, dear. Is it because of work again?” Something akin to sympathy replaces the sternness in her voice, and you dread the all-too-familiar spiel that comes next. “You know, honey, there’s a job opening for a– what was it again? I have to double check, but it’s where your Auntie Helen works. You know your Auntie Helen—” 

“Mom,” you interrupt, before she could go off on a tangent. “Work is fine, don’t worry. Why d’you call?” 

“Should I need a reason to call my daughter who's living by her lonesome, a country away from—” 

“Mom!” 

“Oh, alright,” she finally relents, sounding slightly exasperated. “Were you able to book me and Jodie the roundtrip flight to Orlando? Your cousin’s wedding is barely a month away and I want all the documents ready by now, sweetie.” 

Shit. “Ah— yeah. I’ll email you the flight itinerary in a bit, I’m just–” you catch sight of your protruding hamper, innocuous but an eyesore nonetheless, right by the doorway of your humble studio unit. “I mean, I just left the condo. To do errands and stuff. I’ll send the details to you when I get back home, okay?” 

“Okay, honey,” she sighs. “You stay safe outside now. Don’t talk to strangers.” 

“I am a perfectly responsible adult—” The call disconnects. “Hello? Great.” 

You rub away the remnants of sleep from your eyes, fully aware that your day’s already started, despite your reluctance. Might as well get a head start on today’s agenda.

First thing’s first– brunch. Oh, it’s almost one. Lunch, then. I could maybe grab a hotdog from the corner store before heading to Landers. Oh wait, laundry. Gotta pass by the laundromat downstairs, too. Ugh, c’mon, chop-chop. 

Just as you’re about to stand up from your supine position on the floor, another ping! pulls your attention back to your phone. “Mom, I swear–” 

Ah, you’re finally awake. You’ve had a very long night, kitten. Take it easy for the day – make sure to get enough rest between errands.

I’ll know if you don’t.  

Your heart skips a beat.

Oh! Um. That’s… new. 

… Apparently another one on the growing list of “new features” from the latest update. It doesn't sound like an invitation for you to open the game, strangely enough. It's not a call to action to claim your daily stamina, nor a prompt for you to check your Galaxy Explorer rewards. 

It’s nothing more than a greeting, really. Just one that’s particularly targeted at you, with unnerving accuracy.

You recall the weird (?) events from last night, and the now-erratic beating of your heart suddenly picks up a notch. From the unexpected dialogues to the outrageous amount of dias you’ve somehow ended up with—something you still think is some kind of glitch in the system—you can’t shake the feeling that you’re living out the plot of a Black Mirror episode, as fucking dumb as that sounds. 

Not to mention during Quality Time, Sylus_v2.0 (as you so lovingly dub this version of him in your mind) had been acting more aware of you.

And you’re not talking about the pre-programmed glances that you usually get. No– it’s like he actually hears you. 

He doesn’t say anything. But whenever you make a comment, or utter something under your breath, he reacts with a huff or a hum—depending on the context. If it’s a slew of expletives aimed at your boss, the reaction you’re met with is one of amusement. A snort; sometimes a quiet laugh, if you’re lucky. When you say something self-deprecating, however, it elicits the heavier sighs, the sharp clicks of the tongue. 

At one point, you heard him make a low sound of dissent, something close to a... growl, almost, after making a casual joke about being just another cog in the machine and how offing yourself wouldn’t really matter in the grand scheme of late capitalism. As you oft do. 

Your eyes met, and for a split second, it felt like you weren’t looking at just pixels. His gaze weighed heavy on you—almost accusatory. 

It made you feel… naked, somehow. Perceived. 

You recall how quickly you averted your eyes from his, face flushing hotly from a feeling you couldn’t put into words. 

Bone-tired from last night’s (morning) overtime, you didn’t have the time to look up the news on this recent version update—although you really don’t remember any notifications in-game—so you quickly Google, “sylus acting sentient in rcent update loveamd Deepspace???” on your phone browser.

You scroll down for a bit, but none of the search results yield any relevancy, nor are they in any way similar to your current… predicament. 

(Okay, so calling it a predicament is a little unfair. You’re not exactly complaining about anything per se. No complaints from you. At all.)

Deciding that you’d do a deeper dive on Twitter (X) at a later time instead—probably tonight when you do your daily login—you briefly press the side button to lock your phone… not without a final peek at the banner notification from Sylus. 

You press your lips together in an effort to hold back the stupid giggle bubbling up your throat. 

Unfortunately, all the self-control in the world can’t help you and your need to have the last word—from what even—so you ask aloud, to no one except the person you've deluded yourself into thinking is a valid recipient of your one-sided conversation: 

“... Yeah? And what if I don’t?” 

You’re not really waiting for a response (or were you?), but the nervous flutter in your stomach betrays the impatience you're trying to mask with casual indifference. It’s small, unassuming—but there. 

Impatient for what, exactly, you’re not sure. But maybe, just maybe—

Feeling a bit braver now, are we? How bold. Care to say that to my face, sweetheart?

Oh. 

Oh.

An inhuman noise escapes your throat, embarrassingly loud, almost a keen, and you fumble with the device in your hand; the new banner notification still in full view—taunting you. 

You don’t know what to think, you don’t know how to feel. You–

Spring up, like an agitated jack-in-a-box, and the sudden rush of blood in your head leaves you dizzy. You’re a molotov cocktail of emotions; one more bombshell surprise and you might just blow. 

“I’m– later, okay? Uh,” Whew, girl, keep it together. “I need–I need to go.” You almost stumble as you speed walk towards the bathroom.

-

-

-

If you didn’t switch your phone to silent, didn’t make the conscious effort to ignore any incoming messages, notifications, and whatever else, in a rush to get dressed and go about your day as if it's just like any other weekend—nope, nothing unusual here—you would’ve seen one last cheeky reply:

Of course, sweetie. You take care now. 

Don’t talk to strangers. X

Endnote: This one's pretty short, but I’m world-building, trust. 

Thanks for reading! 

[keferon]

Two Peas in a Pod: part 6/?

Thank you for the cake and the art and your crazy tags♡♡ you feed me so well so here's some more words!!

Lets see how many of you guest right, lol, they're both stupid, I love them.

__________________________________

A group walking down the corridor on the other side of the glass before six a.m was unusual. And given the volume and rapid chatter, something had either excited them or had them nervous. But when one stopped to peer through the window, looking for Prowl – they would not see him, he refused to be gawked at – there was a possibly it had something to do with him.  

Prowl suspected that if that was the case, his mobility played a key part. The humans had been more skittish since he had first left the hammock yesterday. Their fear was not misplaced, with the returned ease of swimming, his threat value had more than doubled.  

While he would not act unless pressed – as it would be wasted effort with the current situation – Prowl was not completely against whatever illusion that the humans had of him. Let them fear him. It would keep most away and leaving fewer for him to deal with; those brave or stupid enough to still come near him. 

The elated shout of Jazz that came from beyond the wall drew in his attention. Prowl sighed softly, recalling the current state of the language barrier. What he wouldn't give for a stylus and a data-pad. Even a simple drawing one would suffice. 

He didn't get to linger in dismay as he heard Jazz swim by, but not stay. The view port on the gate was still shut from yesterday so maybe Jazz had just come to check if they would open it? But then he came by again a few seconds later, and then again.  

Swimming laps. But was it excitement or anxiety?  

Prowl silently approached the gate and rested his forehead against it, listening. The body of water on the other side was much bigger, that much he already knew, but most of the walls and floors of this place were like stone, leaving empty spaces all over his vision. Places sound bounced off of, but didn't pass through.  

Metal wasn't necessarily any better, but it tended to reverberate; depending on its composition, and if one was skilled enough, you could see what was beyond or within the metal.  

But the gate was metal, and Prowl was that skilled. Tuning his sonar with careful precision, he eventually found the frequency that gave him the best image.  

Inside, it was primarily hollow, with large connecting rods and cylinders leading to alien machinery that was too complex to make out with outside noise causing glitch-like distortions across what he could see. But the guts of the wall weren't his goal currently. 

Outside was where he drew in his focus. Towards the centre he could very faintly see Jazz as he circled. His sonar images may be in terrible quality, but Prowl had become quite familiar with the other orca's particular blob. It was like watching something move from darkness to light or adjusting the contrast of an image. Jazz was bright and his silhouette shape clearly a mer when he was close, while dim and barely a lopsided oval when he was far.  

He was tempted to calculate the distance and overall, the space Jazz was swimming, but – to the right he had picked up on a platform. One that more and more humans seemed to be gathering on. At first, Prowl was worried that the other mer might be in danger, but after a few more laps Jazz approached and waited at the edge. 

For a few minutes, nothing changed. Until Jazz moved to somewhere in the middle, almost straight out from the gate, and the humans began to spread out. Something was up and Prowl kept searching and listening for anything that might give him insight.  

Till the screeching hiss of the machine attached to the gate suddenly came to life, causing Prowl to recoil. Losing his sonar temporarily as he worked through the noise. It was like a camera flash that blinded you for a second, only this one was a flash against your mind and a bang in your ears at the same time. But Prowl was used to ambushes and this certainly wasn't the worst sonar attack he's experienced, so this wouldn't hinder him, it was just annoying. 

Pressing himself against the floor and the wall out of view of the door, he waited. After the passageway had slid completely open, Prowl remained only for an extra moment, just long enough to tell that nothing was coming. Then he cautiously moved to investigate. 

With the recovery of his sonar and the obstacle removed, Prowl sent a few quick clicks to pinpoint all the humans. There were seven he could find, though there could be more outside his currently limited range. A poorly laid out ambush regardless, if that was the plan, and chances were very low – seeing as the humans were providing him with medical treatment, they clearly wanted him alive – but it wasn't zero. Prowl really didn't want to fight at this stage of his imprisonment, firstly; his wounds still posed a risk to his overall survival, secondly; he needed to gather more information before he could put together a plan of escape.  

When Jazz waved at him, Prowl resigned to the fact that he – or perhaps they – were being closely monitored and there was nothing that could be done about it. So, for now, he would resume gaining an ally, or at the very least a cooperative collaborator. The other captive orca remained at the top of his priority list for making any future plans have greater odds of success. Working out the communication issue aside, he needs this 'first meeting' to go properly and smoothly before anything else could proceed.  

And it looked as though the audience had Jazz tense and on the defensive. Nothing a little show of reassurance of Prowl as an ally couldn't remedy surely. 

So, Prowl approached with an appropriate speed for closing the distance between an acquaintance, with his arms set at a relaxed, yet polite place along his sides. When he stood before Jazz, he made sure to keep a respectable space, posed with and holding a practised expression of polite professionalism. Choosing to have his most vulnerable side forward in a grand gesture of trust, further expressing that he had no intentions of bringing him harm. 

He anticipated a moment of hesitance, allowing Jazz the time to observe him, to look for signs of deceit. But when his roaming eyes became fixed on his wounded flank, admiration showing in his expression, Prowl flicked his tail for Jazz's attention. Prowl wouldn't look too deep into it, but past experience made him keep note. 

Jazz showed that he was at least slightly embarrassed – good – but when he did not make a move to greet Prowl with the same gesture of goodwill. Continuing to face him head on had Prowl now searching for signs of what his intention were. But while he did, Prowl began to express slight irritation, in hopes the other would cease and desist.  

The other mer reacted by rising and Prowl tensed. Jazz must have had trust issues from past bad experiences if he was attempting to intimidate him with the present state of their body. Where he had been found gravely wounded, Jazz must had been found starving… Or there was the very slight chance that he had recently hit his last growth spurt and he was just a lanky cocksure young adult wanting to show-off. 

Jazz quickly paused, pointing and waving for Prowl to follow. Obviously wanting to move to the surface to speak. Fine.  

But then he smiled, and not in a friendly way, no, this one was clearly practised. Smooth, confident, and forward. Prowl had dealt with plenty of celebrities and politicians to know what a charming smile looks like, and very aware it was an illusion of friendliness to lure or entertain. Cocky youth had adjusted from 'very slight' to 'likely'. So, Prowl readied for a foolish game of posturing. 

{Sorry, Prowler.} Was the first thing out of his mouth and his smile diminished to a more acceptable nature.  

Good, Prowl thought at first, maybe Jazz had realized that he would not sway Prowl. However, Jazz still refused to back down, flaunting confidence with lax posture. Speaking in an almost gentle reassurance, {it's okay. Prowler, it's okay.} 

Then everything started coming together – prolonged staring, hints of interest, slight embarrassment, insistent forward facing, too friendly of smiles aimed at a stranger – and the almost certain likelihood of Jazz's youth. Prowl was both irritated and bewildered at his own conclusion; Jazz was flirting with him. 

Primus, he wanted to be wrong. But… nothing else made sense about Jazz's behaviour! 

Not wanting this nonsense to continue, Prowl kept his formal disposition of his side facing Jazz and backed off just enough to show refusal, but not a sign of submission. Prowl firmly said, {no.} 

{Wait! I —– } Jazz started to approach.  

{Stop,} he said as his scowl had grown into a harsh glare and he quickly turned his body to face him fully, but didn't back away. {trying okay.} 

Jazz did stop his advance. Though now apparently, they were locked in some sort of stare down. How else could he express his rejection without this braking out into a physical confrontation? 

Again, Jazz moves, this time slowly opening his arms to boldly offer a hug and still keeping a steady friendly smile. Like he's asking for a chance. But was only baffling Prowl further. Why are you so instant? 

" 'tzz." He said, the other mer's name was still difficult to pronounce, but he wanted to be clear. Speaking with a warning as he readied to strike. It wouldn't be the first time a pursuer needed a smack to take a hint. But Prowl really didn't want to fight. {Stop.}  

Jazz was back to rambling in the human's language, his tone was wavering between calm and frustration. But when he pulled away; after his words had done nothing to change Prowl's stance, Jazz squared up. 

Prowl did not hesitate and made a clean charge to Jazz's chest, forcing them both under.  

While Jazz recoiled and darted away to collect himself. Prowl rolled his shoulder in discomfort. The impact had still jostled his injuries, but it had been the best option. Biting would have been taking it too far, using even his right arm would have been agonizing, and spinning around to use his tail would have allowed Jazz time to react. No, this was good enough.  

Or so he thought when he returned to Jazz to see if he was willing to be respectful of the situation. While Prowl was willing to try and start anew with a mutual understanding, side-ways faced and still offering trust with showing his wounded side.  

Jazz looked upset, understandably so as that harsh of a rejection was never pleasant. But this language barrier was really getting in the way. He was speaking human words again, irritation clear in his voice. But then he took a deep breath and started slinking towards him. Still openly refusing Prowl's offer of peaceful intentions. 

And... now we've come down to a battle for dominance. Wonderful. Prowl had a slight bit of respect for the other's determination in not wanting to submit when clearly out matched, but this was hardly the time nor the place. Prowl fixed Jazz with a glare, promising punishment as he started to plan out his attacks that would not cause too much pain, but enough to humble the punk. 

{Please, Prowler, stop.} 

Gladly, but you first. {No, you stop, ['tzz.]}  

He did, {what,} but not without pointing back and forth between them, {why?} 

WHY!? 

Despite his mounting frustration of being unable to explain or even have Jazz possibly clear things up on his end as well. Prowl did his best to make it as physically clear as he could by returning to the calm request and offer to have no ill intentions between them, that they can be on equal ground. He even went as far as to break eye contact and look away, just in case that was feeding into his miscommunication with Jazz. 

{Prowler,} Jazz sighed, calling out to him softly, and daring to inch closer.  

Prowl tensed; he had tolerated that nickname due to his own inability to say Jazz's properly. But him using it– using it like that was–  

That was not– I'm not submitting to you, you punk!  

Bristling, Prowl twisted and lunged for the other mer. Only clipping him this time, but was swift with a sharp turn to follow through with his earlier threat. And Jazz tried and failed to escape him. Charge after charge, Prowl battered him with carefully made strikes. Making it clear that when he stopped and let Jazz get away, that he had allowed it to happen.  

When he met Jazz on the surface once more. Prowl remained facing him head on, silently asking if he wanted another round of showing just how out of his league he really was. Regardless if that kind of movement put strain on his healing body, that he could feel the sharp pull of new tissues fighting against the flex of muscle. He could probably get away with a few more attacks before something popped open. 

{Please, Prowler. Please, stop.} Jazz begged. 

But Prowl waited to see if Jazz was being honest about putting this to an end. After a minute of neither of them making a move. Prowl once again turned so his side face Jazz and this time Jazz mirrored him.   

Prowl then gave a loud breath of relief and laid down to float on his back. Finally! No more idiotic posturing.  

Jazz also followed him in releasing the tension and floating, though he looked humiliated. 

Good, you should be embarrassed. 

__________________________________

I hope you found this as funny as I did. XD And now that the boys can be in the same pool, it's time for bonding and shenanigans!! >:3c

Prowl: doing everything by the book and reading into every micro expression to aim for the best results.

Jazz: trying to restrain his overflowing excitement and desire to make a friend. (but also has a budding crush) be cool, be cool OuO;;

Prowl: sees Jazz's not-so-hidden excitement and desire. what – here – right now – but also why? … sigh, you're just a shameless flirt aren't you? :/

IS IT really a jp fic if they aren't– Check List ✔ Arguing at least once ✔ Fighting at least once ✔ Jazz being an absolute flirt (unintentional currently, but still counts!) ✔ Prowl greatly misunderstanding a situation with Jazz at least once

Also, I've seen the pleas of the lovely readers!! I will post this fic on ao3 in the next day or so. But since this is my gift to my platonic love ♡♡♡Keferon♡♡♡ updates will be delivered here first.

Until you want me to stop dropping the fic in your inbox♡ -GLC

Previous

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WHEEEEEEEEEEEEEEZE oh my god they're fucking stupid ahahajjakfkfmgndb

I was wroNG ahaha I was completely wrong. Jazz wasn't saying "fuck you" in the last part it was "let's fuck" /j

To be fair. If I was held captive with the other random human and they greeted me by staring at my ass and then enthusiastically approaching despite me showing that I'm not okay with them flirting with me? Yeah no I completely understand Prowl haha.

Also. This isn't directly related to this part but. Sigh. I made some doodles of Blaster after reading the previous part and then.uh. completely forgot to show them. So I guess I'll throw them here now lol

[topherwrites]

𝘕𝘖𝘛 𝘈 𝘓𝘖𝘛, 𝘑𝘜𝘚𝘛 𝘍𝘖𝘙𝘌𝘝𝘌𝘙

summary - a saturday morning, and I love you on the tip of both your tongues.

pairing - bob floyd x (gn!)reader

word count - 2.1k

rating - nsfw content, 18+, mdni!

content warnings & tags - no use of (y/n) / fluff / slightly h*rny fluff / bob's love language being acts of service / the peak fantasy of homeownership / bob floyd being the ideal man™ / lmk if i missed anything!

a/n: time for my bi-yearly fic drop, lol! i wrote this in semi-conjunction with this moodboard. (a.k.a i started this months ago.) everyone who said they want to live in it... same. reblogs, comments, and likes super appreciated!

TOP GUN MASTERLIST / LIBRARY BLOG

Your boyfriend has disappeared.

Even before your eyes are open and your brain is semi-functioning, you feel the lack of his presence, the sheets next to you devoid of his usual space heater existence. You touch the left side—his side—double checking—hoping, really—that you won’t have to peel yourself out of bed to search for him.

A cascade of orange and pink spills through your curtains, painting your room in soft light, letting you know it has to be before seven. With a groan, you check your clock, confirming your suspicions. The time reads a quarter past six—far too early for you.

Not nearly as agonizing for him, one of those irritating early riser types, but Bob is diligent about letting you know when he’s leaving for his early morning runs, a kiss planted to your temple, and a ‘be back soon’—just a little moment in case you have to leave for work before he gets back.

But it’s Saturday, and you had plans of lazing about in bed until at least eleven, preferably with him. 

Your brow creases as you push up onto your elbows, slowly blinking around your room as if your boyfriend will just appear in front of you, and you won’t have to pull yourself out from under the covers to try to coax him back to bed.

As of late, it’s like he gets struck by a whim, and his body is overcome with the need to check it off a list, unable to rest until he does—changing your oil at ten o’clock at night, fixing the light in your fridge that flickers before he heads off for a run, trying to fix the leaky pipes under your en-suite sink—he did eventually give up on that one and call a plumber. Thank god.

Part of you has just taken it as part of his job and personality—he likes getting up as the sun does, he likes fixing things, and his job is a stressor, you're sure. But it doesn't feel work-related, so part of you is beginning to wonder if it’s you. 

An ugly little thought that you can recognize has no factual basis. He’s never been anything but honest with you, open and vulnerable, even when you’ve guarded yourself.

As a result, you tuck it away, considering that he’s off on another one of his little quests. They’re things that always make you feel cared for and thought about—weeding or checking the pressure on your tires or rearranging his kitchen so you can reach the things you frequently use.

So, as you begin to pressure yourself to leave your cocoon of early morning sleepiness, a quiet metal-against-metal clattering floats down the hall and through the crack in your bedroom door, catching your attention.

Slipping out of bed, you pad down the hall, sleep shirt brushing your thighs. Growing nearer to the sound of the soft noise—clearly being sensitive to try not to wake you—-you catch soft guitar strings and the twang of John Prine and Iris DeMent coming from your grandma’s old record player.

You cringe as your foot touches the cold tile lining the floor and immediately regret not rummaging around for your slippers.

You find Bob there, posted at the counter as he cuts something at a butcher board, only wearing the sweats he went to bed in. He's still warm despite the lack of clothing and the countertop fan blowing at him.

At the arch entry, you stop and watch him for a moment, entranced by the way his broad shoulders and the muscles of his back move with the motion—by the sight of him in your kitchen. Something so distinctly domestic and intimate about it.

Completely focused on his task, he doesn't hear you come up behind him. He slightly jumps under your touch as your hands slip around his middle, his stomach beneath your fingertips.

He makes a short noise of surprise that washes into a gentle greeting, his voice low, “Hey, sweetheart.”

You press your lips to his shoulder blade, enjoying the feeling of his skin against your own.

You've clearly ruined some sort of surprise, but you can't feel too bad at the sight of his eyes still clouded by sleep and the odd angles his hair sticks up.

Keeping his eyes on the cuts he’s making, Bob briefly twists around to press a kiss to your temple as he mumbles, “Go back to bed.”

You just hum, beginning to press kisses to the freckles that scatter along his shoulders, deepened by the tan he’s obtained from working in the flowerbeds that sit alongside your front door. The beds were slightly tragic before you began dating, some sort of sparse bushes planted there. They were alive at one point, you assume, but lying half dead and bare when you bought the place.

In no time at all, he had the beds torn up and replaced with bright white hydrangeas that now sit in full bloom under your front windows. Pink zinnias, sunny yellow goldenrods, and pale milkweeds—all chosen by him because they attract monarch butterflies during their migration—flank either side of the brown brick pathway. Cheek pressed to his skin; you cast a glance outside just as a small orange and black blur flits by the glass.

“So… where is it?”

Chewing on the inside of his lip, Bob casts a lost glance around the plant nursery’s vast outdoor gardens—bright pops of color among vast expanses of green, the high afternoon sun beating down on them—the acreage of it is astounding and certainly a workout.

You’re supposed to be picking up some mulch for the beds—but you keep getting sidetracked. Half your fault; you beeline for every slightly pretty plant, balancing it on the cart that’s rapidly becoming overloaded. The wheels digging heavily into the gravel pathways, little trenches left in your wake.

It’s early days with Bob Floyd, but he’s sweet and helpful and easy to get free labor out of—a big plus in your book.

On your first date, when he walked you to your front door, sweet and gentlemanly, you made a quick joke, a callback to your hinge profile. There, you had answered the prompt, I'm looking for…, with, ‘someone to put together my ikea bookshelf. seriously.’

Because, after two unsuccessful attempts to put it together and three months of it languishing in the corner of your living room, you were tired of feeling a pang of guilt every time you piled another book on top of the precarious stack teetering next to your reading chair.

Of course, on the date, you didn't actually expect him to do it. You made the joke as a way to test the waters, to see if he was open to coming inside without fully putting yourself out there that way.

But then he followed you in, sat himself down cross-legged on your living room rug, and got to work. You stood there in the doorway for a moment, warming even further to him. 

You poured a glass of wine for each of you, and watched his hands as he set joints together and tightened screws with a furrow between his brows. And despite his serious focus on the job, he continued asking you questions about your taste in books, your favorite bands growing up, what you liked about San Diego as you sat near—your only real contribution being the wine, simple conversation, and occasionally handing him a screw.

He’d finished near midnight, asked if you wanted help sorting your books, and when you said no, already mildly abashed at the fact that you’d set him to work on your first date, he’d given you a kiss goodnight on your cheek—chaste and unpresuming—and left it at that.

You’d fallen for him a little bit then and there.

Blinking, he stares down at the map once again—same furrow in his brow—turning it in his hands. Not sounding any more sure than he was a second ago, he points slightly westerly of you, “That way. I think.”

It draws a slight laugh from you. You lightly hip-check him, teasing over your shoulder, “Come on, farm boy, you’re supposed to be helping me.”

The scent of lemon carries inside from the open window over the sink, summer ripening the tree planted in your yard. That’s also when you spy past his shoulder a small stack of the same yellow fruit on the counter. A pancake crackles away on the stove.

Your voice is quiet—reticent to break the seal of this hushed moment—as you ask, “What are you making?”

Hands wandering mindlessly, your touch follows the trail of hair from his belly button, fingers sneaking only just under the waistband of his sweats, loosely hung on his hips. 

He seems to part with the idea of whatever he’s doing being a surprise, clear that you’re not going to accede to his request and tuck yourself back into bed, too awake now to do so.

“Pancakes,” he reveals, continuing to whip, “with lemon ricotta whipped cream.”

“Trying out a new recipe?”

His throaty laugh reverberates into your chest, shaking you. Your smile hikes higher before you even know what he’s laughing about—just enjoying the sound, the melody and the slight grit to it.

“Emphasis on trying,” he says, scooping a bit of the whipped cream onto his finger, offering it to you to taste. “Would you?”

You draw his finger into your mouth. It’s slightly sweet with a burst of tang, the sugar and cream mellowing out the sharper edges of the lemon flavor. A success, you think. As you draw back, you flash your gaze up and find his eyes unabashedly caught on your mouth.

You pull off and without breaking eye contact, breathily tease, “Lech.”

With a slight flush to his ears and cheeks, he laughs and leans in, nose brushing yours as he presses his lips to yours. His mouth slants over yours, insistent, his hand finds its way to cradle your jaw, tilt your head just right. It catches your breath, makes your toes curl against the tile.

You're still not entirely used to this, the sweetness of Bob Floyd. His eyes are soft as he pulls back, his thumbs sweeping along your cheeks. He clicks his tongue, cheekily muttering, “I think it’s good.”

His lips move to your cheek next, mumbling between a kiss there, “You're distracting.”

The gesture, so simple, makes your heart flip.

By this stage of dating you're usually spiraling, finding reasons that it won’t work out and tallying up slights so when the expected happens, you're not blindsided. Like it's a game you’ll win; perpetually preparing yourself for heartbreak. 

And it’s often been easy, dating men who were noncommittal or uninterested or flippant with affection made it so. They were easy to write off— jettison them from your life and think, onto the next. 

But everything has changed with him. There’s an ease to the intimacy, a frankness to him that makes that defense mechanism very difficult to muster. You're… settled.

And it should scare you, the way your heart is fully on the line, but then you catch sight of one of his dogeared-to-hell paperbacks in the living room or the little date night notes he leaves scribbled on the calendar that hangs next to the fridge or his mismatched colorful socks mixed in with your laundry and it doesn't. As simple as that.

You haven’t said the L word yet. But it’s there, dancing on the tip of your tongue every time you look at him.

Bob is near certain that this is love.

No, he supposes, he is certain. He’s mulled this particular topic over too much in his mind not to be.

It's love—the big kind. He’s just not certain when he should let you in on that fact. Release it out to you and see if it comes back returned.

In the past five months he’s undertaken a million little projects to keep his hands, mouth, and mind busy, working out all that excess energy. All he’s doing is kicking the can down the road, trying to find “the right time”. 

He's gotten close more than once, yet every time it catches in the back of his throat, his tongue an uneasy ally in the venture. The words, three simple ones, are left as something uncomfortable to swallow down at each abandoned attempt.

And yet, virtually all that discomfort is eased by the way you say his name, catching his attention when they nearly slip, nearly an endearment all on its own. 

His call sign being his name means that Bob hears it alot, from a considerable amount of mouths. Shouted, whispered, whooped. In a variance of forms, he's heard it. But it's never sounded so important, so weighty, then it does as it falls from your lips. Like you're speaking a dialect only the two of you hold knowledge of, his name equivalent to the word in the forefront of his mind.

"Bob."

He hums, certain that his face gives him away; 'Whipped' as Mickey called it or 'in love' as his mother did the first time you met.

This is the sort of thing that his parents have, the ease, the humor, the affection. It permeates every space of his life, the knowledge that you're here, with him, choosing each other easily.

Eight letters.

I love you.

He lets temptation run wild, hands glancing down your back and tugging you right into him. He takes a moment just to look at you, your bright eyes, and the sweet shape of your lips as you smile up at him. Your hands slide around his neck, gently teasing the hair at the nape of his neck, his stomach swooping at the feeling.

Three syllables.

I love you.

He lets them swirl in his head, settle in the back of his throat as he prepares his tongue.

Your thumb runs along his cheekbone and he opens his mouth, readying himself, just as your lips part, and twice at once, I love you, becomes tangible reality.

Like a held breath released, a smile, broad and uncontrollable, spreads over his face, mirrored on yours as everything comes into view.

Just as Bob leans in to brush his lips against yours, higher than he’s ever felt, the smell of rapidly burning batter hits his nose. 

"Oh, shoot."

a/n: thank you for reading!

[midnight-mourning]

🐟Midnight's DCA MerMay🐟

It's that time again, but now it's for May! So let's just jump right into it;

Requests

I will have 16 slots available for requests. Length will be the same as previous events with 1000-2000 words allocated to each

Requests can be anything (again)! Just ask that they relate to mermaids/mermay in some way, be that directly or indirectly and of course DCA-related.

As most know I am an X reader writer, but as long as my general request rules are followed, I don't mind writing for ocs, canon, etc. 

fair warning though for the above, I am not familar at all with TSAMS and if you DO have a specific au, I will do my BEST to be accurate but cannot guarentee beyond that

For those who don't know my rules, no nsfw (suggestive is fine!), and if you want something specific, be specific. Besides that, it's fair game, request what you want!

Potential Issues & Schedule

If there is overlap between request ideas, they will be combined in some manner of speaking (if possible). If needed, I will reach out to you about adjusting ideas or the likes, though I don't forsee this happening. This would occur if for example, someone wants gift shopping with Sun with their oc, and someone else wants the same thing with a reader-insert. Whoever requested second would be who I reach out to. 

Requests will be posted starting on May 1st & ending on the 31st! I will likely post every other day, with the fic I'm writing suplementing in between ^^

I will be starting writing as soon as I get the first request, as I have a busy month or so prior to May SO, requests will be open from today (April 13th) until next week April 20th, or until I get 16 unique requests.

To keep things organized, please request in the comments of this post. This also helps to potentially keep from overlap in requests, as you'll be able to see what else has already been requested. If you request in my ask box or such it'll make things a bit more difficult, so please avoid that.

HOWEVER, there is one exception to the above, which is if you wish to request anonymously, which is completely fine to do! But please only request in my ask box if you want to be anonymous. If overlap happens in that case, then y'all may just get two responses with similar vibes on the same day (essentially a bonus lol)

Sharing & More

Please feel free to share this post around, and request if you want to! Once I hit 16 unique ones I'll reblog this post with the announcement that requests are closed, so make sure to double check they aren't closed already prior to requesting!

I'll also post updates every couple of days regarding the status of total requests as well ^_^

Everything related to this will be under the tag #MM dca MerMay

These should be uploaded to ao3 when posted here, so you'll be able to read there if you prefer!

Shout out to the artists and beta-readers helping out with this event! It's a big help and adds to the fun so very excited to get to cooking with these and see what y'all get up to with them ^^ (if you're interested in joining in on this here's a final call to reach out and I'll invite you to the discord server :D)

General update things from me

As I said in my update post I am, very busy, things have picked up in my research so I'm in crunch mode to get done asap so i can graduate

I've been writing tho! Several things I'm waiting to share until I clean them up a bit but once mermay gets started i don't forsee another dry spell for a bit at least

Been working on a bit of everything, CS and HS both sit at the back of my mind but I just haven't had the time to really sit down and write for them both given theyre more in-depth with plot and such, will be getting back to them once im able to though I promiseee

I'm down a thumb rn due to a run in with a mandolin (the cutting tool not the instrument) but I will survive! not being able to draw sucks tho >_<

Excited to see the requests, bye for now!

Tags for those who enjoy my writing (if you'd like added, just let me know!)

@scarletcowboy @beemyhuneybee @fishm0ther @deviouscrackers @elsajoyagent8 @luckyyyduckyyy @zenkaiankoku @jogimote @local-shrub @milosmantis @robinette-green @everlightreader @sinister-sincerely @starredeclipse @dangerva @juukai @crystalmagpie447 @mothgutz236 @lizyxml @divinit3a @amarynthian-chronicles @crystalfay @that-one-unknown-artist @rosescarletful @buzzy-bee @hazelthebat @nightriverart

[mapofsouthdakota]

Caffeine, chemistry and Caleb IV

Synopsis: The café was supposed to be just another coffee shop. For a law student who enjoys her morning coffee and a shy newbie still learning the ropes, it should have been nothing more than part of the daily routine… But then there’s Caleb.

Details: 1500 words. Pt. 4 of my barista AU. Non-MC!Reader as the law student. Expect heavy flirting, hot af barista Caleb, jealousy ever blooming (fuqin apple girl) but also… feelings? As always: banter with the newbie barista. Bless their soul. Did someone say threesome? (No still not 18+ series lol)

Parts: initial one shot, part 1, newbie pov, part 2, part 3, part 5, part 6, part 7

Tags: @gavin3469 @unstablemiss @i-messed-up-big-time @mipov101 @zukini-01

Latte Briefs & Legal breakdowns | Pt. 4

It’s a slow afternoon, golden light filtering through the café windows, indie guitar looping through the speakers. You’re perched on your usual stool at the bar, case briefs and books open in front of you, but not a single paragraph is sinking in.

Mostly because Caleb is leaning over the counter like he has a personal vendetta against your concentration.

“You ever thought about switching to the dark side?” he asks, holding up a small cup with what looks like the most terrifying espresso concoction you’ve seen yet.

You squint at it. “What is that?”

Caleb sets the tiny cup in front of you with a flourish. “Double ristretto, splash of oat milk, cinnamon, and a hint of something… exciting.”

You eye it suspiciously. “You mean a breakdown with notes of oat?”

He grins. “No. I mean adventure. Altitude…” His voice drops, as he leans in across the counter, eyes locked on yours.

“…Something worth defending in court.”

And then—he winks. Ugh.

But you don’t take the bait. Not this time. You’ve started expecting more from him now. Instead, you raise a slow, unimpressed brow. “So basically you, midair, with no supervision.”

“Exactly. Drink it, and who knows? You might join the dark side.”

With your chin resting in your hand, the words come out soft, curious. “Tempting. But what exactly do I get if I do?”

Caleb leans in further, voice dropping just enough to make your stomach do that stupid thing again. “Flight benefits. Vague emotional support. Excellent views.”

“Of what?” you ask, pretending to be unimpressed.

He smiles—slow, shameless. “Me.”

You snort, reaching for the cup. “If I survive this, I’m naming you in the lawsuit.”

Caleb tilts his head, that smirk practically built in at this point. “You wouldn’t win,” he says. “Jury would fall for me instantly.”

“Careful with the assumptions, defendant.”

“This defendant assumes you’d be asking him to take you flying by the end of trial.”

You open your mouth. Close it again. That one hits harder than it should. “Dangerous,” you mutter, sipping the drink.

“Delicious,” he corrects. And as he straightens, his fingers find the end of your braid, giving it a light tug—like he knows he’s just left a crater in your chest.

“Anyway… I’ve got to go deal with a supplier call,” he says, already backing toward the backroom. He pauses in the doorway, shoots you a quick grin.

“When I come back,” he adds, “I want your final verdict.”

And just like that—he’s gone.

You exhale slowly, like the air just remembered to move again. A beat later, the newbie appears next to your stool, silently placing a stack of freshly cleaned mugs on the bar.

They glance at you. Deadpan. “Are you hearing yourselves?”

You blink. “What?”

A hand waves through the space Caleb just vacated—like they’re clearing leftover smugness from the air. “You sound like a flirt-themed podcast,” they add, “no plot, all tension, and a two-drink minimum.”

Meanwhile you’re the picture of innocence—minus all the convincing. “We’re just talking.”

They give you a look. “You asked what you’d get if you joined the dark side.”

“So?”

In a tone fit for a top-secret intel drop, they whisper, “He offered you flight benefits.”

You sip the drink to avoid smiling.

They sigh. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but… I kind of admire your commitment.”

Behind the cup, your smile softens. “Thanks.”

Their expression says it all—tired, resigned, just a little fond. “Still think you’re gonna crash and burn, though.”

You stare into your drink, then glance at the hallway Caleb disappeared into. Your smile sharpens.

“I’m not giving up,” you say quietly.

The newbie blinks. “I… yeah, I figured.”

“No,” you repeat. “I’m not giving up until he takes that damn necklace off.”

The look you get from the newbie is pure disbelief—like you just announced you’re filing a restraining order against yourself.

“I’m serious,” you go on. “I’m going to flirt my entire brain out. I’m going to show up here, looking unreasonably good, and pretend I am absolutely not tanking my grades until that necklace is gone.”

“You want him to—what, emotionally undress in front of you?”

“I want him to take it off,” you say. “Voluntarily. That’s the difference.”

The newbie just… stares.

“I need your help,” you add.

One gesture says it all—palms raised, full retreat. “Okay, no. I did not sign up to be your chaos consultant.”

“You’re already in too deep.”

They groan. “What do you want from me?”

“His work schedule.”

The silver flash of their tongue piercing rolls across their lip. They don’t blink—just squint slightly, like your plotting physically hurts to witness.

“I know you have it,” you say, lowering your voice like this is a covert operation. “You color-code it. I’ve seen it.”

They sigh through their teeth, bite at their tongue piercing, and glance around the empty café like it might offer backup.

“God, you’re terrifying,” they mutter.

“I’m determined,” you correct.

“Which is worse.”

Hands pressed together in a small, desperate prayer, you lean forward and glide your arms across the counter toward the newbie. “Come on. One law student. One emotionally conflicted barista. One irrational grudge against a necklace. What’s the worst that could happen?”

The newbie closes their eyes. “Famous last words.”

Still—they pull out their phone with a sigh and scroll a little.

“Fine. For purely academic chaos,” they mutter, pulling out their phone and scrolling with dramatic reluctance. “But I’m not sending you screenshots. I’m not leaving a digital footprint for this.”

You blink. “You think Caleb’s going to subpoena your camera roll?”

They nudge the phone toward your hands, like they want no part in whatever this is. “Do you want the intel or not?”

You lean in and they tilt the screen toward you—color-coded glory.

And you grin. Like a lunatic.

But you waste no time.

In one fluid motion, you whip out your phone and take three rapid photos like you’re defusing a bomb. The lighting’s bad, the angle’s worse—but it doesn’t matter. You got it.

“Okay, okay, put it away—go,” you hiss, just as the door to the back creaks open.

You shove your phone under your notebook, slam your cup back on the bar like nothing happened, and resume your most casual nothing-to-see-here posture.

Caleb strolls back in, hair a little messier, smirk already in place.

The verdict still very much undecided, you’re casually halfway through another sip—definitely not thinking about it—when he leans on the counter again and says:

“Alright. Let’s hear it. Final verdict?”

You glance up. “On the drink?”

“Sure. Let’s start there.”

The cup gets a thoughtful little tap from you. “Potentially illegal levels of good. I’ll be consulting with the ethics board.”

He grins. “So that’s not a no.”

Before you can respond, the newbie reappears behind the counter, holding a stack of clean mugs and radiating an energy best described as ‘please don’t look at me.’

Caleb spots them immediately. “Hey,” he says. “Tongue bar check.”

The newbie freezes. “Don’t.”

You blink. “You already noticed that?”

Caleb smirks. “Of course. They do it when they’re nervous. It’s adorable.”

You laugh. “I was just about to say that!”

You and Caleb turn in perfect sync toward the newbie, who’s flicking their piercing against their teeth—blissfully unaware.

They catch themselves mid-motion. “Oh. My. God.”

You smile sweetly. “Welcome to the flirting podcast. Congratulations, you’re officially part of the cast.”

Caleb lights up like you just handed him a microphone.

“We should start one.”

You blink.

Then immediately—“YES.”

Caleb’s already in motion, pretending to set an invisible mic on the counter. “Episode one: Latte Briefs and Legal Breakdown. I’ll host, you’ll interrupt me with objections, the newbie will sigh audibly in the background—perfect dynamic.”

The newbie groans. “I’m not getting dragged into this.”

Caleb points at them. “Too late. Recurring character. Possibly fan-favorite.”

You snort. “You’ve thought about this.”

He shrugs, completely unbothered. “I have excellent branding instincts.”

The newbie is walking away muttering as you glance toward them, “If I hear the words ‘theme song,’ I’m quitting.”

Caleb leans on the counter, smirking. “Don’t worry. You’ll have top billing.”

They glare at both of you. “You two are the worst.”

You raise your cup. “And yet, here you are. Still in the episode.”

Muttering something about unionizing and HR nonsense, the newbie vanishes toward the back, and you’re still smiling when you turn back to Caleb.

But he’s already looking at you.

Not with the usual smirk. Not with the “I’m-a-flirt-and-I-know-it” glint.

With something quieter.

Still amused. But… caught.

Like he just realized something and didn’t like how much he liked it.

You raise an eyebrow. “What?”

He shakes his head, quick. “Nothing.”

But he’s still watching you. Not playing. Not trying. Just… watching.

You nudge your empty cup. “Was that my final verdict moment?”

Caleb exhales—laughs, just once. Soft. “You’re trouble.”

You grin. “You’re just now figuring that out?”

A hand runs through his hair, like he needs to reset himself. Like something’s off-balance now. Not bad. Just unexpected.

You let the silence stretch. Just enough.

And in that pause, you see it.

The flicker.

That brief, unguarded second where you both feel it—whatever this is.

And you know something he doesn’t know how to say.

You liked that.

You liked this.

And he wasn’t supposed to.

His hand lifts like he’s about to say something—then drops.

You slide your empty cup toward him with a smile that means everything.

And he catches it.

“I should’ve listened,” he murmurs, voice low, like it costs him something. “When you said I had to be careful around you.”

And then that smile—soft, crooked, almost aching. Like it knows better. Like it wants more anyway.

You nod.

Then, instead of speaking, you let your gaze flick—just once—to the necklace.

The chain.

The charm.

And now, the dog tag.

It catches the light just right, and for the first time, you see it clearly—there’s something etched into the metal.

Small. Scripted. Just a few words.

When… U… come back…

Your brain adds it straight to the growing Caleb case file.

Exhibit D: The phrase ‘When U come back’.

It’s a message from her.

Someone who thought he’d return.

You look up. Into his eyes.

Hold the stare.

Steady. Focused.

Case noted. Argument building.

And in that moment, you think:

You’re not coming back to her, Caleb. You’re on a recess break—with me.

And he knows what you’re thinking.

That’s enough for you.

For now.

——————————————————————————

Part 5

——————————————————————————

Writer’s note: Yes. This is itttt. I’m finally content with the worldbuilding and the scene is set—now let’s go full classic novice writer mode and make everything deliciously messier. Prepare yourselves for the next chapter because ohhh… it’s burning and screaming to be launched into the void. I don’t know why, but waking up at 5am does things to my brain. Which is strange because I normally get up at like 6am, so it shouldn’t make a difference… but it does, lol. And if you want to be tagged, just let me know. Okey then, thank you for reading 🫶🏻

[sysig]

Starting out, things going Exactly to plan, as expected (Patreon)

[milessunflowers]

yuki's reaction to his boyfriend cutting his hair off? im talking like.. stomach-length hair down to roughly what mick's hair looks like rn (i have a screemshot if u need it lol)

-bear 🫶

omg wait i feel like yuki would be so bitchy abt it

yuki tsunoda x male!reader

synopsis: after coming home from a double header, yuki finds out his boyfriend chopped off almost all of his hair

author's note: i love writing for yuki sm 🤭 hes just so wosnwkwoeje (in case yall didn't know i love him so so much)

he missed you a lot and was so excited to get home

he is used to you having long hair and loves playing with it

when he comes home and sees you, he at first doesnt recognize you

then when he clicks he is just shocked, looking like a deer caught in the headlights of a truck

and you two are just blinking dumbly at each other

you probably say something silly like "fancy seeing you here" and he would just have this cutest face ever

hed look like a scrunched up mouse

youd wanna kiss him all over

unfortunately he just glares at you and you aremt sure whether its playful or not

turns out its a mix of both

he pouts and asks why you cut it off

you tell him its because its getting too hot out and you wanted to try aomething new

he eventually gets used to it

its not as fun to play with now but he starts to like

you eventually grow it out more just not as far

its at a good length that you like it and yuki likes it

he learns different hairstyles to try out on you too

you love watching him in the mirror because he would be so focused that his tongue would poke out between his lips and it would be so adorable

you guys would make it an everh saturday thing, as long as he doesnt have a race

its a cute at home date idea because then youd make dinner with yuki's help

TAGS! (if you want to be added, lmk!)

@op-81-lvr-reblogs, @koalapastries, @justaf1girl, @ghostking4m, @spoonfulofmilo, @seonghwaexile, @alex-wotton, @raizelchrysanderoctavius

[turtletaubwrites]

Numbers Game ~ Chapter 20

Those Lovely Things

Pairings: Cross Guild x Fem!Reader x Shanks

Numbers Game Masterlist

Word Count: 7.3k+

Ao3 Link

Ongoing Series Playlist: Youtube Music Link | Youtube Link

Summary: You fight to find some joy while your little world falls apart. Is there anyone you can trust?

Author's Note: Hi friends! I realize that most of you came for the smut, and stayed for the drama, lol. Going forward, there will be some heavier topics including trauma, scenes depicting panic attacks, etc. I'll try to bracket the most intense sections off with ~~~⚫⚫⚫~~~ and I will do my best to make sure you still understand what's going on in case you'd like to skip past those parts. Thank you so much for staying with me, and letting me take this story where I always wanted it to go!

Alternate POV Symbols:

🌲 ~ Flashbacks from Reader's Past | 🐊 ~ Crocodile | 🗡 ~ Mihawk | 🤡 ~ Buggy | 🔴 ~ Shanks | ⚫ ~ Scenes depicting panic attacks and/or big trauma (These symbols will bracket sections to denote the POV shift)

!!! SPOILER WARNING !!! Fic contains spoilers for the end of the Wano arc

Rating/Warnings: Author May Choose to Exclude some Warnings to Avoid Spoilers for Certain Chapters, Explicit Sexual Content, 18+ ONLY, MDNI, AFAB!Reader, She/Her Pronouns for Reader, Reader-Insert, Use of Y/N, Dark Content, Blood & Violence, PTSD, Panic Attacks, Dissociation, SH (scratching while panicking), Swearing, Alcohol, Cigars, Smut, Fluff, Angst, Drama, Jealousy, Manipulation, Humiliation, Pet Names, Power Imbalance, Cross Guild boys are VILLAINS, Possessive Behavior, Teasing, Threats, Size Difference, Daddy Kink, Double Penetration, PIV Sex, Anal, Multiple Orgasms, Hair-Pulling, Inappropriate Use of Akuma no Mi | Devil Fruit Powers, Shameless Shameless Smut, Other Additional Tags to Be Added

| masterlist | about me | rules | ao3 |

~~~🤡🤡🤡~~~

She’s perfect. She’s everything. She’s—

Stupid, red hair.

Buggy held Y/N close, hearts still racing, still breathing with each other.

This morning he’d woken up tense, sweating with guilt that she wasn’t in his arms after all the shit they’d been through to get back.

But the arms that had wrapped around him… The lips that had kissed his neck…

“Mornin’ Bugs.”

“Morning, shithead.”

Then there were her tears. More fucking tears today. That was all he could think about. The near panic of needing to make her feel better, make her smile, make those tears stop touching her beautiful face.

Now that those tears had stopped, his mind cracked open, letting that red hair shine through like the first light of the morning sun when you’re not ready to see it.

Gods, I’m such a piece of shit. 

“Buggy?”

“Hey, star! How ya doing? Can I get ya anything?”

“No,” she laughed, the sweetest fucking sound in the world. “Just you, Bugs. Just stay with me for a while, please.”

He held her close, his head falling back against the headboard. 

“I’ve got you.”

~~~🤡🤡🤡~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🐊🗡️🐊🗡️~~~

Buggy’s name echoed through the halls, so loud that Mihawk wasn’t the only one that heard.

Crocodile sighed, shaking his head slowly at the sound.

“Should we punish our pets,” Mihawk drawled, the words spilling out like acid.

“Sorry,” Shanks called as he sauntered back into the lounge, a pleased smile on his face. “My other hosts are a bit busy. Mind if I—“ 

“Fuck off.”

Shanks smirked up at Crocodile, sand fading from reality after the larger man had shifted across the floor. 

“You two seem awfully grumpy,” he taunted, his voice too even, too calm. “It almost seems like you care about your captives. But that can’t be right...”

Mihawk was there, stepping slightly between the two men. Two men he’d betrayed.

“Is it really necessary to gloat, Red Hair?”

“Who’s gloating,” Shanks countered, his sunny smile falling fast. “I just wanna know that my friend and his girl are safe. Can’t blame me for that, can you? Not after everything you did to him.”

“We won’t stop him if he wants to go,” Crocodile rasped, the veins in his hand pulsing as he clenched his fist. That thought soaked his blood in a rage he didn’t know what to do with.

He knew there was nothing to be done. 

“How kind of you,” Shanks mocked, walking away from Crocodile’s glare to stand in front of his old friend. He didn’t look back at the frustrated sound that left Crocodile’s throat at the dismissal. 

Mihawk hated the itchiness in his fingers, the instinct to reach for his sword. 

“You’ve been trying, haven’t you, old friend,” Shanks breathed, his eyes scanning over every slight movement on Mihawk’s face. “Looks like it’s too late to play nice, though. Why would such a sweet girl wanna stay with monsters like you?” 

A clash of hook against sword.

Shanks’ serene face, inches from the striking metal as Mihawk blocked that golden hook. 

“I think I’ll have lunch on the Red Force. Give my friends some time to cool off. All that screaming sounds exhausting.” Shanks winked at Mihawk, nodded at Crocodile with a smirk, and strutted toward the door with a laugh. “If you hurt them while I’m gone, I’ll level this place to the fucking ground.”

With that threat, the red haired emperor left the two ex-warlords frozen, their weapons still caught together in a useless battle between defeated men. 

It was hard to say who lowered first, but as soon as their weapons were down, Crocodile brought his to the other’s throat. 

Mihawk let him.

“You knew,” Crocodile raged, eyes flaring as he failed to spot any fucking reaction on his new lover’s face. “You knew, didn’t you? He’s gonna take them both!”

“Don’t you think he should,” Mihawk choked, wishing it was just the sting of the hook making his throat tight. “We’ll get through tomorrow, then we'll say goodbye to our little pets. Our little prisoners. They’ve served their purpose—“

He hissed, knowing there was blood beneath that press of metal, wet heat dripping down his skin. It was almost enough pain to relax him. Almost.

“You don’t get to decide that,” Crocodile growled, bringing his face in close to breathe scotch scented fury over Mihawk’s skin. “You spoiled, selfish, little prince. Finally grown a conscience, and now you’re making it everyone else’s fucking problem.”

Mihawk was away, leaving the hook empty, except for his own pretty blood. He didn’t bother to stop the flow of it down his chest before he snarled back. 

“We can’t force them to stay, sandman,” he declared, his breath heavier than he’d expected. “I won’t do that to them again, not—“

“You’re a fucking idiot,” Crocodile sighed as he cleaned his hook with a handkerchief, white fabric staining red. 

“And why is that,” Mihawk purred, eating up the anger, preferring it over everything else. 

“If they wanna go, we’ll let them go,” the larger man conceded. His deep voice was almost weak with those words, though his next were spoken with power, with the need to make them true. 

“So, we’ll convince them to stay.”

~~~🐊🗡️🐊🗡️~~~

~~~~~~

Fuck.

You wished that Buggy’s arms could make you feel safe from the parade of memories, of demands that dragged you back down. 

It was stupid. Of course you couldn’t be free. 

A choked laugh tore from your throat. Buggy tried to soothe it away, but the insanity of it all was too much.

You had felt safe. You’d felt fucking happy with these men that threatened to kill you, to sell you into slavery. Even though you were never without fear, you’d somehow felt good with the men that owned you. Felt good with the men that threatened to kill your lover, that had beaten him bloody, humiliated him, then made you crave them so fucking badly that you almost begged them… that you had begged them to fuck you like a whore in front of him. 

Just to escape your boring, privileged life.

All of that guilt you’d tried to shove down deep was back, and Buggy’s sweet smile that had made it all okay felt like a mirage. His loving arms around you made you feel sick. 

I am sick.

He was right. He wouldn’t even have to fake it. I’m everything he said. Damaged. Wrong. Worthless. 

Buggy deserves better. 

“What’s wrong?”

More brittle laughter escaped your raw throat, and Buggy chuckled at himself.

“Sorry, baby. That list is fucking massive, isn’t it,” he soothed, hands tracing over your skin. “Wanna take a shower with me?”

He carried you, helped you, kissed you, dried you, and made you wear some of his lipstick, chasing your lips with it until you laughed and gave in. 

“Why don’t you care?”

“What,” he coughed, eyes wide as he reached for you.

“About my… About who I am?”

He looked confused, almost as if he’d forgotten. Almost as if he really didn’t see you differently. You couldn’t fucking handle that thought either way. 

“Why would I care about your shitty family,” he scoffed, grabbing and squishing your cheeks. “All I care about is how long I have to wait before I can start making fun of you for your fancy trust fund.”

Your mouth would have fallen open in shock if he hadn’t been squeezing your face so hard. He smirked at you, looking way too fucking proud of himself.

“You. Dick,” you hissed reaching out to punch his arms, his stomach, anything you could reach. Buggy cackled as he floated each body part away just before you could hit it. You squirmed out of his grip, and he floated around you, sticking his tongue out while you huffed. “I’m gonna kill you!"

“Ooh, how much do hitmen cost? I bet rich girls can hire all the best assassins!”

“Buggy– mnf.”

“I still love you,” he whispered against your lips after shoving you against the wall. “That’s never gonna change, no matter what happens, star.”

Somehow there were still tears left in you, but he caught them with his gloved thumbs, giving your red lips a gentle kiss. 

“I love you too, Bugs.”

"Of course you do,” he winked, leading you out of the suite. “Ya hungry, pretty star?”

~~~

“Good afternoon, Y/N,” Mihawk drawled as he pulled a chair out for you. “How are you feeling?”

Uncomfortable wasn’t even close to covering it. 

They let you sit by Buggy, let him hold your hand, and they stared at you with eyes that might have held concern. Or they might have had dancing berries behind them, imagining what sort of price tag you had branded under your skin. 

“Not great,” you said blandly, hating not knowing what they were going to do with you. 

The lunch went on, and they didn’t push. Didn’t try to speak with you more than some awkward small talk, and a polite request for the salt shaker. All they did was observe you.

“I want to call my sister.”

“Of course, swee– of course,” Crocodile rasped after a pause, pulling his hand back before it could reach across the table. 

“Do you already have a buyer in mind?”

That vicious growl left your throat like lightning, too fast for you to catch. Buggy’s hand went still on your shoulder while you shook with rage. 

“Y/N, we’re–”

“Y/N,” you mocked, almost proud of the way Mihawk’s lips parted when you cut him off. “No rabbits? No sweet girls? Already distancing yourselves from your old pet, huh? I guess you can’t get too attached when you have to put ‘em down, can you?”

Your chair toppled over when you stood, but you resisted the urge to shove those pretty, round tables because you had to stop being there right that fucking second. Had to stop looking at them. You backed away from their shocked faces, the pain and anger in your blood making you dizzy. 

“I hope your next pet survives a little longer,” you spat as you turned to run inside, fleeing down that long corridor. Your eyes were burning with tears, staring at the floor just ahead of your frantic steps.

It felt like only a few seconds had passed before you were caught.

“Hey, bunny,” Shanks cooed, pressing you against him. You clung to his waist, tears spilling against his chest, bare between his loose shirt. “You’re okay, sugar. I won’t let them hurt–”

“We’re not going to hurt you,” Mihawk breathed over your shoulder, so close. Shanks tensed, tilting you ever so slightly, as if preparing to pull you away. Mihawk’s wicked fingers trailed down your back, sending chills through you while he made his promises. “We’re not going to sell you, or ransom you, or hurt you, Y/N. I swear it.”

Detangling yourself from both of them with a shudder, you caught Buggy and Crocodile waiting, watching. 

“Why are you talking to me like that,” you asked, hating how hard it was to swallow the lump in your throat. 

“We didn’t think that you’d want us to talk to you so… intimately, after everything,” Mihawk explained. His fingers flexed, and you closed your eyes against another wave of exhaustion. 

“Can we just pretend today?”

Pathetic.

“What do you mean?” Crocodile came closer, that frightening face going soft, breaking you down. 

“Can we pretend everything’s alright? I just wanna pretend you care until it’s over. Do whatever you want with me, just let me feel… Just let me pretend you care,” you begged softly. Buggy’s arms wrapped around you from behind before his lower body could catch up, squeezing more tears from you. “Please?”

“Rabbit…”

“Come here, sweet girl.”

Buggy let them take you. You let them take you.

Golden eyes were so close, the scent of him making you sigh while he stroked your hair, kissing down your temple, your cheek, your jaw, before helping to lift you into Crocodile’s arms. 

Silver eyes poured over you, his deep voice so calming while you cried against another silk vest, cried as he brought you back to that magical place filled with pleasure and pain. That place where you’d felt both shackled and free.

That stupid, green, velvet couch. 

“My sweet girl. I’d never send you away. Never hurt you, babydoll. Daddy’s here. Whatever you need.”

“My little rabbit, my love. I want you by my side. I want to watch you, my fierce, little bloodhound. Tell me what I need to do, darling. Anything.”

“My shining star. You’re my everything. You’re everything I need.”

Pretty, pretty lies.

~~~

“President Buggy, sir?”

Buggy huffed while he floated his head across the room, sticking his tongue out when he flew over Shanks’ grinning face. His hands didn’t stop petting your legs while you laid across the three laps on the couch. 

“What is it,” he snapped at the intruder through the cracked door. 

“So sorry to interrupt, sir,” the man sputtered, clearing his throat. You couldn’t see him, but his anxiety radiated through the door. “The final dress rehearsal is meant to start soon. Should we… would you like us to run through it without you, sir?”

“No, I…”

Buggy’s hands went stiff, and you turned your head to look over at his concerned face, almost pained when he glanced at you. 

“It’s okay, Buggy,” you croaked, your voice a wreck after all your tears. 

“We can watch your show over dinner again,” Mihawk suggested as he laid his hand over Buggy’s.

“We’ll freshen up,” Crocodile agreed, brushing a bit of hair from your face. “How does that sound, sweet girl?”

The tiniest, most exhausted of smiles touched the corner of your lips before he lifted you, and followed Buggy’s headless body toward the door. 

“Mind if I take a peek backstage, Bugs,” Shanks flirted, wrapping his arm around the clown’s shoulders. “I always love your shows.”

“Don’t get in the way,” Buggy grumbled. You heard Shanks’ pleased laughter while Buggy floated up to press a soft kiss to your lips, and Crocodile’s wide chest kept you warm, and sleepy. “Wanna watch my show, star?”

“Always,” you breathed, wishing you were worth that perfect smile. 

~~~~~~

~~~🤡🔴🤡🔴~~~

“Don’t be so stressed, Bugs,” Shanks beamed, following his grumbly clown through the halls. “You’ll blow ‘em away at the party tomorrow. Then we can take Y/N, and get out of here. Help her smile again. She needs to–”

“You don’t know her,” Buggy hissed, rounding on his old friend. His old friend whose eyes widened a bit at his words, but still kept that fucking smile. 

That perfect fucking smile that made his eyes go a little unfocused every time he saw it. 

So he turned, continuing his scolding while he walked toward the banquet hall, avoiding that face. 

“You don’t know what she needs.”

“You’re right,” Shanks apologized, walking backwards so he could look at his clown. Look at those perfect eyes. “You know her. You’re fucking beautiful together, Buggy. It makes me so happy to see you like that. Loved. She loves you, doesn’t she?”

Shanks watched all those expressions move under that greasepaint, studying each and every one. Trying to figure out the right words to say. 

“She does,” Buggy hesitated. He shouldered past the red haired pirate, forcing the other man to keep up with his quickened pace. Forcing that smile out of his line of sight. 

“Let’s get her out of here,” Shanks urged. Even with their speed through the halls, his voice was calm, quiet, soothing. “You can protect her, Buggy. I’ll help you. You know she’ll never be safe with them. I just want you both to be safe and happy, Bugs.”

Tears. 

Too many fucking tears in her eyes. 

“When did you ask her?”

“What do you mean,” Shanks chirped, skirting around a servant with a stack of nameplates for the tables. 

“I mean, when did you ask her to come with us,” Buggy breathed, pulling Shanks backstage after looking around the banquet hall. The stage was tiny compared to the three rings he was used to, but he could get used to that swanky, private dressing room. 

Especially now that he had Shanks pinned to the mirrored wall inside, those brown eyes flashing with a challenge, and a promise that almost made him forget the world. 

Forget her. 

“When,” he growled, more forcefully than he’d meant to as he shook himself out of Shanks’ spell. Shanks didn’t answer right away, his eyes roaming over Buggy’s face, concern and charm oozing off of him. 

“The first night,” he whispered, cradling Buggy’s cheek, tilting his hips closer. Wanting to get this stress out of Buggy’s eyes, help him feel good, help him get out of here. “You still snore like a sea lion, Bugs. Mihawk didn’t hear me.”

Buggy’s red lips fell open, but he pulled away before Shanks’ thumb could rub across them.

“And the dance. What did you say to her?”

“Just this,” Shanks reassured with a smile. “I can protect you both.”

Shanks’ smile had always brought irritation or need. No, not need. Awe. Buggy had tried to compete with his friend, had fought and struggled for years. 

“I want you with me, Bugs.”

He’d never felt good enough compared to his perfect friend. His perfect friend that was always in charge. Even though his perfect friend said such lovely things about him. 

“I don’t wanna find the One Piece without you, baby.”

Those lovely things. They couldn’t be true. 

“And I don’t wanna leave your pretty star with these monsters.” 

Until finally, Buggy had believed those words. Believed that perfect smile. 

“Let me make it all up to you. Anything you need.”

But in the end, that smile had brought him nothing but pain. 

Nothing until…

“Come with me,” Shanks purred, not caring about all that greasepaint when he flipped Buggy around, shoving his clown against the mirror to kiss the surprised, little moans from his lips. “I want you so bad, Buggy. I’ve wanted you for so long.”

Buggy’s eyes fluttered closed when Shanks’ fingers reached for him, finding his cock already hard beneath that bright, red fabric. Shanks let out a satisfied hum as Buggy lost himself, melting under that smile that said so many lovely things. 

Melting under that hand that knew his body so well.

“President Buggy, sir?”

~~~🤡🔴🤡🔴~~~

~~~~~~

The snail went on and on. 

You’d let Mihawk take care of you, wiping your face, kissing you, rubbing cool lotion onto your flushed skin, kissing you, fixing your face up before kissing across it again.

“Lovely, little rabbit,” he’d purred before setting you up with the transponder snail. You were shocked when they left you in the lounge all alone, until you remembered that he could hear you from a mile away. 

Pretending. We’re just pretending.

“Hello?”

“Kat? Oh gods, hi! Kat, it’s me,” you panicked, realizing you hadn’t planned anything to say. 

“Y/N? Are you okay? Fuck, tell me it’s you, sis.”

“Kat,” you laughed, relief and joy flooding your drained body, waking you out of your daze. “It’s me. I helped you cheat your way through stats so you would—“

“So I would help you get out of those creepy match making parties mom kept—“

“Kat, I’m so sorry.”

…

“Kat?”

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I mean,” you grimaced, hating it all. “You were right. They found out who I am.”

“How much is the ransom?”

Sighing, you leaned back, tapping your head against the chair. 

“I don’t know yet, but I’m okay. They let me call you.”

“… The Cross Guild?”

Fogginess filled your mind again, trying to mesh all of your worlds together.

“That clown,” she explained, her voice getting hushed. “Your clown, and his cronies, right? I saw the flyers.”

“Oh,” you relaxed, picturing that colorful flyer that had caused so much trouble. “Yeah, but don’t worry. They haven’t hurt me. I think they’ll just ransom me back. Uncle’s gonna love—“

“You should really listen to him.”

Kat’s voice was lined with stress, something you never missed. 

“Kat, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” she clearly lied, your sister’s shrill voice too easy to read. “It’s just been long enough, you know? Things are good here, and you could… we could all be happy.”

“Happy,” you breathed, not wanting to give in to anger. 

“Yeah,” she brushed off, clearing her throat. “Mom’s coming, so I… I love you, sis.”

“Love you—“

“See you soon.”

…

The snail stared back at you for too long, its slow moving eyes making you dizzy. 

Unease bubbled under your skin, Kat’s strained voice replaying in your mind. 

“Something’s wrong,” you declared to empty air, your voice hollow. 

“What is it, love,” Mihawk asked, appearing on the desk before you. 

“Kat’s stressed.”

“What about, sweetheart,” Crocodile prompted as he came to lean over the desk beside the other man. 

“He’s done something,” you trailed off, mind going hazy around the edges. 

“We’ll help you, darling,” Mihawk whispered before kissing your wrist, your eyes fluttering from his simple touch amidst all your chaos. 

“Please, don’t send me back.”

~~~⚫️⚫️⚫️~~~

The plea was dry, futile, almost silent while your eyes got lost around the desk. The moment the words left your lips, you went limp. Your mouth slack, drool forming, ready to spill if you got stuck for too long. 

Nothing. 

Nothing. 

Just how he wants me.

What looked like panic in their eyes at the horrifying laugh you let out made you laugh even more, your fingernails scraping deep into your thighs while that grating sound tore through you.

“You can try to own me. I tried to let you. But he won’t let you. You’ll have to buy me first,” you warned in a harsh whisper, insanity creeping and creeping. 

“Sweetheart?”

“Nope,” you giggled, shaking your head too fast. “No sweethearts for me! No love for me. Just work. Nothing else.”

“Y/N…”

“Y/N,” you parroted Mihawk again, your voice breaking. “Please pretend. Please pretend you—“

~~~⚫️⚫️⚫️~~~

“Please, tell me what’s wrong,” he urged, kneeling at your feet, your head in his hands. “Let us help you, rabbit. I…”

“Help me by pretending,” you sat up, voice clear when you brushed the fresh tears away. “I want to pretend. I want you to pretend to care for one more day.”

His strong hands gave in as you stood to walk away. 

“Please, pretend.”

You were in his arms, resting your head in the crook of his neck, feeling Crocodile’s strong presence beside him.

“Thank you.”

“All you gotta do is tell us what you want, sweet girl.”

“Thank you, daddy.”

~~~~~~

~~~🐊🗡️🐊🗡️~~~

Murder. 

Murder roiled just beneath the surface of their skin, bodies made up of raw nerves.

A panicked glance shared between them helped nothing, except to confirm that something was fucking wrong. 

Something far worse than what they’d thought.

Mihawk held Y/N against him, pretending to be light, pretending to be the person he’d been for her before.

The person he’d been when he wasn’t scaring her, using her, showing her what a monster he was.

But all he wanted to do was shake her. Drag out whatever horrible truth there was inside her precious, little soul so he could stab it to death. 

She’s going to leave us like this. She’s going to leave here broken. 

He glanced at the other man again, wondering if he was just as terrified as he was.

Crocodile was terrified. All he wanted was to protect her. To never hear that jarring, scraping laugh leave her throat again. It was demonic. Wrong. 

His sweet girl should never be in that much pain.

He had to fight not to tear his hook across every wall they passed, through every door frame he ducked under. 

Had to give her what she wanted. To pretend everything was alright. 

To pretend that he wasn’t one of the monsters that made her cry. 

He sat and watched the show, watching her tired face pretending to be happy while her sick laughter clawed through the back of his mind.

I can’t let her leave like this. I can’t let my sweet girl hold that pain. I’m gonna fucking gut him. 

~~~🐊🗡️🐊🗡️~~~

~~~~~~

Woozy. 

But okay. 

So nice to sway back and forth between them. To watch your clown perform. To forget the world. 

Forget everything.

You were pretty good at it. 

Practiced. 

It helped when they’d call you pretty names, trace their warm, strong hands along your back, your thighs. Massaging your hand while you smiled at the shining star on the stage. 

Even the red haired pirate made you smile with his laughter and jokes, with his charm and soothing voice. Even with that missed smudge of red paint on his chin, you smiled at the thought of Buggy being happy. 

“Look at my star,” he hummed, his upper body racing to you faster than his legs could when the show was done. They left the band going for you, letting you sway. “You okay, baby?”

“Mhm,” you lied, not caring what Crocodile did to you now. “I think I need to stand.”

Pushing away from the table, every eye on you felt like pressure, felt like the real world was crushing you.

“Pretend,” you ordered, huffing a laugh at what a spoiled, little rich girl you were. “Everything is fine and we’re having a wonderful night, all of us together. Okay?”

Your three men promised, their voices soothing, but the forth voice cut through when the red haired man stood. 

“Everything is wonderful,” he beamed, offering you his hand. “Would you like to show me what a wonderful dancer you are, bunny?”

He looked so pleased when you snorted, and even more so when you took his hand. You didn’t think about why you shouldn’t or why anyone would stop you. 

I just want to pretend. 

~~~~~~

~~~🔴🔴🔴~~~

This poor thing. I’ve gotta get her out of here.

Shanks led Y/N to that gleaming floor, sparing just a glance at Buggy. His clown didn’t match his smile, and he couldn’t blame him. 

How could he smile when his poor girl was coming undone?

“Your technique is amazing,” he teased as he kept her from rolling her ankle. “Where did you train?”

“I trained at— shut up,” she narrowed her eyes, so fucking cute. 

“You actually trained,” he laughed, pulling her squirming body against his until her eyes went wide, her breathing slowed. His next words came out soft, but there was no need to hide from his old friend anymore. Mihawk couldn’t stop this. 

“I’ll protect you,” he vowed, watching her eyes clench shut. “Come with me after the party. I don't care about your family’s wealth. I don’t care where you came from. I just care about Buggy, and the One Piece. And now you.”

Those pretty eyes were teary again when they opened, and he felt a twinge of guilt before he charged on. 

“You can be free, Y/N.”

“Tomorrow,” she sighed, body slumping a bit against his. “Tonight we’re pretending that everyone cares, that everyone gets along, that no one would ever use me. Can you pretend?”

The emptiness in her voice made his stomach twist, something foul hiding behind her tired request.

“Of course. Anything for you, bunny,” he promised, kissing the top of her head. When he turned to look for Buggy, he clenched his jaw, fighting to keep tension out of his body while he danced with Y/N. 

Mihawk’s hands were on Buggy, stroking his hair, smoothing over his thigh while the clown laid on the table in front of those scumbags. Even Crocodile leaned closer, rubbing his large hand along Buggy’s back before heading to the dance floor.

“May I have the next dance, sweetheart?”

“Yes, daddy,” she hummed, pulling away from Shanks, not even meeting his eyes before skipping toward her kneeling captor. She wrapped her arms around his neck, giggling when he stood. Her feet dangled while he held her thighs against that massive chest. 

“Mm, see? My sweet girl doesn’t need to be a good dancer when daddy’s around.”

She squealed as the tyrant carried her across the gleaming floor, satisfied laughter floating along behind them. 

Shanks tried not to gape at that sweet girl giggling in the arms of a man that destroyed an entire country for his own fucking greed. 

Poor thing.

~~~🔴🔴🔴~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🐊🤡🗡️~~~

“Aren’t you gonna stop them,” Buggy asked, watching his two favorite people head toward the empty dance floor. Wondering why he didn’t feel happier seeing them together. 

“We’re never gonna do that again,” Crocodile rasped, the strange tension in his words making Buggy whip his head around to frown at that intense face. “We’re not going to force either of you to do anything you don’t want to.”

Buggy was rarely out of words, but he simply stared at the man, his red lips parted in almost comical confusion. 

“I’m sorry, Buggy.”

Those words from the swordsman’s lips had Buggy fearing that he’d died, that his mind was imagining ridiculous scenarios while his body left this world. 

But those golden eyes didn’t fade to nothingness. They kept staring at him, those dangerous fingers reaching for his own. 

“The fuck…”

“We’re bad people,” Crocodile announced, and the firmness of it made Buggy crack up, his pretty throat exposed while that blue hair fell back. 

Crocodile felt the urge to be angry. To demand fear. 

That shit was getting old. 

And his little clown was cute when he laughed. His little clown was cute when he made everyone laugh. 

Still annoying. But cute.

“We’re bad people,” Crocodile apologized, smoothing his hand along Buggy’s back. “That’s not gonna change. But I wish we hadn’t been bad to you. We hope… I hope you’ll let us make it up to you.”

Buggy blinked up at Crocodile in shock, and Mihawk almost laughed. It was surprising to hear so many nice words out of such frightening lips all at once, especially without their darling in front of him.

Mihawk cut through layers and layers of guilt to touch Buggy’s lovely hair, to smooth a hand over his thigh. 

No matter which direction he went, he would be hurting someone. There would be no true redemption for a wicked soul like his. 

But he could start here with crystal blue eyes, and a silly nose. A nose he used to ridicule, but lately had caught himself almost smiling at when he saw it. Fighting not to reach for his little clown. And why shouldn’t he reach? Who the fuck was he trying to impress? This clown was more interesting than anyone he could think of. 

“I am a terrible person. A selfish, cruel bastard. An asshole,” he whispered, staring into his clown’s wide eyes.

“Uh, yeah,” Buggy agreed cautiously, a nervous laugh leaving his throat as his eyes flicked back and forth between his tormentors. 

“I’m sorry too, little clown,” Crocodile rasped, fingers pressing in gently against Buggy’s sore muscles. “I know it’s not worth much after everything, but I’d like to take care of you now. Make sure no monster like me hurts you, or our girl again.”

Crocodile watched his little clown try to understand him. He knew it wasn’t worth shit. How could a few words make up for the terror and pain he’d caused? He fought the instinct to slam his hook into the table at his own discomfort, his body not used to accepting guilt. 

But this brave little clown had stood up to him. Over and over. Protected his sweet girl from him before he knew how precious she was. Made her laugh. 

Made him laugh.

“We won’t hurt you if you leave, even if you take her with you. I hope you stay though,” Crocodile confessed, leaning over Buggy as he stood to walk toward the dance floor. “I’d love to spoil you, little clown.”

Buggy almost fell off the table when Crocodile kissed his temple, and the playful smirk on Mihawk’s face didn’t help. 

These men were fucking horrible.

Dickbags. Monsters. Pieces of shits.

But they were also interesting. Relaxing. Intoxicating. Overwhelming. 

They made her smile. Made her scream. 

Mihawk chuckled softly, and Buggy realized that his eyes had fluttered when he thought about these big, scary, bad guys fucking his pretty star. 

Fucking him. 

“So, where’s the after party, Mr. President?”

Buggy let out an embarrassingly high yelp at Shanks’ question, breathed along the back of his neck.

“Our little rabbit wants us to pretend we all get along,” Mihawk purred, danger and challenge in those golden eyes. “Think we can all get along on that giant bed, or should I tell–”

“Can we,” Buggy asked, looking up at Shanks’ grin. 

What if this is it? What if this is the end?

Buggy wasn’t sure which “end” he was more concerned with, and that made him want to beat his head against the table. 

What the fuck do I want?

~~~🐊🤡🗡️~~~

~~~~~~

I want to forget everything. I want everything to freeze right here, tonight. Never start again. Just this.

“All you gotta do is tell us what you want, sweetheart,” Crocodile promised, his hand tracing down your bare skin after Mihawk freed you from those fancy clothes they’d picked out for you. You giggled when Buggy started from the bottom, kissing up your ankle and shin, shivering when Shanks mirrored him on the other side. 

“You said we all need to get along, right, love,” Mihawk teased, his voice alone making your body tighten with need. “My little vixen… You want everyone to get along inside you, don’t you? Want us to spoil our little darling? Want us to drown you in come?”

“Fuck, please,” you begged, interupting Crocodile’s weak argument against it. Interrupting whatever flimsy excuse he could muster up for why they shouldn’t fuck your brains out tonight. “Please, fucking take me.”

“Anything for you, little rabbit.”

Oh gods.

 So many things. So many sensations. 

Buggy on his knees in front of you, his tongue finding your clit like a fucking magnet. Shanks behind you, his hand holding one of your cheeks aside while his hypnotic tongue made you cry out, teasing, and then fucking your ass while you twitched. 

Mihawk gripped your hair, forcing his tongue into your mouth while you whined before he shoved your head down, shoving your mouth over Crocodile’s thick cock. You cried, struggling against his size, until Mihawk took your place, showing you how it’s done. 

Crocodile threw his head back, and the needy moan from Mihawk’s stuffed throat was enough, Buggy and Shanks’ tongues sending you screaming for the first time that night. 

“Don’t stop,” you begged, falling back against Shanks’ chest while you devoured the sight of Crocodile fucking Mihawk’s throat, fisting that soft, black hair, and calling him his “sweet, little prince.”

“Want us to fuck you, little bunny? Want us inside you?”

“Please, gods…”

“You heard her, Bugs, let’s–” 

“Shut the fuck up, and fuck my girl’s ass already.”

Buggy was already kissing along your cheek as they kneeled on either side of you, whispering to check if it was alright. Lubed fingers were shoved up your ass while your eyes rolled back, not ready for the pressure that was about to fill you. 

“Oh, ffuck…”

“Little bunny likes getting fucked like this, huh? Like my cock in your tight, little ass? How did I know you’d feel so fucking good? Fuck her, Buggy. Let me feel your cock inside her.”

“Buggy!”

“Fuck, star… Gods,” Buggy moaned as he forced himself inside your needy cunt. He kissed you while you fell apart, whimpering and screaming with every greedy thrust. “Shanks…”

“I feel you, Bugs,” Shanks purred, his strong fingers finding your clit. He made you come, screaming your voice away while he talked to your clown. “She’s perfect, Buggy. Let me feel you come inside her. Let’s fill her up. You wanna please him so bad, don’t you? You want his come, bunny?”

“Need it,” you managed to moan while you twitched. 

They may have said more words, but all you knew was their achingly hot pleasure pouring so fucking deep inside you. They filled and filled you while they kissed each other over your shoulder, letting out sweet, little moans while you took everything that their cocks could give you. 

Before they were done fucking each other through your body, you felt Mihawk’s fingers in your hair, tugging just hard enough to pull you out of the feelings you were about to dip into. 

 “Want more, darling?”

“Please.”

“So voracious. I wonder if these little boys can keep up.”

“We're just getting warmed up,” Shanks taunted, fucking his come into your ass with a few wicked thrusts while you spasmed against him. “Can’t wait to see what other tricks our pretty bunny can do.”

“Come here, sweetheart," Crocodile purred from the bed, sitting against the headboard. “Daddy’s cock’ll make you forget everything.”

Whining, you begged to get off of the two cocks that had just made you scream, and onto the one that would rip you apart. 

“Come on, boys,” Mihawk ordered as he helped you line yourself up, their come dripping down to mix with the lube Crocodile had rubbed over himself for you. “Let’s watch our lovely girl’s sweet pussy get destroyed.”

“Fuck, daddy,” you cried out, the stretch of him inside you still a shock after all your time together. “Daddy, it’s too much.”

“Nah, babygirl,” he soothed, kissing your neck while his hand guided your body over his. “You can take it. Take it for daddy. Take everything...”

“My little rabbit,” Mihawk hummed, kissing up the back of your neck. “You love it when we take you like this, don’t you?”

You started to say yes, but when he shoved himself into your come-soaked ass, all you could do was scream. All you could do was pant, and twitch, and come, and then fucking come again when they told you what a good, little girl you were. 

“You fuck our girl so well, little prince,” Crocodile praised, bringing a soft moan from Mihawk’s throat. “Gonna stuff her sweet ass for daddy? Show me what a pretty mess you can make?”

You both cried out, their cocks twitching inside you. So fucking good.

“Mm, be a good boy, and kiss me first. Make our sweet girl come with your fingers again.”

“Daddy,” you fell apart, feeling his lips on yours before you watched him kiss Mihawk over your shoulder. Your head fell to the side, and your eyes rolled back at the sight of Buggy and Shanks with hands and lips all over each other.

But Buggy’s eyes were on you. 

“Buggy,” you whispered at the sight of him, and suddenly he was there. He was kissing you. 

“My little clown,” Crocodile purred, fisting his hand through that gorgeous blue hair. “Wanna make it up to him, little prince?”

“Yes, daddy,” Mihawk breathed, his fingers still making you twitch. 

Buggy had already stopped kissing you, staring back and forth between the two men while they fucked into you, while he trailed his hands down your skin. 

“I wanna take care of you,” Crocodile promised, his voice getting rougher as he fucked you open. “You know I’ll take care of you, don’t you, little clown?”

Your mind was almost lost to it all, almost fucked out, but his words felt heavy, vital. Your breath caught, waiting for your clown to answer. 

“Yes, daddy.”

“Mm, such a good boy for me,” Crocodile praised, tugging that blue hair a little harder while you came on their cocks again. “Show him how sorry you are, little prince. Suck his dick. Let Buggy fuck that mean little mouth of yours.”

If you weren’t already coming, you knew you would have at those words, at the shocked look on Buggy’s face when Mihawk opened wide, at the sounds they both made when Buggy shoved his floating cock so deep, so fucking fast into the swordsman’s throat. 

“Fuck yeah, daddy’s so fucking proud of you,” Crocodile groaned, thick come spilling down the sides of his cock as he filled you. Mihawk made delicious whimpering noises while he came in your ass, Buggy’s cock strangling him, then spilling across that perfect face when it pulled away. 

You caught Buggy’s eyes when he stared at his mess, his satisfaction making you twitch again. Mihawk reached for Buggy, kissing him hard over your shoulder. 

The door closed. It wasn’t a slam. That probably would have helped you remember why there was a door at all, let alone another human being on the fucking planet. 

But the door shut, and Buggy was gone, leaving your body screaming until your other lovers let you loose, praising, and kissing, and touching, until you shivered with pleasure. Carrying you into the shower like they had that first night. 

Buggy returned, helping to scrub Crocodile’s shoulders, making you all laugh under that lovely, warm water. 

So many pretty lies. 

Smiling against Buggy’s chest, with Crocodile curled up behind you, and Mihawk’s hand touching you from around Buggy’s body, you felt perfect. 

This was exactly what you’d wanted. 

Exactly the kind of pretend you had asked for. 

Tonight you only dreamed of the transponder snail, and you decided not to answer. 

~~~~~~

~~~🔴🔴🔴~~~

It was already too much. Too much that Buggy couldn’t keep his eyes off of them. 

It’s okay. He loves her. We’ll take her away.

Those words rang through Shanks’ mind while his clown couldn’t look away from the monsters in that bed. It was okay, even when Buggy left him without a second glance to kiss her. It was just for her.

Until it wasn't.

He called him daddy.

He let Mihawk… 

Mihawk had… 

Now they're kissing like that… 

Shanks had to leave. 

“Shanks, hey! Where ya going?”

The red haired emperor rarely had to lie. Rarely had to fake a thing. Never had to fake a smile. 

But he did now.

Shanks plastered a smile on his face, tilting his head at his lovely, old friend. 

“I’m good, Bugs,” he lied, moving close. He was about to touch his chin, but the thought of Mihawk there made him pause. “You should sleep in there with her. If you come with me tomorrow, then this is your last night to play pretend with them.”

“But–”

“It’s okay,” Shanks lied again, getting over himself to kiss those faded red lips. “I’ll be here in the morning, Bugs. I’m not going anywhere without you.”

Soft, sweet eyes scanned his face, so Shanks held onto that fake smile as tight as he could. Wanting his clown to be happy.

“Okay,” Buggy whispered, reaching for his hips to pull him closer. "You can join us if you want. I’m sure–”

“I’ll be alright,” Shanks laughed, fighting not to shove Buggy back into that room, and slam the door on his new life that made no fucking sense. “Goodnight, baby. Dream about me.”

A bit of satisfaction ran through him at the shudder Buggy gave when he teased those words, kissing below his ear. The emperor turned around before his clown could say another word.

Shanks needed to get the fuck out of there. 

Before he hurt someone. 

~~~🔴🔴🔴~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🗡️🗡️🗡️~~~

Mihawk couldn’t recall feeling the amount of pleasure, safety, and comfort that he had tonight. The warmth and slow breathing of his three lovers would have had him drifting off. 

Yet, he couldn't recall feeling the level of terror and helplessness he had felt when he watched Y/N fracture, the chaos in her distant eyes sending ice through his veins.

His darling's secrets kept him awake, especially at the searing thought that she might leave with Shanks. She might leave before he could hunt and kill whatever had poured that poisonous laughter down her throat.

That laughter.

“Hey, Hawk Eyes.”

Shanks’ quiet voice taunted through the halls, dangerous laughter floating with it.

“I know you’re awake, old friend. Let’s have a chat.”

~~~🗡️🗡️🗡️~~~

Likes, comments, and reblogs bring me much ✨dopamine✨ thank you!!

a/n: Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed the DRAMA! How's everybody doing?

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Chapter 21

Operation Olive Branch has compiled a working spreadsheet of ways to help families fleeing from the genocide in Palestine. If you enjoyed this fic, and are able, please click the link to find a list of GoFundMe's, as well as other ways to help.

| masterlist | about me | rules | ao3 |

[magicalbats]

Kinktober 2024 Day 9: Eremites x Reader

Rating: R-18+

Word Count: 7148

Warnings: Afab!reader, coercion, dubcon to noncon, size difference, anal fingering, anal sex, anal creampie, anal gape, tag teaming, passed around, ass to mouth, cumflation, multiple orgasms, stomach distention, pregnancy mentions, implied piv, implied double penetration

A/N: Do you guys remember when I did that Eremite poll not too long ago? 🤭 Now, I do have to warn that this one got kind of gross BUT when I write any kind of butt stuff I simply pretend like excrement does not exist. Like at all. So no matter how I describe anything involving this topic there is absolutely NO scat content in this fic or any other I post. That's one of my 'absolutely not's for a reason! I promise this is a safe space for us anal enjoyers lol

⭐

The dark winding corridors that lead further and further down into the bowels of the earth seem never ending. You’d read, of course, that the construction of King Deshret’s various temples and monuments scattered across his kingdom in the now barren desert had been long, arduous endeavors each that took many, many years to finish. But somehow you hadn’t grasped the full scope of it until you were traversing one of them yourself, stomping down the same path the ancients had once walked with sand grit caught in your shoes. 

You were hot and tired, and growing increasingly more irate the further you went into the stuffy, closed off space of the underground network. Claustrophobia wasn’t usually a problem you had to deal with but it was getting harder not to succumb to that instinctive spike of anxiety when you thought about how many tons of sand and stone must be sitting right over your head. It was enough to make anyone panic. 

Luckily your guides don’t appear to have any such concerns about getting out of here or not, and that goes a long way in helping you keep your head on straight. If they were well acquainted enough with the layout of this temple to not have to worry about such things then you were probably in good hands. 

Or so you wanted to believe, anyway. 

“Sorry to ask this again but … are we starting to get close now?” 

The one who’d curtly introduced himself as Sunfrost back at Caravan Ribat huffs a faint sound of acknowledgement but otherwise keeps his attention turned forward at the path ahead. “Soon. The chamber is just a little further on.” 

Never mind the fact he’d said the same thing almost an hour ago now. 

You’d been mentally keeping track so you could notate how long it took to get from the now long distant entrance of this place to the hidden inner chamber deep within but it had quickly turned into some bizarre form of self flagellation. You were just a student of the Akademiya, you weren’t built for walking for hours on end. 

Oh, if only one of them would offer to carry you for a while, you’d happily take them up on that and probably even throw in a bonus on top of it. You didn’t have a whole lot of mora to spare but in this case it would’ve been well worth the extra expense.  

Unfortunately the Eremites were, by nature, not very fond of anyone who came from Sumeru’s rainforest, let alone those who were affiliated with the prestigious school there. It had taken you a few days just to find someone who’d even listen to your request and then a few more on top of that to find a mercenary actually willing to take on the job. They didn’t truly care about you or your wellbeing, a simple fact that had only been made all the more apparent over the course of this relentless death march they were leading you on. It felt like an eternity had gone by since the last time you were permitted to sit down and rest. 

The other one who called himself Stone Enchanter liked you even less than Sunfrost though, and he’d barely spoken more than five words to you so far. In truth you’d been more than just a little hesitant to accept their help when both of them were so large and imposing, not to mention clearly very dangerous individuals, having much preferred to work with someone who was a bit less scary, but you’d had no other option at that point. The memory of them towering over you on one of the caravan roads where they’d cornered you still sends a vague shudder racing down your spine. At first you’d thought they were going to rob you, not offer up their services. 

But you’d already made it this far and it was much too late for second thoughts now. You were miles underground in the labyrinthine maze below the Dune of Carouses with no reasonable grasp on which way was which after taking so many turns and descending an innumerable amount of crumbling staircases to get here. These two were the only thing standing between you and certain death down in the silent tombs so you had no choice but to trust them. 

And when you finally step into a spacious chamber at the far end of the corridor you’d traveled together, you think that your patience is paying off at last. This room looks virtually indistinguishable from all the others you’d had to pass through to get here with the sole exception of a massive slate door on the opposite wall. It looked like it hadn’t been touched in centuries, your eager excitement quickly making you forget your fatigue as you hurry over to examine it. 

“This is amazing.” You murmur, reverently putting your hand on top of the carved stone to feel along the hieroglyphic inscription. This thing must have weighed a ton and you wonder not for the first time how the people of Deshret’s civilization managed such a feat. What remained of their monuments on the surface was already impressive enough, but this was so deep below the sand that it was hard to imagine how they’d accomplished it. 

“Is it all that you’d hoped for?” Sunfrost asks as he comes up behind you with Stone Enchanter bringing up the rear. 

“Yes, this is exactly what I was trying to find. This should lead straight to a treasure room if the books in the House of Daena are right.” Your head positively swims with thoughts of all the ancient artifacts just out of reach as you turn to look at them imploringly. “Do you know how to open it? Everything I read just briefly mentioned some sort of mechanism but I don’t see anything like that here.” 

Silently, the two Eremites exchange a shuttered look with one another. 

“We know how,” Sunfrost says in a careful tone, somehow eyeing you through the red brocade tied over his eyes. You’re not sure if it’s genuine or just a result of the blindfolds making you uneasy, but a sharp chill works through you in response. 

“Then will you tell me? Please?” 

Another glance is exchanged between them but this time it’s Stone Enchanter who speaks. “I doubt you’ll like the answer.” 

Your surprise at hearing him talk is quickly overshadowed by the deeply unsettling confusion that washes over you. “What do you mean? Is it not like the other mechanisms we passed on the way here?” 

Breathing out a terse sigh that makes his broad shoulders rise and fall, Sunfrost steps forward to come tower over you much like he had back at Caravan Ribat. “Tell me, little scholar. How much do you know about the magick of the forgotten civilization?” 

You frown up at him at that. “I know a fair amount but I don’t think I’d call it magic. The technological advancements of King - -“ 

“Ah, but that’s not all it is, is it? You seem clever enough for someone who hails from the comfortable rainforest so you must realize that there was more at play than mere technology. What do you suppose powers those machines, hm?” 

Chewing on your bottom lip, you turn that over for a moment. He certainly wasn’t wrong about that and they did seem to be fairly familiar with this place so … 

“Alright.” You relent, bringing your head up to look at him head on. “What you’re saying is this door doesn’t utilize the same mechanical components as the others but some sort of — magic seal?” 

Sunfrost nods to make his tied off hair bounce slightly with the motion. “Yes. This leads to a very important inner chamber, after all. It only makes sense to protect what’s inside with higher security measures.” 

“Okay, what do we have to do to unseal it then?” 

“Well - -“

“The inscription says that a pound of flesh must be offered up if you wish to gain entry to what lies beyond.” Stone Enchanter cuts in, not mincing his words or sugar coating it even a little bit. “Do not look so frightened, scholar. It’s not as gruesome as what you’re probably thinking. A human offering can be made in several different ways, can’t it?” 

“That’s right.” Sunfrost helpfully nods his head again. “Sex magick was favored by Al-Ahmar and his courtiers at many times during his long and prosperous reign. It can be even more effective in stopping unwanted intruders than a true blood rite.” 

“Wait —“ Your head positively reels in outright disbelief as you hold up a hand to stop him from going on any further. “You can’t be serious, right? Do you really expect me to believe that?” 

“Believe it or don’t.” Stone Enchanter huffs, crossing his big, burly arms across his equally massive chest. “We are telling you how to open the door. It is none of our concern if you’d rather turn back now since we’ll be getting paid either way.” 

“B - but this doesn’t even make any sense.” You stammer. “Even if I wanted to proceed there isn’t anyone here who can …” 

You trail off into stunned silence at the pointed looks they both send you. It takes you a prolonged moment to fully understand what they were trying to say without outright saying it, and your face immediately burns hot enough to fry an egg on. 

“No. No way, absolutely not!” 

“Then we will leave and return to Caravan Ribat.” 

“No! Just — give me a second to think!” Hands coming up to clutch at your blazing hot cheeks, you set in to anxiously pace back and forth in front of the door while the two Eremites disinterestedly watch on. 

But no matter how you tried to slice it there was no getting around this if what they’d said was true. Either you had to resort to politely asking one of them to have sex with you or you had to return back to the Akademiya empty handed. It was truly a matter of choosing between either the fire or the pot, and you struggle just to wrap your head around such a difficult decision. 

This could not be happening. It couldn’t be! 

“Do you truly find us that disagreeable?” Stone Enchanter finally asks after a long moment of tension filled silence, making you aggressively round on him. 

“That is hardly the problem here! I - I’ve never … I didn’t plan to do something like this so suddenly, and with someone I barely even know on top of that.”

“You’re a virgin.” Sunfrost supplies, and even though you can’t see it through the headband tied over his face you can all but sense his brows lifting in genuine surprise. 

“Even putting that aside,” You hiss, shooting him a dangerous look. “I can’t run the risk of getting pregnant on this expedition. I’m still in school! I’ll never be able to graduate if I have to take care of a baby!” 

“There’s an easy way around that.” Stone Enchanter says, cooly interrupting you mid outburst and earning himself a sharp look of ire from you as well. “You have more than one hole, don’t you? And only one of them is known to result in a baby.” 

You just stare at him in numb disbelief. He wasn’t actually suggesting … he couldn’t be! 

“Wha — a - and how exactly do you expect to accomplish that, huh? Just right here on the floor like I’m nothing more than an animal to you?” 

“No. It must be done on the offering slate.” Sunfrost nudges his chin at the stout dais you’d completely bypassed in favor of the much more interesting door. 

Situated directly in front of the sealed entryway but pushed back from it by a few feet, it was all too easy to overlook in your initial excitement but looking at it now you can see the wisdom in what he was saying. You’d thought there weren’t any mechanisms in this room but it was actually right in front of your face the entire time. It was logical enough to guess that it was likely meant for some sort of ritualistic purpose given its important positioning as well as the intricate carvings decorating the slate sides of it but …

It feels like your stomach is doing anxious somersaults as you regard the fixture like it was something that might jump up and bite you, yet you still find yourself grudgingly coming to terms with the situation. If this was truly the only way then you had no choice. You’d spent far too much mora and time on this expedition, tirelessly trekked over countless miles just to get here, and you simply couldn’t turn back now. 

Resolutely bringing your head up, you look the two Eremites over with a frown. “Fine. I’ll do it. But I don’t want you touching me.” 

Stone Enchanter stiffens slightly when you point an accusing finger at him. “What did I do?” 

“You’re incredibly rude, for starters.” Narrowing your eyes at him in warning, you decisively turn your finger on Sunfrost next. “You. Will you d - do it with me, or not?” 

The ponytailed man sends his companion a silent look before breathing out another clipped sigh, this one somehow even more long suffering than the last. “I suppose I don’t really have a choice, do I?”

Your face positively burns at his martyred act but even as someone who was not overly familiar with this sort of thing you can still recognize the anticipation in his body language now. At least as a man you could trust him to not have any problems giving you what you want, and you stubbornly keep your head held high as you walk over to join them by the slate dais even though every single alarm bell in your head was going off all at once. You couldn’t actually believe you were about to go through with this, and the fast thrumming adrenaline pumping through your system seems to be the only thing that keeps you going. 

“What should I do to get ready?” You ask as you sidle up beside him, earning a brief glance from the exceptionally tall man. 

“Take off your pants and any underwear you might be wearing.” 

Well, at least that sounded easy enough. 

Hesitantly reaching for the front of your slacks, you make careful work of slowly unfastening them so you can shove the material down your legs. They’re kicked off right along with your boots and, unsure of the etiquette, you decide to take your socks off as well. Standing there in your underwear with two men you’d just met only a few days prior almost makes you second guess this decision but the promise of what lies beyond that door urges you on. The chance to make a name for yourself before you’d even graduated and earn the academic accolades that would come with it was simply far too tempting to resist. 

Resolutely sliding your panties down and stepping out of them, you find yourself fiddling with the bottom hem of your blouse as you look up to Sunfrost for his next instruction. 

“Okay, what’s next? Should I just - -“ 

A startled gasp cuts you off when he smoothly pivots towards you and grabs under your arms so he can heft you up without even an ounce of difficulty to show for it. Squeaking at suddenly finding yourself much further up from the ground than you were used to, you blindly latch your fingers onto the firm, unwavering stretch of his forearms to hold on for dear life. 

All he does is set you down on top of the carved slab and then lay you back against it though, surprisingly gentle despite the manhandling. The polished surface is infused with a deep, dank chill that makes goosebumps erupt all over your body as soon as your bare skin touches it, nipples pebbling to hard points against the interior of your brassiere. A soft whimper slips out of you as he pulls back to situate himself while Stone Enchanter watches on from the side. Despite the red blindfold hiding his eyes from your line of sight, you can tell he’s unabashedly studying the fleshy seam between your legs. 

No, that wasn’t quite right. Both of them were. 

You’d never felt quite so anxious or jittery with nerves in all your life, and you uncertainly track the motion of Sunfrost’s hand when he pulls something out of his supplies pack. “W - what is that?” 

“Oil.” 

You gulp so hard it almost makes you gag. “What … what kind of oil?” 

“Does it really matter what kind it is?” Stone Enchanter chimes in with a condescending tilt of his head. “You’ll be thankful for it soon enough so relax. You might even enjoy it.”

You very much doubted that but you keep those thoughts to yourself as Sunfrost shuffles into the space between your legs where he nudges one of your ankles upward with his free hand. “Hold them up and keep them spread for me. This won’t work if you’re trying to squeeze them shut.” 

It’s a struggle just to breathe with your heart wedged inside your throat but you slowly comply, curling your legs up and letting them fall into a shameless spread that you know completely bares you to them. There isn’t an inch of you they can’t see clearly like this, the thought alone embarrassing you enough to feel faint. 

But you just keep reminding yourself what you were doing this for, why you were sacrificing your dignity in such a humiliating manner while Sunfrost makes quick work of unscrewing the cap from the vial. You watch him reach down between your legs where he carefully upends it and you hiss at the first cool, sticky touch of the copious liquid. 

You can feel it clinging to your skin, making a goopy mess of you where it hits its mark in the center seam of your cunt. It’s incredibly watery though despite the thick consistency and it quickly dribbles down in excess to coat your twitching asshole. It’s a strange feeling, and one you don’t think you like very much, but you clench your teeth to keep silent while Sunfrost crowds his other hand close to rub the mysterious liquid over your puckered hole. 

At least he’s being gentle about it, you think to yourself. But at the same time you’re more than just slightly alarmed at how quickly the goop he spreads over your skin makes the muscle start to puff up and loosen under his ministrations. You can feel it in stunning high definition, especially when he starts to focus in on the center of it, and you soon find your breath coming a little quicker, a little harder. You were starting to get unbearably hot too. 

And then when he finally starts to ease the tip of one blocky finger into the slackened wrinkle, you choke on a haggard sound at the ease with which he penetrates you. Whatever kind of oil that is, it was incredibly efficient as a lubricant and even the sensitive squeeze of your untested passage isn’t enough to keep him out. Sunfrost just slides right up into you straight down to the knuckle, and you positively quake there on top of that slate slab. 

“Do not tense up, little scholar. It will only do you more harm than good in the long run.” He chides you, the noticeable drop in his voice registering somewhere far in the back of your mind. You’re a bit too caught up in the reeling rush of sharp edged stimuli to linger on it for very long though, shuddering fiercely as he starts to thrust in and out of you. 

“Oooh, Archons, that’s …” 

“Only one finger.” Stone Enchanter chuckles from somewhere just on the edge of your fuzzy periphery. “You’ll have to take something much larger than that before this is through.” 

“It’s working though.” Sunfrost adds. “Look at the door. That should be all the proof you need to know we’re telling you the truth.” 

Feeling dizzy and disoriented now, you slowly loll your head back against the surface they’ve got you laid out on to peer over at the sealed entrance. Sure enough, the center node fitted into the meticulously carved stone was starting to glow the faintest blue, as if it were actively getting a charge from the scene playing out before it. 

You knew you should have been excited and happy about this revelation but somehow you’re just a little too distracted by the constant push and pull of Sunfrost’s hand to really focus on that right now. Especially not when you were keenly aware of the fleshy cling of your asshole gripping him on the way out before readily accepting the stretch on the next inward plunge. It was strange and borderline uncomfortable, but at least it didn’t hurt. 

Even when he adds a second finger to further open you up for him, it just makes you squirm at the odd sensation of it all. The strangest part though was the sympathetic reaction in your cunt which gradually starts to grow hot and sticky the longer this goes on, almost as if it too wanted to be stretched and filled. You couldn’t make any sense of it when your head felt like it was stuffed with cotton so you just lie there and take it, hoping this ordeal would be over sooner rather than later. 

“That’s still a tight fit,” Sunfrost murmurs after a prolonged stretch of silence only interspersed by the soft, sticky click of your asshole accepting his fingers and the strained inhales you suck in. “Guess you really are a virgin.” 

“What else did you expect after the way she was carrying on?” 

Your annoyance with Stone Enchanter only seems to grow every time he opens his mouth but this, too, doesn’t seem half as pressing as your slowly building arousal. 

You were a bit miffed that this was actually having some kind of positive effect on you despite your best attempts to ignore it and remain impartial. That was a losing battle though, and you can only whimper a high strung sound when you feel him start to work a third finger into your loosely clenching hole. Now it starts to toe the line of painful, prompting you to hiss a sharp breath as you thunk your head back against the slate. 

“I - it hurts!” 

“You need to relax, or it really will hurt here in a moment. How do you expect to take my cock if you can’t even handle a few fingers?” 

Seething a wounded little sound, you turn your head to look over at the door again. It was still just barely glowing and it didn’t look like it had increased in strength at all since the last time you’d checked. You really were going to have to see this through all the way. 

“Can you bear down slowly?” Sunfrost’s voice pulls your attention back around with a tiny broken whimper. 

You aren’t sure what else to do with your hands so you resort to reaching out to either side so you can clutch at the ledge of the dais in a death grip. Screwing your eyes shut in an attempt to dissuade the embarrassed tears that form in them, you hesitantly do as he’d requested and push down on his fingers, allowing him to slide the additional digit in right alongside the rest. You couldn’t even believe how stretched out your ass felt around him or the vaguely burning throb that comes with it. Worst of all is your cunt and how very empty it feels, your toes helplessly clenching and unclenching in the air as you try to suppress the urge to start squirming. 

Your pussy felt like it was soaked and nobody had even touched it yet. How were you possibly supposed to get through this without mindlessly begging them to fuck you? 

“There,” Sunfrost murmurs, adding a small twist to the thrusting motion of his hand so he can thoroughly stretch out your tight inner sleeve. “That’s much better. Just focus on your breathing and it’ll be over before you know it.” 

All you manage is a faltering mewl in response, feeling so overwhelmed by the unfamiliar sensations and the rush of stimuli that you can hardly even think straight anymore. 

You’re so lost in the punchdrunk haze that you’re not quite certain how long he actually spends working your asshole open, but you are keenly aware of the muscle struggling to close again when he finally pulls back some time later. It’s like there’s a second heartbeat mirrored in your lower body, echoed twice over in both your pussy and your ass, and you’re really not sure how to process any of it. 

So you just lie there while he fumbles around between your legs for a moment, drunkenly lolling in and out of reality until you feel Sunfrost shuffle right up against you. The nudge of something smooth and fleshy pressing in on your back entrance startles you out of your stupor though, and you quickly snap your head up to look down. 

Your eyes almost pop right out of your head when you see how very large and rigid he is, frightened panic quickly rushing in to drown out some of the delirium. Sucking in a frazzled breath, you start to shove yourself upright but he’s quick to grab hold of your ankles, keeping them elevated and forcing you to stay down in the process. 

“W - wait, I can’t - - it’s too big!” You wail, uselessly twisting your legs but his hold on you is as good as iron. It was clear you wouldn’t be going anywhere soon, not until he decided to let you go. 

“You can.” He intones, nudging his hips forward to just dip the head of his cock past the struggling ring of muscle to rest along the inner rim. “And you will. Just breathe through it and bear down when I start to slide in.” 

You can see Stone Enchanter stiffly shifting his weight at the edge of your peripheral but you’re a little too focused on not devolving into a full blown panic attack to pay him much mind right now. It would have been a frightening prospect to have that huge thing bullied into your cunt but your asshole … you genuinely didn’t think it would fit. No matter how much he’d stretched you out beforehand, there was a problem with the logistics! 

To your rattling surprise though he does indeed start to slip inside you one torturous, slow moving inch at a time. A little nudge here, leaning into you to let his weight do the job there. You’re horrified at how wide your asshole actually spreads open around his girth to grant him entry to your body, that viscous lubricant making the slide as easy as it probably could be given the size difference. And he just keeps coming, feeding more and more of his cock into you until it feels like he’s reaching deep enough to press in on your guts. 

You’re not sure when exactly the tears start up in earnest but your face is coated in hot, salty tracks by the time he finally nudges his hips up against your ass. Rapidly sucking in one ragged breath after another, you just lie there and pitifully shake while the sensation of being so deeply impaled on his length threatens to send you teetering right over the edge. It was inconceivable that you should feel this horribly close to an orgasm when your ass was the only thing being stuffed full at the moment. 

Heaving a low, masculine grunt, Sunfrost gradually starts to move then, halfheartedly rocking his pelvis to give you a chance to adjust. Everything from the waist down is so sensitized and tender that even that much you feel in blinding starbursts of friction which practically has your eyes rolling back in your head. 

“How do you like that cock in your ass, little scholar? Does it feel good?” 

Blubbering a weak, faltering moan into the stuffy room, you plaintively shake your head. You didn’t like this, you didn’t! 

Stone Enchanter chuckles a rumbling sound somewhere just off to your left as Sunfrost starts to pick up the pace, easing himself out only enough so he can then push back in. It was clear even to you that he was building himself up to fuller strokes though, something you couldn’t even conceive when your ruined asshole was already weakly clinging to his thick shaft, and you have to force yourself to shoot another bleary look over at the door. 

It was indeed glowing a brighter color now, as if it really were responding to the defilement of your body. You probably would have laughed if you’d had the extra oxygen to do so. You weren’t sure how you were ever going to recover from this so you sorely hoped whatever was waiting on the other side was well worth the price. 

And as the minutes continue to tick by in this fashion, Sunfrost becomes ever more uninhibited both in the way he eagerly fucks into your ass and the resounding noises of pleasure he lets out while he does it. At some point he even lets go of your ankles, confident you wouldn’t be going anywhere, and he allows your legs to weakly curl around his sides while he braces his hands along the top of the slab. Even in your intoxicated state of mind you can tell he’s longingly watching your tits bounce underneath your blouse with each and every thrust he gives, but you don’t quite have the presence of mind to scold him for it. 

The fact they’d even left you that small dignity was probably a miracle. 

Luckily, though, it doesn’t take too long for him to finish and you roughly hiss through your teeth when his once steady thrusts start to lose some of their rhythm in favor of jerky, shuddering jabs up into your guts. Then he grunts a heaving, bestial sound that seems to rush straight down to your cunt, making it pitifully squeeze around nothing, seconds before you feel the vague sensation of him shooting off deep within you. It’s an exceptionally odd feeling, particularly when you were keenly aware of that foreign sensation settling inside you in heavy, clinging clumps. But you just let him do it, glad that it was at least over. You weren’t sure how much more you could’ve taken if he’d decided to take his time with it and drag it out.  

“Gods, that’s a sweet ass you’ve got.” He heavily breathes out, head hanging low between his shoulders while he recovers. 

“Thanks,” You bitterly murmur as you reach up to lightly press on his hard stomach. “But can you get off me now? I’d like to keep going.” 

Languidly laughing, Sunfrost gives his head a brief shake to send his ponytail swishing back and forth before he pushes himself up to stand straight. Hooking a hand around one of your ankles, he nudges it a little higher while the other reaches down to help ease himself out of you. He’s intentionally slow and careful about it, and you soon realize why when a dribble of fast cooling semen rushes out after him the second he slips free of your pitifully clinging hole. 

Groaning a deeply embarrassed sound, you fitfully squirm on top of the dais as you desperately will your ass to close shut again. It’s an effort in futility though, and even when it starts to gradually return to its usual state you can tell by the looseness of the muscle that it was probably never going to be quite the same ever again. Damn him. 

In fact, damn both of them. A little warning before they took you this deep into the monument ruins would have been appreciated. Your one and only consolation was that the door was now wide open, and there was nothing else standing in the way of your objective. 

“Here, let me help you up.” Sunfrost says, offering you his hand which you somewhat grudgingly accept. You weren’t exactly happy about it but you knew your own body well enough to realize just how sore you were going to be after this. 

Using his arm to steady your balance, you gingerly scoot to the edge of the raised slate and slide down to your feet. You’re beyond horrified when your ass instinctively clenches against the sudden flood of cum that rushes down with the shift but you valiantly hold it in for fear of further humiliating yourself. You’d already suffered more than enough as far as you were concerned. 

“Alright, let’s get going.” Stone Enchanter says as he bends down to grab up your discarded clothes from the floor. 

You’re almost fooled into thinking he’d had a change in attitude but then you watch him start to walk away with your pants and shoes in his arms, and your heart plummets straight into the ground. “W - wait, those are mine!” 

“And you’ll get them back when we’re done.” He calls over his shoulder. 

Deciding you really didn’t like that guy, you shoot Sunfrost a wide eyed look. “What is he talking about?” 

“You’ll see.” Is all he says, further bewildering you. 

You’re in such a confused state of shock that you don’t even think to protest it when he takes you by the arm and starts to guide you forward, making sure you don’t fall when your legs threaten to give out under you. The only thing you could seem to fully process in that moment was how utterly ridiculous you felt walking around in only a shirt with your sticky cunt making an even greater mess between your legs. 

When was this going to end, you wonder. 

Not any time soon, you realize only a moment later when the short walk down the unsealed corridor takes you to another door and a second offering slab. 

For a long moment you just stare at it in slack jawed disbelief. No way this was actually happening. 

“Do you understand now, denizen of the rainforest? Our people do not give up their treasures so easily.”

Eyes flickering to Stone Enchanter, you numbly watch him drop your clothes at the foot of the new dais. That’s also when you notice the intimidating tent poking up through even the red sash that hangs down in front of his waist. He must’ve been quite large as well then, a thought that doesn’t exactly come as a surprise but still disarms you a great deal. Surely he wasn’t actually going to … 

“I told you I didn’t want you touching me.” You intone, trying your damnedest to keep your voice even and steady. 

“Doesn’t matter. This offering requires two pounds of flesh to gain entry.” 

You suck in a sharp breath, intending to scream at him to fuck off, but the words abruptly catch in your throat when Sunfrost uses his hold on your arm to steer you forward. Bare feet stumbling across the stone block floor, you wildly wrench back in an attempt to free yourself but it does you no good. He’s too strong and you’re more than just a little outclassed when you didn’t even have any pants on to put up a proper fight. 

Fresh tears spring up in your eyes as he roughly passes you off to his partner who grabs you around the middle so he can lift you. All your kicking and thrashing doesn’t even seem to register as he moves to pin you on top of the smooth surface, belly down to leave your ass vulnerable and defenseless in the air. 

Real panic grips you in a chokehold now as you frantically try to push yourself upright but he easily keeps you in place with one massive hand splayed out across your lower back while he fumbles with his pants using the other. Your sobbing pleas go completely unheeded as Sunfrost comes around to stand just next to your head. He makes quick work of wrestling your trembling hands into the hold of a single fist so he can then reach down with the opposite hand to release his now flaccid cock again. 

“Stop!” You shriek at the top of your lungs, stomach painfully roiling with the debilitating pangs of fear that crash over you. “You - you can’t do this to me, do you understand? I’m — oh god, I’m a student of the Akademiya! When they find out what you’ve done - -“ 

“If they find out.” Stone Enchanter chuckles behind you, mere seconds before you feel his hand take pinching hold of your ass cheek so he can spread it apart from the other and bare your abused hole at him. Your mindless struggle immediately ratchets up another notch but they’ve got you completely trapped between them. 

All you can do is suck in a rough gasp when you feel him carelessly squirt another healthy dollop of that mysterious oil over your puffed up entrance, pausing only long enough to wedge his thumb inside you to test the give. Meanwhile, Sunfrost has taken his soft cock in hand and he coaxingly nudges it towards your mouth but you quickly jerk your head away. 

“What makes you think I’m going to - -!” 

Your shrilling abruptly cuts off when he reaches under your chin to forcefully yank your face back around, meanly squeezing your cheeks while he does it. “It’s not a matter of thinking it, little scholar. You will.” 

His fingers tighten until your lips start to push out in a loose pucker and you issue a dire whimper when he pulls you down to just ease the wrinkled tip of his foreskin into your mouth. An undignified, faltering wail rises up in your throat at the salty, bitter taste that immediately floods your mouth but you’re not sure if you should be more alarmed about that or the fact Stone Enchanter was using his thumb to hook the inside of your rim so he can tug it open again. 

The inside of your body is a creamy mess with the first load you’d had to take but that doesn’t seem to deter him at all. You can feel his cock pushing in on the loosened muscle to fill the space he creates with his hand, and you outright wail when he starts to slide in despite the tight clench of your sore asshole trying to keep him out. Unfortunately Sunfrost takes advantage of that opportunity to feed more of his spongy, flaccid cock into your mouth to stuff it full and smother the sound, leaving you stretched terribly thin between the two of them. 

And they're relentless in the way they use your body, each of them just as insistent and merciless as the other. While you’re made to clean Sunfrost’s cock and slowly coax it back to full strength again, Stone Enchanter takes his time slowly working his thick, rigid length in and out of you with savoringly measured thrusts that force you to feel the wide stretch of your hole. It was far too much for you to handle on any level, least of all physically, and it doesn’t take long for you to slip into a doped out, semi comatose state like this. 

Distantly, you’re aware of the moment when Stone Enchanter finally reaches his peak some time later, shooting off a fat, heavy load deep inside your ass while he grunts his pleasure. The amount of cum you can feel sloshing around within your guts somehow manages to register as surprising to you but you’re a little too far gone to linger on it. 

Especially not when Sunfrost pulls his now fully hardened cock from your mouth, leaving you in a puddle of your own drool while he walks back to take up the spot between your legs that Stone Enchanter vacates with a rumble of satisfaction. You brace yourself to be penetrated again, knowing the fresh stretch to your gaping hole was coming, but he manages to catch you off guard as he pulls you back by the hips to half slide down off the ceremonial dais. 

You immediately collapse when your legs buckle as soon as your feet touch the floor and the only thing that keeps you semi upright are his arms around your waist. Hanging limp from Sunfrost’s hold like a puppet that’s had its strings cut, you let him jostle you around until he’s got you positioned how he wants with one arm slung back behind his neck and one hand hooked under your knee. 

All at once he’s lifting you, and you plaintively squeal when the sudden shift of your body makes your loosened asshole give out to dribble thick, sloppy clumps of semen onto the ground. Lurching in horror at the apparent loss of your muscle control, you jerk your chin down as if to check yourself over and assess the damage, but the sight of your vaguely rounded belly stops you dead in your tracks. 

The entire world suddenly feels like it’s crashing down around you as you struggle to make sense of it even though on some basic, intrinsic level you understood that it could only be the result of one thing. They’d filled you up with enough cum that it was not only squirting right out of you but it was also starting to distend your stomach too. 

Worst of all, they didn’t appear to be done just yet as Stone Enchanter shuffles into the space between your spread legs, idly stroking his cock while he grins in your face. You aren’t sure what to make of it at first, suddenly finding yourself sandwiched between the two of them like this, but then Sunfrost nudges you lower to just brush his cock over the puffed out rim of your asshole. 

Sucking in a half strangled gasp, you jerk your wide eyed attention up at the red brocade on Stone Enchanter’s face, knowing he could still somehow see you even with it in the way. “Please,” You warble, dread making your voice sound tiny and frail. “Don’t do this to me. I’m begging you. I - I can’t - -“

“Take care of a baby?” He helpfully supplies as he shifts even closer to line himself up with your cunt, just barely touching your labia with the fleshy tip. “Well, let’s just say you won’t have to worry about that out here in the desert. You’ll have plenty of time to devote to motherhood without any school to get in the way.”

⭐

Crossposted: here