#everybody stop being boring. everybody stop being boring RIGHT NOW

[just-my-latest-hyperfixation]

Glory Hallelujah

Written for day 25 of the @steddieholidaydrabbles and the 12 Days of Christmas bonus card of the @steddiebingo

Prompts: Christmas & Glory Hole

Rated: E

Tags: Post-Vecna; Everybody Lives; Rockstar Eddie; Sex Clubs; Glory Holes; Blowjobs; Reunions

Notes: I did a poll to determine which prompt from the bingo card I should combine with the Christmas prompt of the holiday drabbles. Merry Dick-mas, you filthy heathens, I love all of you! ❤️

Eddie isn’t sure what the correct word for someone like him is. He���s been pondering it over four beers now, watching the bored-looking girl at the center of the room spin around her pole, but without any success. 

Pathetic springs to mind, but that isn't strong enough. There must be a stronger word than pathetic for someone spending Christmas at a goddamn sex club. But he was lonely, and he had nowhere to go, so it seemed like a good idea. 

It wasn’t. The place is glaringly empty, even Indy’s kink scene having better places to be on this most magical of nights.

He should’ve gone to Kentucky with Wayne. 

Except this is the old guy’s first time meeting his girlfriend’s family, and Eddie can just imagine how this would’ve played out if he’d tagged along.

Hi, I’m Eddie, Wayne’s nephew. Yeah, I might look familiar. Yeah, I was on the cover of Rolling Stone last month. Thanks, I’m happy your grandkids like my music. Yeah, no, I didn’t commit those satanic murders, that was- Listen, can we talk about my uncle? 

So, instead, here he is. 

Fuck, he hasn’t felt this miserable and mad at himself since that one time he told Steve Harrington to get back with his girl while inconspicuously ogling the guy’s sweaty chest hair under his own battle vest. 

Eddie sighs, getting up from his chair. He might as well head home while he still has some self-respect left.

He's almost at the exit when something catches his eye. There's a row of stalls in the wall, each with its own lockable door. 

The light over one is on. 

There's no fucking way, he thinks, even as his feet carry him right over and into the adjacent cabin. Someone probably forgot to kill the light. There's no fucking way anyone is in there. That would be at least as pathetic as a fucking rock star going to a fucking sex club on fucking Christmas day because he's a depressed moron. 

Still, he goes in, locks the door and pulls down his pants. The hole in the wall stares back at him like it's trying to mock him. Eddie tells himself to stop being silly. 

Worst case scenario is he stands here with his limp dick poking through a hole in the wall like an idiot. Nobody will know, because nobody’s there. Best case scenario is he gets to blow off some steam. 

Nothing happens. 

Eddie sighs and is just about to pull out when suddenly, there's movement. His heart leaps into his throat. He hears it all through the thin wall. A sharp intake of breath, like whoever is on the other side is just as surprised as him. They probably are. They've probably been in there a while. Then, the thud of knees hitting the floor. Eddie has just enough time to think that the mystery person must be really eager for this before he feels soft, warm lips wrapping around his tip. 

Whoever the person in the other stall is, they sure know what they’re doing. They start out gently, slowly sliding Eddie’s swelling cock in and out of that deliciously warm mouth, tongue teasing the length of him. Once he's fully hard, the tongue is joined by a hand, alternating soft licks with firm strokes, and Eddie feels something urgent and hot build at the base of his spine. He moans, fingers grasping the top of the stall for leverage as his hips buck, trying to get closer to that mouth even with the wall between them. 

They keep this up for several minutes. Eddie tries to keep his voice down, but it seems like each of his groans and whimpers spurs the other person on. And then, they scrape their teeth over his tip, and a startled curse escapes his lips, and they swallow him all the way down, as far as the wall allows. 

Eddie comes with a hoarse shout, spilling hot and wet into that mouth. The other person doesn’t pull away. Eddie feels their throat constricting around him as they swallow.

“Fuuuck,” Eddie groans, forehead sagging against the wall. His arms feel like jelly from supporting his weight. “Shit. Jesus. Shitshitshit.” 

And that is when the other person pulls off. 

“Eddie, if it’s you, please come out?” 

“Wait a sec,” says a voice. A voice garbled and wrecked from sucking his cock and swallowing his come. A voice that Eddie hasn’t heard in ten years.

Eddie’s heart stops. On the other side of the wall, a door opens.

“Eddie?” Right outside his own door. “Shit, is that really you?”

This isn’t real. It’s some bizarre, orgasm-induced pipe dream brought about by too much beer and seasonal depression. There’s no way the person outside is who Eddie thinks he is. 

He does. At least he remembers to pull up his pants first.

The door swings open, and there he is. Steve Harrington, ten years older but no less gorgeous, clad in skintight denim and a silky purple shirt, lips turned up into a delighted smile. They’re still swollen and shiny. 

“I knew it!” he cheers, pulling Eddie into a hug. “Nobody else babbles curses like that.”

Eddie grunts. Steve pulls back, holding him at arm’s length. 

“Looking good,” he smiles. “Even better than on that Rolling Stone cover. How have you been, man? Dustin said you talk sometimes, but you never-” 

“What the fuck is going on here?” Eddie blurts. His knees are wobbly and his head is spinning. “You aren’t- … You just sucked my- … You’re straight!” 

Steve laughs, and it’s every bit as breathtaking as Eddie remembers. 

“Yeah, no, I figured that out a while ago. Which you would know, if you’d just kept in touch.” He winks right into Eddie’s gobsmacked face, then takes him by the shoulder and steers him towards the bar. “How about you buy me a drink? We can celebrate this little Christmas miracle, and I��ll bring you up to speed.” 

More holiday drabbles

More Steddie Bingo

[yellowocaballero]

I admire your commitment to writing tim drake as having spent his formative childhood years on a different awful forum in every universe. it fills a conspicuous void in the fandom ecosystem.

I want to put this ask on my wall. Thank you for understanding me. Thank you so much.

Look, I think there are reasons why characters act the way they do. So often when writing Batfam people put in 0 work into actually establishing why or how a character is Like That, which feels necessary when the character is the most Like That of all time. You end up with a father-son or brotherly soulmates situations and it's bizarre. Why are you adopting this child you saved, you save fifty children a day and there is nothing special about him.

Tim Drake is a fucking freak and there needs to be a reason for that. Child neglect isn't enough. Somebody like Tim needs a very specific thing to happen in their lives to get them to the point of making his decisions. He needs to be obsessive, to spend time in a place that feeds and validates his obsessions, to be in a place where he can easily collect a great deal of data to construct a pathway model, and for all of this to happen without leaving his room. It has to be the internet. Tim is a guy who the internet churns out. I know he's from the 80s but Tim as a person is somebody who is so chronically online in the weirdest way. Not chronically online how WE'RE chronically online. He's on the weird forums. Like those military simulator game forums where military personnel post classified blueprints for future military tanks in order to win an argument. Those kinds.

If you were a domestic terrorist in the early 00s you were probably on Something Awful. All I can say (Actually, technically the SA thing is an anachronism - it didn't actually pick up until the early 00s. But it was the website that worked the best, explained the most, and I fucking needed to make the 'But he wouldn't tell her what the awful thing was' joke, so here we are). This is also the reason for the other anachronism of NW. Homestuck.

[monstersholygrail]

You had no idea why out of all the students in your History class, your Orc Professor had chosen you to be his TA. You were nearly failing the class and weren’t sure you were really interested in the history of medieval clubs. The class was so not what you were expecting it to be about so your interest had been lost for like, a long time now. He also made you do all this super hard work like grade papers you didn’t understand. But hey, it gave you the answers sometimes so it wasn’t all bad.

Plus your professor was super freaking hot. You were positive his arms could crush you like a grape and his big squishy pecs could suffocate you. You wanted him so damn bad. So you didn’t even really mind all the icky boring work. Especially because when you didn’t get something, which was often, he’d come up behind you, his hot breath fanning the shell of your ear, and help work you through it. You wondered what else he could help you work through.

So after class when your professor asks you to help bring a big pile of exams that need grading back over to his house, you of course agree to it. Being in the city, there were barely any people who actually had cars. So you weren’t surprised when your Orc Professor leads you out of the school and down to the subway, half the pile of exams in your arms.

But you were surprised about the fact that the subway car was basically full as you both walk in. Just about everybody was standing, holding onto a rail and crowding around each other. You wanted to weep. No way could you carry all these papers for the entire ride.

“Back there, an open seat!” Your Orc Professor points out, though you can’t see it. His ginormous height clearly an advantage in situations like this.

A spark of relief shoots through you at his kindness. Hot and sweet? What a combination. But when he takes the seat for himself, you raise a brow. He shifts the papers in his hands and pats one of his thick thighs.

“C’mere and sit on my lap. That way we can both relax for the ride,” he rasps, his demand sending a heat through you.

Your pussy gushes with arousal and the moment you straddle one of his thighs you can’t stop yourself from clenching down around nothing. The subway shoots forward a few seconds later and you’re pushed back into your Professor’s chest. His free hand immediately wraps around your wide waist. You try and stay deathly still, face growing red. You shouldn’t find this so fucking sexy but you can feel the heat radiating off your pussy and onto his thigh.

If there was any doubt left he could feel your heat it dissipates instantly when your Orc Professor tightens his arm around your plush waist, only to lift his leg, pressing his meaty thigh harder against your pussy. A small moan leaves you, and before you have the chance to die in horror, Orc Professor growls lowly in his chest.

A sharp gasp puffs out of you as your Professor starts bouncing his leg in time with the rapid shaking of the subway car. Each jump of his leg hitting your clit just right. You arch into it, moving in tempo and grinding down on his thigh. Every rock of your hips has waves of pleasure pulsing out from your fat soaked cunt. You can feel yourself leak onto his beige slacks and you relish in the stain that’ll be left when you stand. Leaving your own mark on him in anyway you can.

The subway car rocks, shaking roughly with its speed and it sends your body up and down his rock hard thigh. Your throat aches with the restraint of holding in your moans as you grind your clit roughly into the material that separates you from what you really want. You throw your head back, eyes glazed over in indescribable pleasure and meet his intense and lustful stare. It has your belly tightening and you grind down even harder.

“Go on and cum for me like the pretty little slut you are. Just like I know you do f’me in class,” he purrs in your ear.

Your eyes widen in shock, never realizing he had known what you were doing all those times behind your TA’s desk. How you’d watch him teach, the way his shirt would strain against his muscles, and you couldn’t help but touch yourself to the sight. You thought you were so subtle every time you came in class. Guess not.

With his permission, you explode all over his thigh, creating an even bigger mess left on his slacks. Your jaw drops and before you can make a peep your Orc Professor is crashing his mouth against yours in a sloppy kiss that only makes you cum even harder. Body shaking against his you let the waves of ecstasy sweep over you.

The ding of the subway breaks up your kiss and you look up in a daze to see the car unloading passengers who are at their stop. Orc Professor gives a directing pat to your pussy and your body jolts in his arms. He juts his chin forward.

“This is our stop. Good thing too or I would’ve had to bend you over and fuck you raw in front of everyone.”

He pulls you up off him, leaving your weak body to fend for itself. You eye the stain on his slacks with pride and stumble after him like a fawn. Glancing around you, you start to wonder what it would’ve been like if this wasn’t your stop and you feel yourself getting all turned on again. Who can blame you when you have the world’s sexiest Orc Professor?

[arlertwhore]

pairing: paige bueckers x fem! reader synopsis: paige & you get the sexiest quickie EVER in during the concert.

warning(s): pipin' hot smut, car sex, tipsy paige, paige is acc insane, squirting, fingering, hickeys, masturbating, pussy eating, tounge fucking, finger/throatfucking, nipple play.. believe thts it's. author note: i know y'all saw celeste take advantage of me with this new paige post 😫 highkey not complainin, ik y'all see how hot she looks LIKE SHEESSH. written very late - unedited, might be choppy and stuff but overall rly hot guys wow.

"Soooooo hot..." you muttered breathlessly, feeling the relentless summer sun of Connecticut beating down on you. From your side, Paige, your girlfriend, quipped playfully, "Me?" before her hands snaked around to grapple your waist and pull you into her body, the height difference making you lean slightly back into her. "Or you?"  It was the night of the concert, and Paige, having had a few drinks beforehand, was more uninhibited, which became evident in her bold actions as you both stood amidst the crowd. She kissed your cheek, her body enveloping you securely as her leg slipped in between yours from behind, guiding your cunt on it. Usually, Paige caging you in and having her way with you like you were a slut was the most comfortable thing in the world, but now... using your butt, you bumped Paige away by her crotch playfully. "Baby, relax..." you said softly, "It's too hot for all that, P."

Being honest, the heat was almost unbearable, each ray of sunlight searing your exposed skin and covering it with a soft sheen of sweat. You had resorted to wearing the skimpiest of clothes, a light tank top and shorts, no bra, no panties, and Paige bored at you with a glint in her eye, clearly enjoying the sight. She always did like it when you dressed this way, your minimal clothing clinging to your damp skin, emphasizing every curve. The summer sun was unforgiving, but it seemed Paige was more than appreciative of the season's effects on you.

She smirked, taking this as a challenge.

The girl quick and strong, pulled you in by your shoulders and forced laughter out of you as she tilted your jaw up to face her, one hand on your forehead and the other on your jaw as she tongued your lips messily, trying to amusedly fluster you.

"Stop!" you giggled against her unrelenting tongue, hands on her chest clad in simply a gray tank-top. "Gross, P, ewww!" From her side, KK chimed in, "Ew is right y'all," her face scrunching up in disgust as she pulled her girlfriend away from you both, closer to her.

From her side, KK chimed in, "Ew is right y'all," her face scrunching up in disgust as she pulled her girlfriend away from you both, closer to her. Paige, who couldn't keep her tongue in her mouth to save her life, playfully stuck it out at KK and then quipped, "You two are like grandmas," to which KK rolled her eyes and retorted, "Girl, boo!" before refocusing on her girlfriend.

Your girlfriend knew just how to make you laugh, even when nothing was funny and you were dying of heat, and the concert hadn't even begun yet. You were here with all of Paige's friends and all their partners, only showing up because you didn't want Paige to be alone, but you hated it all. Seeing Paige so happy, though, vibing with her friends, fans, and just being herself made it worth it.

On the flipside, before leaving after getting ready, in the car, Paige had started something unfinished when she gave you a hickey. As she explained it, if you were going to be out dressed like this, everybody needed to know who you belonged to. When you chased her lips, hands itching to sneak down her boxers, she revved the car and brought you here, standing in the crowd awaiting the artist to emerge, in this current predicament. You were hot and bothered, in every sense, and you couldn't wait until your next chance to get Paige alone.

Judging by her fans approaching every minute, her friends taking group videos with her, her promising "he'll be here any minute now, we can't leave to a washroom"—soon didn't seem likely, until you were so hot that touch made you feel gross.

Seeing your closed-off demeanor, Paige had been trying to play two sticks at once, drunkenly thinking PDA was fine for her to do since most of the couples at the concert already were, but it wasn't what you wanted.

The instant you bumped her away, she could tell you wanted privacy with her, perhaps in the air-conditioned car, but she needed more eagerness from you before she could wholeheartedly decide to abandon the concert momentarily.

"Sure you want me to stop?" she teased, hand spinning your body so you could face her fully. She gazed down at you hungrily, her eyes lingering on the gentle sweat glistening on your chest. "Fuck," she whispered, pulling at your top, the fabric teasing your nipples, "Your tits looks so cute and shiny, baby," she murmured, "Wanna put my face on em'."

Your hands grazed over her abs, tracing them. Gosh, she was getting so ripped. You blamed the training. "Bueckers," you murmured warningly, "Paige, don't tease me again like you did earlier. You're a dick."

She smiled at you, her tongue darting out to lick her bottom lip as she promised, "I ain't playing with you, ma." She gently brushed your hair away from your face, leaning in to whisper softly in your ear, "If you'd let me, I'd take you to my car and fuck the shit out of you."

"A concert quickie? Oh Paige, you're quite the romantic!" you chuckled, placing your arms over her shoulders as her hands found your waist, then, inevitably your ass. She slapped it, catching your ass back in her big palm with a tight squeeze. "5 minutes. Final offer. I don't wanna miss it, he's doing my jam first."

You pouted. "I know, but I just wish you could give it to me longer." The flex of her arms as she played with your ass was so enticing. She kneaded your cheeks gently, her singular hand coming up to grab your face and caress your cheek softly before moving down to your neck, tracing the dark purple spot. "At least I can give you more of these. Hate the way these guys look at you," she said softly before pecking you. "C'mon."

Pulling on your hand, she forced you to join her on a sprint back to her car. As you both ran off, the group called after her, "Paige! You good?" and she shouted back, "Yeah!" as she led the way. When you got tired, Paige was a gentleman and carried you bridal style the entire jog back to her car. She panted, her silver chain dangling in your face, lips parted as she reached into her back pocket for her keys. When she found them, she unlocked the car and threw you inside, causing you to yelp. "Paige!" you exclaimed, "Easy there, babe, I promise he wants to take his time relaxing t-" She silenced you by climbing atop you in the backseat, not bothering to shut the door as she pressed her lips to yours and kissed you passionately.

You broke away, trying to speak as she peppered kisses down your neck, her knee working at your core. "P-Paige, the door, close it."

She was heavy atop you in the best way, and she felt good and sinful, especially when she whispered against your neck, "This is what you wanted, right?" leaving you rebuttaless.

"Yeah, but—fuck—close the...close the door, please," you pleaded.

She stops. "Since you asked nicely..." and closes the door before reclining the seats, making more space for you both. "And since I can't say no to you, princess," she adds with a playful smile.

You can't say no to her either. When she lays you down against the new flat space and demands, "Hold your shorts to the side," you do as told immediately. "And... bite your shirt. Keep your tits out for me."

Paige knows you're short on time but tries to engrave this image into her mind, gazing at you for a while. Your wet cunt throbs at her invitingly, your eyebrows furrowed with desire, perky tits with hard nipples, and a muffled whine of her name, "Paige," into your shirt. "Pleeff," you muffled urgently.

You sometimes forgot your girlfriend ate pussy differently when she was under the influence. Sober, she was a lot more precise and careful, but the sloppy, uninhibited, and dirty way she got down while in subspace was just tantalizing.

Her eyes are intense on yours as she licks your clit, skittering across it repeatedly, her head swaying entrancingly from side to side. "Oh!" you gasp, "Wait, wait, wait Paige, wait—" You try to clamp your legs shut and tell her she's going too fast to start, but she holds them open, her muscles firm and brooding.

When she shakes her head, "No," to assert her control and disregard your protests, it inadvertently makes her tongue move across your clit at that same intense pace as before, and you arch your back off the seat, hands trembling as you fight to hold your shorts aside.

Your hole clenches around nothing, leaking arousal, and Paige uses her hand to scissor and hold your folds apart as she dips her tongue inside you, fitting it in and out with slow strokes as she rubs your clit gently. "You like that, sexy?" she whispered, and you clamped your free hand over your mouth as you watched people walk by the car on their way to the show. "Fumbudys..gun..nna sfhee," you muffled again.

The skill of your girlfriend was spectacular. As she teased your clit, her free hand slipped beneath her boxers, pleasuring herself, while her occupied hand separated your folds. Her tongue slurped up everything you could give her, brushing against your wet walls and finding its way to your spot.

Your hand fell down to her, reaching into her tank top and teasing her nipples as she moaned softly into your pussy. And for the first time ever, you realize, if loud enough while making noise, the tongue will vibrate too—not just the lips.

"Paige, I wanna taste you, P," you requested politely, and she smiled, pausing to fit her fingers into your mouth, coated in her wetness and intoxicating with the scent of her arousal. She drove her fingers into your throat, met with resistance, persisting until you choked back tears.

"Suck 'em like that, baby… Get 'em nice and wet so they fit perfectly into my pussy, alright?" She had long discarded of her black sweatpants, having unlaced and wiggled them off somewhere along the hazy ordeal. You didn't question your tipsy, subsequently superhuman girlfriend; instead, you focused on the view of her ass, abs, and pussy from above, wishing you could taste each.

"Good girrrl, princess," she praised as you spit on them before licking again, and once it begins to drip so profusely it runs down her wrist, she hurriedly places her fingers as a base on the ground and dissolves them inside herself, hips coming down with so much force it rocks the car.

The sight overwhelms you. Her finger and tongue swap places once more, and she resumes eating your pussy eagerly, creating sloppy, wet noises with saliva and slurping sounds echoing around. Her tongue lavishes your clit eagerly, swirling and twirling diligently, each bullet stroke of her tounge electric on your clit, causing you to tremor as she works you with expert precision.

Her long fingers thrust inside you with a force that seemingly matches her own intensity, and with eyes closed, she moans into your cunt, her hips slamming down onto her fingers, causing her ass to bounce rhythmically and her abs to tighten, constricting and releasing back-and-forth — a visual testament to her pleasure.

Your eyes fall lidded, and with desperate whimpers, you buck yourself against her face and fingers, suffocating her against your cunt, feeling her every breath through her nose fanning over the sensitive skin, tickling it. "Fuck, Paige, you feel so good," you pant, toes curling and head spinning as you both rock the car with your movements. "Please don't stop, I'm so close. I wanna cum in your mouth, mommy." you beg, and she shakes her head -- She nods.

You watch as her hips stutter now—Paige is nearing climax too. Her groans growing more guttural, increasing in frequency and intensity, especially when she opens her eyes to see you, legs kicked up on either front seat, no longer caring who sees.

With the car shaking and the visibility of your feet, amidst the presence of others around, both of you knew deep down that you had definitely been noticed by at least one person. But in that moment, you couldn't have cared less; your sole focus was on reaching release.

Her fingers dig inside you in a "come hither" motion, her thick tongue flattens and flickers against your clit, and she doesn't cease hitting that spot inside you repeatedly—the one that makes you hold your breath in anticipation. Before you cum, you're quiet... it's just a soft cry of her name, "Paige, look at me," and when she gazes up at you, you fall apart, stomach clenching as everything you have left in you is drained out and into her mouth.

When she pulls her fingers out to push them back in again, a projectile sprinkle exits your cunt, covering her face with the tiniest noise she's ever heard you make. And it's a wrap. 

She continues sucking your cunt to stifle her urge to scream at the top of her lungs—you assume that's what triggers you to become so overstimulated you squirt, but she doesn't stop even through her orgasm, collapsing listlessly into your pussy with groans from the depths of her loins once the waves of pleasure subside.

You finally release your grip on your shorts and your shirt, gazing into the rearview mirror. In just five minutes, she has melted away your makeup, disheveled your hair, and left you damp and undone. Her face remains pressed against your core, and you believe you've overwhelmed her, so you gently extract her and whisper, "We need to leave," before she delves deeper into the moment. "Yeah." She ascends your body to kiss you, and you shiver at the sensation of yourself on her tongue.

"That was amazing, babe... you—you really did that," she murmurs.

"You got me to do that," you reply. She retrieves her boxers from the floor and slips them on, followed by her pants.

"Ready?" she asks, and you can only manage a chuckle, unable to respond.

Paige blushes. "What?" she asks. "You have a cum mustache," you inform her, then gesture towards the rearview mirror. Familiar with the concept from milk mustaches, she nonchalantly licks it away, then pulls you out of the car and locks it behind her.

There's awkward stares from people, but you both nevermind that as best as you can. It becomes easy as you guys walk hand-in-hand until you hear a familiar song, and suddenly, Paige's eyes widen. "Babe, he's on stage!" You leap into her arms, letting her guide you both back into the venue in a jog MASTERLIST

AUTHOR NOTE #2: guys this is so sad.. 3 more posts before im out for the summer!! 💔 i love it here lol y’all have been so kind regardless

[starsofang]

CALL OF THE SEA / PART THREE

pirate poly!141 x f!reader tw: NSFW, MDNI, mentions of violence, blood, injury, 141 are still mean pirates, very brief mentions of death masterlist

When a group of unhinged pirates invade your small village, you're whisked away from your peaceful home and thrown on to a voyage out at sea. Forced to obtain a new role as their medic, you have no choice but to accept your fate as you join their forces and aid them in their treacherous travels.

The words of Captain Price weighed heavily on your mind. With little distractions to guide you away from them, they were all you were left with. They replayed on a consistent loop, like a broken record player. It was taunting, the way your own mind betrayed you after pleading with it not to think of the cold dose of reality the Captain had given you. It denied your requests for soothing calm and gifted you with roaring waves of chaos.

The Captain had been right. Every last word was coated in nothing but bitter truth, and you hated it.

Your village was nothing but unkind to you, and you knew it. You tried to defend them, tried to reason with why they could have been so cruel to you, but with only yourself and the sounds of the sea to fill the abyss in your head, your defense was bound to crumble.

It wasn’t your fault you were different, at least compared to the traditionalists you grew with. Being born in a secluded hamlet separated from the bustling mainland meant the people were just as isolated. Hermits, they were. They sought simplicity through actions shown by the book. Marriage, children, with women to remain in their place at home. It was a dream to some, and a nightmare to you.

You wanted more. There was a vast world out there for you to mark your claim on, yet your own people disregarded your desires. They turned on you, taunting you as the village outcast, one that many continued to torment well into adulthood. You were one against many, and you only had yourself in the long run.

You worked hard for what you had. Despite the consistent abuse your people had given you, you sought out adventure like a moth to a flame. It called out to you. Learning of medicines and practices to become more of the miniscule woman everybody saw you as was your safe haven. You wanted to explore the world and take your practices to a place where you’d be accepted as one’s own.

Then those pirates had taken that away from you. Not only had they stolen your dreams, but they had stolen your home, people, and passion. Everything was lost at the drop of a hat.

Being a medic for a scroungy group of thieving pirates was not in your cards. Before, you hadn’t even known pirates were existent. They were a simple folk tale, something to  share on quiet nights when the village had grown bored. Never did you think you would come across one, let alone four who had taken it upon themselves to make you their problem.

You feared that you would never achieve your dreams of being a proper medic. Of never escaping to the mainland where you could begin a tranquil life consisting of you and your studies. Now, it seemed that you would never experience peace or independence. Your dreams were embezzled, lost in the foamy waves that lapped against the side of the ship.

The grieving of your loss didn’t stop, even during Soap and Gaz’s visits. They kept it minimal, presumably under the Captain’s orders, or because they simply didn’t like you enough to further interaction. Not that you wanted them to, anyway, though it would’ve made the aching loneliness a bit more bearable.

They noticed, of course. The way your eyes began to sink in, casting a grim shadow across your face, or the way you no longer bared your teeth at them when they approached. Pirates like them didn’t care for people like you. You were a pawn in whatever game they were playing, and you didn’t know the rules.

The sound of heavy footsteps on the deck above you rattled you awake. The cot was fairly useless in providing you comfort, but you had succumbed to your eventual exhaustion over the course of your capture that you had grown used to it.

Unlike normal days, where their steps were more quiet and calculated, this time sounded like a frenzy. Uncoordinated, merging together in loud pitter patter. It was unsettling, lighting an icy chill in your bones. Even in the seclusion of the brig, the air felt thick with tension, as if the pirate’s suspense had crept through the crack under the door and spread throughout the ship.

The floorboards creaked menacingly from above. Your ears pricked at every stomp, every slam of the soles of their thick boots against the old wood. It was as if death was stalking you from the shadows, creeping in, jeering at you. You were in the dark, unaware.

You wondered if other pirates had invaded the ship. Perhaps this was your end. You’d be found by enemies and treated much more unkindly in the hands of men who only saw you as a mere woman and not the potential to be a medic.

Though your pirates were just as cruel, they hadn’t harmed you. They hurt your people, but salvaged you to make use of your knowledge. They weren’t as terrible as what may have lurked the waters. Maybe it was simply the fear talking, but if what you thought was true, then you prayed to whatever god was listening that you remain in the safe hands that had yet to pose a threat to you.

Your prayers were answered by the harsh sound of the door opening. It wrenched open, slamming up against the wall with a crack. Dim light poured through, down to your cell, illuminating a faint glow enough for you to see.

Atop the stairs, a large figure lurked, blocking out the light. It cocooned around him, casting an eerie shadow and successfully masking away his face.

Fear shot through your veins, burning like a raging fire, lighting you up from the inside. It threatened to combust, inching you towards a scorching agony. It clouded your mind, fogging over the logic and replacing it with racing thoughts of choking terror. You thought of death, torture, being swept away from this brig, only to be placed in a more torturous one with strangers out to harm you. To be used for pleasure and entertainment by a group of savage pirates unbeknownst to you.

“Get up,” a voice barked at you. It was rough and throaty, exuding pure authority. It was also familiar.

The sound of metal clanking on metal filled your eyes and once you had pieced together your mind enough, you realized it was the key unlocking your cell. The door opened, the figure stepping into your cell and closer to you, where you lay on the cot. It loomed over you, shielding you away from escape.

“Get up,” he ordered again. A hand reached out to you, cold, rough fingers wrapping around your bicep and lugging you off of the cot and on to your feet. There was no time for arguments. You recognized Ghost’s stony mask, and you knew fighting him would prove fruitless.

“What’s going on?” you asked, legs straining to keep up with his pace as he tugged you up the rickety stairs.

“Captain’s hurt,” Ghost gruffed, only the narrow of his eyes peeking through the eye holes of the skull mask, giving you a glimpse of his disgruntlement. “Need a medic. That’s you, birdie.”

Your heart sank to your stomach for numerous reasons.

For one, the smallest part of you worried for the Captain. No matter his actions thus far, he was hurt and required medical attention, enough of it that Ghost had prompted you out of your cell after residing there for the past month.

Then there was the fact that they were asking you for help. Sure, you technically were a medic. One in practice, but you knew the basics of medicines. However, the problem arose that you didn’t know much beyond that. If the Captain truly was injured to an extent beyond your skill, you feared they’d throw you over the ship and into the murky waters once they deemed you useless.

The misty air hit you the moment you stepped out of the brig and on to the upper deck. It was chilly despite it being summer, with the ocean breeze curling into your dingy hair and across your cheeks. The feeling was nothing short of relieving, to breathe in fresh air that filled your lungs, clearing them of the musty tang of brig air.

It was still midnight, but the moon was bright enough to have your eyes squinting, adjusting. Even the feel of it on your skin was like sweet kisses after a period of solitude.

That wasn’t what was important, though. Ghost had your arm in a chokehold, and he was urgently dragging you across the deck and towards the front of the ship. None of the other men were found, but you’d quickly find them when Ghost yanked open a door leading to the Captain’s quarters.

Inside, Captain Price was propped up lazily against the side of a large table, covered in maps and quills. A small pot of ink had been tipped over and spilled, tainting the papers with splotchy black. Drips of his blood had swirled into the mix, and the sight of it made you sick.

Price’s hand was smothering a gnarly gash on his side, fingers seeping over with crimson blood. Soap stood beside him with Gaz, the two of them seemingly anticipating your arrival. The moment they locked eyes with you, they stood up straight, expressions impatient.

“Took ye long enough, Ghost,” Soap boasted snarkily. Ghost huffed from beside you, pushing you by your arm and sending you towards Price.

“Fix him up,” Ghost commanded, stern. You blinked at him before switching to look at the Captain.

Price was a bit paled, skin clammy with sweat despite the chill in the air. He seemed more annoyed than pained, face pulled taut with a frown deepened beneath his beard. His eyes bore into yours threateningly.

“I don’t—“ you stared, stumbling over your words. “I don’t know how to stitch, I told you, I’m not a professional—“

“Surely you’ve had practice once or twice, haven’t you?” Price reckoned, cocking his head at you.

“Only on injured animals,” you defended. “I don’t know how to stitch on people.”

Price clicked his tongue, a hint of agitation gesred behind it. “Can’t be much different. Allow me to be your experiment, dove. You want to be a professional? Figure it out.”

You stared at him, bewildered. You knew there was no room for argument, nor was there any time. He was bleeding into the palm of his hand, wound sliced open from what you assumed was a sharp blade. You didn’t have the chance to think about how he possibly could’ve been injured in that way.

“Well? Go on, dove, it ain’t goin’ to heal itself,” Soap urged in annoyance, giving a light shove to your shoulder. Not enough to move you from your position, but enough to snap you into order.

“I need my supplies,” you explained. “Surely, you kept them.”

“Tch. Not stupid, dove,” Price snipped. With his free hand, he clumsily fumbled for one of the drawers of the table he leaned upon. Yanking it open, it was sent to the floor with a crash, sending its contents scattering.

The action was savvy and if you weren’t in a frenzied rush, you would’ve had the mind to be irritated. However, you remembered your place, as well as the people you were being forced to serve. It wouldn’t be wise to bark back at them for throwing around your work so carelessly.

You were quick to drop to the floor and begin retrieving what was necessary. Supplies were scarce, seeing as you weren’t fortunate enough to grow up on the mainland where demand was much more accessible.

Making a mental note to ask for them to collect more items for you, that is if this was really going to be your life, you clattered the items on the table Price rested on, making quick work of tugging stitching thread through the tiny needle.

The job would be sloppy, especially with the way your hands shook. You knew good and well that if anything were to happen to these pirate’s Captain, you’d be first one off the ship, sent to God knows where.

All eyes were on you. It was unnerving.

Soap remained next to Gaz, both watching you like a hawk. Their eyes studied every movement of your fingers as they worked through the threads, preparing to stitch up Price as requested.

Ghost stood near the door leading to the deck, arms crossed and eyes piercing into you like a warning threat. And really, you knew that’s what it was.

Price was awfully calm for a man who’d been stabbed, and you briefly wondered if this was something pirates were used to. Harming others was one thing. Gaining injury themselves was another.

Lucky for you, the Captain wasn’t wearing any fabrics. He must’ve taken his shirt off when he returned to his quarters, which made things easier for you.

“Remove your hand,” you said, before adding on, “please.”

Price huffed out what could’ve been mistaken as a laugh, though you highly doubted it. He carefully pulled his hand away from his wound, slippery with blood. The sight was quite gruesome, though you were sure it was just the blood making it so.

Taking a deep breath, you positioned yourself in front of the Captain. You dug deep in your memory of the times you’d operated on helpless animals you’d found in the outskirts of your village.

Animals were easier. They were more pliant and obedient. Some were squirmy, though being much smaller than you gave you advantage over them.

Price, though, was significantly bigger. And human. He was far from any animal you aided.

With his arm out of the way, you had a showcase of numerous scars scattering his torso. They were white, indicating they were much older, but some were still risen with pink tissue that revealed being more recent.

You had your hands full. Truly.

“I’m going to begin now,” you told Price.

“Don’t need to narrate the whole operation to me, medic. Just do it.”

Price’s tone was sarcastic and a tad bit mean. If he was aiming to offend you, he was doing a poor job. You’d taken ridicule all your life.

Brushing it off, you used nimble hands to make the first insertion of the needle, threading through the first stitch. Price showed no discomfort, though the eyes of the others didn’t help your unease. You felt like a lab rat and they were the ones operating on you.

The stitching became easier the more it went on. He needed quite a few, though the practice was appreciated. Your hands became more steady and your heart was no longer in your throat.

The room was at a standstill up until the very moment you tightened the stitches, tying them off and pulling yourself away from Price. Your work was far from perfect, but it was doable.

“Finished, are you?” Price hummed. You nodded in confirmation. “Wasn’t so hard, was it?”

You bit your tongue to hold back mockery until the taste of metallic flooded your tastebuds.

“I’ve only worked on animals. It appears you are no different than one,” you bit back calmly, shiftingyour attention to organizing the supplies Price had so carelessly tossed to the floor.

Soap let out an obnoxious snort, while Price only cocked his head in faint amusement.

“You might want to watch your tongue there, dove. Ghost has taken out many,” Price informed.

That was enough to send shivers down your spine because you knew he was being truthful.

A quick glance to Ghost showed no indication of lies, so you quickly averted your eyes, opting to avoid him. You didn’t want to imagine the horrors Ghost had caused from his hands alone. He was a force not to be reckoned with, and you’d happily stay far, far away.

“I still need to apply an herbal balm and wrap it.” You changed the topic in hopes of forgetting your slip of tongue. You rather liked keeping it in your mouth.

“Very well,” Price sighed. With a gesture of his head, he signaled the other three men out of his quarters, leaving you alone in the room with him.

It was eerily quiet between the two of you while you worked a calming balm into the tender skin around his wound, careful not to touch the fresh stitches. The herbs were a mixed paste you had created back in your village from the supplies Mary had gifted you, and they proved futile now in a sensitive time.

You wished she were here to take you away from this nightmare fueled ship. Though, you couldn’t deny it any longer — you knew she was dead, just like the rest of the village. There was nothing you could do about it.

This was your life. This was your journey. Your opinion on the matter wasn’t valid.

“Quite the snippy one, aren’t you?” The Captain’s voice broke the tense silence, though it did nothing to calm you. “I heard from a little bird that some fortnights ago, you threw your porridge on to Gaz.”

Your shoulders pulled taut in a mix of embarrassment and shame. It was as if you were a child being scolded.

“I did,” you admitted quietly.

“And you do not feel bad?” Price questioned.

“No.”

“Hm.” A smile tilted on his face, lazy just as the other ones, as if he had no energy to display the true nature of a smile. “I will hand it to you, dove, he can be quite a brat sometimes. Perhaps he deserved it.”

You glanced up from his injury to look into his eyes. Your eyebrows tugged together in confusion.

You were fully expecting outrage, or perhaps the Captain to reprimand you for taking your anger out on his crew. Instead, he seemed almost like a jokester.

That couldn’t be. He was cruel and heartless, just as the others were. It didn’t matter how much Soap jested with you, or Gaz no longer glared at you. They were still pirates.

“I am all finished up here,” you explained, clearing your throat and taking a step back. “May I return to my cell?”

The cell was the last place you wanted to be in, but it was the only haven you’d found on the ship. You certainly didn’t want to stick around the other pirates for longer than necessary.

“Nonsense,” Price mused. “You have proven to have enough skill as a medic. You’re useful and resourceful. You won’t be able to work well in that dingy cell.”

You felt a pit of nervousness fill the void in your stomach. It did somersaults, making your mouth water with the need to be sick.

This was what you wanted, right? To be accepted into the crew so that you may plot your escape down the road when the time proved right. So why did it feel strange to be praised by the very man who had slaughtered your village?

“I will be staying in the upper decks, then?” you assumed, and he chuckled.

“We don’t quite have a cot set up yet, dove. We weren’t exactly expectin’ you to last, yet here you are.” He sounded almost prideful saying that, and you weren’t sure whether to feel comforted. “You’ll join me in my quarters for now. It only makes sense while I’m healin’ up, hm?”

That pit in your stomach turned into a canyon. To share a bed with the Captain of a malicious pirate crew, watching over him as his nurse? Perhaps this was your way out, or the start of your downfall.

Either way, you either ended up dead, imprisoned, or homeless on the mainland. Homeless, but free. You’d be an idiot not to play into the game.

You could do nothing but bow your head in silent agreement, unable to decide your fate once again. You were at the hands of the Captain and his crew, and those hands may be bloodied and mean if you said otherwise. hands may be bloodied and painful if you said otherwise.

[evilminji]

Oh... oh no it's all coming together ( o.o)

Ya'll remember my Danny haunts Space Games post?

That but MORE SO. Harder. Like... ZONE GAME DEVELOPER PASSION PROJECT harder. Because? Special Interest chemicals go brrrrr~☆

And you KNOW... you absolutely FUCKING KNOW! That Danny was minding his business, going about his life, hyped as FUCK for the new Space Game 5 (a niche game but so what? It has REALISTIC physics! It's set on THE MOON!).

Has NOT stopped rambling on about it.

Been driving everyone insane, because it won't be out for MONTHS.

When~?

Youngblood, probably, goes "So what? That sound BORING. There barely anything to DO in that! Not like one of OUR Super Cool ZONE Video Games™. OURS are way better! And we gave LOADS more options then THAT! Now can we get back to-"

Freeze frame, record scratch.

Wait. WHAT!?

Danny is violently answers out of that eternal child faster then you can say "Dude! Chill!" Got them manic Obsession Eyes. Oops. Youngblood forgot Danny is Space Obsessed. But also PROTECTION Obsessed. Meaning he can't LEAVE where he is protecting.

You know.... FOR SPACE.

He needs a work around to feed his Obsession. Video games do it. Since he can go INTO them, but leave at a moments notice, if trouble happens. It's like being both IN SPACE but also AT HIS POST! Double Obsession Feeding! Happy chemicals! Mmmmm, content ecto-goo~

But now? NOW?! He's learning there is BETTER Space?!

WHERE IS THE BETTER SPACE?! *kicks open the portal*

It? Is a terrifying time for everybody. Thanks A LOT, Youngblood. It takes like... five Amazons and Pandora herself tackling the little menace, to get him still long enough to get a semi-coherent answer out of him. Stop him trying to shake down random ghosts for answers they can't GIVE.

Youngblood is grounded.

DANNY has an Obsession-crash headache, is really embarrassed, but honestly no one blames him. No one acts their best when they're Obsession gets suddenly triggered that hard. It was a poor man offered El Dorado, a scholar all the secrets in the world. He got swept up in it.

That SAID, yes, there IS a video game shop near here. There are, of course, countless such shops. It's the Zone. There are countless EVERYTHING. It's the nature of the Zone. Just don't harrass any of the developers and all will be well, Phantom. They're not afraid to put YOU in time out as well.

Deal! ( /☆.☆)/ *grabby hands*

There? Are so, SO many games. For systems Danny's never even HEARD off. Alien ones, new ones, long dead ones. Zone exclusives. It's less a shop and more a sprawling maze.

His grin is FERAL.

Space. Gaaaaaaames!!!

The more realistic the BETTER. Give him that living vicariously like an Astronaut DREAM. But fantasy maybe! Or in the future! Or deep space! Alien mayhaps! There are a few. The blended Obsessions that are kinda like his. Space and video-games instead of Space and Protection.

And? Oh~

Oh they are so SO realistic.

Impossible to play on any Earth computer, too. Not a single chance. Wouldn't even TRY and run. But! He is a Fenton! And he WILL have his Space Games! If his parents can make a portal in their basement? HE can make a Bank of Ectoplasmic Supercomputers in his spare room! Or Bedroom! Depends on renting prices!

He GUTS every landfill for MILES for usable parts.

"Liberates" parts from Rogues, left and right. Fuck their evil plans! He has computers to build! The Justice League? Baffled. Alarmed. Nooooot his problem!!!

He completes his works and? Oh~ the smile is both terrifying and fangy.

Spaaaaaaaace~☆

He starts College. On line, of course, he refuses to leave Amity. And Online can be done at his pace, at his hours. So? For once? He's actually doing WELL. Even BETTER? It helps him remember to leave them games every once and a while. Eat something. Be human.

But... well... it's like a slow flip of his Obsession starving. Now that he has all the Space he could ever want? He... suddenly finds Amity... peaceful? Which is GOOD! It's... it's GOOD.

.........just not for him.

He can almost physically FEEL him mind unclenching it's death grip on the town. Finger by finger. Hands releasing, letting go, as they... reach for something. As he starts taking NOTE of crime rates in major cities. Alien attacks and Rogues, Heros spread too thin, people getting HURT.

In need of PROTECTION.

He... he doesn't WANT to be that fickle. He LOVES Amity! It's his HOME. He wasn't protecting it just because he craved something to protect! In the end, he drags it out longer then he probably should, argues with himself, ignores the problem. Is STUBBORN.

It's only after Dani starts talking about coming back to Amity to stay with him, do the college thing like he did, that he realizes...

Amity's not his Haunt anymore.

They talk. She's excited to help him find a nice shit hole of a city to protect, but also worried because he looks really gaunt. He may LOVE Space... but...

It's the GHOST in him that loves Space. The Astronaut. The Kid who refused to die, who ate a PORTAL TO THE EVERYTHING and crawled out still exsistant, who told Death not only "not today" but "not EVER"? That kid had something to protect. Was and is and always will BE, protection. Himself, his friends, his family or the town. Doesn't matter WHAT it is.

He refused to go, so he could protect them.

The part that DID, though, was starlight. And yeah, he needs it. Feeds it desperately. But it... doesn't exactly support his human half, you know? Doesn't anchor him. Make him want to eat and sleep, be human and alive, connect with people.

Space makes him ghosty.

Dani ultimately convinces him, after spraying him down with a hose and shoving a cheeseburger down his face, to move to Metropolis with her. They get ALIENS! Have Aliens HEROS! BIG DESTRUCTIVE FIGHTS. With lots and LOTS of people who need help! Plus? Gotham is within a day trip!

And UNLIKE Gotham, the Ecto isn't RANK AF in Metropolis.

Seriously, it smells like a burst sewer pipe over there.

Danny agrees. Can totally afford a modest lil place thanks to some patents. Makes one HELL OF A SCENE moving in. With his giant, ominous, futuristic, weirdly day glow green glowing bank of super computers... in this, "we love our Alien Blorbo" Metropolis.

Cause Green and Glowing sure ain't welcome round these parts! No SIR! Somebody call the COPS!

Danny isn't even half way through, when Superman lightly touchs down, a forced grin plastered to his face. The "please, God, not another Rogue. Not a new one. Please!" all but RADIATING off him.

Hmmmmm....

Danny... kiiiinda forgot not everyone was as "I see fuckin NOTHING, man" as Amity natives. Awkward. Welp! Fenton Oblivious Gene's, ACTIVATE!

"Oh, HIIIIIII~☆ Superman! What brings you round these parts? Gosh, it's an honor! Dani! Come meet SUPERMAN!"

Clark knows what he's doing. Danny knows, Clark knows what he's doing. They are both from the Midwest. They ain't gonna break first! You kidding? Clark still has to ask. Inserts himself by INSISTING on helping. A welcome to Metropolis! Ha ha! (How long we gonna lie for, kid? How long? I can do this all day.)

Clark? Learns that Danny has become ABSURDLY knowledgeable about terraforming, spacecraft, aerospace engineering and anything else related to Space Survival. Thanks to... his "games".

Which Clark is PRETTY sure? Are creatively set up, alien, training programs. Cause both of the Fentons are DEFINITELY at least partially non-human. But, eh. Who is he to judge? The "mad scientist" vibe, though... THAT is his to judge. Which he does.

Routine check ins!

And pasta bakes. Because good lord, Fenton, you are skin and bones! And? If it helps with both Watchtower maintenance AND some killer articles? Because Danny is a fountain of Space related knowledge who loves to share it? That's between Clark and the weird, semi-feral, gremlin he's adopted! (Yes, honey, he KNOWS Danny is a grown man. But I did it with BRUCE-)

@hdgnj @babbling-babull @legitimatesatanspawn @hypewinter @mutable-manifestation @the-witchhunter

[jade-jini]

omg thank youuuuu g!p loser reader x sana pls 🥺💕

(Perfect moment to bring Sha-rich AHHH)

Daddy’s rich girl who “works” at the company as well with you. Unlike her, you worked your way up to an important position in the company. You invested time, worked and studied hard, and had a position almost as important as her. Almost. Of course nobody could ever have more power than the owner’s daughter, right?

However, the fact that you were able to have such position already spoke a lot about how smart you were. Not a lot of people, specially at such a young age, could get there. If they didn’t know who Sana was, they’d wonder how tf is she technically your superior. Specially when you’re the one who basically does all the work for her.

“Y/n-ssiii” she called in her respective animated tone. You were talking with some coworkers in their desks when you quickly looked at her and gave her all your attention, feeling already cheered up at the sound of her pretty voice.

“Yes, Ms. Minatozaki?” You answered sweetly with those heart eyes you could hardly hide from others, happy to see her already ‘cause you were wondering when was she gonna get to the office (lost puppy behavior-). You knew it was common for her to just show up at any time she wanted to.

“Father has assigned me some hard hard work.” She said with a pout as she showed you a folder. “and I need the help and guidance of the smartest person here, Aka you. No offense, ladies.” She said as she gifted a charismatic smile and wink to the young secretaries you were previously talking to.

Everybody knew that when Sana said “help her”, it meant that you were gonna do all the work for her.

You, of course, would have gladly accepted right away, but you were full of work too, and wanted to take things slow this week rather than having to focus on working hard on your and her work as well. Again.

“I’d love to, but I also have this project and I act-” you tried to explained but she stopped you, already feeling bored hearing the excuse.

“Ah! This is important, y/n. You wouldn’t want our ceo to be missing such an important part of his presentation for this week, presentation that I remind you, you’re part of, right? Or is it that you can’t handle being part of it? ‘Cause If you can’t I can find somebody else that-” now it was your turn to interrupt.

“No!” You quickly said grabbing the folder from her hands. For some reason the idea of somebody else spending time with Sana like that made you horribly jealous (territorial puppy?). It felt like it had more than one meaning. It was more than just somebody helping her with work. “I can do it, ma’am. I’ll have it ready as soon as possible.”

“Sounds great! See you soon in my office.” She said with a big smile as she softly touched your forearm before leaving. You simply sighed, wondering why was it so hard to resist her. You turned around once her silhouette disappeared, just to see your coworkers looking at you and shaking their heads. You shrugged, and excused yourself to your own office to start working.

Some people would think Sana is using you to look good in front of her daddy and his important partners. You had coworkers looking at you with sad eyes, feeling empathetic about “the poor sunbaenim who is too good to say no and has to work so daddy’s girl doesn’t show how unprepared she actually is for this business”. Most of the people in the company liked Sana though, she was charismatic and that’s something that can get you far in life as well. You appreciated her qualities, and saw beyond. But of course there were always those few employees…

“Y/n sunbaenim should be the one with her position”

“Seriously, she’s so qualified. How unfair” some coworkers would whisper. What they didn’t know is that Sana was compensating you and very well for your help with her job.

In her own particular way.

“y/n! Oh my god. y/n~.”

Sana’s moans were getting loud to the point you were starting to concern that some people might be able to hear you guys from outside her office. But being drunk in her taste, you couldn’t care less about that. And Sana didn’t care at all when she was feeling this good, at the end of the day she (her dad-) owned this place. Who was gonna fire her?

You were almost naked, your upper body exposed, your wrists tied behind the chair you were seated on. Your pants were still on though, and your boner was already hurting but you didn’t dare to complain, focus on the task given to you. Not any important report that she needed to have on her daddy’s desk by the end of the week, or any structure analysis of who gives a fuck. No. right now the only thing that mattered was Making Ms. Minatozaki come in your mouth.

But how did you even get here today? Let me explain, it’s easy.

“Ms. Minatozaki, I brought you the latest report as you asked, with updates about last week’s movements in the graphs that our investment teams have been working on.” You said as you entered the woman’s office, several papers in hand battling not to fall as you fixed your glasses how you could.

Right as you stepped a foot on her office, she closed the door with your back against it and locking it behind your back, making you drop your documents and gasp in surprise “w-what’s going on, Ms. Mi-” but you couldn’t finish your question, as she started kissing you like she hasn’t seen you in years. You were caught off guard, moaning in her mouth as you grabbed her forearms. You always loved when Sana kissed you, sometimes you just wished she’d warn you before doing it out of a sudden.

“Ma’am, please, w-wait” you asked, feeling her hand traveling down to palm your dick over your pants “oh god…not there please…”

“Why not? I’m sure it misses me.” The older woman teased with a smirk, trying her best not to laugh. She went to leave wet kisses on your neck, biting it and grabbing your cock more ‘till she was basically masturbating you over your pants.

“Ms, Wait- fuck~ wait! Sana, wait!” You moaned, feeling weak in her hands, containing yourself from simply surrender to her touch was such a hard task, and slowly your brain almost forgot why would you even try to do it anyways.

“You have no idea how much it turns me on when you call me Ms. Minatozaki.” She whispered next to your ear, to then let out a mischievous giggle. “Although my name sounds just as good when it comes from your pretty lips, baby~” Sana teased, and went back to your neck, undoing your tie and shirt. Your trembling hands slowly tried to go to her lower back, but she had other plans “Ah Ah! You’re not using those right now, come here puppy.” Sana guided you to a chair she had in her office, and softly pushed you until you were seated. As she straddled you and went back to kissing you deeply, you didn’t realize that she tied your hands behind your back with your own tie until she stepped up to get something from her drawer and you tried to move.

“Sana? What’s going on?” You asked as you tilted your head, confused but clearly excited, already feeling your member pulsating, needing attention and missing the pressure Sana was giving it when seated on your lap. She was right. Your whole body missed her. Even when you guys hooked up very often you always wanted more of her.

“Nothing we haven’t done before, pretty puppy” she said as she showed you the leash and collar she bought just for you, with a blindfold as well, biting her lip clearly as eager as you were to start.

Oh.

“You wanna do that here?!” You asked her, clearly surprised.

“What, are you gonna tell me you don’t want it?” She asked back giving you a “you know damn right” look. Sana knew, you could never tell her no.

“… no ma’am.”

And that’s how you ended in the position you were in.

“That’s it baby, keep going like that. I’m gonna come~” you heard the older woman say as you basically fucked her pussy with your tongue, and you wished you could see her facial expressions but again, you didn’t dare to complain, not wanting to be punished. Even though you couldn’t see her, all of your other senses were very awake. The taste of her pussy against your tongue, making you drool creating a mess on her cunt as you felt some of it on your chin. The sounds of her voice moaning your name, as praises also filled the air. The sensation of the leash being pulled, keeping you as close as possible to her. Everything was having you on edge. You felt you could almost come untouched just by pleasing this woman.

Just as she stated, Sana came in your mouth, holding the leash and your head in place as she grabbed your hair a little too hard, sending a little pain, but not too much that you were uncomfortable.

“Fuckk your mouth feels so fucking good…” she moaned as she moved your mouth all over her cunt, helping herself ride the last highs of her orgasm. “It’s time to help you now, isn’t it puppy?” She asked in a cute tone, teasing you over your pants with her bare foot. With how neglected your cock felt, your hips automatically moved towards her foot, desperate for friction. This made the older woman laugh, you were such a cute needy puppy for her. “aw don’t be weird, puppy. I’m not using my feet for that. Got something better for ya.”

And as the seconds feel like ages, with the uncertainty of the darkness, you felt her hands slightly moving your pants to let your member free, and you felt how it hardly slapped against your own stomach. The sensation of your own precum making you groan, but you didn’t find it bothersome actually. The fact that it was still coming even when Sana wasn’t stimulating you at all in any ways made her hungrier for you.

“Aww, poor you. That probably hurts, doesn’t it darling?” She cooed. You nodded, a pout decorating your lips as soft whimpers started to leave them. An almost too loud moan escaped you once she started to slowly jerk you off “Shhh it’s ok, I’ll take care of it.” She said as her palm was now all over your tip, playing with the precum. You thought she was gonna make you come like this, until you felt the overwhelming and warm sensation of her tight pussy. God it felt like heaven. With how sensitive you were, and the desperation of not being allowed to touch her with your own hands. You felt you could come in any second.

Sana started riding you at a steady pace, knowing you were close but also not wanting you to finish too soon. She was playing with the pace, torturing you and enjoying the sounds you’d make when she slowed down robbing you of your own orgasm. If only you could see that damn smile she had on her face. “Sana, please… stop playing with me.. I need to come, please.”

Ouh she loved the sound of that. How you desperately begged her, knowing she had full control over you in every aspect. She needed to hear it more. “Hmmm ask again baby. Ask again and I’ll think about it.”

“Please, please, I’m begging you ma’am, please..” you sobbed, needing your sweet release, unconsciously thrusting your hips up, fucking her as fast as she was fucking you.

“Fuck..! Just like that, baby. Keep fucking going like that. Fuck me good.” She moaned between teeth in your ear, feeling herself getting close to her second orgasm as well. As you came, the sensation of your seed inside her drove her crazy, jumping even faster on your cock making you sob and ask her to please slow down, feeling overstimulated. But of course Sana didn’t stop until she was making a mess on your cock, making you fill her up even more.

———————

For somebody with her own office, she surely enjoyed rather going to more dangerous and small corners of the building.

“Wait, they’re gonna hear us…” you whispered with the little reasoning that was left in your mind as she quickly unbuttoned your pants while you were against the door of a janitor’s closet.

“No, I don’t think they will.” She said as she took her panties off and made you take them into your mouth before getting on her knees.

“Sana, we have a lot of work to do, please.” You said, taking her small piece of clothing out of your mouth for a second.

“Then let’s make it quick, and put that back in your mouth, now.” She said and before you could argue, she started sucking on your tip, moaning at the taste. Your eyes almost went completely white, getting already watery ‘cause of how sensitive you felt and how good Sana’s mouth was. You couldn’t help but to thrust your hips a little, hoping she’d get more of you inside her warm mouth. “Hey what did I tell you, hm? If you wanna fuck my mouth, you ask for it.” She scolded, teasing part of your shaft with her teeth “Understood?”

“A-ah~ yes ma’am. Can I please fuck your mouth?” You almost begged her, your voice coming out muffled ‘cause of her panties and you clenched the edge of the table next to you to try and have some self control while you waited for her answer.

“That’s better, yes you can baby.” She answered as she put her tongue out, giving you more access to her mouth, eagerly waiting for you to use it as your own fuck toy. And of course you did, getting deep inside her throat creating such wet and impure noises that would make whoever walks outside that closet turn around and leave the whole floor. Sana took it out of her mouth as she tried to catch her breath, replacing it with her hand instead. However, you were quick to put it back in, grabbing her head firmly.

“Nu-uh, we can’t risk it falling on your clothes. We can’t go to our meeting all dirty. You’re gonna swallow it all, aren’t you, baby?” You told her looking straight into her eyes, and she nodded, knowing she had no other option. She looked so cute like that, giving you those puppy eyes. People thought nobody could have more power than the owner’s daughter. Yet here you had her, on her knees listening to your every word and letting you use her mouth. People could call you a pathetic loser if they wanted to. As long as you could enjoy Sana. Not so long after, you came in her mouth almost making her choke. Still, she made sure to take everything you gave her, licking your dick clean, and getting a little too excited that you almost were starting to get hard again. However, you grabbed her arms and pulled her back on her feet, you guys had an important meeting and you were almost already late. She groaned, complaining and clearly wanting more “I promise after this meeting we can go wherever you want and do whatever you say, but please let’s go. We worked hard on these papers, remember?” You told her with a pout, a surprising switch on you that Sana was still trying to get used to.

“Ugh, fine..” she sighed as she rolled her eyes, and you both carefully got out of the closet (be who you areeee) after making sure you were presentable.

Getting to your meeting like nothing happened, clearly in a better mood than earlier that day, your cheeks red and sometimes stuttering as Sana continued eye-fucking you, fantasizing about what you promised earlier and impatient for the day to end to take you home,but she had the biggest smile planted on her face ‘cause there’s nothing she loves more than playing with you and having you around her finger during office hours.

A lot of people thought she was just flirting and playing with you, making you nervous or dreaming about a chance with her just so you would do whatever she wanted, but never actually batting an eye your way. The way Sana thanks you for your help (which she very much enjoyed as well, so it was a win-win for her every time), you could honestly say it was very fair tho.

Now, Sana was no idiot. She knew damn right what it was told about her and the way she treated you. She knew some people thought she was taking advantage of you and manipulating you ‘cause you were too good and innocent. You looked so shy and well behaved. “If only they knew” she thought. Yes, you were sweet, but innocent? Impossible, and if you ever were then she was sure she already broke you ‘cause with how easy she made you hard, and with how hard you pound on her, it was impossible to consider you innocent. Well behaved? Of course tho, you were so obedient for her. Just for her<3.

Continuation here <3

[inzuinzudesu]

Please zoom in to see small Kakashi! 😭 He kinda disappeared 😭😭😭

Text translation: "Infinite Tsukuyomi" (無限月読)

Drew these in mid-July - when I started doing digital again actually 🤔

Took inspo from the Balut - a street food in my country; I hear a lot of people are grossed out by it?? Don't know if this is controversial, but I personally love the dish. Essentially grew up with it after all!

Wanted to draw something that feels a bit creepy but still has a sense of mysticality to it???

Meh, don't know if the feeling got across or not

I thought since Halloween is coming up, might as well post this haha

About the process of drawing these!

These were very fun to draw! I messed around a lot with photoshop to achieve this glowy dusty effect?? From the brushes to the blending options, and maaan the filter gallery 😭😭 Such fun tools to play with.

The main brush I used to achieve the dusty effect is called "KYLE Bonus Chunky Charcoal", in the Kyle Dry Media brush set. If you can, I recommend checking it out! There are definitely other ways to achieve this sort of effect, though. You can probably just use some sort of scatter texture brush and it'd work just fine. Studying is all about trying things out, right? This is like my first experiment with this type of effect, and I was happy at the time. Now looking back, these could most definitely turn out better, no? I really went overboard with just the effect and forgot everything else. The blood and the plate looks horrible man. If you look closely, you can see the sketch lines haha! I got lazy!

Also, for Obito's pose, I relied heavily on a reference I found on pinterest 😭 I wish I'd changed the pose more tbh, it looks really boring.

And I gotta say, these just look underwhelming in this smaller size. Like reaaaaaally underwhelming. Would love to show you the big version, but oh well! 😭😭😭

Brain vomit time!

I love the prospect (??? is that the right word) of Obito being all god-like and powerful after Tsukuyomi, having control over everybody's dream worlds?? And like he jumps from dream to dream, but stops at Kakashi's and picks it apart???? Observing and tormenting Kakashi with his childhood form that has both sharingan???????

Kakashi would probably be confused with Obito's appearance at first, asking questions like "What are you up to this time, Obito?", but then wouldn't receive any answers??? Like little man would just stare at him creepily, and Kakashi would push this to the back of his mind for a while???

Umm below is the technical stuff, I guess??

My headcanon is that the time span in the dream world is the same as the real world. Meaning, 30 years in the dream world feel incredibly real, with no gap of memories. It's essentially a different timeline. Whether this makes sense or not, who knows haha!

Let's talk about the dream events and how they affect Kakashi! Due to Sakumo and team Minato still living, this Kakashi probably wouldn't be as lax nor sad as in canon?? The relationships and personalities would be different huh???? I'm having a headache thinking about this, so let's just say that: 1. Sakumo lived because the villagers weren't as harsh, but the animosity still remained. Kakashi still developed this obsession with rules, but he doesn't blame his dad as much. 2. Kannabi happened, Kakashi was given the sharingan, along with Obito's ninja way. Team Minato thought that Obito died for a while, but Obito is 'rescued' by Madara, same as canon. 3. Rin would still be targeted by Madara, but Obito came in time to help with the situation, blocking Kakashi's chidori from connecting with Rin's chest, but also knocking Kakashi away. Then, a Mist enemy took advantage of the situation to attack Kakashi, injuring him gravely, to the point where everybody thought he died. With this, Obito activated his Mangekyou and exploded on the Mist enemies, killing them all. Meanwhile, Rin tried to heal Kakashi, just barely saving him. As Obito had dealt with the enemies, there was no need to rush back to the village, and the Sanbi wouldn't be released till then. And so, they waited for Minato to come and help with Rin's seal. (About Obito's Mangekyou activating with Kakashi's death - would that be too far-fetched? My reasoning is that Obito would think that it was his fault Kakashi died, because it was Obito who knocked Kakashi away into the enemy, no?) 4. Because there's no one to become 'Madara' now that Obito came back to the village, Naruto is born, Minato and Kushina live.

5. The Uchiha massacre doesn't happen.

(Everything is incredibly convenient, because I don't have the brain power to make it otherwise, please help 😭😭) -> In conclusion, this Kakashi resembles the Kakashi of the real world, but less depressed and self-destructive??? He loves his living comrades. My man still has a massive obsession (more like crush lol) with Obito by the way, just like in canon. He just doesn't show it.

-> About Obito of the dream world (I'mma call him Dreambito), he is all sunshine and brightness, but he exhibits some dark thoughts and deep rage from time to time due to the residual effects of Madara's seal on his heart. The seal has been removed though. And he has this obsession with Kakashi's safety, as he almost pushed him to his death once, albeit accidentally.

-> I was debating whether to just start this dream world at the point where Obito got crushed, or to start it at the beginning of Kakashi's life. In the end, I went with the latter, cuz ya know, I like the idea of Kakashi living through a whole life all over again, just to finally come to the realization that it's all a dream. Does that make any sense at all??

Obito (child form - 13) first appears in front of Kakashi at the start of the Naruto series, when Kakashi has officially become the teacher of team 7. (Let's not change this okay, my brain would fry haha I'm not gonna deny that the idea of Obito and Kakashi becoming co-teachers of team 7 isn't incredibly fun though)

After the first encounter with this child Obito, Kakashi begins to have flashes of memories from the real world, and he hallucinates about people's deaths - mostly about the members of team Minato. This young Obito is always in the corner of his vision, most of the time silent, sometimes saying things like "You trash" to Kakashi whenever he encounters Rin, who is whole and grown up in this world.

Kakashi exhibits more destructive behaviors as this goes on, the line between the dream events and the real events slowly blurring. He takes more dangerous solo missions out of the village, and shows strong signs of PTSD, just like in canon.

The two Obitos would contrast each other?? Like Dreambito would be all concerned with Kakashi's decline in health (both mental and physical) and goes to confront and comfort him, many times over because that's how it is with them??? Dreambito might even move in with Kakashi, being the obsessive and protective Uchiha that he is. Meanwhile young Obito would be an absolute asshole, saying all these horrible things to poison Kakashi's mind haha

At this point, Dreambito'd be in the last stage on the journey of becoming Hokage, gaining the all the trust from the Uchiha clan, the village elders and the villagers as a whole. I don't know about Rin, though? Should she be romantically involved with Dreambito or no? Would Kakashi dream that??

I think Kakashi's dream would somewhat focus more on Dreambito being happy and satisfied, to be honest. I know there's Sakumo and team Minato as a whole, but as a degenerate shipper, I love the obsession between them🥺

I don't think Obito would directly interfere with what Kakashi is dreaming about, i.e. changing Dreambito's behavior, or like the political situation of the villages (?). But he would most definitely insert himself in Kakashi's psyche, no? Mess it up real good.

Kakashi would slowly realize that he is living a dream world, after all the flashes of memories that Obito generates in his mind. He would most definitely deny it at first though, I think? And then it would reach a point where Kakashi remembers everything from the real world, but he has also lived through 30 something years of the dream world, meaning he'd be in his 60s?? Does that make sense or no?

And so, while Kakashi now knows that everything is a dream, his feelings for everybody in the dream are real. If that's the case, is it really that important anymore that he escapes the Tsukuyomi? Can this dream world really be called fake at this point? Is there even anything in the real world for him to return to?

What's to say 'the real world' isn't a dream at this point?

-> Kakashi would completely close in on himself after this. He still does things that he would normally do, but it'd be all an act. He would feel completely isolated.

-> Dreambito would notice and confront him again, now that they live in the same house??? Kakashi would like say everything is fine and try to act more convincingly, but Dreambito would still know something's wrong????

-> Obito is observing from afar, who knows what his motivation is at this point.

Because this is Kakashi's dream world, I suppose he would have the power to change this world to his will, now that he's aware? This is like a lucid dream situation???

The people in the dream have their own will up until this point, but Kakashi can somewhat change their behavior if he really wants to, whether it's subconsciously or not??? Example: He can probably will Dreambito to kiss him or something lol

So on and so forth!

Man, I'm having waaay too much fun imagining the pain. There are probably like a thousand things that doesn't make sense haha! I do wonder how this sort of storyline should end though, does anybody have any ideas? Personally, I prefer slow burn with a (sort of) happy ending, but ya know, angst all the way is good too! I can't write, but I love thinking about all the things that could happen 😭😭 English isn't my first language, so this might have felt weird to read at some point haha

If anybody wants to develop this, please feel free to do so! And if you've read this far, thank you for reading this absolute brain vomit of mine! I love to yap, as you can tell haha Have a good day!

[midnightarcheress]

Simon has a new assignment.

pairing: bodyguard!ghost x actress!reader 1 | gold rush masterlist.

after years exhausting his body in the military and too many losses to count, Simon decided to retire. goodbye extensive deployments, food and sleep deprivation, constant adrenaline pump in his veins, hours spent washing the blood off of his fingernails. except he didn’t truly retire. life as a civilian again was too strange, too boring. he thrives in following orders and being the best at it. he missed having a purpose, even if it’s far from saving the world.

so, because of that, he agreed on joining a private military company as a contractor. never takes the dirty, mercenary-like jobs though – despite being rusted, his moral compass is still there, so he usually sticks with the security, training, bodyguarding type of work. easy enough to not take a toll on his body, and to not strain his conscience with the worry of ending innocent lives to cover up some bastard’s filth, but demanding enough to keep his mind out of his own life for a while.

the guy on the other side of the line doesn’t tell him much about the new task. bodyguard for an actress, indefinite time, details via e-mail. a few minutes later, the computer screen lights up with the case information and his eyes skim through the text; famous actress, has been receiving threatening letters and who ultimately has a stalker. a seemingly uncapturable one, as the police have not been able to trace them for months. incompetent wankers. in his prime he would locate terrorists with ease; nothing he couldn’t do right now, but his contract was strict – keep her safe and keep to yourself.

he doesn’t recognize the name, but the small picture attached to the message is slightly familiar, maybe from one of the times he spent hours flicking through the channels on the telly while battling a crippling insomnia. his brows knit together when he peers at the set of rules that accompanies the e-mail. no talking, no touching unless extremely necessary, must keep distance at all times.

in the months he’s been working in the company, he never had a job with an actual celebrity – mostly politicians and businesspeople, extremely straightforward and simple to execute, usually for a short period of time. he’s convinced that it will be the longest mission of his life, probably dealing with an entitled rich woman who’s used to having everybody begging at her feet.

dread fills his mind as he watches the trees quickly passing by his window on the car. the drive to the meeting is short enough to contain the rate of the antipathy brewing on his chest, but long enough to make him question accepting the assignment.

he pulls up on the driveway and walks towards a tall, modern building, filled with frantic people walking from side to side. glancing at his phone, he re-reads the details of the reunion; second door on the 23th floor, her manager will be expecting you. his fingers tap on the side of his thigh as the lift raises to the office level, eyes glaring at the mirror in the back of the platform. the image on the glass differs from the one on his past – military buzzcut and skull-printed balaclava replaced by messy blond locks and a neck gaiter, still covering a bit of his face even after all this time. old habits die hard.

the doors pry open right after the number appears on the screen and he walks down the hallway to the office, stopping on his tracks as he notices a feminine voice coming from inside the room. “i’m scared just as much as you, but is this really necessary?” she’s in there too? wasn’t the meeting only with the guy?

“yes, princess, it is necessary. do you want to make the front-page news as a corpse?” another voice can be heard responding, this time, male. must be the manager.  “in case you've forgotten, i’m also your friend, and i’m merely concerned about your safety. we cannot let that stunt from last week happen again.” stunt. he recalls part of the information on the file, depicting how she was almost assaulted by a weirdo that followed her on the street; however, the creepy prick was cleared from being the stalker and left the station on bail. great justice system. 

“we’ve already increased the security on your house, he was just hired to keep you safe on the outside.” he decides to stop eavesdropping and knocks sharply on the door. “must be him.” the man says, and he listens as footsteps approach the entryway.

“well, hello there. please, come in,” he steps aside, allowing Simon to enter the room. the office is fairly average, leather couch on one corner, portraits on the wall of what he assumes are the man’s clients, but all of the attention goes to the large windows showing a perfect view of the city. “so, i’m Daniel, the great manager as you may know," he smugly speaks, "and of course you already know her.” he gestures to the woman on the armchair.

the woman from the picture. the woman from the late night movie he was absentmindedly watching on a late night. you. you look the same as he'd seen before, but somehow entirely different. the warm sunlight coming through the glass shines on your skin when you stand on your feet, golden flecks twinkling in your irises as you offer him your name and extend a hand to greet him, sweetly mouthing “and you are?”

he shakes your hand with a firm grasp, stirring away the sudden void in his brain and swallowing the lump on his throat that hindered his words. “Ghost.” easy detachment. his gruff voice reverberates in the space as he repeats the orders in his head, the sense of doubt starting to cloud his judgement. keep to yourself. maybe the job won’t be as bad as he thought.

been a bit obsessed with this idea so i decided to write it and see how it goes.

[vivwritesfics]

Okay oak

So soulmate x driver

So it is lime two people being fated to always just miss or die? Kibda just before they meet each other

You can make it happy or not

Thinking max, carlos or charles/logan

🫶🫶

Lobe xoz

Please never stop being you 💓

I took this in a veeeeeeeery different direction sort of but also not

Warnings: Death, reader dies, max dies (a couple of times, actually), racing related death, murder and stabbing, shooting, sad but not really

Past lives. Some people believed in them, some people believed that this wasn't their first go around.

Max Verstappen knew it wasn't. Well, he didn't know it right away. In fact, the concept of a past life was something he wasn't familiar with growing up. That wasn't the sort of nonsense his father would entertain.

But then Max laid eyes on her.

He knew her. They hadn't met before, but he knew her. How on earth did he know her? He hadn't seen her face online, through his phone screen, but she was so damn familiar.

She was Charles's girlfriend. She was just a girl from Monaco that one of his best friends was now dating. But that wasn't how Max knew her, because this was the weekend they were taking to go public.

The way he was looking at her was creepy, incredibly so. Everybody that caught him staring at Charles's new girlfriend thought so, and somebody had to pull him up on it.

The problem was that Max didn't know what he was doing. He didn't know he was staring at her, too lost in his thoughts because where the hell did he know her from? He wasn't looking at her with lust on his face, more confusion than anything else.

Max had a dream that night. It was incredibly weird to be dreaming of somebody else while you old lady girlfriend slept beside you. (I'll be honest it was a real tragedy that Kelly attended that race weekend).

In this dream, Max wasn't Max. He didn't know his name, but he knew he was somebody else. The fact that he was in a horse drawn carriage should have given indication that his dream wasn't set it modern day.

"A ball, papa? Really?" Max was supposed to be a perpetual bachelor, he knew. He'd marry when he had to, when he needed an heir. But his father wanted him at this ball, wanted him there to watch out for his sister. Max hated it.

He'd have some friends at the ball, he knew, there to find themselves wives. He'd be there to glare at any man who thought himself a good enough match for his sister. Max would be the judge of that.

The ball was incredibly boring. He stood, talking to lords and other sons of lords. He spoke to hungry mamas that wanted to secure him as a good match for their daughters. He tried to be charming, he really did, but they were making it so damn hard.

But then she walked into the ball.

Max had been mid sip of his drink and was damn near ready to spit it out. He knew her brother, knew her mama, but had never met her before. God, she really was something else. Everything in the room seemed to dull in her presence.

This was the first time he had seen her, that was for sure.

Finishing his drink, Max started forward. Every man in the room would want to be on her dance card, he knew. He just had to hope that he'd get there first.

Another lord took her hand and danced across the floor with her. A dissatisfied noise left his lips as he watched them. He'd never been a very patient man, this was truly a test for him.

When the dance finished, she gave a polite bow and walked to find her mama or her brother.

Max intercepted her search. He gave his name and, with a bow, she gave her own. "So," he said, mouth running dry as he took her hand and the dance began. "Tell me about yourself."

She rattled off a list of accomplishments, things every young lady had been taught to do since birth. The pianoforte and embroidery. How many times had Max heard those two since he walked into the ball?

"That's not what I meant," he said with something of a laugh. "Tell me about yourself. You, the things you enjoy doing. Not the things your mama has had you doing since birth."

Heat rose to her cheeks. "Well, my lord, I enjoy dancing. Not like this, but full body moving. This is dainty and graceful, the dancing I enjoy is loud and expressive."

"It sounds impressive," he replied as they moved across the dance floor. He hadn't looked around since their dance began, but he knew that they were the two most sought after people in the room. And they were dancing together. It was like some cosmic joke, and he was the one laughing. "Do you think I could see it one day?"

Her eyes were bright, smile wide the moment the words left his lips. "I'm not sure, my lord. It wouldn't be very proper."

"I've never been one for propriety," he whispered in her ear.

She gasped, but she wasn't disgusted with him. Her eyes were sparkling and she looked as though she wanted to pull him outside, to show him how little she cared for propriety, too.

Suddenly, the doors were thrown open. The music stopped and everybody in the room whipped their head towards the door. There stood a man. Max didn't know him, and he knew almost everybody. But not this man, clothes a mess and expression crazed.

"Gregory," the girl dancing with him gasped.

The crazed man by the door narrowed his eyes at her. "My love!" He howled and marched towards them.

"What's going on?" Max tried to whisper to her, but she hid herself behind him.

Her hands shook as she gripped his arm. "He's crazy," she whispered back. "H-he wants me to be his wife! He hasn't courted me, he hasn't spoken to my mama or my brother. He has just declared that I'm the one he's going to marry."

When Gregory got close enough, Max placed his hand on his shoulder, holding him back. "My good sir," he said, trying to maintain polite. But she was trembling too much for him to stay composed. This man had an incredibly punchable face, he realised. "I'd advise you to leave the young lady alone."

Gregory let out another crazed howl. Before Max could push him away, there was a stinging pain in his chest. Gregory pulled his hand away from his chest and Max looked at where the man had just touched him.

The beautiful hilt of a knife was sticking out of his chest, red pooling around it and staining his shirt. "Oh," was all he could say before he dropped to the floor.

The screams started up almost instantly, but whoever Max had been was dead. He watched on, though, a ghostly figure watching as Gregory tried to drag her away.

"Come, my love," he commanded, but she pushed against him.

"No," she cried, desperately searching for help. But everybody was too afraid to move. What would Gregory do next? Surely he'd try to kill anybody that stood in his way.

"Darling, stop being so dramatic," he said and pulled her across the dance hall.

The first person to move was her brother. He produced a weapon, a gun that her certainly shouldn't have been carrying. But if Gregory had made himself a known problem, Max didn't blame him for carrying the gun.

But the shot didn't hit Gregory. It would have, if Gregory hadn't pulled her behind him. No, the bullet went through her back, and she dropped like a stone.

Max woke up with a start. He'd never thought about having a past life before, but this had been so real. It couldn't have been anything but.

He didn't know that, in another hotel room, Charles's girlfriend was having the same dream that he was. She dreamt of her own death, and that had terrified her enough to wake her up.

She hated that she was dreaming of the Red Bull driver, not when her boyfriend was sleeping beside her. She didn't even know Max. She'd heard of him, sure, but why was she dreaming of him?

The next day was the first time she met Max Verstappen. Well, the first time in this lifetime. Charles had introduced them, and they tried to act like they hadn't just dreamt about each other.

All they were allowed was one single meeting. A quick handshake and fate decided that they'd had enough. But it seemed to go this way in every lifetime for the two of them.

It was quite sad, wasn't it? That they never survived for much longer past their first meeting.

For Max, there was a crash. He was upside down and in the wall, unable to respond. The marshals and medical staff got him out of the car and into the ambulance, but it wasn't looking good.

It had been a freak accident, as well. No other cars were near him as he just... went. The red flag was brought out and Max was taken to the hospital.

Three hours later and he was dead. He was dead, but he was still there. Once again, he was a ghostly figure, watching her. He realised it then, the fucked up version of soulmates that they were. Only supposed to be together in death.

Her death was a medical mystery. Max watched on as she just... went. Charles was pushing on her chest, desperately calling an ambulance, but she was already gone.

He looked up as a second ghostly figure appeared. "Hey," he said.

She said his name. Not just Max, but every name he had ever gone by. When he was a pirate and she was the siren that lured him to his death. When he was fighting in the war and she was treating his wounds. When he was a lord and she a lady.

"Do you want to show me how you dance?" He asked, moving closer.

"That wouldn't be very proper," he replied.

The world kept moving without them. For now, until their next go around started, they were frozen in time.

"I've never been one for propriety."

[bitchesgetriches]

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High School Students Have No Way of Knowing What Career to Choose. Why Do We Make Them Do It Anyway?

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How Abusive Workplaces Mirror Abusive Relationships 

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Ask the Bitches: “How Do I Protect My Own Mental Health While Still Helping Others?”

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Love in the Time of Coronavirus: How to Protect Your Community and Your Soul from COVID-19

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The Ultimate Guide to Helping a Sick Friend 

Learning To Reverse the Golden Rule

I Have Become the Rich Relative I Always Wanted  

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A (Somewhat) Comprehensive List of Fun Job Perks that Won’t Pay Your Rent

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[estrellami-1]

Pay the Price

In which Steve needs Eddie’s help stopping the boys’ asshole behavior towards Lucas. He didn’t think he’d get anything more than a tentative alliance out of this, but best laid plans and all.

Part 1

“Eddie Munson,” Steve starts. “Heard you’re the man to talk to about teaching someone a lesson.”

A pause. “Uh,” Eddie says, “I mean, I don’t really do anything physical? But I won’t tell either, man, to each their own, I guess, unless you mean withholding weed, because that I can do. Depending on the lesson being taught.”

Steve chuckles. “No, nothing physical, and no weed withholding, either. Or at least, there shouldn’t be, considering they’re kids.”

Eddie sighs. “Okay, I get it. Prank call, right? Ha-ha, very funny, wanna get your laughs out now before I end the call?”

“Not a prank call,” Steve says evenly. “‘S about the kids I babysit. They’re in Hellfire. Mike’s being a little shit to Lucas.” A pause, “Dustin too, kinda, but Mike’s definitely the ringleader, y’know?”

“What the actual fuck,” Eddie says slowly, “is happening?”

Steve chuckles. “Like I said. The kids’re being shits to Lucas and I need your help curbing their behavior.”

“Who the fuck are you, man?”

Steve chuckles again. “Tell you what, ‘cause I doubt you’re gonna believe me unless you see me. You busy for the next hour or so?”

“You’ve piqued my interest. I’ll bite. No, I’m not busy.”

“Y’know Loch Nora?”

“Doesn’t everybody?”

“Last house on the right. Twenty minutes. See you then, Munson.”

Steve puts the phone back on the receiver and breathes out a sigh as he grins. This is gonna be fun.

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[serendipitous-girl]

𝒕𝒐𝒖𝒄𝒉 𝒎𝒆 𝒃𝒂𝒃𝒚, 𝒑𝒖𝒕 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒍𝒊𝒑𝒔 𝒐𝒏 𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒆

⊱✿⊰ summary: rumors spread fast at Hogwarts, Harry should know this by now.

. ⊱✿⊰ warnings: very suggestive, you sit on Harry's lap and he gets a boner, kissing, uhh everybody thinks you guys had aex but you didn't, typical teenage hormones, you guys are friends who have crushes on each other, post-confessions??, mcgonny might be ooc sryyy bad jokes

⊱✿⊰ notes: this is way more suggestive than i usually write but yeah. don't ask why i came up with this..i just did and i am kinda embarrassed but im already here

harry was sure he was going to explode. he had you, his very best friend, sitting on his lap and kissing his neck. he had not been prepared to know what to do when the prettiest girl he had ever seen was also into him.

he didn't know how to respond or how to reciprocate that he really, really, wanted what was happening. the best he could do was hold your hips, squeezing them as you sucked on a particularly senstive spot. he couldn't help the way heat started to pool in his stomach, blood rushing down to his-

"harry," you giggled, snapping him out of his embarrassing train of thoughts, "didn't know you were that excited."

"shut up, [name]," he grumbled, feeling his face warm exponentially. he pulled your closer, pressing his lips to yours, smirking into the kiss when the sweet little gasp you made reached his ears. harry was sure he would never get enough of the taste of your lips, sweet and soft like the chapstick you always loved to wear.

if he was anywhere near his right mind he might consider the fact, you and him were making out in the middle of the common room. but it was late at night, everybody was surely snoozing and harry couldn't control himself. he wanted-no he needed to feel more of you.

a groan got strangled in his throat as you wiggled your body, rubbing your body against his and sending electronic volts all throughout him. he should really tell you to stop...but fuck if it didn't feel good. (hey, the chosen one needs some fun in his life too!)

he leaned in to kiss you again, only to be met by your loud screech and you flinging yourself off of his lap like he had suddenly caught a highly contagious disease. a quick look at his pants would expose his highly embarrassing situation so he quickly grabbed a throw pillow and shoved it on his lap.

"professor!" you said, and he quickly snapped his head towards where professor mcgonagall was staring horrifed at you both.

"both of you! bed! now! acting so indecently in such a public place? i expected better than you, potter." she chided, pointing a finger towards the stairs. obediently you and harry hurried up there, harry being quick to hopefully hide his.. condition.

"practically have sexual intercourse!" she muttered, shaking her head. you and harry practically ran up the suddenly very long staira, hurrying to your respective dorms in hopes you could hide from the embarrassment. turning you gave harry a quick wave before shutting the girls dorm door. at the very least everybody should be asleep so nobody would be aware of this incident.

❀ ❀ ❀

the whispers started almost immediately after you stepped into the great hall. young and old students bored their eyes into you as you marched to your usual seat with harry, hermione, ron and the rest of your makeshift friend group.

ron immediately snickers, and hermione swats him with an eyeroll. your face was already warm with embarrassment, even more so now that your friends were aware of the whole...thing.

"i cannot believe you had sex with harry and didn't tell me!" hermione hissed, looking at you with a slightly betrayed look. she was your best friend, well beside harry (and harry was...more now.) but she was your girl best friend. which made it easier to talk to her about certain things.

"we didn't?" you said, clearly confused...you thought the rumors would at least be accurate if they were to be spread. but that was too much to ask for a bunch of teenagers hungry for drama. you turned to harry and added, "why do they think we had sex?"

harry blushed, probably remembering what happened the night before. then he said, "i'm pretty sure someone was awake last night and heard professor mention that we were 'practically having sex'"

he mumbled the last bit and you giggled, amused at his shyness about this whole topic. although you weren't faring much better, the thought of doing that with harry was enough to make your body implode.

"but are you guys like dating now..?" ron asked, paying half attention to you guys and half to the food in front of him. it was delicious so you couldn't really blame him.

you glanced at harry and he glanced at you, a small smile peeking out as you nodded slightly. his goregous green eyes lit up with excitement, the silent confirmation all he needed to know the truth. harry fucking potter was your boyfriend now.

"yeah, she's my girlfriend now." he said, before he turned around. you followed his gaze and saw draco malfoy staring daggers at him, his pale face red with utter fury. he looked like a swollen tomato.

you smirked, gaining some confidence and leaning towards harry. you pressed your lips to his, hands pressed into his chest. you only felt egged on by the hoots and hollers of the other students.

"well that certainly didn't help the rumors." harry said, fixing his glasses with a flustered look on his face. you giggled and hugged him.

"we'll let them believe what they want to believe. who knows, maybe they'll learn about the other times i've seen you naked." you giggled, laughing even more at harry's horrifed gasp.

"hey! you said you wouldn't bring that up!" harry whined, blushing even more as ron and hermione laughed along with you.

rumors were bad, but with your family and your friends..and your new boyfriend. it wasn't so bad.

lori © 2024. please don't copy, modify, or do anything weird with my writing! i like reblogs and comments but please be kind as this was my writing.

[mo-aiki]

Carson Langell, Heir to Earl Langell

Summary: Your childhood best friend was always a weird one, but you still loved him as a best friend none the less.

Warning: stalking, obessive behavior, never backing down when no is implied, I don't condone it, I just write it.

A/N: THIS ART IS NOT MINE IT'S THE MALE LEAD OF THE SECOND LIFE OF THE TRASH PRINCESS.

Connected to Yandere Isekai M. Characters x F. Reader

Carson has always loved you. Your families close from each other father's friendship and how well your mothers got along. He always remembered summertime at your manor. Playing as the princess who was protected by you, the knight from the dragons that were your servants. Spending days coloring and drawing, and reading books about fairytale romances. Sleeping together and always having sleepovers. He loved it.

He also loved your personality. You were mean to everyone but him. You always treated him with kindness and utmost importance. You cared for him if he fell down off a tree and got his knees badly scraped. If he got scarred by your family's hunting dogs, you would chase the dogs off somewhere where they won't bother him. If he got sick, you would care for him.

At some point, he realized something. After seeing your smiles and hearing your kind words, only for him, he realized what was happening to him. His ears blushed, his face felt hot, his heart beat at a quicker pace, and he felt like his tongue got tied every time he talked to you. At 8 years old, he finally realized something.

He realized he loved you more than a friend.

He will always see you as someone he always wanted to be near and close with.

He will make sure of it.

A strange boy came into your manor one day. His carriage, noble and opulent to look at. He thought nothing of it until he saw you talking to the boy, smiling and acting nice like you would with him. You laughed and smiled and talked absolute nonsense at times, like you did with him. The boy's expression looked like he hated it. How ungrateful.

To be graced with your presence and to ignore it because you find her boring? How dare he?!

It was also then when he found out from the butler that he was her betrothed. "What does betrothed mean?"

"Betrothed means to get married in the future, young master Langell."

Married in the future. A dream. His father told him once before. Marriage meant being together forever with the one you love. But right now, you were being forced to be with that boy for the rest of your life?!

He will not allow that!

He would never allow that!

He started being more clingy towards you, especially with that boy around. Always vying for your attention to grace him instead of that boy. But your behavior towards that boy was no help.

Yelling at girls who kept on talking to him, dumping that dark grape juice on their dress, you proved yourself to be completely enamored with him, and he didn't like that. He thought that he could've proved himself and get you to ditch him for him, but it didn't matter when he felt like he was losing.

How can you ditch him for that other boy just because of maybe looks? What did you like about him?

His looks? He thought he was pretty ugly.

His personality? He thought he was a trashy person.

His title? He doesn't remember it, but maybe it's because it wasn't very important.

But more importantly, what did that boy have that he didn't?

The day you had gotten the high fever, he felt like the world was going to end. The minute he had gotten that letter, he was freaking out big time. He hated how he felt hapless and uncontrolled. His little tricks didn't work when you were sick for 3 days. That boy came by, and he looked so different.

After you had woken up, you changed for the worse.

You stopped acting distant towards people and, instead, treated them with kindness. Helping the maids with their personal situations, talking more to everybody in noble society, being more open and more approachable. Everything changed after that day.

That stupid guy who he thought was worse than him all of a sudden was paying attention to you. Bring you gifts, his hand on your waist, kissing your hand, directly, holding hands with you, and dancing closely with you on the dance floor.

Which led him to up his game. Being pitiful. Being purposefully weak, sickly (from standing in the rain), and being injured to show you his pitiful side. It worked. Well.

It gave him excuses to be closer to you. To lay on your lap because he felt weak, to cling onto you because he was tired, and to always be cared for, by you.

But one day, you had gotten a guard. And not just any guard. It was the hero of the Bloody 10 Year war. He recalled seeing him at his ceremonial ball, meant for his victory against the rebelling state. Why would he want the position of a guard for a small count family. instead of a title of marquis, he doesn't know.

But he sure knows that he is truly annoying. Always being near. His job was to be near and protect you at all times, from a distance, not right directly in his face. That guard dog was annoying and some how even more clingy than him.

The men before him, were no competition, but now he had 2 rivals battling for her affection.

"(n/n)! I have a headache! Please help me!"

The day he had overheard your annulment talk, he was so happy. He was elated. He could finally have his chance with you.

He could give you the sweetest desserts from your favorite bakery, give you a field's worth of roses, a million kisses everywhere (I mean everywhere), and be the shoulder for you to cry on.

He could be your soulmate if you just let him.

"I need to prepare a bunch of roses and some sweets, maybe I should go ring shopping while at it..."

A/N: I'm trying to get all 3 guys released before I truly do commission work. But still. Did you enjoy it?

[scary-grace]

Radio Silence - a Shigaraki x Reader oneshot

For the last year, your best friend has been somebody you've never met. When Tenko suddenly stops answering your messages, you don't know what to do. Canon, reader has self-esteem issues, 2.1k.

You’ve been avoiding your phone for what feels like days, but you know it’s been hours, or less. You hid it under a pile of clean clothes in your closet so you wouldn’t check it every five seconds. You muted all your alert sounds, except one. You gave yourself a long list of other things to do, hoping the tasks would distract you. But your mind always wanders, somehow, and it always wanders right back to what’s not happening. Every day for the last year you’ve been able to count on at least a message or two – and usually more – from a person you’ve never met face to face. And for the last three days, you haven’t heard from him once.

Tenko keeps weird hours. You know that. You know he goes dark for half the day or more at a time, and the one time you asked if he was okay, he went off on you for fifteen messages in a row. At first you thought it was because you’d gotten too familiar, made a conversation struck up in a Discord server into more than it was, but a week of shallow conversation later, you got a way-too-pissed message asking why you never asked how he was doing anymore. Tenko’s the king of mixed signals. You know that, too.

And at the same time, you know from the details he’s shared that he’s as far from okay as it’s possible to be. He’s sick a lot. He gets hurt a lot, and he won’t tell you how. Sometimes the anger pouring out of his messages scares you a little. And sometimes it’s validating, because you’re not okay, either. You’re angry, too. Sometimes the only thing that makes you feel better is knowing that you’re not alone in feeling that way.

You have been alone, though. The last three days, you’ve had nobody to talk to, and you’re angry at him for leaving you in the dark, for not just telling you that he was done with you. If he’d told you that, you could have gotten angry back, and maybe gotten a reason why he didn’t want to talk to you anymore. Instead you’re sitting here wondering what you did. Worrying that something happened to him. And then reminding yourself that nothing needs to happen to someone for them to want you gone. Everybody does, eventually. You aren’t worth sticking around for.

You knew that. You expected it. You just didn’t expect it to hurt this much.

You can’t avoid your phone forever. Eventually you need it for something, so you dig it out, and you switch on all the alert sounds again. You’ve been through this before, and no matter how much it hurts that the person you’re closest to has ghosted you, the world’s not going to stop so you can collapse in a miserable, self-loathing heap. Life keeps moving, even when you don’t want to be part of it. You have enough shame left to prefer walking rather than being dragged along.

The days begin to add up, and you try to force Tenko out of your mind. It’s hard to do, because you used to tell him everything. You stop taking pictures of things, because you know there’s no one to send them to any longer, and every time you open up your messaging app, you see the last message you sent him, hovering like a bad dream at the top of the list. It seemed innocuous when you sent it, but when you look at it now, all you can think about is how stupid it is. No wonder he stopped talking to you. You’re useless.

Your quirk is boring. Most people’s quirks are, but you’re also lazy, so you didn’t try hard enough in school to make up for being useless that way, and you’re not pretty, either – not that it matters, he’s never seen what you look like – so there’s nothing redeemable about you. Maybe he made better friends. You were probably only a placeholder for him. You just wish he’d had the grace to tell you that ahead of time.

A week becomes two weeks. A month. A little more than that, and although other messages have pushed your thread with Tenko out of sight, he’s still on your mind. You haven’t blocked him yet, even though you should. One night after work, you sit down with a bottle of vodka and a shot glass, swearing you’ll drink until you work up the courage. But before you work up the courage to do that, you work up the courage for something else. There was a while where Tenko was sending you voice memos instead of messages, because he’d gotten hurt and he couldn’t type. You’ve heard his voice, but he’s never heard yours. You’re going to make him listen to it. At least once.

You press the voice call button and listen to it ring three times before it abruptly disconnects. Screw him. You call back again, and this time, it rings all the way through and invites you to leave a message. Yeah, you’ll leave a message. Your message to Tenko is “fuck you”.

But when the voicemail starts to record, the words come to a hard stop in your throat. “Hi,” you start. “It’s – um –”

You forget your own name, like a clown. You didn’t think you were that drunk. “It’s me,” you say finally. The call log will show your name. He’ll know who it is. “I haven’t heard from you in, like, a month and a half, and I miss talking to you. I really miss it. And maybe I talked to you too much, or something, and that’s why you left.”

Your throat starts to close. “I know it might not be that you left, but it’s easier for me to think that than to think that something bad happened to you. I don’t want something bad to have happened to you. So it makes more sense that it’s my fault. I wish you had told me what I did, so I could fix it for the next person I talk to. If there’s a next person. I’m running out of lives on this friendship thing. Or whatever this was. Sometimes I thought –”

Sometimes you thought what? Even drunk and teary and pathetic, you can’t get the words out of your mouth. It’s too embarrassing. The only thing worse than wanting something is getting caught doing it, especially something that you should have known better than to think you’d get. “It doesn’t matter,” you say instead, and then you sniffle audibly, because your nose is running. Gross. “Anyway. You’re probably not even going to listen to this when you get it, and that’s fine. I wanted to let you have it about what a dick you are for ghosting me, but I couldn’t even do that. I guess I just – I don’t know. I hope nothing bad happened to you and you’re just done with me. I hope it’s nice, wherever you are.”

That’s a good sentiment to end things on. But of course you have to fuck it up, because you’re you. “I really miss you,” you say, and you know the voicemail recording is going to capture exactly how choked up you are. “I wish you had just told me, Tenko –”

The answering machine cuts off. You’ve been babbling so long that you ran out of tape, and somehow that’s the thing that makes it all too difficult to bear. You burst into big, stupid tears, your face in your hands, and instead of drinking more or lying down or doing anything that makes sense, you put your down on the table next to the vodka and shot glass and cry yourself to sleep, like you’re in high school all over again, learning a lesson you should have learned the first time. You’re never going to be someone’s first choice. You aren’t even worth a real goodbye.

When you wake up again, you’ve cried yourself out, and you’ve got a splitting headache to go with a mouth that tastes like vodka and death. You should also have a crick in your neck from sleeping on your kitchen table, but you’re not on the kitchen table. You’re not on the floor, either, or on your couch. Your head is on a pillow that’s a lot nicer than the pillows on your bed, and there’s a blanket pulled awkwardly over you. The air smells different, too. The mold-flavored air in your apartment is usually enough to send you sprinting to the bathroom when you wake up with a hangover, but this air is clean.

Are you even in your apartment anymore? You sit up slowly and get the answer – nope, absolutely not, because the room you’re in is a bedroom that’s bigger than your entire apartment. It’s probably the nicest room you’ve ever been in, if you’re being totally honest. Did someone kidnap you? Did you die? The latter feels way more plausible to you. You’re not interesting enough to kidnap. But if you’re dead, it feels kind of unfair to have a hangover on top of it.

“Finally,” a familiar voice says, from somewhere nearby. “I thought you were never going to snap out of it.”

You whip around fast enough to make yourself dizzy. The bed you’re sprawled out on is big enough that you could fit another bed between you and the person on the other side of it. The person over there is in a leg cast, with bandaged hands and bandages on his face. You couldn’t recognize his face even if you could see it. But you do recognize his voice. You can’t believe your ears. “Tenko?”

“Yeah,” Tenko says, like any of this is normal. “I was wondering if you were going to call.”

“If I was going to?” you manage.

“Yeah. You ghosted me.” Tenko looks at you. You didn’t have a clear picture in your head of what he looked like, but this definitely wasn’t it – white hair, red eyes, a face completely covered in bandages. “That was kind of shitty.”

“You didn’t answer my message for months,” you protest. “That’s what ghosting is. Not me not calling you after you didn’t message me back.”

“Whatever,” Tenko says. You know it’s him. It’s his voice. But you can’t get over everything else that’s weird about the situation – the way-too-opulent room, the fact that Tenko’s clearly been beat to shit, the fact that you fell asleep at the kitchen table and woke up here. Wherever here is. “If you called earlier I’d have come to get you earlier.”

He was waiting for you to talk to him? You’re tempted to look up ghosting on your phone and make him read the actual dictionary definition, but whoever brought you here left your phone behind. And there’s a bigger question you need answered. “Where am I?”

“This is headquarters.” Tenko shrugs, then winces. Is his arm in a sling, too? “For the League of Villains.”

You cough. “Or maybe it’s not the League anymore. They’re changing the name,” Tenko continues. The League of Villains? “Anyway, it’s a lot nicer than our last place. Makes your apartment look like a hole in the ground.”

“How do you know what my apartment looks like?”

“How do you think I knew where to get you?” Tenko gives you a weird look. “You’re here now. I’ll take you to meet everybody once you’re sober.”

He settles down on his side of the bed, grimacing as he tries to get comfortable. It looks like he’s ready to take a nap. He has to be joking. He just kidnapped you, or had you kidnapped, and he’s with the League of Villains. He thought you were ghosting him the whole time instead of him ghosting you, and instead of explaining anything at all, he’s going to take a nap. The anger you should have expressed on the phone call comes up. “Who are you, Tenko?”

“That’s not my name,” he says. “I couldn’t tell you my real one before. But I guess –”

He reaches over to a nightstand and picks something up, and your heart skips six or seven beats in a row. Not in the good way. The way where you’ve missed a step on the stairs and you’re not sure you can catch yourself before it’s too late. Your online friend settles the hand over his face and glances towards you. “Shigaraki Tomura,” he says, a crooked smile showing through the bandages. “Nice to finally meet you in person.”

He closes his eyes and falls asleep without removing the hand. You’ve spent the last month and a half tearing yourself up over being ghosted. It never occurred to you that there might be worse things. Depending on what happens when Shigaraki Tomura wakes up, this could all too easily be one of them.

[obriengf]

way to go, tiger; w/mitch rapp

it was always mitch, or rapp, or just mitch rapp. this rose didn't go by any other name - and in fact, the idea of being given a nickname or pet name was incredibly infuriating to the man at first.

stan hurley was very creative when it came to addressing others, and he took pride in annoying everybody he crossed with a title that pissed them off in just the right way. mitch was often on the receiving end and was referred to by everything under the dark side of hurley's derogatory sun - dumbass, idiot, little shit, and so on. an immunity was built and the names eventually rolled off his back with ease.

it wasn't though until you joined their little team, and the idea of getting under mitch's skin was a game of pure reciprocation, but you will never forget the time you made him freeze... when you referred to him as 'tiger'.

"is that all you got, tiger?"

you were both sparring and he just stopped. head titled as eyes were squinted by furrowed brows. he had growled as you dodged his punch, and it sparred on a name that even you thought was completely absent-minded. it was a slip of the tongue, no thought, a beckon to playfully taunt the man. it was a bunch of words that soon prompted fire behind his eyes as he detested how it stupidly threw him off his game.

it affected him, and that interested you.

it was another day, and hurley played dirty. mitch was dropped on his ass as your handler tricked him, and mitch growled - the type of rumble that came from deep within his chest as it puffed out, and you couldn't help yourself.

"settle down, tiger. ts' just messin' around."

his eyes flicked to yours, their golden warmth ripping through you for only a mere second before he rolled them in frustration. you had your fair share of taunts from time to time, but it was always entertaining to throw them back at mitch when he least expected it.

the next time was when you were in danger. the both of you were double-crossed by an informant, and mitch took it to heart more than you did. he stood tall with balled fists, his physique strong as it towered over you pushing him back. your hands clutched in his black t-shirt, speaking quietly to calm him down as he growled as a warning shot when the other man ran for his life.

"woah, woah. he's not worth it, tiger. stan will give it to him, just calm down. take a breath."

mitch looked to you. those eyes you were so used to now just boring into your own, but somehow your gentle touch and the way you spoke to him were enough to make him listen. the name wasn't a tease anymore, it was becoming an endearment.

the touches continued; subtle at first, meant for taming the beast. and his hands... although calloused and large, were only ever delicate and gentle when they handled you. mitch was your protector - not for the sake of a team, but because needed to care for you. he wanted to care for you.

there was a time that fluttered between lips on skin and giggles mixed with heated breaths. soft sheets twisted with naked bodies as hands dragged over every inch of warmth and bareness, a hotel room after days of laying low, and the only amusement was each other. the arms that protected you so much were now caging your body to a bed as your nails raked down the muscular back of your sinewy partner.

mitch was buried within you, and one particular drag of your joint bodies over the sheets made you tug at his locks and bite down on his shoulder. he growled out, plauful at first with his dimpled cheeks until it was utterly pornographic.

"give it to me, tiger."

and he did. all night long.

hurley thought it was sickening how easily mitch softened after your time together. your partner was a lost puppy, a shadow, completely compliant to you by a single curl of your lips. mitch lived off the praise you threw to him so sincerely - and he honestly, had never been better at his job.

it was the final showdown on your mission, and mitch restrained himself from pulling you behind him. he knew that you were capable and he respected that - he loved it, frankly. but the moment he saw the glock pointed toward your head, he made sure that he got in first and the assailant was down. you ran to him, arms securing around his frame as you squeezed in gratitude.

hurley was moaning in your headsets about how there was no time for affection, but you two never listened. with a kiss to your partner's scruffy cheek, you breathed shakily into the curve of his neck,

"way to go, tiger."