#he’s like two inches from being brain dead really

[sincerelyourswhistledown]

Lucerys doesn’t remember much of the outside world.

There are faint memories, flashes of silver streaks and high pitched giggles. A faceless brown haired boy with a hand always held out for him to take. Lucerys remembers feeling warm, a lightness to his otherwise empty chest as he chases the high of his dreams.

Aemond tells him it’s his overactive imagination. That the outside world wasn’t good, that their childhood was nothing but pain and despair. That’s probably why he never lets Lucerys out of the house.

Every morning Aemond leaves him with a peck on the lips and a promise of return. During that time Lucerys is left alone to his devices, cleaning the house and playing with his kitten, Jace. Never mind that Aemond absolutely hates the cat, he’s not the one stuck at home bored out of his mind. At exactly five in the afternoon, Aemond comes home and Lucerys is there to welcome him. With open arms and a hearty dinner.

It’s repetitive but it’s all Lucerys has ever known. All he’s ever remembered since the accident. Aemond doesn’t like talking about the accident. Whenever Lucerys tries to ask about it his lover’s expression becomes unreadable and he’d have to deal with a brooding Aemond for the rest of the day. Sometimes, when Lucerys pushes too much he wouldn’t see Aemond until the next morning. The idea of cheating had never crossed Lucerys’ mind, usually by then he’d been too inconsolable. His separation anxiety turning him into a sobbing mess and only Aemond’s warm arms and comforting hum could make him stop.

There was one time when Lucerys had managed to summon the courage, he’d asked Aemond where he went to every Friday. And why he came home so late. He didn’t expect much, in fact he’d expected it to get ignored. The same way all of his questions about the outside world was. Much to his surprise, Aemond had stared into Lucerys’ face with an expression that was absolutely devastated.

‘To a dear nephew.’ He confessed. That night Aemond had told him about a beloved nephew who had been in the same accident as Lucerys, except unlike him the boy never woke up. He’d explained what the doctors had said, that he may never wake up ever again. Forever caged to his hospital bed and connected to wires. After that night, after seeing the devastation and despair in his beloved’s face Lucerys never asked again. He didn’t like seeing Aemond like that.

“My Aemond is so handsome,”Lucerys teased, tying his lover’s tie with expert fingers. “It almost makes me want to tie you to our bed and keep you here forever.”

The older man chuckled, his sapphire eye glinting in the morning light. With his long arms he encircled them around Lucerys’ waist and pulled him closer. “Promises, promises.”

Lucerys eagerly accepted his kisses, basking in the affection before his beloved once again left him for the day. It almost made him want to pout and charm his way into keeping Aemond home today, it’s not like he hasn’t done it before. It usually took some effort and the man was nothing short of disciplined but with enough kisses and suggestive petting, he’d find himself back in bed and a playful Aemond on top of him.

Breaking away from the kiss, Lucerys rested his forehead on Aemond’s and sighed. “Are you sure you have to go to work today?”

The pale blond almost looked apologetic, giving him another peck on the lips. “I’m afraid this meeting is impossible to reschedule, my dragon.”

Although unsurprising, Lucerys found himself grumbling as he begrudgingly untangled himself from the older man. He could do nothing but pout as he went back to straightening his beloved’s crumpled suit, determine to keep Aemond looking sharp and put together no matter how much he wanted to tear the suit off and not fix it. “What do geneticists even talk about in meetings? Don’t you guys just stare at microscopes and petri dishes all day?”

Aemond let out an amused huff, shaking his head at the younger boy’s adorable grumpiness. “Silly taoba, do you really want me to stay that much?”

Lucerys stayed quiet, stubbornly refusing to meet his eye. If Aemond didn’t want to stay with him today then he wasn’t going to force him. He wasn’t some dumb doll created solely to rely on Aemond and fawn for his attention. He had more pride than that, thank you very much.

From the corner of his eye, he noticed Aemond grin in amusement. A gentle hand on his chin coaxed him to look up and Lucerys once again found himself staring at the breathtaking view of his love’s pale lilac eye and the blue sapphire.

“Don’t worry my love. Once I finally prove to them that human cloning is impossible then I can finally shut this research down. That means more time for you and me.” Aemond cooed, bringing the younger boy back into his arms.

“Promise?”Lucerys asked, his voice tiny but hopeful.

“I promise.” Lucerys beamed at his lover’s quick response, feeling warm all over.

“Besides,”Lucerys feels more than hears Aemond’s voice from where he’s pressed his cheek on the taller man’s chest, “Human cloning should be left as it is. Who knows what kind of crazy things sick fucks would do if it was possible.”

Lucerys hums along in agreement.

[muntitled]

𝘽𝙧𝙖𝙞𝙣 & 𝙃𝙚𝙖𝙧𝙩

: ̗̀➛ Mattheo Riddle x Fem!reader | Brief!Harry Potter x fem!reader

: ̗̀➛ Summary: Jealousy makes the heart grow fonder.

: ̗̀➛ Warnings: Alcoholism, Dark!fic, Ravenclaw!reader, Bullying, Unrequited Love, Shy!reader, Toxic Relationship, Jealousy, Narcissism, Weaponizing!Harry (sorry boo), Fluff, A bit of Angst, Smut +18 (Minors DNI), DubCon, Semi Public sex, Unprotected Sex, Oral Sex, Masturbation, Dom/Sub, CNC, humping, Spitting, Degradation, Dacryphillia, Choking, Gagging, Subspace, Slapping, Sadism, Breeding Kink

5k words

A/N: Hell truly is empty. I apologise in advance.

You have made peace with the incomparable fact, long ago, that if the muggle God existed - if he is known to shepard Muggles and Wizards alike, then he was far too busy to attend to you. There is just too much going on all at once. The wizarding world is caught in its archaic intolerance of Half-Bloods. On the mortal side, you were informed from your private tutoring with Professor McGonagall that their smartphones are threatening devolution.

“It’s the closest thing they’ve got to a wand, Lovie, so we can’t really fault them on that, can we?” 6 years into your schooling at Hogwarts and you would continue to shadow Professor McGonagall, hoping you might one day soar to her heights of academic prestige in the wizarding world. You needed to be a Professor as much as a mortal needs to breathe….

You cannot let him, of all people, ruin things. Your reputation is a fragile, flammable thing - and he is freaking Kerosene.

It's difficult to pinpoint when it started or how your sensibilities rushed away from you so swiftly. One moment you’re planting your textbook on the face of a wooden desk - the sound reaching the rafters in the highest peak of the deserted classroom…

“A Guide To Advanced Transfiguration.” Mattheo read the title aloud with a tedious uninterested drawl. “Seems a bit presumptuous to shove this down my throat so early on. Shouldn't we be starting from the beginning?"

You ignored him promptly, using the silence to arrange your colour coordinated stationery on your desk beside Riddle's,

“I had no idea," You began, brushing off your blue lined robes and flattening the invisible creases on your skirt, "-That the person residing under my tutelage would be a first year."

Riddle stabbed the inside of his mouth with his tongue, while his eyes rolled to the back of his head. Your face remained passive as you continued, "You are a sixth year, correct?” You asked with a snide tilt of the head before planting yourself on the desk beside him.

��You are a big boy capable of understanding big boy books,” Unbeknownst to you, your words managed to stir something foreign within Mattheo but he conceals it with his usual veneer of arrogance as he swings his head lazily in your direction.

"May we begin?" You asked, with your back straightened - inches away from his hand now hanging on your chair.

"In a bit…" he says, "Just..." his voice trails off as his eyes scan over your visage, likely assessing it like an unseen tapestry. The truth is, Riddle did not know you prior to being forced under your tutelage. His droopy brown eyes appeared even more so as he broke the distance between you two and studied you closer. A tense silence grew pregnant in the ancient classroom, and your resolve was beginning to slip. Only one thought inflated a puddle of anxiety in your stomach:

Could this be your first kiss? Is this what first kisses looked like? Could this be your very first brush of intimacy overall?

Your brain failed to rationalise and compartmentalise his attraction, but your heart pushed your head closer.

"Call me a big boy again..." He had whispered… which evidently led you here.

Your lesson had ended with your hand covered in his release and a breathless smirk painted across his face. "This goes without saying," he breathed out with a satisfied smirk, "But tell anyone about this, and you're dead."

Ever since that day, your tutoring has been but a veneer of something much more sinister. When you were thrusted into the light of day, Mattheo overlooked you as did lots of his Slytherin friends. Besides the occasional threat and vague insult, you mean nothing to him.

When you two are alone, however, as you are right now, he would enchant you into servitude, lightly pushing your head down while he kissed you silly until your knees were planted on the hardwood floor.

Mattheo briefly opens his eyes to peer down at you. It is then when you notice the fresh bruise dotting the side of his face, and his pillowy lips split by a small incursion. He had very clearly gotten into another fight..

“Your mouth feels so fucking good when you're not using it to be a smart ass,” His words illicit a bubble of heat inside you.

Despite all this, you are clearly aware of the fact that you should not be enjoying this at all. Not one bit. For starters, you can feel the old wooden floors digging into the meat of your knees and the crisp winter chill is unkind to your scantily dressed state. Your shirt is unbuttoned because Mattheo was like a moth to a fucking flame when it came to your ample breasts and his hand is buried tightly in your kinky curls, forcing his cock even further down your throat. The very bones of Hogwarts seem to be in vehement protest of your blatant whorishness.

3 silver chains hang from his neck as he plants his other hand against the wall behind you, blocking your kneeling frame between both him and cold, hard stone. You crane your neck back, keeping a half lidded gaze on the jewelry that drives you feral with lust. You are content imagining that perhaps, when he is getting ready in the slytherin common rooms, he wears the silver for you. A fanciful thought but one that consistently has your intestines weaving themselves into knots.

That, paired with his striking, jet black blazer, which is discarded somewhere in the abandoned classroom, has you keening and fighting to take even more of him into your mouth. Perhaps you were peacocking a little - flatting your tongue so his cock slid seamlessly to the back of your throat while you fought to ignore the pain blossoming on your scalp. He had turned you from an inexperienced nun to something you're not quite ready to examine yet.

"You're finally putting this head of yours to good use…" Despite his feigned arrogance you're utterly delighted knowing that only you can bring Mattheo to such an utterly restless state. He does not really know what to do with himself.

Not when you took so much of him, so well.

You clench your toes.

Feeling himself get too close, Mattheo eases his cock fully out of your mouth, languidly stroking himself but still assuming a firm grip on your scalp. He is operating on that very specific plain of narcissism that was special to Mattheo. He is aware of your presence, physically, but his words are spoken into the open air, like you are an inanimate object. A glorified toy.

"Are all Ravenclaws as compliant as you are?”

You bring a crisp white sleeve up to your lips, wiping away the excess drool as you remain kneeled in front of him, knowing he has yet to finish.

"If you ever think of finding out," your voice is hoarse, "this will be the last time I offer you any free study sessions."

"Is money all you seek?" He attempts to feign composure, continuing to languidly stroke his cock. "How utterly greedy. I thought- fuck… - I thought you were far more philosophical than that"

You watch hungrily as Mattheo bites on his pillowy bottom lip. He is prolonging the release, taking his time as he usually did... "If you plan on edging yourself in my mouth instead of actually finishing the job, I do have other commitments to attend to-"

He ignores you... his brows furrowing and smoothening at odd intervals as he continues to touch himself while studying you.

"We may not be studying… but I still intend to pass Transfiguration, hope you're aware." He punctuates his sentence with an breathless laugh- it blossoms across his usually stoic visage, raising his buttercup cheekbones towards his smiling eyes.

As he talks, you examine his scars and feel the slow essence of admiration seep into the pit of your stomach. An arguably pathetic feat, given that your feelings will not ever be reciprocated.

Brewing inside you is the need to take care of him. You knew the rest of the student body viewed Mattheo as a glorified parasite. Something that is only capable of thinking within the capacity of its own means. Something that takes, and takes, and occasionally jokes around, and takes. But how could he know anything different? You suspected that his home life was built on the foundation of survival, on needing to be the loudest, and proudest, and worst of them all.

"What the fuck are you doing?" The sharpness of his words slice through your thoughts, bringing you back to yourself. Mattheo's gaze is placed firmly on something down below. Throughout his mindless tirade, your hand had taken to rubbing soft, comforting circles against the leg of his pants, quite literally on its own accord. Mattheo is bent over, head tilted as he watches you questioningly. Seconds stretch to a minute, and your stomach sinks as time passes.

Eventually, he dismisses you. He shakes his head. "Whatever," He says, tilting your head back and lining your mouth with the head of his cock once more. His visage darkens into a cruel sadistic grin. "Tell me you want me to come in your mouth."

Almost instinctively, you do as he orders and like clockwork, you swallow his cum, wondering if he knew how deeply and truly your words actually were. There was a moment, perhaps imagined, in which his fingers gripping your hair, melted to the side of your soft, supple cheek. It stays there for longer than necessary, leaving bits and pieces of your composure scattered in its wake.

Mattheo soon straightens his posture, stuffing his flaccid cock back into his pants before making himself as presentable to the student body as they know him to be (which admittedly is not a lot) And before he turns to walk away, he leaves you stranded on a glacier with his ice cold words cutting deep into your beating heart.

"Tell anyone about this-"

"And I'm dead," You interject, "I know."

And with that, you pull your ruffled collar over your lint-free school jersey and check your reflection to assess the damage Mattheo and his iron grip might have left. You needn't wait for an extension on the conversation because your job here was done, (pun so malevolently intended).

As far as Mattheo is concerned, you are an easy conduit to release his frustrations through because your unpopularity makes you so incredibly inconspicuous. You blend into any given crowd at any given moment, your name seldom reaching the heights of ridicule among his group because you are so unforgettable… There had been no reason to point out your flaws, not because you did not have any, but because you were simply invisible.

It is particularly strange to have any social interaction beyond the bounds of group projects and class discussions… so Harry Potter gifting you even a sliver of attention had been violently unorthodox. So unorthodox, in fact, you failed to look up from the weathered pages of your novel when his gentle voice wafted in your direction during a rare free period in Study of Ancient Runes. Your professor has been summoned quite promptly by the headmaster and has yet to return. The class has been in a state of havoc ever since.

"I don't know if you're aware of this but…" A deep shadow over the pages alerted you to his presence, "They both die at the end."

It was incredibly rare that Potter, who sat at the desk directly in front of you, ever felt the need to strike up conversation that was not purely academic. Gryffindors made use of Ravenclaws as often as Slytherins.

So naturally, you peer curiously up at him…

"Sorry?"

"Y-Your book. It's a muggle book, isn't it? I haven't seen anything with a cover like that around here. It's refreshing. Everything in the wizarding world is ancient and leatherbound." He mumbles as his index finger slides into the collar of his red quidditch jersey. He finds himself suddenly overcome by a wave of embarrassment even though there was nothing at all to be embarrassed about… he turns his chair slightly in your direction, his eyes darting to the door and the empty teacher's seat before meeting yours once more.

"'They Both Die At The End." He says, pointing towards the title.

"Oh…" You affirm, rocking your head back and forth, "You were making a joke?"

"No," Harry snickers before waving a large hand in dismissal, "Evidently, the only thing I 'made' was a complete and utter fool of myself."

You're not sure when it happens but you feel the lower half of your face melting into what you suspect is a smile. You can feel your shoulders relaxing and your novel lowering imperceptibly.

"Work on your delivery next time and maybe we'll be getting somewhere."

"Is that how it is!?" Harry asked, pleasantly surprised by your banter, "- I could've sworn I had a shred of dignity before the start of this conversation. Now I'm not quite sure where that went."

Mattheo's feet pass over the threshold as soon as the sound of your laughter rushes past him. It is almost charming in its familiarity but incredibly curious in its rarity. He can't recall ever seeing you with your head thrown back while the instinctive sound of amusement races through your throat. He does not know he's staring until Draco shoves past him, to get to their own seats in the front of the class.

His eyes remain on you as he makes his way to his desk, hoping, perhaps, that you would turn your head infinitesimally, in acknowledgment of his presence.

You do nothing of the sort, and it not only fills him with a weird sort of dissatisfaction but it bubbles into full blown vexation when he realises who is capturing your attention so viscerally.

Mattheo has never prided himself on his patience or tolerance.

Overthinking is something he consistently lives without.

Most of his actions were spurred from things he felt in the now, and he was really fucking uncomfortable with what was happening now.

His glances at the front of the class before finding you once more in the very back corner of the class. He notices that Harry is stationed in front of you but the seat beside you is completely deserted.

Did you not have friends?

And more importantly; how did he never notice until now?

What if…

Perhaps if he…

"You didn't let me know we were having a picnic," The sound of a chair scraping against the tiles had both you and Harry rallying into silence. Mattheo appears at your side, pushing the chair against yours so he, too, sits facing Potter - who suddenly appears incredibly uneasy. Gone is the comfortable atmosphere cooked by easy and amicable conversation. Mattheo injecting himself into your little bubble created a suddenly charged and suffocating atmosphere. You cannot keep your wide eyes off Mattheo as he lowers himself to his chair beside you with his legs spread as he slouches down, like he always does.

"Don't stop on my accord," He exclaims, completely oblivious to the fact that your professor might walk in at any minute. "What were we talking about?" Your heart wrestles in your chest as you see him turn to address you. His slouching puts him a level lower than you, but it does nothing to lessen his intimidation.

"Maybe I should ask, Potter?" Mattheo turns his attention to the front, "What were you lot talking about?" There is not a trace of friendliness present in Riddle's tone. In fact, it's the very opposite. Your nerves, swelling with anxiety, only escalate into full-on panic when you feel him place a large hand on your skirt under the table.

Harry's voice is low and his eyes are trained on the floor, "Books-"

"Books!" Mattheo cuts him off with sarcastic fervour, "How utterly fascinating!" The hyperbolic wonder in his tone is utterly rude and unbecoming, but you look down at your desk in blatant anger. Refusing to be a part of whatever this is.

"And tell me, Potter, how many books have you read so far?"

It is then that Riddle's once stationary hand begins the faintest trace of movement. He begins slow and tame, his callouses barely registering on the soft fabric until his fingers prod the lining of your skirt…

Your breath hitches in your throat.

Never had Mattheo ever displayed a desire to touch you. Not in the way he made you touch him. It was made explicitly clear that only he would benefit from your secret rendezvous' and so you were left to deal with your aching cunt alone, with the image of the face he made when he came, still burned into your mind. It had never been about you.

"A couple,'' says Harry, fighting to show this bully that he was unaffected by his intimidation. If only he knew that with every advance Mattheo's palm made, you were slipping farther and farther away.

"A couple books?" Asks Riddle for clarity. He remains lax and languid on the inside, but the nature of his wandering hand underneath the desk tells a new story.

He finally slips under your skirt.

His palm connects with the softness of your thighs and he seems utterly pleased by it. His hand is immediately restless to explore how far you would let him go. Which isn't very far.

Not at all.

If he thought he could suddenly touch you after myriad occasions of using you like a discarded toy… he had another thing coming.

The tips of Mattheo's fingers make gradually increasing strokes along your thigh until his fingers prod the stretch marks on your inner thigh. It is there when you stop him, clenching your legs together, blocking his hand from any further movement.

Mattheo's voice is strained as he says, "And you like reading, Potter?"

Sensing something brewing between the two of you - your withdrawn, hazy gaze, staring directly through the desk and Mattheo's overabundance in questions, has Harry reeling backwards.

"I asked you a question, Harry."

"I like reading."

"Good! That's really good!" Quite suddenly, Riddle tilts the ends of his half-moon nails into your thigh. His nails bite into your skin, forcing them to weaken and unclamp. Before you're even able to think, his palm is cupping your cunt through your panties- forcing an indecent yelp from your throat which you quickly (and very badly) disguise as a cough.

Mattheo is utterly pleased while he continues mindlessly stroking your cunt. Not for the purpose of any glorious stimulation. His hand is just there to show you (and perhaps maybe himself) that he has access to the most private part of you.

That thought alone has an unforeseen and sudden wave of lust coursing through his veins and surging straight to his hardened cock. He thinks of all the things he could have done to you but failed to do. He thinks about how, up until this point, he had ever been satisfied with using your mouth alone, not when he was denying himself the softness of your pussy all along.

He felt angry with himself, for being so fucking stupid, he is angry at Potter for seeing whatever it is he saw in you, way before he did and, possibly most harrowing of all is the fact that he is angry with you. And he can't help but be angry at you. How easily you whore yourself out to any and every man. If this thing with Potter had gone far enough, would you replace him? Had you even fucked Potter before?

You bite down on your lower lip as your head bows even further into your book. The words blend into one another, and all you can feel is a rise in temperature and Mattheo's suddenly restless fingers, pressing rudely against your clit - for the sole purpose of ripping an orgasm out of you right then and there, at the very back of an unsupervised classroom, with Harry Potter still very much a part of the conversation.

"You've got so many books to read in your lifetime," Says Mattheo. He sits up slowly, likely spurred on by the dampness seeping through your panties. "Don't cut your long life short by trying to entertain other people's girlfriends, yeah?" Gone are any traces of feigned friendliness. "Fucking Mudblood,"

Your skin feels like you are bathing in magma and you hope Potter could not see the slight tremor in your hand as you gripped the sides of your book with more force than necessary.

Mattheo's words… they have you shifting forward and widening your legs minutely. You crave for nothing more than to roll your hips in tandem with the circles he's pressing against your clit.

"Understood?"

Your orgasm is dangerously close, with the promise of sheer, disgusting shame and embarrassment if he continues. You feel Harry give you one final curious look, perhaps pleading for an interjection of denial at some point but you've taken to bouncing your knee under the table, hoping the vibrations might create enough friction to aid Mattheo's hands. He is keeping you trapped in a space of wanting. So much so, that this almost feels like a punishment.

Once Harry is turned back around and facing the front of the class, Mattheo lowers his lips to your ears. The damp smell of firewhiskey floods your nostril and you realise that he is completely drunk. In the second lesson of the day.

However, you're so completely stimulated, even the warmth of his breath as you fight the urge to hump into his hand like a lost little puppy until you make a mess all over his hand.

"You're such a fucking slut, you know that?" Your book drops to your desk - muffled by the sounds of the classroom cacophony. "You like being humiliated like this?" He asks, almost in complete awe. It takes everything in you not to moan outright.

"Fuck," You whisper to yourself, blinking your eyes shut, warding off the need but to no avail. His fingers are long and limber, and they have you nearly cumming right there, in front of your entire fucking class. Had it not been for your Professor's haphazard arrival into the class, and the swift removal of Mattheo's fingers from between your legs… you might truly have become the slut he labelled you as.

Instead of moving to his designated seat, Riddle raises his hand for the professor… the very same hand that has previously been in between your legs.

"Yes, Mr Riddle?" Asks the Professor, his voice as lacklustre as his appearance.

"May we be excused? We were excused by Professor Slughorn to assist him in-"

"Fine, fine," Says the professor with a wave of dismissal before turning his attention to the rest of the class. "The rest of you, open your textbooks to page 56."

Riddle's hand is clamped around your forearm, already leading you swiftly out the door in a long and wide stride. Had it been any other teacher at all, they might have recognized this for what it so clearly was.

"Here," you have barely made it fully into the boy's bathroom before Mattheo is stuffing his fingers down your throat, making you gag and yelp at the sudden intrusion. "Tell me how good you taste." He doesn't even bother to make sure you're truly left alone in the bathroom before pushing your front against the bathroom sink.

"Is that good?" His voice is as sweet as honey as he forces his fingers deeper down your throat, causing you to cough and gag around them.

Mattheo has half his sense to pull his wand from his back pocket, and without turning around, whispers "Colloportus," and the heavy doors snap shut.

You're supposed to be afraid because you've never seen him like this. Mattheo is always a ball of sarcastic energy between trysts, but it's usually an energy he can somewhat contain.

You don't know what to do with him, not when he's watching you choke on his fingers through the mirror, while his other hand fondles at your breasts and rips your bra down until your nipples are poking through your school shirt.

The figure in the mirror distorts as your eyes begin to water. Thick beads of tears grow pregnant at the ends of your eyes before rolling down the side of your face.

"My girl," Mattheo presses his face into your hair, breathing you in, pressing his body into your side. His hard cock in unmistakable through his school pants, "My messy little girl,"

You finally moan candidly while your fingers grip the countertops and your hips buck into nothingness. Your eyes plead with him in the mirror, hoping they relay how utterly useless with lust you have become. It would not take hard work to make you cum, you're sure one more flick against your material-clad nipples might send you over the edge.

"Fuck, why didn't I think of this sooner,"

This is all new, even for the two of you.

"Spread your legs." He commands, even though his feet are already kicking them apart.

"Come here," you break eye contact in the mirror to face the boy behind you. Mattheo removes his fingers sitting in your mouth, leaving a trail of sticky saliva in its wake before replacing it with a long and messy kiss- one that has his tongue forcing itself inside.

Mattheo weaponizes your distraction to reach around and slide your panties to the side with one hand while he rubs your soft nub with his other, spit-coated hand.

You break away from the kiss, neck craning back and mouth hanging open while your eyebrows dissolve into crescents. You cannot look away from him, as you hump his hand.

"You wanna cum?" You nod enthusiastically. "And what if I told you, you can't cum until I've fucked that little pussy of yours? Hm? What then?" His words have you mewling from the sheer pleasure they bring and your orgasm threatens to snap once more.

"Fuck," He hisses, feeling unable to remove his hand from your wet cunt but needing to, in order to undo his belt and pull his aching cock out. "Don't you dare fucking touch yourself," He says in a deadly quiet voice before bringing his hand up to your mouth. "Spit." You don't ever think of disobeying him, not when you're swimming so deeply in your subspace, not when he's the one to bring you here.

Mattheo collects every bit of saliva you offer him before coating his cock in the stuff.

Deciding not to waste anymore time, he does what his body is screaming for him to do: he bends you over the bathroom sink and pushes cock right through your slippery folds. It's tense and painful and your voice is hoarse from doing all that screaming but the sudden contact strokes a deeply sated part inside yourself. His curved and pretty cock rams your insides with reckless abandon, all while he delivers small slaps against your cheek. Riddle keeps a firm grip on your throat. His mouth is inches away from you while his hips rut into yours. His words are being delivered through clenched teeth.

"You think you're so fucking smart but you're just my little whore, arent you? A little whore thst fucks anything that gives her the slightest bit of attention?" It doesn't even register that Mattheo wrongfully suspects that there had been something between you and Harry but you keep your mouth shut. For all his indifference in the past, this is how you would make him pay.

"Oh~ fuck." His cock bruises your cervix, leaving him balls deep and feral inside you. "Fucking Potter?! You wanna give what's mine, to fucking Potter?!" His voice is utterly depraved and animalistic and it has your orgasm cresting.

He is panting, while he mumbles into your ear.

"What would Potter think? If he saw you like this? What would he think? Would he still want your slutty pussy knowing I've been inside it? Knowing that I've cum so deep inside you? Completely ruining you for anyone else, huh?"

"You…" The tears threaten to spill, "It's only ever been you, Mattheo -oh my god! I'm so fucking close!" You fight down tears as the lava begins to bubble at the pit of your stomach.

"S-Say it again. Tell me you want me!" He exclaims, "Tell me you fucking need me."

"Oh my God, Mattheo, I fucking need you." You push your hips back to meet his thrusts.

His voice wavers after your confession. His strokes became sloppy. His mind is flooded with the tightest of your cunt around his cock- how someone so smart could possibly ever say they need him. It has a flood of heat pooling at the base of his cock. "You're so fucking pretty… my pretty girl - my pretty whore," He nods to himself while his heavy cock finds purchase in a specific clump of sensitive tissue inside your cunt. It has you clamping your own mouth shut, your arms wavering while your back arches towards him, only allowing him better excess.

"I need you," You say once more, swallowing a ball of saliva as you nod towards him through the mirror, "I need you to cum inside me."

"Oh my fucking god," Mattheo's eyes soften in their desperstion, "M'gonna fucking breed pussy right here- fuck!" His grip on your throat grows tighter until you're wholeheartedly cut off from your air supply. You hump his cock until you feel it twitch inside you.

"Y-Youre making me cum, baby- fuck-" You feel his hot cum spurting inside your walls, triggering your own orgasm that has you gripping his cock like a vice.

"So… so pretty" His hips stutter against yours until you've completely drained him of his cum. A sharp tremor settles over your bones and you gasp in vague increments, waiting for the overwhelming state of euphoria to subside… but it never does.

The weight of what you had done comes crashing back down but you are unable to feel anything besides an immense wave of satisfaction at having your deepest need satiated.

"I think I nearly killed Potter today." His voice is a hoarse echo within the school bathrooms.

"There is no Harry Potter," You say, watching him through the mirror, "In my whole world, there is only ever you, Mattheo."

And a part of him believes you, but he refuses to affirm something as emotionally stifling as that. Instead, Mattheo's eyes flutter shut as his nose finds your hair once more. His cock is still buried inside you, and you hiss as he moves his hips slowly, almost insitinvely. He loves being so wholly enveloped by you. He loves feeling you everywhere.

© to @mphountitled on tumblr; do not repost

[jj-one]

HOW JUNGKOOK WOULD TREAT HIS BIMBO GF 🍥

pairing: established relationship, bf!Jungkook x bimbo!fem!reader genre/tags: smut, dumbification, degradation, praise kink, breeding kink, piv, unprotected sex, an*l, oral (m receiving), t*tty f*cking, drooling, use of the word daddy (only once)

**old repost from my deleted blog (05/24/23)

- Having a drop dead gorgeous girlfriend was a given for Jungkook, he loved the fact that y’all were both smoking hot and turn heads everywhere you go

- The stark contrast between your appearances drove him insane

- His aesthetic was more dark and mystique, is also heavily tattooed while you always wore pink and pastels, having bare skin

- Is so enamored with the idea of you being the total opposite of him, he always feels like he’s corrupting your sweet innocence

- Kinda treats you like you’re his eye candy anywhere he goes, has you wrapped up on his arm like it’s a leash

- He’s been debating getting an actual leash for you since you constantly trip and fall whenever you’re out with him

- You were just so ditzy and clumsy… it was your character flaw yet Jungkook saw it as an endearing quality

- Also loved that you were an airhead, clingy, and always wanting his attention ;( makes the joy of him coming home to you all the more thrilling <33

- Always buying you pink and girly thingsss

- Whenever he sees something hello kitty or barbie related he instantly thinks of you and buys it

- CONSTANTLY wants to spoil you, omg this man would spend every dime he could on you just to make you happy

- He looooves taking you out shopping because that’s your favorite activity !!

- He splurged on you the other day, buying you any color of that Dior lip oil that you were obsessed with, it was worth it since he’d be the one taking it off your lips afterwards

- Jungkook enjoys watching you try on skimpy outfits for him, the shorter the skirt the better— don’t get him started on the way your hardened nipples peek out the fabric of your shirts…

- Likes to play dress up with you like you’re his personal doll

- He’ll put you in a pink lace slip dress one night and the next he’ll have you wear white see-through lingerie for him; that is only when you two are in private of course

- Frequently teaches you new things so you keep up to date with current news and other events, he knows you aren’t the brightest but you have a heart of gold and do your best to comprehend everything he tells you !

- When watching movies you often pause to ask questions about the film because you don’t get it

- Jungkook made you watch ‘Inception’ with him one time and it absolutely rotted your brain

- He enjoys explaining the movie to you in a babying way, dumbing it down for you to understand it as your mind is blown away by all the knowledge he drops on you

- Laughs at your inability to comprehend the plot and pats your head while teasing you

- “Awww, you poor little thing…can’t even understand the simple concept of a movie.”

- It really really really turns him on when you wear high heels, the higher the heels the higher the tent in his pants grew

- You wore the sexiest 6-inch stripper heels for him and he fucked you out completely while you had them on, he thinks he might have a heel fetish or something

- Absolutely adores your bright & bubbly personality !! Will praise you any time he hears you say something smart

- “Did you know that Sloths can hold their breath longer than Dolphins???” You would ask him randomly.

- “No I didn’t, but thanks for the fun fact babe. You sound so cute when you talk about things you’ve discovered.”

- “It was on the back of my Snapple cap, how cool is that?! See look!!”

- He will never not be impressed by your lack of awareness, you lived in your own little bubble and he wanted to shield you from all harm and scary things

- Is sooo completely obsessed with your body

- Your bouncy tits, your curvaceous hips, and your cute plump butt was the perfect sight to send the blood rushing to his cock

- Loves. To. Fuck. You. So. Dumb.

- Uses your hole like it’s a fleshlight and loves cumming inside you repeatedly

- Dumping all his cum into your little bimbo cunt was the only thing he needed in his life

- Often catches you drooling at him, when you do this he scoops it up with his finger and puts it back in your mouth

- His favorite part of sex with you is seeing your fucked out face

- The stare you give him while you deepthroat his cock was enough to make him combust

- “Look so pretty with my cock stuffed in your mouth, such a pretty little slut for me..”

- The way he would degrade you but praise you in the same breath confused you in many ways yet you enjoyed every minute of it

- Your makeup would be all smeared, mascara would be runny, the Dior lip gloss he bought you fully transferred to his cock now

- Can never choose between if he likes doggystyle or cowgirl more since both positions he gets to look at your assets with a nice view

- Lots of titty fucking, loves having your big round tits around his cock, making a mess all over your chest once you milk him clean

- He owns all your holes, he likes to use your tight little ass from time to time

- After lubing it up nice and gently, he would go to town on your ass just pounding into your fuck hole viciously

- “What a fucking whore you are, gonna keep fucking your tiny hole until I pump every last bit of my seed in you.”

- Turns him on so fucking much when you start babbling and unable to speak proper sentences

- You’d whimper and hiccup with frustration from the way his cock made you feel

- His love language will always be making you feel so low. So small compared to him that you don’t even feel worthy of his presence at times

- “Can’t stop drooling all over yourself? Already too dumb and fucked out to continue, hmm?? Oh never mind, you’re already dumb…just shut up and take daddy’s cock like the good little slut you are, you were made for taking cock anyway.”

[lysil7777]

Yan! Dom! Fem! Reader x Sub! Boy

"P-please just.. just leave me alone!" James whimpered, tears welling up in his brown eyes, cheeks and ears flushing

"Aww what's wrong Jamie? Are you gonna cry? Did I hurt your feelings? Do you need your Mommy? You lean in to bite his ear and then whisper "I could be your mommy~"

Jamie hated himself for being unable to stop the moan that came out when you nipped at his ear and hated himself even more for letting you bully and harass him everyday.

When Jamie started college he swore things would be different from high school, he'd be more social, more motivated, and less shy. But 3 months later and the only person he talked to on a daily basis was you.

The first time you two met was in class, he'd braved up the courage to ask you for a pencil, he didn't really need one but he was trying to get out of his comfort zone.

You obliged but only after teasing him a bit asking what he'd give you in return, he got all embarrassed not knowing how to properly return your banter, and offered to pay you which you found very amusing. After a few more interactions you started to grow very fond of the nerd who sat behind you in Calc and before you knew it he was always on your mind.

The way he'd get embarrassed and look away from you when he didn't know what to say, the nervous habits he had when he was out by himself, how kind he was without anyone noticing, he was your adorable little specimen, for you only. And of course the best part was how naughty he could be, oh he was so innocent at the same time tho. You'd lost count of the number of times you'd watched him through his window, jerking it to soft domme porn, pet play, degradation, and dumbification, he was a pervy little nerd but the shame he felt afterward made you want to climb through his window and show him how much more depraved you were.

"What are you talking about y/n, I'm older than you that doesn't even make sense" he rambled looking anywhere but your eyes that were boring into his skull. God why did you have to be so close, why did you have to smell so good and be so pretty and-

His thoughts were cut off when you grabbed his chin and made him look at you directly

"I just think you're the kind of guy who needs direction, someone to help make those difficult decisions a sweet pet like you can't really decide for themselves, and why should you, that pretty little head of yours shouldn't have to worry about a single thing" you cooed squishing his cheeks together and making his lips push out

"I'm eighteen y/n, I can make my own decisions" Jamie argued or tried to through squished lips

At 5'3" you stood an entire nine inches under Jamie, but that didn't make him feel any less small in your presence

Letting go of his face you took a step back pretending to think for a moment "Alright then, I'll let you choose. Give me your number or get wedgied."

Jamie stood there dumb for a second, pants growing tighter and his skin warmer

"W-what?" He laughed nervously

Pulling his face closer to yours by the collar of his shirt you repeated your earlier statement to him in a slow demeaning manner, as if he was brain dead

"Give me your number or you get boo boo, oh no!" Your lips turned down in faux sadness

Jamie wasn't sure what to make of the situation, you usually weren't this physical with him, he was a little scared but mostly turned on. He didn't want to admit it but he had the teeniest tiniest crush on you and he blamed the stupid porn he'd been watching but he only looked into it because of you!

"I-I don't.." he paused

On one hand, he wanted to give you his number but on the other hand he'd never thought getting wedgied sounded so appealing

"You don't hmm~? Well, that just won't do. What happened to my big tough guy? Who was so strong and independent? Do you know darling? Ah, of course you don't. You're just as clueless as a little puppy dog and as cute as one too <3"

The new nickname shocked Jamie and caused him to audibly gasp, his hard-on fully visible now

"You can't j-just-aghhh"

You gripped him by his hair to cut him off

"Oh is puppy trying to give the orders now? What a silly little mutt you are, you really don't know how this works do you? The tent in your pants suggests otherwise but here you are telling me what I can and can't do with my property"

"I-I'm not yours y/n! A-and I'm not a pervert!!"

That first statement made your blood boil and you didn't even realize that you'd pushed Jamie down to his knees

"A good dog doesn't speak, a good dog gets treats and rewards but you're not being a good dog, Jamie. I know your tiny brain might not have comprehended it yet but you are mine, you're only mine. Who else is gonna talk to such a pervert hm? You were made for me, nobody else should ever see you like this, in fact, nobody ever sees you the way I do."

Before he could get a word out you pinned him to his position by placing your shoe on his clothed dick and reached over him to grab his boxers. Putting pressure on both simultaneously had him squirming and letting out the most sinful moans that made you wanna take him right then and there.

"Y-nnnnnnn" he whined, grinding up to help release some of the tension but each movement made the fabric between his ass more uncomfortable

"Shhh puppy, this is the punishment you've been given, I wouldn't be a very good owner if I didn't discipline my pet, you just gotta learn how to be good for me mkay? Don't you wanna learn how to be good and get rewards and pets and walkies~?"

All the new sensations made Jamie's head spin, his body felt like it was burning up from the inside out, his head was fuzzy, his dick was so much more sensitive than it had ever been while he was touching it and he couldn't place why the slight uncomfortableness of the wedgie made his parts throb even more, the whole situation was so intense poor boy couldn't fully wrap his doggy brain around it.

"I-I'm so close y/nnn, oh godd please, give me more! 'M so closeee" he panted not caring how pathetic he looked

"Already? Such a greedy pup for me hehe~ Have you learned your lesson, Jamie? Do you even deserve to cum against the bottom of my shoe?" You sang in a taunting manner pressing down even harder with your shoe

"I-, aghhhhh ohh yess fuck, YES! I'm yours y/n only yours! Promise! I'll-uggghh I'll be-hah hah- good! Just for you!"

"Atta boy! That wasn't so hard was it pup?" Finally letting go of his underwear you continued to let Jamie grind against your foot until he got to the edge

"M- boutta...cum!!" At this point, Jamie had grabbed your leg, chin resting on your thick thigh, eyes teary and glazed over staring up at you as if you were a goddess

Softly cupping his face you lifted it off your leg and removed any contact from his dick causing him to let out strings of breathy and high-pitched whines

You sat down and pulled him into your lap, gently wiping away the fresh fallen tears off his face

"W-*hiccup*why y/n, was so close...so close"

His protest died down with a stern look from you

"You'll be alright puppy, I promise. I'm gonna take care of you from now on, you are mine after all"

The rest of the evening was spent holding your new puppy, rubbing his tummy and flustering him with all the soft attention you gave him

He couldn't believe he got so lucky as to experience you, and as long as he considers being owned and expected to heed your everyword, he was lucky!

End <3

[7s3ven]

Enemies to lovers to enemies with Simon Ghost Riley

Notes: cussing, gore, just an idea, fem! reader

You were supposed to be fine. It was just a little hit on the head. Though, the way your head was wrapped in bandages told you it wasn’t merely a simple bump.

You didn’t remember much. Your memory was fuzzy. Really, all you remembered was something crashing into you and then you were on the floor, surrounded by blood. Your blood. Your gun laid scattered beside you, inches out of your reach. You would have been dead if Jonny hadn’t found you in time.

Everything else was a blur. You remember your teammates but only their names; not their personalities or your relationships with any of them.

Your head throbbed painfully as the door creaked open, four large men ducking into the small room.

“Bloody ‘ell, dove, thought we lost ya.” One said in a Scottish accent. Jonny.

While Gaz, Price, and Soap checked your vitals, the last man hung back. You racked your brain for his name but all you could remember was his call sign. Ghost. His iconic skull mask was engraved in your mind.

“What’s wrong with him?” For the first time in weeks, you finally spoke. Your voice was rough and hoarse but you kept your gaze on Ghost. “Why isn’t he coming near me?”

You saw Price and Gaz exchange a look.

Ghost awkwardly stepped forward, placing a heavy hand on the side of your bed. His fingers brush against yours and on instinct, you quickly grab his wrist.

“We dating or something?” You ask, glancing at Soap for confirmation.

“Yeah, somethin’ like that.” Ghost grunts.

“Might as well with all the arguing ya two do.” Soap adds.

You were put into Ghost’s care with no knowledge of your former relationship. In truth, you and Ghost never got along. He never fully welcomed you into his team and you never acknowledged him as far as a simple nod.

This new you was… different. And somewhat of an improvement.

You were an attractive woman and Ghost never failed to notice such a thing.

Due to your injury, you were required to take a break from work. That meant staying with Ghost who was meant to be monitoring you.

Every day he returned from work to dinner made by you. You snuggled up to him whenever he was close and complained when he had to get up.

Ghost, who could never see eye to eye with you before, was beginning to like being around you. You were sweeter without all your hatred directed towards him.

He adjusted to your presence within his small apartment and even began viewing the two of you as a normal happy couple.

And then your memories returned. You had no idea of the newfound bond Ghost had formed with you. You were back to hating him while he was doing everything he could to get on your good side, to experience your gentle touches one more time.

Ghost didn’t dare tell you of what happened after you temporarily lost your memories. He suffered in silence as you sent him pointed glares that contrasted the sweet looks you used to give him.

[galactickle]

Our Last Summer

Alex Summers x reader

Summary: alex summers fix-it fic where he survives! him and the reader initially dislike each other but when they see each other years later they can't help but bring up old feelings they had pushed down.

Warning: graphic depictions of death/killing and animal death

✬ 1962 ✬

“So what can you do sweetcheeks?” Sean (who had declared his new codename as Banshee) asks with a grin. 

Y/N stutters, a red flush coming up the back of her neck, “I- um.” She’s still not sure why she's here, honestly. She doesn't want to use her powers to hurt people, but the men who had approached her while she was mindlessly wiping tables at a coffee shop ended up being quite convincing. “Here,” she suggests, walking across the room to where larger shards of glass lay after Banshee’s display. 

She bends at the knee, picking up the sharpest shard she could see in the debris. The others hold their breaths. Y/N raises her left hand, taking a deep breath before methodically slicing a long gash down her palm. She watches as the blood trickles down her arm. Stepping forward she displays the wound to the others, before the wound mends itself shut. 

The others nod, mildly impressed, before Alex steps forward, pointing a figure at her with his hand still holding a beer, “So you like, have the same power as Darwin… but worse,” he states.

Raven gasps, hitting him with a pillow. “I think it's cool,” she leans forward, resting her head in her hands, “what do you want to be called?”

Y/N shrugs, embarrassed by Alex’s comment, but decides it's better to brush it off, “I don’t know.”

“I think we should call you…” Angel pauses for effect, “Solace! Because like that’s what you’ll be, if you're like, our medic or whatever!”

Alex snorts, earning a glare from the two girls, but a grin from Sean. “Don't look at me,” he raises his hands in defense, “I think it's perfect.”

They girls ignore him, instead opting to look to Y/N for her thoughts. “I really like it, thanks Angel,” she smiles politely, rejoining them on the couch. 

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Y/N was screwed. The whole team wanted to know how she could be of use other than as a healer. And now Charles wanted her to practice her power. But she hadn't done this since she was a kid, and even then it was an accident. She had tried everyday since then not to do it again. And now here she stood, somewhere in Charles’ basement, standing in a room with a caged rat. Just her and the rat. 

Charles was smart enough to know she would never do it with him watching, even now, she debated letting the rat go and getting some ketchup from the kitchen and splattering it everywhere. But she knew she had to do it. Shaw was evil. He has to be stopped. Or we're all dead, Y/N thought to herself. You can do this.

She approaches the table where the cage sat, stopping a few inches from it. She lifts the hatch at the top of the cage, places her hand in the opening, wincing as her hand touches the poor animal’s body, her powers searching its anatomy. Y/N can feel its heartbeat, the blood rushing through its veins, all its organs working to keep it alive. She scrunches her face tightly, that dark feeling creeping up, the feeling she usually pushes away. 

Instead, today she takes a deep breath, before letting the darkness overcome her. The rat squeals, she feels its organs constrict, before imploding one by one. It weeps in pain, but Y/N persists, watching as the rat's bones snap at unnatural angles. She looks into the creature's eyes, before her power rushes to its brain and heart, killing it instantly.

There are tears in her eyes, but Y/N feels no sadness. She brushes them aside, stands up straight, and exits the room.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

“... and Y/N do what you have to,” Charles makes a pointed look at the girl. 

Alex snorts, “What’s she gonna do? Heal them to death?”

Instead of retorting to Alex, which she had gotten comfortable doing in the past few weeks, Y/N looks Charles in the eyes, to which he nods assuredly. “Now go!” he exclaims.

Her fellow team members were quick to break into fights with the Hellfire Club. Y/N on the other hand, was dodging stray punches and mostly playing as the distraction. But then, out of the corner of her eyes, she spots Riptide sending a massive whirlwind towards Alex, who tries to dodge it but is trapped by the wreckage of the Caspartina. Y/N quickly judges the distance from where she stood, and decides to take the risk. Thankfully her running towards him distracts Riptide enough to miss Alex by inches. Unluckily, he manages to get a smaller whirlwind out and sends it harshly into Y/N’s chest. She flies through the air, landing on her back. Alex is quick to retaliate, sending a blast towards Riptide, which hits him effectively, sending him flying backwards towards where Y/N was climbing to her feet. Riptide had not been knocked to the ground, and once he regained his bearings he began charging up another whirlwind. Do what you have to, Charles’ words rang in her ears as she rushed from behind the enemy, hand outstretched. As soon as she makes contact, the darkness inside of her reaches out and clenches around the man’s heart, before crushing it completely. Riptide’s whirlwind falters, before he collapses to his knees, falling face first into the sand. 

Y/N stands there, hand extended, looking at the dead man on the sand. It isn’t until Alex yelling her name, and rushing to her side that she snapped back to reality. Looking up to see at least a hundred missiles in the sky, aimed right for the beach. He is careful not to touch her but ushers her to where the others are now huddled near Erik and Charles as they yell at one another. None of it registers to her. She can't stop looking back and forth between her hands and the missiles being tossed around in the sky.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

“Are you okay?” this may be the nicest conversation Y/N and Alex had ever had, and Y/N had only said 3 words. Alex nods, but Y/N knows, she's not that stupid, they were just in a huge fight, there's no way he's unharmed, even someone as powerful as Alex. “You know you can't lie to me,” she tries to lighten the mood with a grin.

Alex winces, “Why didn't you tell us about the,” he waves his hand vaguely in the direction of the beach where Riptides now dead body lays, “not-healing thing?”

Y/N looks down at her hands, “It was something I wanted to forget… Push down, never use… But Charles had other plans,” she shrugs, finally looking up at the boy. He nods, reaching out to take one of her hands in his. “Do you trust me?” she whispers. 

“Yes,” Alex states, squeezing her hand tightly. Y/N relaxes, a small smile forming as the familiar lightness of her power courses through Alex’s body, healing his wounds. He sucks in a deep breath, before stretching his leg, a laugh bubbling up from within him, “Did you heal my old torn ACL?” Y/N grins, shrugging at him before stepping back and heading to heal some of the other team members.

✬ 1983 ✬

“...You know what Jubliee? I'll look into that for you, okay?” Y/N walks alongside the young girl down the main stairs in the manor. 

“Thanks Y/N! You're the best!” she runs off, skipping down the rest of the stairs. Y/N’s eyes follow her before landing on someone she never thought she'd see again. She almost didn’t recognize him in his preppy clothes, but that blonde hair and mole on his neck was unmistakable. 

Alex’s head turns to the side, looking to the staircase, his eyes growing wide at the sight of the mutant stopped halfway down. “Y/N!” he exclaims loud enough to shock his younger brother standing next to him. Hank is unfazed by Alex’s lack of interest in what he’d been saying. Instead Beast grins as he sees Y/N rush down the stairs and wrap her arms tightly around the blonde's neck. She leans back, her hands finding a comfortable spot on his biceps, his still resting on her hips. “I-I, um… It’s so good to see you!” Y/N quickly realizes how awkward she had made the situation. 

“You too,” Alex whispers, staring intently at her, drinking in all of the changes in her face over the years. 

Scott clears his throat uncomfortably, and Hank glares at him despite the boy not being able to see him. Hank’s mad that this kid is ruining what he's been hoping to see all along. He hadn't noticed it at the beginning, no, it had happened sometime around Cuba. But the two had grown quite fond of each other, Hank often caught them being rather intimate, regardless of the fact that they claimed back and forth to only be ‘friends’.

✬ 1962 ✬

Y/N sat on the windowsill in her bedroom, book in hand, the afternoon sun providing the perfect reading light. There’s a soft tap at her door, but before she could even grab her bookmark, Alex has entered her room, taking in the few personal touches and how she had not made her bed this morning.

“Hey,” he steps forward slowly, after spotting her on her perch. 

“Hey,” she replies, quickly searching for the bookmark she swore she placed next to her. She smiles triumphantly when she finds it tucked under her leg, and places it in her book. She goes to stand, but when she looks up, Alex has already crossed the room, standing just a few feet from her. 

“How are you feeling?” He asks, eyes still wandering the room. Was he nervous?

“Not bad, you?” Y/N steps forward, closing the gap between the two almost completely.

“Good, great, actually,” he nods. 

“What are you doing here..?” Y/N asks with a tilt of her head. 

“Do you trust me?” Alex repeats the question from the day on the beach in Cuba, with just as much conviction as Y/N had. She nods in response, over the past couple weeks the two had talked more than ever and Alex wasn't as much of an asshole as she had previously thought. He leans forward, hands brushing her hips as he connects his lips with hers. Y/N sinks deeply into the kiss at first, a giddy feeling rising in her chest. 

Then Alex’s hands snake under her shirt, and a pit forms in her stomach, and not the good kind either. Suddenly she could feel him, or moreso his body, more than she would like, she pulled away, backing into the windowsill, breathless. “Is everything alright?” Alex asks, genuine concern laced in his voice.

“I-,” starts, breath hitching in her throat, she wanted to do this. But she knew she couldn't. Alex steps forward cautiously, hands about to touch her forearms, “I can't,” she gestures towards his outstretched hands, “do this.”

He looks down, towards where she held her hands parallel to his, wanting to interact, but an invisible force stopping her. “Riptide?” he asks, looking up into her eyes. She is quick to look away, ashamed that this kill has taken such a toll on her. “It’s okay,” he assures, hands floating up to rest on her shoulders but stopping just centimeters away. “We'll get through this,” once again, his instinct was to cup her cheek, but instead he opts for brushing a strand of hair out of her face gently, “together.”

✬ 1983 ✬

“So,” Alex clears his throat, as he and Hank walk away from the dorm room they had dropped Scott off in to rest for the evening until supper. “How long has Y/N been back?” 

Hank grins, nodding his head to himself, “Since, oh gosh, it's been like 10 years, hasn't it? After Erik’s last scandal, at least.”

“And you two are like… what?” Alex draws his strides longer so the two could chat without the prying ears around the main hallways.

Hank laughs, “Friends? Like we always have been?” He takes a moment to take in Alex, who seems unsettled and unsure, and Hank has an inkling what it's about, “She's missed you, you know. I think she always hoped you would have come back when you got discharged from the army.”

Alex nods, watching his feet intently, regret written all over his face, “I screwed up, huh?” He looks to his comrade.

“Not yet,” Hank claps him on the back before heading down the hall towards Charles’ office.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Y/N was pissed, mostly at herself. Somehow, due her daydream-filled-head likely, she hadn’t noticed a certain group of kids were missing. “Hank!” she called to the brunette ahead of her in the hall. 

Hank turns, he has a solemn look on his face, “Yes, Y/N?” 

She frowns, “Is everything okay? I was just gonna ask if you’d seen Jubilee, yesterday I told her I’d look into-”

“Y/N!” She hears her name moments before she is tackled in a hug from behind.

“Raven? What are you doing here?” she turns in the woman’s arms, embracing her just as tight as she had been seconds prior. 

“Ah, you know,” she waves off the thought, “Just found a straggler, figured this would be the right place to bring him.” Raven beams down at the woman she considered one of her only friends. 

Y/N grins happily, but Hank lets out a disgruntled huff from beside them. Before Y/N can inquire what’s gotten into him, Charles wheels through the front door, Alex and Moira MacTaggert on his heels. “Raven?” he repeats the phrase in a similarly surprised tone Y/N had had moments before. 

“Moira?” she responds, eyes barely even glancing at Charles. Moira gapes at the woman, unsure if she recognizes her. 

“Will you excuse us for a moment?” Charles asks Moira, “Raven, follow me,” he instructs, and leads her to his office.

Y/N is quick to turn back to the guest in the mansion, “Hi, I’m Y/N, it’s great to meet you.”

“Moira, it’s nice to meet you too,” she extends her hand for Y/N to shake, which she does. Then Moira turns to Hank who introduces himself politely and shakes her hand as well. 

“This place is amazing, and strangely familiar…” Moira looks around the foyer, examining the architecture. 

Y/N panics, looking to Alex, then Hank for help. “Hahah, yeah, I’m sure you’ve been to a lot of lovely mansions, working so high up in the government and all,” she manages to come up with. 

“Yeah, yeah…” Moira agrees absentmindedly, running her hand along the table in the center of the room. “Wait, how did you know where I work?” she snaps back to.

“Oh, haha,” the younger girl chuckles nervously, “Charles has been talking about going to see you for a while.”

Moira nods, then resumes examining the building. A minute or so passes and Y/N looks at Alex with pleading eyes, but before he could get something out, Moira is pondering again, “I swear I’ve been here before.”

“Old houses,” Hank replies dejectedly, “They all look the same.” With Moira’s back still turned from the group, Alex makes a displeased face at the man but he ignores it. 

“Would all of you like to come with me?” Charles announces, as he and Raven return from the office. Y/N goes to interject about the missing kids, but the look on Charles’ face makes her silence herself, he was deadly serious.

“Where are we going?” Moira asks as they walk down the hall to the elevator. 

“Downstairs… It’s a little… different from the rest of the school,” Charles replies. 

Xavier leads the group downstairs and towards Cerebro, an uneasiness settles over Y/N’s form. Sensing her tenseness, out of instinct, Alex’s hand reaches over and squeezes her’s tightly, surprising Y/N. Although, she stops herself from pulling away, instead she looks up at Alex, who is already watching her, and squeezes his hand back, before slipping her hand away and following the group. 

Charles uses Cerebro to locate Erik, who has been suffering since the loss of his wife and daughter. But it quickly turns sour, with Hank yelling for him to get out, and when he doesn’t respond, Hank attempts to remove the headpiece, but it shocks him and causes Charles to begin screaming in pain. “Alex!” Charles finally manages to get out, “Destroy it! Destroy everything! Destroy Cerebro!” Alex rushes forward, in front of where everyone is standing and looks back at Xavier for confirmation, “Wreak Havok!” Charles exclaims. Alex lets loose, sending plasma beams from his chest and arms, trying to thoroughly destroy the machine quickly. Finally it catches fire and the hold it has on Charles breaks, Y/N rushes to Alex’s side to help him through the rubble, while Raven helps Moira and Hank guides Charles.

Outside Cerebro, you all attempt to catch your breath, but a buzzing gains your attention down the hall. A force field appears, and within it Erik, alongside a handful of mutants. “Erik-” Raven manages to squeak out before Charles is being yanked down the hall by his metal wheelchair, she screams. Alex is quick to rush down the hall, yelling after them, “Hey! Asshole!” 

“All will be revealed, my child,” the larger blue pigmented man replies. 

Y/N and Hank run forward when they see Alex stop and begin to power up. “Alex!” Y/N screeches.

“Stop!” Hank yells, before him and Y/N halt and scream “No!” simultaneously, knowing exactly what was about to happen before it did. 

The red blast emits from Alex’s chest, and before he could register what was happening, Erik and co. were gone, and his energy was hitting the core of the quinjet Hank had been building. Hank instinctually wraps an arm around Y/N to protect her from the blast.

In the blink of an eye Y/N and Hank had collapsed on the ground outside of the mansion, the eruption sounding behind them. “No!” Y/N cries, “Alex!” she pushes Hank off of her, jumping to her feet, scanning the grass around her. To her right, there he lay, terribly burned and unmoving. She falls to the ground at his side, shaking him lightly, “Alex,” she whispers, tears filling her eyes. She feels the power within her begin to work, slowly, but she has hope when his heart begins to beat a little faster. Hank is talking to someone beside her but she hears only mumbling, her head flowing with too many thoughts as the burns heal slower than her powers have ever worked. 

“Where’s Alex?” Scott’s voice cuts through to Y/N, his voice laced with worry, “Where’s my brother?” Soon Scott was sliding on his knees at the side of his brother. “Alex?” he shakes him by the shoulders, causing Y/N to lose focus. Alex’s breathing becomes rugged, causing Scott to worry more.

“Hey!” Hank steps forward, pulling the boy up onto his feet, “Let her work okay? She’s trying to save him.” 

Y/N dives back into her work, healing the man she loves one cell at a time. It was tedious work, but she would do it forever if she could only talk to him again. Soon, but not soon enough, the lightness of his skin begins to return, his breathing becoming even, and his heart rate slowing to a steady thump thump thump. When his blue eyes flutter open, Y/N thought her own heart might’ve stopped. “Alex!” she exclaims breathlessly. 

“Hey,” he tried to get out but his voice was brittle. She shushed him, letting her powers work a little fast now that he was awake and seemingly well. “I,” he starts before clearing his throat, “I never told you-” he tries.

“Don’t,” Y/N interjects, looking into his eyes and knowing what he was going to say, because she wanted to say it too. 

He moves up a little, leaning on his elbows to get a better look at her face, “I love you,” he whispers anyway.

Y/N melts a little, “Alex!” Scott exclaims, seeing his brother is now awake. He practically throws himself on top of the blonde, much to everyone’s displeasure. 

“Ow!” Alex exclaims, though there is a wide grin across his face. “What did you miss me or something?” Scott playfully pushes Alex’s shoulder, earning him a glare from Y/N. Scott takes it as this isn’t the moment to have a brotherly bonding moment, and retreats with his hands raised in surrender.

When the two were alone again, Y/N brought her hand up to cup Alex’s face, her thumb tracing his cheekbone, “I’ve always loved you, Alex Summers.”

Fuck it, Alex tells himself, leaning forward and capturing her lips with his, hoping this might actually be his time. 

[travelling-wanderer]

・﹒・ two roads

Summary: After your father racked up a huge bounty on him from being the leader of a crime gang, you finally got the courage to kill him. However, the Ghoul arrives intending to kill him unaware the man was already dead. He gives you two options- let him have the bounty and he'll offer you protection if you come with him, or be alone and at risk for other unsavory people to hunt you down.

Warnings: 18+, suggestive content, death, blood, coercion, flirty Cooper

Pairing: The Ghoul/Cooper Howard x GN!reader

Notes: H! I am now in the Fallout fandom thanks to the show. My only experience with Fallout was the mobile game Fallout Shelter lmfao played that on and off since 2017. Started a new vault tho! I got some show characters including The Ghoul >:)

Blood dripped down the knife as you stared at his lifeless corpse, your form hunched over, breathing heavy, eyes wide and frenzied, hair sticking up all over the place, staring down at the body as the red liquid stained and soaked into the floor beneath him.

You finally did it.

He wasn't a good father, but your mother helped curb his less savory habits. Well, she was gone now.

You only stayed with him out of obligation, but as the days wore on, so did he. He was born and raised up here, however your mother was a genuine Vault Dweller who left her vault and made a new life up here.

Including dating your father.

He started a small gang purely to find the people that had killed her, and ended up becoming one of the fiercest crime gang leaders in California. There was a high bounty on him and he was always on alert. Not around you though.

It was an easy stab to the heart.

You had never killed anyone before though- but your dad was the one who had raised you to protect yourself.

How ironic.

But you weren't a killer. You weren't used to being able to take someone's life with your own hands.

Things change.

You still could have sworn time stopped as you didn't move, still staring at the corpse. Should you feel bad? Guilty? Regret? Maybe. But you didn't. He wasn't a perfect father, you couldn't care less.

You didn't know how much time had passed before you heard the creaking of the front door open and steps on the floor. Whipping your body to face the source with the still bloody knife at the ready, the thing that walked through the door wasn't what you expected.

"Well now, it seems like I was too slow this time, usually I ain't" You heard of him, who didn't? He was a cowboy, ghoul bounty hunter- and the best in the country. You just didn't think he would ever cross your path despite your parents being involved with people like him. He was more a myth to you.

"Not much of a talker, eh? You his child I assume?" Still in shock over everything, you gave him a small nod as you must still look frenzied. He chuckled as he walked closer, yet you didn't move one inch, even as he gently grabbed your wrist that was holding the knife and tossed it onto the floor, plucking it from your hand with ease. You just watched as he smirked.

"Your first kill is always the roughest, don't worry though- you'll get used to it"

"Don't kill me" You meant to sound louder, firmer, it just came out as a whisper, a plea. Shaky, you watched as he just chuckled at your weakness. You may have just killed someone, but that didn't mean you didn't feel trauma from it.

"I ain't gonna kill ya, but I am claiming that bounty. Runnin' low on caps, I'm sure ya understand" A small part of you felt a bit calmer from his voice, you liked it in a very special way, but the survival part of your brain was stronger than the hormonal part, so you couldn't fully take it. You were still in shock after killing your father, after all.

"But- but I need those caps more" His eyebrow raised as he took you in, looking up and down, and it made you shiver in a way that wasn't out of fear.

"Oh really now? How about this-" He released you, causing you to stumble back a few steps and cradle your thankfully uninjured wrist.

"You let me have the bounty and I'll protect ya, meaning- you come with me" You narrowed your eyes at the last part. Protect you?

"Against what? Against who?" He was silent, telling you that it was something you certainly weren't dumb enough not to realize. After some time, it finally hit you"

"My dad's men..."

"Are not gonna be too happy to see their leader gone, killed by his only child nonetheless" The realization made your blood freeze, chills ran up your spine as you knew exactly who would go after you first and exactly how he would kill you.

"I can survive...I'll find a way" You were lying to yourself as there was no way you could live against your father's gang, but you didn't want to be protected by a stranger- who was a ghoul not to mention.

"Ok then" He stood right in front of you and leaned down- face only inches away- and put his mouth right next to your ear. Yet again, you shivered at his closeness, tingles going down your spine and at the same time, you could sense that something changed within him then.

"Don't come crying for me when you're bleeding out shot up like a shooting range" He whispered before slightly nipping at your ear and slowly pulling away, gauging your reaction. Heat consumed your entire face as you now felt the signs of arousal present in your body. Staring at him, you felt the overwhelming sense of attraction start to fester. Fuck- was he genuinely into you, playing some twisted game just to fuck with you, or trying to further manipulate you?

"I get a cut, seventy percent" Your voice was so shaky, between the arousal and the fact that he knew exactly what buttons to push, you couldn't believe you were going along with this. With him. But his face lit up at your inference of agreeing to let him protect you.

"Fifty" You then got right up to his ear, just like what he did.

"Sixty and final offer"

Hook.

"Or else I'll take my chances"

Line.

You bit his ear, giving it a small lick before pulling away.

Sinker.

His breath hitched as he looked at you with eyes full of nothing but lust and curiosity. He then suddenly grabbed your shoulders and slammed you against the closest wall, his lips ghosting yours. Your heart was hammering out of your chest as you waited in bated breaths, arousal spiking your sex.

"Come. With. Me" He was firm, but not angry. He was more...pent up, growing frustrated with you throwing back what he was giving you. You could tell he was hard without looking down.

"Something tells me there's a specific reason you want to protect me, isn't there, Ghoul?" Despite only knowing each other for less than ten minutes, you already felt comforted in his hold, and you both knew how to get under the other's skin.

The attraction was- self assured- mutual and instant.

Neither of you could or would deny it, just never admit it directly.

Instead, it would linger in the air, charged like lightening.

"And if so?" Now that the earlier tension was gone, you could fully take in all forms of him, including his accent. That accent was old, very old, so old that had to of been from pre-war. Nobody spoke like he did.

Nobody.

"I'll pack my things" Pushing him away, you walk towards your bedroom to gather a bag when you passed by your father's body and stopped.

"By the way- what part of him did they want?"

"The head"

"Go ahead, just please cover it. I...I don't want to see it" Shaking your head to rid you of that thought, you let him do...that as you ignored the sounds of mutilation as you put your best and favorites into a backpack. You were very selective about what you brought, since you know would forever be moving around. Going out into the main room again, you were surprised at what you saw, or rather, lack of. Instead of just covering the head up in some makeshift bag, he draped a curtain he ripped off from one of the rods and laid it over his body.

"Thought you didn't want to see it again at all. Now let's go, we're wasting daylight" The ball of fabric that was now connected to his belt swayed back and forth as he exited through the front door, stopping right before he walked onto the sand after he realized that you haven't moved.

"You comin'?"

[nightprompts]

&. 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐩𝐢𝐞𝐜𝐞 (𝐥𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧) 𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬.

( dialogue prompts taken from episodes 5 & 6 ( "eat at baratie!" & "the chef and the chore boy" ) of the netflix live action one piece series. feel free to edit and change as you seem fit. )

❛ how about we sail away as fast as we can? ❜

❛ about the battle, you wanna talk about it? ❜

❛ there's something on the breeze. smells like butter. soy sauce. and meat. ❜

❛ think he has brain damage? ❜

❛ i smell food, which means that there's someone somewhere cooking. ❜

❛ what's a... baratie? ❜

❛ let's eat! ❜

❛ you'll have to excuse them. they're idiots. ❜

❛ wanna take this outside? ❜

❛ are you asking me to dance? 'cause i kind of had my eye on that blonde at table eight. ❜

❛ i call it a true bluefin sauté. it's elephant tuna, seared asparagus, in a sweet soy reduction. ❜

❛ if i gotta sling one more prime rib medium-well, i am going to drop dead of boredom, you old shitbag! ❜

❛ this ain't gonna be a fight. i'm just going to kill him. ❜

❛ hi, welcome to our shitty restaurant where the only thing worse than the ambience is the food. ❜

❛ one of our signature cocktails to help you choke down your meal? ❜

❛ apologies, madam, i didn't see you there. ❜

❛ something wrong with your eye? ❜

❛ just blinded by your beauty. ❜

❛ nami's got a boyfriend. ❜

❛ did i catch you in the middle of something? ❜

❛ just killing some time. ❜

❛ who's the quarry? ❜

❛ doesn't sound like much of a challenge. ❜

❛ why are you after me? ❜

❛ you woke me from my nap. ❜

❛ i can't eat another bite. but it's so good. ❜

❛ who the hell is monkey d. luffy? ❜

❛ i don't even think there's liquor in this. it tastes just like candy. ❜

❛ who's ready for another drink? my treat. ❜

❛ i don't really do regret. no point in looking back. ❜

❛ sometimes, when i try to look ahead, all i see is back. ❜

❛ you know, you're a really good cook. ❜

❛ if a man is hungry, i feed him. ❜

❛ what are you carrying around that's so heavy? ❜

❛ i bet i know more about you than you do about me. ❜

❛ i guess something about you, you drink. you guess something about me, i drink.❜

❛ i have business with your captain. if you know what's good for you, you'll hand him over. ❜

❛ i've been following your career since i was a child. it's an honor to finally meet you, sir. which is why it pains me to inform you that tomorrow... you're going to die. ❜

❛ accept my challenge. you'll see how serious i am. ❜

❛ you want me to say you're the best? you're the best. okay? ❜

❛ you're the best i've ever seen, but you are not better than him. ❜

❛ why do you give a shit? ❜

❛ because you're my friend, you idiot. ❜

❛ you said it yourself. you don't have any friends. ❜

❛ what is that? i'm here for a sword fight. ❜

❛ i don't hunt rabbits with a cannon. ❜

❛ you're brave. i'll give you that. ❜

❛ wounds on the back are a swordsman's greatest shame. ❜

❛ this world could use a few more wild cards. ❜

❛ it's too soon for you to die. grow strong and come find me. i'll be waiting. ❜

❛ you could never fail me. ❜

❛ look, i'm not gonna lie to you. he's lost a lot of blood. it might be too late for him. but it might not be. ❜

❛ he's got one foot in each world right now, caught between life and death. you have to find a way to keep him tethered to our world. ❜

❛ nice of you to announce yourself. ❜

❛ i don't take orders. not even from the likes of you. ❜

❛ what's the matter? don't like fish? ❜

❛ if you don't want the fish, i got two-inch t-bones in the kitchen. or maybe you're in the mood for saffron risotto? ❜

❛ i can make anything. just tell me what you want. ❜

❛ being a captain, it's the toughest job in the world, okay? ❜

❛ how'd you two meet? were you on his crew or something? ❜

❛ oregano's for savages! ❜

❛ you've got a sharp tongue on you, boy. how about i cut it out and fry it up with some pig fat? ❜

❛ do what you want, but i'm not gonna die here. ❜

❛ they're all dead, except for us. ❜

❛ you ate it? you ate your own leg? ❜

❛ you don't even know me. why would you do that for a stranger? ❜

❛ so i'm gonna need you to live on. and i'm gonna need you to fulfill that dream... for both of us. ❜

❛ have any idea what that's like? having someone lose a limb to save your life? ❜

❛ sometimes, when you are in charge, you have to make the tough decisions. ❜

❛ i'd do anything to save him. anything. except stand in the way of his dream. ❜

❛ isn't there something that you want? something more than anything else in this world? ❜

❛ not everyone gets to follow their dreams. ❜

❛ did you not hear what i just said? they are hunting you. we need to run. ❜

❛ i can't let innocent people get hurt because of me. ❜

❛ i hear you're looking for me. ❜

❛ so this is the pirate i've heard so much about? ❜

❛ do you know who i am, boy? ❜

❛ how'd you even know how to find me? ❜

❛ if you bow down to me, i might even let you serve in my kingdom. ❜

❛ i don't bow down to any man. ❜

❛ i told you in the bar i didn't have any friends, but the truth is, i couldn't let myself have them... because i always end up hurting the people closest to me. ❜

❛ why waste your time killing a devil fruit eater? let the sea do it for you. ❜

❛ what is your problem? ❜

❛ me? i'm fine. you're the one with the problem. ❜

❛ you're not gonna be anything, not if you stay here. ❜

❛ it's not like i can just leave. ❜

❛ don't you get it? it's one thing to have a dream. it's another to go after it. ❜

❛ you want my permission? you got it. ❜

❛ i didn't know what to say before, but i know what to say now, and it's so simple. i need you. ❜

❛ you gonna keep talking, or let me get some sleep? ❜

❛ i vow to stand by your side from now until the end. ❜

❛ you're my captain, and i'm your first mate. ❜

❛ heard you guys need a cook. ❜

❛ why are we bringing the waiter? ❜

❛ you keep your feet dry. ❜

❛ you know, all these years, living under your shitty roof, cooking at your shitty restaurant... i owe you my life! ❜

❛ thank you for putting up with my shit all these years, old man. ❜

❛ i'll never forget you! ❜

[aithusarosekiller]

Black Brothers short fic: Sirius leaving

-

Not edited

-

It wasn't easy to pinpoint the precise moment the switch flipped in Sirius' mind. In fact, there was a high likelihood there wasn't one at all, that it wasn't one big moment setting him off, but rather the adrenaline climbing up so high that even the soulless dinner conversation was enough to give that final push. It had been a long time coming and nobody in the house would dare dispute it. His case had been packed for days; he hadn't even unpacked it since he came home, waiting for the opportunity to just grab it and leave. He almost had twice before Christmas Day came around. Both times he had been egging himself on to just stand up, grab the bag, and go but he'd backed down at the last minute both times.

The first time he hadn't even gotten up from the armchair and made his way down the hall to where it was hidden, just to the side of the coatstand. The second- he had made it all the way down the stairs in the dead of night, managing to bypass every tricky part of the path down to the front door. His hand had stopped just above the handle of his case, hovering, waiting for his brain to give the signal to pick it up and twist the handle. One moment has passed, two, three, before he let out a muffled groan and stepped back from the door in resignation. He's gone back to bed without a sound.

Maybe the frustration at two failed attempts to flee was what did it. There was no way of being entirely certain. The only thing that was for sure was that it came as a complete surprise to Regulus.

Sirius had pushed his seat across the ground with an awful screeching sound and left the dining room in silence. For a moment, Walburga tried to stand to call after him or perhaps follow him from the room, but she was stopped by a small tap on the wrist from her husband. Instead, Regulus darted up and after him. Nobody tried to stop him. He reached Sirius in the hallway, mere inches from the door.

“What are you doing?” The tiredness in his voice was typical by that point; it was almost exclusively reserved for Sirius and he didn't think he'd heard Regulus speak in any other way in years, not even when they were joking around. At the time when they did still joke around, that was. Sirius tightened his grip on the handle of his case -still not lifting it from the ground- and shook his head in what Regulus could only assume was disbelief.

“I'm going to James’, Regulus. Why else would I be standing at the door?” Admittedly it was a little curt but he was tired and just wanted to leave before he could chicken out or be stopped by his parents or Kreacher. “Just go back to dinner, you don't want to cause a scene.”

“Really? James’. You're with him every second you're at school and you can't even put aside a few hours for me? It feels like I haven't seen you in months, I don't know what you're doing in school, I don't know what drama is going on in your group, you haven't even asked me how I am and we've been home for 5 days.”

Sirius closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, looking similar to the way their father did when he was trying to remain calm about something while also wanting to let the person he was conversing with know that he found them pathetic. Regulus didn't know if that was what Sirius was trying to do or if he was simply stressed.

“You haven't spoken to me either, so don't put this crap on me, alright? I've been getting the silent treatment just as much as you have. If you want to sit miserably and pretend nobody loves you, you do that, but don't blame me. Go back to dinner and sit down or you'll get in trouble,” No response. “Reggie, go, please.”

Regulus’ nostrils flared slightly and the familiar name and he crossed his arms over his chest petulantly. He too didn't want to draw anybody else outside and start a screaming match but he wasn’t one to just drop something after he'd brought it up.

“Can we talk about it when you get back? Tomorrow?” Sirius looked at him with an expression akin to pity and Regulus could not help but roll his eyes. “Right. Have fun, then.”

“You cannot seriously think that this has come out of nowhere. I've been feeling like shit here since Andy ran and they decided I needed to be watched. Hell, it's been shit since I got sorted in first year. I can't stay here with their pathetic attitudes and their lack of compassion. I won't do it.”

“Hell?”

Sirius’ expression softened temporarily, it wasn't often that Reuus didn't know something, and it was even less often he asked for clarification on it.

“Muggle thing,” he explained before trying to return to the point at hand. “I'll see you at school.”

“No you won't.” Regulus interrupted sharply. “You never do. You always say that and then you spend all your time with James and Peter and whatever the other one is called and you never say hello. You never wave. It feels like I have to wait six weeks to see you again as it is and now you're saying I can't even have that time. It's like you don't think we're related.”

“That's just as much your fault as it is mine. You never put in any effort yourself. You don't come and find me, you don't send me notes asking about my day. You scrunch up your nose if I smile at you in a corridor. You're not some neglected puppy.”

Regulus had no answer to that accusation. He instead focused on stopping his eyes from stinging and looked up slightly, half to appear proud and half so he didn't have to watch Sirius pick up the case and open the front door. He heard a shuffle and then a pause. Then, Sirius was placing the case down and stepping over to him to loop his arms around his neck as lightly as he could possibly manage, resting his chin on the side of his brother's head. A few moments passed before Regulus’ brain caught up with the moment and he rested his hands on Sirius' back.

It was the first time they had hugged in years. Since they were seven, maybe eight at a push. The time had come years back where Regulus stopped finding hugs cool and so Sirius had played along and stopped bothering. For that reason, this was strange. It was different, like they'd never hugged each other before, the unfamiliarity added a level of awkwardness to the situation. Still, they stayed there for a while before Sirius stepped away, picked his case back up, and left without a further word, his eyes facing the ground.

Regulus went back into the dining room and told them the news of Sirius' departure before sitting back down at his place. They did not seem surprised.

[stealingyourbones]

I don’t really know if this is a prompt or whatever, but worth considering:

Phantom is likely seen as a very old being due to time travel shenanigans, but in the present day, he has a tendency to mention family members, especially “his sister” in the present tense. This doesn’t happen often, especially not around established heroes, but when he does let it slip around a member of the Justice League (be they friend or foe at this point, who knows), it sends them on a wild goose chase to find Phantom’s sister and determine her abilities. This goes one of two ways, because it could theoretically lead back to two different people.

Maybe it goes the easier way, and a JL member ends up stumbling across Dani on her travels. She’s got a very similar power set but is more of a free spirit (pun intended), so it’d make sense that she’s not tied down to a particular place. Of course, as the sister of a being thousands of years old, she’d be seen as quite old herself, and it’d be very easier for her to kill the illusion in a heartbeat.

However, I think it’d be a lot more intriguing if Danny’s statements somehow led back to Jazz, the towering redhead with superhuman strength (thanks to her liminality), exceptional fighting ability (thanks to martial arts from her mother and swordsmanship lessons from Pandora), and strong sense of justice and wisdom (due to her time spent analyzing the brain and working as part of a vigilante group).

Everything about Jazz would line up perfectly with her being an Amazon, and depending on when Wonder Woman left Themyscira, Jazz could be seen as an Amazon from before Diana’s time, possibly thousands of years old like Phantom.

That, of course, would lead to its own can of worms. How in the world are a long escaped Amazon and one of the leading representatives of the dead related? If they’re a found family, when did they meet? Otherwise, how is a male biologically related to one of the Amazons?

Ironically, Jazz would probably be much better at making herself seem Old than Danny would.

Bonus points if the League actually gets the chance to compare Danny and Jazz side by side. Phantom himself isn’t exactly small, not anymore, but Jasmine towers over him, every inch of seven feet tall. His big sister, indeed.

:0 oh man this is sick. How on earth does Danny's siblings break it to the JL that they aren't immortal? OR

What do they do to keep the misconception going to protect how young Danny truly is?

[m00nkissedlover]

・｡cinnamon smoke 🚬

"i wanna be high all the time, would you come with me?"

paul atreides x freman! reader | word count: 1,661 words

summary: in which you teach paul how to smoke spice 🚬 (based on this post i made)

warnings: (MDNI) mentions of smoking, spice being used as a drug/ hallucinogen, making out/ heated kissing

note: i am in no way glorifying or promoting smoking or any drug usage! i don't smoke, never have, never will. just decided to test out this plot. also, i made up my own interpretation of how i think the freman smoke spice

from making things like paper and clothing, to being used to enhance the flavor of traditional dishes, spice (a.k.a melange) was a very important commodity for the freman people. they almost couldn't live without it.

it was odd to paul atreides that the freman would put such a thing in their food, his body reacting rather negatively the first time he tried it. but soon, he got used to it, his body slowly adapting to its cinnamon like flavor. but what really got him was the fact that you guys would smoke spice. he'd never done it himself, only hearing from stilgar and other freman that it was mainly done for ritualistic purposes. but sometimes, they'd just take a puff or two to lighten the load.

the first time paul witnessed spice being smoked was when he went to go ask stilgar about the progression of his mother becoming the new fremen reverend mother. stilgar was sat on the floor of the seitch, a small pipe between his fingers. connected to the pipe, was a small chamber filled with spice, something at the bottom heating it up. sand colored smoke curled at his chapped lips, his expression rather lazy and relaxed.

"muad'dib, what seems to be the matter?" he asked, his accent thick on his tongue.

paul's previous questions had left him as his eyes followed the flow of the smoke as it felt stilgar's mouth and floated up to the ceiling, disappearing into the air. it also had a pretty strong smell, almost like a sweet and sour scent.

"would you show me how to smoke spice?" paul blurted, his mouth moving faster than his brain.

at first, stilgar was silent, pausing as he was about to take another puff. he looked paul dead in the eyes, and then...he laughed. he laughed for a good while, his eyes landing back on paul whose expression hadn't changed.

"oh, you're serious-" stilgar mumbled as he calmed down from his bout of laughter.

"short answer: no. long answer: you're not used to such."

"but i eat the food of the freman-"

stilgar cut paul of with an amused snort. "just because your stomach is used to spice, doesn't mean that your lungs are. sure, you breathe in a few mouthfuls of spice when we go on sandworm rides and such, but this-" stilgar tapped on the small glass spice chamber, the sound echoing in the small room.

"with a high enough dose, this can kill a man. that's why we smoke it in moderation."

"then i'll just-"

"no! and i mean it, muad'dib." stilgar waved paul off, the brown haired boy letting out a huff.

as he walked out, he felt a presence watching him. all of a sudden, someone grabbed his wrist and pulled him into a corner. in a moment of panic, paul pinned the person against the wall, holding his crysknife to their throat.

"whoa, whoa! calm down! paul, it's me. y/n..." you said, your eyes wide and muscles tense as the blade was mere inches away from slitting your throat.

once he realized it was you, paul relaxed, loosening his grip and sheathing his crysknife.

"are you trying to give me a heart attack?" he asked, letting out a breath of relief. "just how long have you been standing here?"

"long enough to know that i can give you the experience you're trying to have." you quipped, paul giving you a tense look.

"you won't get in trouble?" he asked as you pulled him down the hallway of the seitch.

"don't worry. i'll handle stilgar. now come on."

you managed to successfully distract stilgar for long enough to "borrow" one of the "spice smokers." you and paul were now sat in your tent, his gray-green eyes watching you as you pulled a small sachet of spice out of your pocket. opening the lid, you poured it into the small chamber and clamped it shut. with the press of a button, the chamber started to heat up, the strong scent passing through.

you took the honor of going first, lifting the pipe to your lips and taking a quick puff. paul watched in amazement as you parted your lips, the beige colored smoke filling the air in front of you.

"your turn." you said, passing the pipe to paul.

his fingers brushed against your own as he took the pipe from you, a strange shiver running down your spine. you sat back on your hands, watching as paul brought the pipe to his lips.

"just inhale it." you told him, the dark haired boy nodding. he placed the pipe between his lips, taking a big breath. he held it in his mouth for not even two seconds before he started coughing uncontrollably.

"what the hell?" paul croaked, feeling a burning sensation in his chest.

you had to bite back a laugh, giving him a reassuring pat on the back. "it's okay, that's how it is for everyone their first time. here..."

you took the pipe from him, looking at him as you walked him through it. "you're not trying to swallow the spice, alright? take your time inhaling...do it slowly. don't hold it in, it won't do anything. then slowly exhale. like this-"

you brought the pipe to your lips, slowly inhaling the sand like substance. almost immediately, you let out a puff, the smoke curling at your lips.

"i think i get it now." paul insisted, reaching for the pipe. he did just as you had, coughing a bit less and successfully letting out a small plume of smoke.

"there you go. you're a natural! how do you feel?" you asked him, already starting to feel loopy yourself.

"...good, but in a strange way..." he mumbled, taking another puff. "i kinda...i kinda like it."

it wasn't long before you two were as high as spacecrafts. you two sat there, talking about the mysteries of the universe, paul's latest visions and dreams, and anything else really.

"have you ever thought about just how huge the universe is? it's...crazy to think about..." you drawled, your eyes tinted a bit more blue than usual.

"i mean...yeah. with being "lisan al ghaib" i kinda...have to." paul responded, lifting a finger to touch the smoke that just left your mouth.

"do you really believe in all that...prophecy?" you asked, your bodies feeling light and tingly. it felt nice, like you were wrapped in a big blanket.

"if i'm being honest...no. doesn't help that my mother's shoving her propaganda down everyone's throats or that stilgar still believes it." paul answered, his tone low and mellow. the spice was kicking in real nice now.

"just want this shit to be over....all this stupid war and stuff. i want to enjoy living with my people and not have to fear for their safety..." you muttered, resting your head on paul's shoulder.

"stupid houses and their stupid war...stupid prophecy..." you grumbled, your head moving a little as a laugh vibrated through paul. you could feel his hand come up to brush some of your hair out of your eyes, your eyes fluttering shut.

"i'd rather sit here and get high with you than go fight some stupid war." paul said and now it was your turn to laugh.

you took another puff, peering over at paul for a moment. "open your mouth. i wanna try something."

you inhaled once more, leaning over to face paul as he parted his lips. you exhaled, letting the smoke escape your mouth and enter into paul's, a slight shiver running down his spine.

"do it again." he whispered, the pipe already between your lips once again. you leaned in a bit closer, your lips hovering over his. paul's lips parted and once again, you let the smoke trail from your lips to his, a lazy smile forming on yours.

"again-" your lips were on paul's in no time, the leftover smoke and cinnamon-like taste of the spice on your tongues mingling. your hands were immediately in his hair, paul cupping your face in his hands as your bodies melded together.

the soft sigh of satisfaction that left paul's lips made your stomach fill with butterflies. your heightened senses made the whole experience that much more enjoyable for the both of you. you could practically hear each other's heartbeats, feel each other through your clothes.

when you two parted for air, you took a moment to look at each other, your eyes half lidded and full of unsaid thoughts of one another.

"you're so good at this..." paul breathed, moving one of his hands to fiddle with the hem of your shawl.

"so good at what? smoking spice or kissing you?" you questioned, goosebumps forming along your skin.

"both." paul muttered as he leaned in to steal another kiss from you.

right when things were about to take a rather...steamy turn, you heard someone calling your name from outside the tent. you poked your head out to see chani, dressed in her stillsuit.

"stilgar, needs u-! y/n, have you been smoking spice again? you know stilgar'll be pissed if he catches you." chani warned, your blue eyes rolling at her nagging.

"yeah, yeah. we'll be out in a minute."

"we?" she questioned, raising an eyebrow. as if right on time, paul poked his head out as well, giving chani a slight nod. you could see the slight disappointment in her eyes.

"you...you two were...! just go get your stillsuits!" the girl grumbled before starting to walk back through the tents. you stood up, pulling paul to his feet and tucking the smoke chamber into your shawl.

"we should do this more often." you breathed, taking in the slightly dazed look in paul's eyes as you two began your descent down the sand dunes.

"i just might take you up on that..." paul answered, his fingers brushing against yours. oh, what he would do to taste the spice on your tongue once more. 🚬

© m00nkissedlover, 2024

[wyntereyez]

Wool of bat and tongue of dog

Thanks to @jrob64 for the banner! It's perfect.

Here's the first part of my @cssns contribution. It was supposed to be a one-shot, but thanks to me being a terminal procrastinator combined with a very busy two weeks at work, my brain can't word very well at the moment.

Part One

The door to the Storybrooke Bat Rehabilitation Center was unlocked.

Emma immediately went on the alert. Mary Margaret had left over an hour ago, and she’d never have forgotten to lock the door behind her. After Walsh and the events of the previous month, Emma had taken to bringing her gun with her. She could see Mary Maragaret’s frown whenever she spotted it, but Emma refused to be alone without it. 

Not when she was a potential target for the supernatural.

And now, it looked like her fears were well-founded, because there was something inside the building that definitely wasn’t a bat. Emma had inched the door open, holding her breath so she could listen. She could hear something moving in the lobby, by the reception desk.

A deep, resonating growl that made a primal part of Emma want to scream and flee. Her grip tightened on the gun, and she started to raise it.

Then an annoyed chittering followed, which was interrupted by a yip of indignation. Supernatural, all right, but familiar.

Emma holstered the pistol and stepped inside.

A massive wolf was crouched next to the desk, eyes locked on the large fruit bat perched on the edge. The bat raised his head and made delighted squeaks, and the wolf offered a wag of the tail before turning her snarling muzzle back to the bat.

“No supernatural turf wars before I’ve had my coffee,” Emma grumbled. She picked Killian up and plopped him down atop the startled Ruby’s back, then headed towards the breakroom. Ruby padded along after, Killian clinging to her shoulders for dear life.

They both waited patiently as Emma brewed a pot of coffee. While she waited, she grabbed the fruit bowl from the fridge and offered it to Killian, who daintily grabbed a slice of banana and half a strawberry. Ruby’s tongue flicked out, snatching two melon cubes and getting saliva all over the fruit, making Killian shriek in indignation. Emma sighed. “Can we use human words now, please?”

The fruit bat clumsily pulled himself to Ruby’s side, then released his grip on her fur. If he’d been a normal crippled bat, Emma would have dove to rescue him. But the bat never hit the ground; instead, a leather-clad man crouched next to the massive wolf.

Ruby licked his face, smearing melon and saliva on his cheek. Killian sputtered, and she trotted off, making a noise that sounded suspiciously like laughter.

“How’d you piss her off this time?” Emma asked as she added cream and sugar to her coffee.

“What makes you think I’m responsible, Swan?” Killian pouted as he straightened. His hook gleamed in the fluorescent light.

“You turned into something small, helpless, and cute to argue with her,” Emma pointed out. 

“Which wasn’t enough to prevent me from being angry with you,” Ruby said as she re-entered the break room on two legs.

Now that Emma was in on her secret, Ruby had taken to leaving spare clothes at the Belfry in case of unexpected transformations. She returned shortly in human form, wearing a red T-shirt and black leggings. Her feet were bare, toes caked with dirt from her run. She made a beeline for the coffee pot.

“You’re late tonight,” Ruby commented. “Did something happen?”

“I spent all day at the Town Hall.” Emma couldn’t hold back her groan. “You wouldn’t think it would be so difficult to select an interim mayor. They just need someone to hold the position until an election can be held.”

The mayor had been found dead of a heart attack in his office two days previous, throwing the city council into an uproar. It was a headache that Emma really didn’t need. Especially since there was one member of the council famous for disagreeing with everything, and he’d loudly shot down every candidate. Several of the city council members were friends of his, and tended to follow his lead, which led to deadlocked votes. “He’s going to drive me insane,” Emma sighed.

“Leroy?” Ruby hazarded.

“Yep. Had an argument for everything. By the time the meeting was called, the council still hadn’t chosen anyone, and I almost went to the Rabbit Hole instead of coming here.”

“Sounds worse than vampire politics,” Killian snorted. “Though I imagine there’s less blood.”

“You’d be surprised,” Emma slumped into a chair, her exhaustion finally getting to her. “So what were you two fighting about?” 

Killian and Ruby exchanged glances. “A deer,” they said in unison. 

Emma rubbed the bridge of her nose, already sorry she asked. This was going to add to her headache. “And why was this particular deer so important? We’re surrounded by woods, there are hundreds of them around.

“I was hunting it, of course. A vampire can’t live on strawberries alone. And deer’s blood can sustain me for more than a week.”

“You didn’t have to choose my prey!” Ruby’s voice had developed a snarl not unlike her wolf’s vocalizations. “I’d been stalking that deer for more than an hour!”

“It was the only deer I’d scented for miles,” Killian defended. “And unlike you, I need live prey.”

Emma tensed, suddenly reminded that she was dealing with two supernatural predators. She reminded herself she’d seen Killian in bat form with his face buried up to his eyes in fruit, and that she’d once half-carried a drunken Ruby home. They were predators, but they had softer sides. Hell, she’d known Ruby since high school.

Ruby scowled and turned the other chair backwards, so she could sit on it with her chin resting on the headrest. She continued to glare at Killian.

“This isn’t your usual night for hunting.” Killian usually chose the nights where no one stayed overnight to go out.

“True; but that storm that’s brewing is going to hang around for a few days. I don’t fancy hunting in the rain.”

“Same reason I was out,” Ruby nodded. “I needed to get a good run in before being cooped up the next few nights. And deer are one of my favorite meals.”

Emma abruptly burst out laughing. At Killian and Ruby’s matching looks of bewilderment, she explained, “Sorry, I just thought about how it must look, seeing Killian stalk a deer when he’s dressed like a pirate.”

“He hunts as a wolf,” Ruby growled. “Which makes him a trespasser on my territory.”

“You can turn into a wolf?!” Emma asked incredulously, then wondered why she was so shocked. She’d been dealing with the existence of the supernatural for nearly a month now; she should be used to this, right?

“Aye,” Killian said, “vampires can become any creature of the night. Though we’re far more impressive than weres.” 

Emma wondered what was considered a ‘creature of the night’, especially since she knew wolves were frequently active during the day. Could he become an opossum? A raccoon? Maybe a cricket?

Vampire crickets, now there was a thought.

Ruby rolled her eyes. “Vampiric wolves look like how wolves were traditionally depicted: all snaggly teeth and glowing eyes. Werewolves, on the other hand, are perfect specimens of wolf: lithe and muscular, swift as the wind.”

“So… you’re like the goths and jocks of the wolf community?” Emma took a sip of her coffee to hide her amusement as she watched Ruby sputter indignantly. Killian simply smirked, flashing that chipped fang.

“Perhaps we should continue our tale, lass, before we end up at each other’s throats, aye?” Killian said softly, and Ruby calmed.

“Yeah.” Ruby shook her head as though to dispel the last vestiges of wolf. 

The change in tone put Emma on immediate alert. “What happened out there?”

“Something spooked the deer badly enough that it turned around and fled past us,” Killian said. 

Oh. That didn’t sound good. Emma set her coffee aside, suddenly too nauseous to finish it. “Did you investigate?”

“Yeah,” Ruby said. “We followed the deer’s path, and soon we could smell what had frightened it. It was…wrong. It made my hackles rise, and I was growling without even knowing at what. Killian and I crept forward, and that’s when we found it.”

“An altar,” they said in unison.

Ah. Emma doubted they meant the kind you’d find in a church. “Oh?” Her coffee was getting cold, she noted as she took a lingering sip.

“A witch’s ritual altar,” Killian clarified, staring at her intensely. 

“A witch? Of course they’re real, too,” Emma sighed. “How worried about this should we be?”

“I’m not sure yet. I need a better look at the altar and the sigils around it to get an idea of what sort of ritual was performed.”

“So you’re an expert in witches now?” Ruby arched a brow.

“No, but I can ask people who are, and for that, I need photos. We need to get back out there immediately and photograph the site.”

Neither would have had access to their phones’ cameras, of course. Ruby would have been a wolf, and while Killian could transform clothes along with his body, it only seemed to be the archaic black leather outfit he favored when he wasn’t pretending to be human. Objects like his phone or wallet didn’t survive the transformation.

“Swan, I’d like you to come along as well; I want to see how you react to the magic.”

When Walsh had tried to compel Emma, he’d discovered that she was immune to his vampiric powers. This intrigued Killian, because it was a very rare gift not found in pure humans. He was determined to figure out just what was in her bloodline.

Emma was less enthused about this. She didn’t have any interest in parents that had abandoned her as a baby. She only cared about David and his mother Ruth, who had taken her in when she was a feral street child and given her a home and love.

Plus, she really didn’t want to walk around the woods after dark. There might be ticks or something.

“Now? It’s almost midnight!” And the moon was only a crescent, meaning it would be dark as pitch outside.

“Aye, but there’s a storm rolling in. All the evidence will be washed away by morning. Likely by design,” Killian said.

Reluctantly, Emma grabbed her coat from the closet while Ruby went off to change back into a wolf. Despite the protection of a large wolf and a vampire, Emma felt a thrill of fear as they stepped away from The Belfry’s exterior lights and to the edge of the forest beyond.

Her flashlight did little to help.

“So… tell me about witches,” Emma said. “Just how dangerous are they?”

“Most witches are benign,” Killian corrected, surprising her. “Just women gifted with knowledge and a bit of magic. Many of them end up in positions where they can use their gifts to help others: doctors and nurses, veterinarians, financial advisors, that sort of thing. Some are hide amongst charlatans, using real magic and divination to tell futures or speak with the dead, though those are rare. Mostly, they just live among humans, leading normal - though perhaps luckier - lives.

“True practitioners of the black arts are rare. They’re hunted by their own kind, in much the same way I take care of out of control vampires. This one… the scent of her magic is rotten.”

“What can someone with that kind of magic do?”

Killian scratched his cheek with the tip of his hook as he thought. “They can create curses, give others ill luck, or even kill without touching their victim. We won’t know much more until my expert has had a look.”

There was silence for a while after that, as Emma tried to fit this into her already shaken worldview. Finally, she decided it was just too much for one night, and turned her thoughts to something else.

“Henry really enjoyed visiting your ship the other day. It’s all he’s been talking about ever since.” Henry’s class had taken a day to tour the ‘real’ pirate ship (which was, in fact, a very real pirate ship, captained by a very real pirate), and he’d come home asking for sailing lessons. Not possible so late into the season, but she’d promised him that if he was still interested next year, she’d look into it.

“He’s a fine lad,” Killian told her. “Smart, and curious about everything. I’d be delighted to teach him some sailing basics, if…”

If you give me a reason to stick around, Emma knew he was thinking. Because Emma knew it was more than the threat of a rogue vampire that kept Killian living as a bat in Storybrooke. And three nights ago, Killian had finally made his move to see if there could be anything between them.

“So, Swan, are you looking forward to tomorrow night?”

Ahead, Ruby slowed, canting back one ear. Emma thought at first something had put her on alert; then she realized her friend was eavesdropping.

Right. Tomorrow. When she and Killian had dinner reservations for Bella Notte. Their first date.

She’d never been so nervous.

She wanted to date Killian. But her violent introduction to the world of vampires had left her cautious. Even Ruby’s reassurance that vampire society worked as Killian had described, with strict laws and enforcers that carried out ruthless punishments for lawbreakers, she’d still been wary.

Walsh had been terrifying, but he’d been newly-turned. Weak. Killian was centuries old and powerful.

He also squeaked at her petulantly if she gave him banana slices when he wanted strawberries.

The rumbles of thunder that had begun when night fell were growing louder, and Emma was beginning to worry they wouldn’t make it to the altar in time. But after forty-five minutes of what felt to Emma like random stumbling around in the dark, Ruby let out a sharp bark.

“We’re here,” Killian said unnecessarily. Because Emma could feel the change in the air, something that made her hair stand on end. 

“The hell?” she asked.

“So you do feel it,” Killian sounded as if she’d just confirmed something for him.

How could anyone not feel that? It was a miasma that pressed against her, threatening to smother her.

She fought down the urge to claw at her skin, and forced herself to examine the altar.

If Emma had been walking through the woods alone, she never would have seen it - or at least not realized it wasn’t a natural formation. She ran the flashlight beam over a tree that had been split in half, probably by a lightning strike. One half had fallen to the side, the other was still attached to the stump, but bent at a ninety degree angle to form a natural table just over knee height.

The split trunk was spotted with dark stains. A fragment of bone was caught in a furrow in wood.

“I’ll hold the torch if you’ll take the photos,” Killian offered. Emma handed the flashlight over, and he directed her to photograph the altar, as well as the sigils she’d missed at first look. The were carved into the ground, or painted onto the trunks of surrounding trees with the same fluid that had stained the altar.

Killian was thorough. Emma wondered if he was like this with all investigations, because she could use someone like him in the Sheriff’s Department.

Thunder boomed, and Emma and Ruby jumped. “Storm’s almost here,” Killian observed. “We’d better leave now, before we’re caught out in it.”

They only just managed to make it back to The Belfry before the sky opened up. Emma was soaked through by the time she managed to unlock the door, and Ruby reeked of wet dog. Killian, she noted, managed to look ridiculously good even when wet.

The rain pounded away into the night, and Emma shivered. She hoped it would be enough to wash away the taint of evil in the forest.

~oOo~

The stranger stank of dark magic.

Emma had been in the back office of the sheriff’s station, taking care of paperwork, when David had called her up front.

Grateful to escape her papery hell, she’d hurried up front - only to be brought up short by the elegant woman in the immaculate business suit who was ignoring David’s attempts to be friendly. Emma, however, immediately drew her interest.

Dark eyes ran up and down Emma, and perfect lips turned down into a frown, as if she’d found Emma lacking. “Can I help you?” she asked stiffly.

“I just wanted to introduce myself. My name is Regina Mills,” the woman said haughtily. “I’m the new mayor of Storybrooke.”

~tbc~

[sminiac]

xikers hyung line… car sex? 🤔

BESTFRIEND YOU CANT DO THIS I’M FOAMING AT THE MOUTH BESTFRIEND.

Minjae would be a little too shameless about doing it in the front of the car, especially if you’ve been persistent with the teasing whilst being on the road: your hand inching further up his thigh while pretending to be interested in the blur of trees that whip past, the pull of your lips lingering a little longer against his at every red light that you’re caught at. Overtime the small things get him so worked up, so irritated that he’s pulling off the road at the next rest stop.

He’s a man of visuals- I mean look at him, tell me he wouldn’t be eager to get his hands on your clothes, stretching, sometimes even ripping up the fabric just so he can get a good look at the way you sink down onto him if it calls for it. Even though he demands you try to be as discrete as you can be he’ll thrust up into you at random, especially when people are around just to see if you can play it off coolly, or if you don’t hide the dead give away of lidded eyes and a parted, drooling mouth.

He’s got his seat reclined and pushed further back from the steering wheel to give you a sufficient amount of space to take place in his lap, his hand resting at the side of your neck to bring you closer into him, whispering as if there were anyone close enough in the vicinity to hear: “If somehow someone starts looking for a little too long just act like we’re talking, you can do that, right? Pretend like you aren’t sitting on my cock?”

Remainder of members under the cut!

Junmin continually fails at showing any sign of restraint when it comes to you, he’s a hopeless man who gets turned on by the smallest acts, it doesn’t even matter if they’re purposeful or not, and the teasing about how shameful it is only makes him harder. Makes himself seem more pouty, docile just so he can persuade you into touching him even when the two of you are in the middle of driving, and he’s always so ecstatic when you give in with a sigh, telling him to: “hurry then, get back there before I change my mind.”

Needs you in the backseat, privacy isn’t a concern, you know this by the volumes he manages to reach just by your hand alone, but what he really needs is the closeness of you, and he can’t get that when you’re just simply leaned over the centre console to play with him.

“Sorry- mommy, ‘m sorry!” He blathers, bracing himself against the door and leather seat that sticks hot to his skin, watching, hypnotized by the fast run of your hand slipping up and down his cock as he grips at anything near him for dear life. Explaining to him that you’re only trying to help in simple enough words that his brain will understand through the overwhelmingly present sting of overstimulation that runs all the way down to his feet. A hoarse whine exiting his lips as he forces himself to nod through heavy tears and a strained throat, he understands, he promises he does.

When Sumin is in the mood for car sex, there’s absolutely no denying him. He’s not the type that just so happens to be horny when in the vehicle, most of the time it’s a well thought out idea that he constructs all the way down to the time his picked location is the least busy with people. He likes the idea of potentially getting caught, and not knowing that the two of you will be caught, so he approaches the frequently used plan diligently so the two of you will get the best out of the experience.

He also likes knowing when the peak of occupancy comes and goes because of how he fucks, don’t get me wrong- he knows how to take things gentle, and paced, but the adrenaline running thick in his body gets him going, he especially likes making the car rock- like, literally. The space is minimal, and the windows are closed for added security so it gets hot fast, and he hates having a layer of clothes separating himself from you, hates not seeing you, feeling you.

“God- fuck, feels s’good when you’re bent over like this for me baby.” His cock settles into you at an angle you aren’t fully accustomed to yet, the position a little foreign, but enjoyable nonetheless, especially for him. “So wet, y’can hear yourself right? Hear how wet your pussy is.” His hips draw him out and then back in with a sharper, more defined thrust that highlights the sound of your arousal on skin meeting skin, he smoothes a hand over your lower back, taking in the sight. “So pretty, my pretty baby, you gonna let me make you cum like this?”

When Jin’s driving he’s doing his absolute best on paying attention to his surroundings, because you’re in the car, he wants to keep you safe, and maybe because he also wants to impress you, so sure, maybe he’ll sometimes purposely flex his biceps and chew pressure into his jaw when he knows you’re looking, but he never does it with the intent to be slutted out in the front seat of his car because you can’t keep your thoughts or hands to yourself.

He’s completely at your mercy, takes everything you give him with appreciation, muttering dumb slobbery thanks as you fuck him through his nth orgasm with the aid of the handle overhead of the door, hand splayed over the dash to keep you steady. Has a horrible memory when it comes to wiping down his car of all the marks and smudges you leave in the glass when you’re finished with him, but maybe it’s on purpose, sometimes.

You can’t help that a tingle starts to curl its way between your thighs when he looks so pretty driving, his side profile was seriously not for the weak, and you just so happened to be feeling significantly frail compared to the resistance you’d have in normality when Jin’s behind the steering wheel. He doesn’t even know it, doesn’t even care that you’re unable to physically sit still from the arousal you can feeling pooling hot and wet into your panties. He’s so sweet, doesn’t bat an eye when you’re telling him to pull over somewhere secluded enough, just to unzip his jeans and pull out his dick so your mouth can be busied by sucking while his fingers find their way behind your back and to your cunt. His thighs twitching uncontrollably once you’ve got him close, tries his best to bite back the moans from slipping, “Fuck-! Fuck, honey, g’na cum- wanna’ cum pleaseplease!”

Hyunwoo thinks he’s soooo slick, thinks he’s so smart convincing you to come and help him bring in the food he offered to pick up for the party, and you could already tell as soon as he walked in with a little stiffness to his usual sway in his walk, a catlike grin on his face coupled with overly affectionate touches that he was horny, that’s why he’s shocked stupid when you retaliate by taking the lead, pinning his wrists above his head as you ride him. He doesn’t fight it, not a bit, he lets himself indulge in the sight, the feeling. He doesn’t know what it is about the both of you still being full clothed while fucking, but it’s making him feel extremely hot.

Pulls up the lip of your skirt to see the way you repeatedly swallow down over his cock every few minutes, only quick glimpses though in case someone were to come peaking into the window, asking if the two of you were in there, where the food is he promised to bring.

“You’ll keep your mouth shut- right? Not a noise, ‘n I’ll let you cum.” He manages a singular nod, his eyes fluttering shut at the way you work him into his orgasm, is it early? Absolutely, but he’s not willing to turn it away for the sake of lasting. “S’good babe- fuckin’ me like this, god this is filthy, but you’re so wet, pussy drooling all over me.” He’s working with half of a mind, completely knocked dumb into bliss that his hips are slack under you, letting any words that come to mind loose, even things we wouldn’t normally say if the two of you were in bed, that’s just how good it feels.

[delusionalbitchinthehouse]

Alpha & Pebble my beautifully fucked up boys ! Here’s them fighting because they don’t know how to communicate. Angst, but with some tiny bit of comfort ? Maybe ? I’m not sure it really is comfort but well.

Alpha’s not sure what the Sibling of Sin said, he only caught the tail end of a mean laugh, but it must’ve been about Delta ; it’s the only thing that could get that reaction out of Pebble. Snarl peeling his lips so far back it looks borderline painful, eyes blazing, tail whipping the air, claws extended.

The earth ghoul is about to pounce on the stupid, stupid human, rip them to shreds and risk being sent back to the pit for the offense it represents. Alpha acts on instinct alone.

The fire ghoul barely manages to catch the back of Pebble’s uniform just as the earth ghoul leaps toward the Sibling. Pebble didn’t see Alpha coming, too blinded by rage, and is caught by surprise ; in a second, and despite his vigorous thrashing, Alpha has the earth ghoul in a chokehold, his arm digging into Pebble’s neck in an effort to keep him from committing first degree murder.

The Sibling blanches at the display, finally realizing their stupidity, the amount of danger they’ve subjected themselves to by sheer malice, and scurries away while they still can. 

Alpha curses as he drags Pebble away, sharp kicks surely bruising his legs, claws raking along his arm in an attempt to make him let go. No chance. Alpha only tightens his hold, cutting Pebble’s airways even more off until the earth ghoul’s knees buckle under him and he let himself be thrown into the common room.

Alpha only grants him a few seconds to take deep, gasping breaths before taking two fistful of the front of Pebble’s uniform, hauling him up against the wall ; with the earth ghoul being a good head shorter than Alpha, and pretty light in comparison,  it’s easy for the fire ghoul to pin Pebble there, his feet barely grazing the ground.

« Are you stupid ?! » Alpha growls inches from Pebble’s face.

« Let go you fucking-»

« No, » Alpha grunts, baring his own fangs, « I asked you a question. Are you fucking stupid ?! That what you earth ghouls do, smoke your brains away ?! You know what happens to dumb sons of bitches who harm members of the Church ?! Do you want to be sent back, away from you greenhouse, your home, your pack ?! »

Pebble blinks, momentarily stunned by the reason behind Alpha’s anger, before his face contorts once again and venom creeps back in the pale green of his eyes.

« So you’d let that piece of shit say whatever they want ? Insult Delta whenever they like ? »

So Alpha was right, it was indeed about Delta. The fire ghoul doesn’t get to say what he wants, Pebble is on a roll.

« Yes, of course you would. Pack only matters when it suits you, yeah ? When it’s convenient. But the second protecting it might cause troubles, you back off like the coward you are. Is there any of us you’d take actual risks for ? Is there anyone outside of Omega, oh so precious Omega, you would sacrifice things for ? »

Alpha sees red, Pebble’s word cutting deep, hitting a nerve dead on. How dare he. How dare Pebble question everything Alpha did for the pack ? The fire ghoul doesn’t know if he wants to rip the earth ghoul’s tongue out or curl into himself to sob. 

Pebble opens his mouth to go on, and Alpha is absolutely sure he cannot take a drop more of the earth ghoul’s venom, that infamous venom of his that slithers into your veins, wraps around your heart, squeezes until it bursts.

Alpha throws Pebble to the ground, sits on his chest, raises a fist - aiming for his face, maybe his nose, anything that would make the earth ghoul shut up, shut up, shut up.

That’s when Alpha catches the glimmer of hope in Pebble’s eyes, realization dawning on him with the effect of a cold shower. Pebble itches for a fight. Wants to get hit, beaten up to a pulp, and who better to rile up for that than Alpha, short-tempered, sparring enthusiast Alpha ?

As always, Pebble is seeking what he cannot ask for, and seeking it from Alpha. 

The fire ghoul stills, fist still raised. Pebble waits, tense as a bowstring, eyeing it almost voraciously. But there, under the anger and inexplicable need to be hurt, something fragile, vulnerable hides. 

Whatever the Sibling said, Pebble took it to heart.

Alpha’s eyes slip closed, a shuddering sigh escaping him as he brings his hand down slowly, grabbing Pebble’s jaw firmly, but with unusual gentleness. The earth ghoul stiffens.

« You know damn well I take care of my pack. And, whether you like it or not, you are pack too. So the next time you want to be used as a fucking punching bag, you join me on the mat instead of running your fucking mouth and goading me into damn near killing you. »

Despite the simmering fury in Alpha’s voice, his hand doesn’t tightens, simply stays there, holding.

Pebble’s eyes flash with both desperation and rage.

« Don’t pretend to care- »

Alpha growls again, tail slapping against the floor harshly enough to sting.

« Stop telling me how I feel, Pebble. My feelings are mine, you don’t get to twist them into what’s more convenient for you. »

All the fight seems to rush out of the earth ghoul’s body at that. Pebble’s muscles all let go at once, his face growing weary, almost melancholic. He avoids Alpha’s eyes, nods curtly.

« Got it. »

Alpha can’t help the way his eyebrows skyrocket toward his hairline at that, but doesn’t comment. It’s as close an apology as he’ll get from Pebble.

The earth ghoul is staring at Alpha’s arm, jaw clenching hard. There’s a few rivulets of blood trickling from the claw marks Pebble left on it in his efforts to free himself.

For a moment, they stay frozen like this, something akin to « what now ? » floating in the heavy silence between them.

A door slamming in the distance snaps them out of it. Alpha let go of Pebble, stands up to let the earth ghoul do the same. Pebble runs a hand through his short, messy hair, strands spiking in every directions. 

Sighing heavily, Alpha adjusts his shirt, glad that he wasn’t wearing his own uniform, or else he’d have a lot of explaining to do as to why his sleeve would be in tatters. Again.

From the corner of his eyes, the fire ghoul spies Pebble awkwardly straightening his collar, somehow seeming reluctant to leave. Alpha watches him, and yet, he’s caught completely off guard when the earth ghoul grabs his injured arm, careful to avoid the cuts, eyes glaring daggers at the consequences of his own anger.

The strangeness of the situation keeps Alpha frozen, eyes glued to Pebble’s face. The near permanent crease between the earth ghoul’s eyebrows, the scar cutting through the bridge of his nose, the smattering of freckles across his cheekbones, the scruff eating away at his cheeks, everything is thrown into sharp focus by their sudden stillness.

When the earth ghoul looks up at Alpha, the fire ghoul wonders what he sees. Yellow eyes Pebble’s dying to gouge out ? Already crooked nose the earth ghoul longs to break into an even more unsavory form ? Deep claw marks on his cheek he’d like to extend ? But the look in Pebble’s eyes doesn’t hold any murderous intent. It’s conflicted, confused, the abrupt change in their usual dynamic rendering him just as silent as Alpha. 

For once, they are both out of words. A miracle, really.

Then, Pebble let go so suddenly you’d think Alpha lost control of his fire and inflicted him a third degree burn.

« You should get those checked out, » the earth ghoul mumbles, resolutely staring at his feet.

Alpha blinks, lost for a moment, before remembering his injuries.

« Those are just scratches. »

Pebble scoffs, but doesn’t add anything, fleeing the room without once meeting Alpha’s eyes again.

The fire ghoul heaves a sigh, scrubs his hand over his face. He feels weird, Pebble’s expression when he took stock of the damages he’d done lingering in his mind. 

Alpha hopes Mist will let him share a smoke with her tonight, Satan knows he could use her blunt honesty to understand whatever the fuck just happened.

But first, he has a Sibling to scare the living daylight out of to ensure they won’t breath a word of Pebble’s near slip up.

[mahi-wayy]

𝐃𝐎𝐍'𝐓 𝐁𝐋𝐀𝐌𝐄 𝐌𝐄 | ʙɪʟʟᴀ

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ : David Billa x Fem!Oc

ғᴀɴᴅᴏᴍ & ʀᴇǫ ʙʏ : Billa. by @warnermeadowsgirl

ʟᴇɴɢᴛʜ : 2.5k

ᴄᴏɴᴛᴀɪɴs : billa being billa he is so hot HELP, ranga and maya are little (LOT) doomed, mention of near death experience, medical coma, murders, gunshots, stabbing, injuries, canon typical violence, secret affair.

sᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ : 𝐈𝐍 𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐂𝐇 what didn't kill him just pissed her off.

ᴀ/ɴ : this was a NEED, shreya asked and boom my brain went down a spiral 😭🤚🏻

--------------------

What doesn't kill you makes you stronger.

Well fuck that because what didn't kill him was pissing her off beyond imagination. This was not how their long awaited reunion was supposed to go. She was supposed to be drinking and dancing and kissing him not sitting in their bedroom looking at him as he refused to wake up.

It wasn't his fault she knew, the coma wasn't something he could've controlled but she should've known better. She should've known better than to leave him with people like Lisa and Ranjit. She never trusted Maya to begin with.

Tara should've been with him, like she always promised to be. She knew people talked shit, she didn't exist in his life for the world, Lisa was the one they considered the woman he loved but the story was a lot different than that.

As she gets up from the sofa and sits beside his coma induced form she can't help but remember the first time they met, the wild old days of the man known as David Billa. She chuckled softly at the thought, her fingers intertwining with his unresponsive ones as she thought back to first run in.

—

Being the daughter of an influential businessman had its perks but having two step brothers didn't. Tara was born to an Indian man and a Malaysian woman, choosing not to take up any surname because she had such wonderful parents but that story for another time.

She had two more brothers, barely five years younger than her from when her father remarried during his visit to India. She didn't mind it all because one her mother ran away from home when she was four thanks to her husband's alcoholic habits. Her brothers however were a major pain in the neck.

Deadset on taking over the Malaysian and the main branch of the business which she was the heir for. Their old man died by the time she hit 23, thank you alcohol she guessed.

It was then when things became harder, there was close to no such thing known as her father's will that was left behind. All three of them were at each other's throat in one way or another, she was unbeatable on the business front but her brothers played far dirtier.

Now she was no damsel in distress, never was and never will be but that day everything happened way too fast. One minute she was sitting in the cafe, waiting for her lawyers and the next bullets were being fired.

To an outsider it might have looked like some kind of gang war but she knew better, it was set up for her death disguised as a gang war.

She managed to take out two men, like she said she wasn't a princess waiting for her prince to save her, she was a queen leading a war for her throne.

But a battlefield is a tricky place, one miss and you have to say goodbye to your life. That's exactly what happened, she managed to look at the man aiming in her direction but she missed the man sneaking up on her.

She missed the bullet by a hair length, the blade ended almost two inches deep in her side.

The pain was excruciating, her white shirt was turning red really quickly and tears were blurring her vision. She screamed when the man pulled out the knife, going for another stab but this time she caught his hand, twisting his arm to have the blade end up in his chest.

She kneeled as the man fell dead on the floor, her hand desperately pressing against her bleeding side when she noticed more men.

Tara knew she had to flee, she can't fight, not in this condition. She chose the kitchen exit to make her way out, it was the start of the rush hour in the city and it was evident with how many people gave her weird looks as she stumbled past them.

She couldn't bring herself to care about them, her vision was blurry and blacking out from the corners, her right side was numb waist up and she was also slowly losing feeling in her right leg too, it was a miracle she was standing on her two feet.

Which doesn't last long, she didn't see it nor was she able to make out the sound of the horn, realising she was almost hit by a car only when it stopped not even a inch away from her knees but that was the last straw. She couldn't even look who the person was, dropping down in sync with the door of the car opening.

When she came to be, she was in hospital, hooked to machines, the lights were too bright and she still had close to no feeling in her right arm. Probably the anaesthesia.

She looked around, there was a man in all black standing at the foot of her bed, talking to the phone and her first instinct was to reach to her left grabbing a pair of scissors pushing herself to sit up, aiming for the man's neck she was just about to throw the sharp tool when a hand grabbed her wrist.

“Wow there kitten, you're gonna reopen stitches.”

Wait, how did she miss another presence in the room. She tried to push the man back but he was stronger and ended up pinning her back to the bed.

“Stop moving around, I am not going to get you treated again.”

“I didn't ask you to get me treated.”

“Well you can die all you want but do it when people don't see you hitting my car.”

She glared back in retaliation to his growl, so he was the one who was in that car. She freed her hand, groaning when it pulled at her sides, the male backed away when she stopped trying to get up.

He was tall, taller than six feet and dressed in a white jacket and pants with white shoes. Seems like a mob boss.

“You can leave now, thank you for bringing me in, I can pay the bill.”

“That is not how you sound grateful.”

She rolled her eyes but he continued before she could reply back.

“Running with a stab wound in broad daylight, attitude issues, tried to kill a man as soon as you woke from hours of unconscious state and multiple throw knife holsters found in your expensive attire. People in your life don't want you breathing do they?”

She looked back at the man now sat in the chair beside her bed, her gaze sharp enough to match his intense one.

“They really don't.”

“I know the feeling.”

He answered, his head tilting as he looked at her before extending a hand.

“Billa.”

She looks at the hand, then at his face and then back at his hand. In her life people have always wanted something from her or wanted to do more harm than good but he entered her life and the first thing he did was save her not walk out even when she was clearly a difficult stranger.

Long story short, she took the hand.

“Tara.”

—

That was the day and four years later now she wasn't only the sole owner of her business but also his beloved.

Once again people argued that he was always seen with Lisa and what not but she knew better. It was pure business, a cover for their actual relationship, she was seen with a guy every now and then too.

It wasn't about who you spent weeks and months with, it was about who was the one you spent your most vulnerable moments with, who was your home, who do you come back to.

And they always came back to each other. No matter what.

So when he didn't meet her up like they planned to and didn't even leave a message or a clue as to where he was it set off alarms in her mind.

She tracked him down easily, the police were after him, luckily she found him before they could. Faking his own death wasn't new to him, he had done it before when someone tried to bomb the car they were in, way back in the first year of their relationship.

“You're too injured for taking this risk, if something happens-”

“Shh you know me? I can do this. Just don't be late in getting me out okay.”

That's exactly the dialogue they had before she helped him in getting the ACP's car. He had practise holding his breath but what was worrying was that he was injured severely and not breathing is gonna do only harm.

The emotional fool of an ACP took his sweet time with the funeral but she was thankful Billa was always on her case for working out because when he didn't wake up when he dug him out of the grund it was on her to pull him out and carry him back to the car.

She immediately called the doctor as the car engine roared to life, their home was unreachable in many senses, far safer for him then some hospital. She vaguely remembers the doctor giving her a look for having blood smudges on her clothes and skin but she made sure they did the actual work and not just judge her.

An indefinite coma was not as surprising as it should have been. No, she knew the time taken could've caused some kind of issue but this pushed the limit. Everyday it was hoping and hoping and hoping, nothing else. She was helpless here and it was pissing her off.

Not to mention the business Billa spent half his life building and keeping up was gone. It was gone just because some goodwill man who looked like her beloved said yes to the police.

She found out a few days after his accident, the phone Billa used to talk to her came online suddenly when the only man who used it was right in front of her, unmoving. It made her look into it and the stupidly obvious plan from the police came in light with a little digging.

Tara wanted to fight for his empire, she really did, he helped her get her throne she wanted to protect his fort too but he was her priority. She was too much of a coward to leave him alone and go out handling some god forsaken idiots.

She just wants him to come back to her, to wake up, to look at her like he always did, with love and hunger and a challenge. To open his mouth and make a cocky remark, to kiss her until she was bruised. She wanted the man she loved to wake up.

The God seems to have heard her because she feels the fingers twitching around her own.

She smiles as his eyes move behind the close lids before flustering open slowly as she brings his hand to her lips to press a gentle kiss to the back of it.

—

Life was smooth.

That was how Ranga looked at things, he had cash for almost a lifetime, a stable income in the form of the school and college he owned and Maya as a life partner. What more would he ever need in life?

Definitely not the shock he just got.

Why was the door to his house open? Maya wasn't home and no one else had the ke- the thought died in the middle when he saw the broken lock lying by the door.

So an intruder. Great.

He stepped back, messaging Maya and pulling out the gun from behind the number of plant pots lining the porch. He will thank Maya for the idea later.

He opens the door and steps inside, the weapon held in front of him as he looks around. There was no one sight as he walked with light footsteps.

“Ranga…”

He jumps but his instincts kick in faster he turns around to point the gun at- HIMSELF!? Wait no that was not him, that was the don he acted as months back, Billa, was it? But wasn't he supposed to be dead?

“Your hands are shaking, out of practice?” The suited man said getting up from the couch and walking towards him, easily snatching the gun from him. Damn it all.

“You messed with the wrong man.”

He wants to say something back, preferably that it was not his damn plan and that he knew he was messing with the wrong man but the police forced him to do this.

“Not only ruining my business but stealing my money. Tch tch not really smart are you.”

Yeah he was dumb, Ranga was so dumb. Also can his body listen to him and actually move, this was the worst time to freeze. Fuck his life.

“Ranga what-”

“Hi.”

He forces himself to turn around when Billa looks past him to greet the female who just entered the house. He wants to smile by the way colour drains from Maya's face, at least he wasn't the only one scared.

“Uh uh, don't even think about it princess. Drop it.”

A much taller female appears behind his fiance, pressing a barrel of the gun at the back of Maya's head who drops a gun from behind her.

“Hey to you too.”

The woman said looking his way but he didn't miss the absolute hate dripping from her words. He was fucked wasn't he.

“Don't pull the trigger.”

The don speaks turning to face him again, not being able to see his eyes was really half the reason he was so scary to him. Like Ranga has no idea what's going on with his lookalike.

“Why?”

He never thought the woman could sound more hateful than she did before but he was proven wrong.

“We are dead for the world Tara, they are not and since they ruined it.”

Billa speaks, keeping a hand on his shoulder and squeezing till it hurts.

“They will be the one to make my business from scratch.”

The don grits out, taking his arm and bending it before he brings his shoulder down on his knee full force.

“Ranga-”

“Stay put.”

He can only hear the dialogue between the females as he falls to his knees, with a dislocated shoulder. Fuck that hurts a lot.

“Hurts doesn't it?”

He forces himself to look up when the man speaks, just as Maya comes to kneel beside him, her brows creased in concern as the couple looks down on them. The black suited man tsks before turning on his heel and walking out but the woman wrapped in the white gown kneels down in front of them.

“This is just the beginning sweethearts.”

She says with a poisonous smile before straightening up and following the man out, he groans in pain as he looks to his side to meet Maya's equally concerned and scared gaze.

Yup they were royally fucked.

-----------

tags : @mayakimayahai @warnermeadowsgirl @vijayasena @voidsteffy @jkdaddy01 @rambheem-is-real @allari-ammayi @mellaga-karagani @ulaganayagi @ahamasmiyodhah @ranisingsnew @myvarya @toomanyfanficsbruh

[whorediaries-09]

you got me;

pairing- mafia!remus lupin x artist!reader warning(s)- 18+ content, darkish themes. a/n- even though i have exams tomorrow, enjoy this shit.

little train.

to be a muse was flattering. to be ink on papers, sound on instruments or strokes on canvases was flattering. to have your features depicted as beauty was flattering. to be noticed in the eyes of artists was flattering.

at least to him. even though his fingers held a flimsy piece of paper with his face roughly sketched on, he could feel his heartbeat fluttering rapid within the restriction of his ribcage.

'mr. lupin?' the voice was soft and shy. just like how it always had been. there was no tone of surprise, annoyance or accusation.

'i didn't know you were an artist,' he replied, putting the thin sheet down on the desk, putting his hand inside the pocket of his trouser.

'does it make you uncomfortable?' you asked, walking towards him, keeping a respectable distance. he remained silent.

'no, not really. but i must ask you, why didn't you put it in your resume? that you were an artist?'

'i didn't think it was....well relevant for the job you were offering. i didn't think a member of the...mafia...needs to know that their maid is an artist.'

he chuckled. breathing slow, he asked,

'why don't you sell your art? i mean, even this-' he stared at his sketch, 'seems to be rough, yet looks so...precise,'

'because art has never been my job. it's my hobby. i'm afraid that i'll start looking at it as if it's a chore, which i detest.'

the silence was charging.

'do you really?' he asked, turning towards you. you feel his eyes lure on your body, warm and static. the words seem to stop in your throat, as you stare down at the floors you'd polished a few hours ago.

'yes,' you breathed, voice thick, clearly a lie, 'i detest it,'

'look at me when you speak,' he said. the air in the room was suddenly too thick to breath, 'won't you?' you slowly lifted your gaze to his, watching an unfamiliar darkness unravel in his usually cold, dead brown eyes. you took in a deep breathe, hoping he wouldn't notice. you let the silence linger, the sweet cacophony of tension wrestling against your eardrums.

'i'll ask you something,' he whispered, eyes trailing over your lips, 'do you think you'll answer honestly?'

'maybe,' you replied. he smiled,

'right. i want you to make a portrait. i'd rather hang that up instead of the photograph. you think you can do that?'

'i can. but that will... come at a cost of your time. if you know what i mean. i'll need to study the angles and colors and...think.'

'i'm fine with that,' he replied. leaning closer, he flushed. 'tell me when?'

'whenever you're ready,'

*-

obsession was a cruel fate. combing through the twisted lies and words, he never expected to end up like this. it had begun with him being your muse, with him being paint on your canvases. it had ended up with you being his obsession, with you being his infatuation. with you being his drug.

it was as if you'd casted a charm on him since the day you'd hung his portrait on the wall. he was nothing less but entranced by it. not because you had the colors on the canvas strokes perfectly. not because you'd captured something that he'd never seen before.

he couldn't see himself on the canvas. it was all you he saw. the way you flicked your brush across the canvas. the way your eyes lingered over his form, analyzing every inch and crevice on his body. the way you'd tied the apron around your waist, just tight enough to sinch it perfectly. the way you'd popped open a shirt button or two, the heat working its way into your frustration. you'd left a lot for imagination.

it drove him feral.

enough for him to be sitting on his knees, the coldness from the floor seeping through his black slacks, as he stared at you through his eyelashes.

even though his mind was foggy and captivated with your presence, his brain was drooling with thoughts. you were like a drug.

amongst the cruelties of the world, you were peace. his tongue dragged along the folds of your sopping cunt, your fingers deep within his sandy brown locks, pushing him closer to your core. he lifted your leg putting it on his shoulder, almost catching you off-balance. his nose touched your clit as he explored deeper within you.

he didn't like anyone better than you. your voice soft and heavy, moaning his name, was a deep melody he'd be drunk on.

'fuck, mr. lupin,' you screamed, bending backwards as your thighs shook, and the tightened coil of relentless teasing released out of your body, spreading across his tongue. you picked him up by the collar of his unbuttoned shirt, tasting yourself on his tongue. you pushed him upon your bed.

you'd gotten him exactly where you wanted him to be. he'd crawl in a desolate place with the snakes, just for you. he wasn't just your muse. he was your liquor. and how beautiful he looked falling on his knees like a domino. he was your object to own. to destroy.

'tell me what you want,' you asked, kissing your way up to his thighs, to his happy trail, to his abdomen and his heaving chest. he breathed slow and heavy.

'i want you to fuck me,' he said. tears pooled at his eyes, 'please,' he said, as your hand wrapped around his hardened cock.

'you want me to fuck you?' you asked, slowly stroking him up and down. you teased the tip of his cock on your slit.

'yeah,' he breathed, 'please,'

'give me that tie,' you demanded. he handed you the tie he'd been wearing before you'd torn it off his body. you knotted it loosely around his neck. you pushed his cock into your cunt, and he let out a gasp.

'fuck,' you smirked, slowly moving and teasing. your nails raked over the skin of his chest.

'do you see anyone other than me?' you asked, pulling the tie so that it partly stopped circulation. you saw his brain fog, eyes go fizzy, as he tried to breath harder. you moved faster with each passing second, and you could see him go feral. the shortly trimmed edges of hair teased across your sensitive clit, rubbing it rough.

'the world is a curse, it'll kill if you let it, mr. lupin.' you forced your fingers between his lips, opening his mouth. you spat on his tongue, pulling him closer to your naked body as his cock explored deeper, the nerve hitting your g-spot.

'and nobody knows it better than you. isn't that so?'

'yes, fuck,' he groaned, nails digging into the bedsheet. you felt the familiar coil burn in your core. you held his face, watching the senses disappear from his eyes.

'you're my sweet relief, mr. lupin,' you said, as you felt his thrusts go sloppy, indicating that he was close to his orgasm too. you bit his ear.

'come on, cum for me,'

'w-where?' he breathed, as your nails dug into his face. you spat on his tongue, before closing his mouth with your lips.

'in me,'

he moaned, gargled by your rough lips on his, tongue in mouth. he released himself into you, deep and sweet into your core. he felt your lips turn into a smile as you kissed him deeper.

you'd gotten him good. he was high. high enough to not want to be sober again. all he saw was tomorrows. all he saw how the stars were made for him and you.

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