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novafire-is-thinking · 2 months ago

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Medic, Maverick, Maniac, Murderer: Understanding Pharma

First thing’s first: I love Pharma, dearly.

In all the time I’ve spent evaluating his character, I’ve mainly focused on what can be worked out about who he is as an individual: his core sense of self, psychological drives, subjective worldview, etc.

When all else is stripped away, who is Pharma?

This treatise is the product of obsessing over Pharma, analyzing canon (and extras), and reading as many different perspectives on his character from fans across the fandom as I could find. The post is long, so for those of you who balk at the thought of reading a shortfic’s worth of Pharma thoughts, feel free to read the TL;DR (Conclusion) at the end and then decide if the full read is worth your time. Also, a premium reading experience is available in the form of the original Google Doc version.

As you read, keep in mind that this is primarily a mix of psychoanalysis, evidence-based examination, and speculation—not moral, ethical, or sociological commentary. The goal is to examine Pharma’s psychological drives and core values, and each of his appearances in the context of those. All other types of evaluation are up to readers.

Now, take your victim blaming-allergy meds (just in case); remove your black-and-white thinking caps; and leave your personal morality lenses at the door.

Psychological Drives & Core Values

Why does Pharma act the way he does? What gives him a reason to keep living? What are his personal priorities?

At the beginning of the Delphi arc, First Aid establishes Pharma as a “control freak” and someone who “thinks he’s an expert on everything.”

Now, First Aid has a habit of complaining about his bosses, but on both points, there’s canon evidence to back them both.

Expertise and Intellect

Throughout the Delphi and Luna 1 arcs, it’s established that Pharma is a skilled and brilliant doctor.

He once performed a 4-way fuel pump transplant, donating his own fuel pump in the process. (see above panel)

Later, he invented a soundbomb that left an echo laced with a virus and invented an antidote to that virus:

And on Luna 1, he was on the edge of finding a cure for Cybercrosis, based on the fact that Swerve was able to formulate a cure from his notes.

More than being a doctor, Pharma lives for intellectual and scientific achievement as a physician scientist. He feels most alive when he’s able to solve complex medical problems, and when his achievements are recognized by those whose opinion he considers important.

This is Pharma’s 'why.'

And even though he’s arrogant and enjoys praise, it’s not his primary motivation. He doesn’t need it in order to set his mind to whatever he’s interested in, although he’ll seek it from those he values most (i.e. Ratchet).

Pharma sees himself as less of a doctor, and more as a scientific innovator or medical maverick. The practice of medicine is primarily a catalyst for his creativity and intellect; it’s not an end in and of itself like it is for someone like Ratchet or First Aid.

First Aid’s observation of Pharma can be better phrased as, “[Pharma] thinks he’s an expert on everything medical”—because he’s not so driven by achievement and admiration that he’ll grovel at the feet of strangers and get good at something he doesn’t personally find interesting. The only time we see him express a desire for praise is when he’s around Ratchet—someone he holds in high regard for both personal and professional reasons. This makes sense since Ratchet is one of the only people who can give Pharma any kind of competition within what he considers to be his area of expertise.

“Each day we go to our work in the hope of discovering—in the hope that some one, no matter who, may find a solution of one of the pending great problems—and each succeeding day we return to our task with renewed ardor; and even if we are unsuccessful, our work has not been in vain, for in these strivings, in these efforts, we have found hours of untold pleasure, and we have directed our energies to the benefit of mankind.” —Nikola Tesla

Ego

Without question, Pharma has an inflated ego, but having an inflated sense of self doesn’t automatically mean a person is a full-blown narcissist or that they are totally uncaring.

Every personality trait exists on a spectrum. Yes, Pharma is arrogant, but the presence of arrogance doesn’t automatically and completely cancel out all “positive” traits. (For fun, check out studies on Dark Tetrad and Light Triad personality traits.)

People are complex. Arrogance can coexist with genuine kindness, ruthlessness can coexist with deep compassion, etc.

Whether Pharma exhibits genuine kindness is up to each reader’s interpretation of what little canon material exists, but the point is: Pharma’s arrogance doesn’t automatically rule out the possibility of authentic “positive” traits.

Controlling Tendencies

Pharma is comfortable pulling the power card and using it to dump what he sees as uninteresting parts of medical practice on those below him:

“So Fisitron’s writing about the Wreckers’ elbows now, is he?” said Delphi’s Chief Medical Officer. “Come on, First Aid - get to it. You’ve got a Fader in Row 2 downstairs.” He squeezed the air with his finger and thumb. “He’s about this far from shutdown.” —from Bullets by James Roberts

However, there’s nothing in canon indicating he’s power-hungry in a megalomaniacal sense. He’s not Starscream or Megatron; he doesn’t seek political or social power. In fact, he seems perfectly happy hiding away in a lab or medibay by himself so he can direct all his energy toward solving issues and achieving the so-called ‘impossible’ within the field of medicine:

The ways in which Pharma exercises power and control are through his expertise, and his administrative/management skills. That’s it.

Self-confidence

Pharma’s arrogance and controlling tendencies don’t seem to be a mask—like he’s trying to compensate for some sense of lack (in those areas). Yes, he fears failure, and yes, he displays some insecurity when Ratchet questions his competence. But at every other point and in every other way, Pharma is unapologetically self-confident. He’s fully self-assured of his intellectual prowess and problem-solving capabilities; he knows what he knows, and he also knows what he doesn’t know.

Pharma’s arrogance and desire for control don’t stem from a hidden lack of confidence or a hunger for power on its own. They stem from the fact that he genuinely sees himself as the best person for the work he does. He trusts himself above anyone else to solve problems that come his way—medical or otherwise (within limits).

Elitism vs. Superiority

I’ve always read Pharma as having an elitist attitude, but not in the social stratification sense:

elitist (adj.) relating to or supporting the view that a society or system should be led by an elite.

There’s no evidence that Pharma believes an elite class of people should hold the most power. Instead, Pharma’s “elitism” is actually an individualistic sense of superiority. It’s centered on him alone, and is tied to his capabilities as a physician scientist and surgeon.

Pharma sees himself as the best of the best and makes sure everyone knows it—sometimes through his words, but mostly by his conduct in the field of medicine. This, paired with Pharma’s natural temperament, doesn’t exactly make him socially popular—inside or outside of medicine:

One could argue that the “personality” Lockdown is referring to was a result of all Pharma had suffered at Delphi and Luna 1, but just as easily, one could argue he was always a bit difficult to get along with, and that his traumatic experiences merely magnified his already-present psychological patterns. Personally, I like the latter interpretation because it’s a flaw that makes Pharma a more interesting character no matter his mental state.

Everyone reacts differently to real and perceived social rejection. Some are so concerned about it that they’ll try anything to belong; others genuinely don’t care, and they continue as usual; and still others cope by shifting their mindset and developing a sense of pride in being an outsider.

There’s no evidence for this in canon, but I believe it’s within reasonable characterization boundaries to headcanon Pharma as being in the second or third category.

With either of those two mindsets, a sense of superiority can develop, or even be an inciting factor. Either someone sees themselves as genuinely superior to the majority and doesn’t mind when this alienates them from people, or they convince themselves they’re superior because the pain of accepting they were rejected for who they are is too much to handle.

Whatever the case, the point is, having an “elitist” attitude isn’t necessarily rooted in a sociological or ideological belief. Sometimes, individuals just see something in themselves that—to them—justifies a sense of personal superiority. A quick glance at Pharma’s canon appearances makes it clear he holds such a view of himself, at least to some degree.

Morality and Compassion

When Pharma first shows up in canon, he’s working at the New Institute. A lot of questionable things took place there on a regular basis—things Pharma would have been aware of, to some degree. However, his presence at the Institute doesn’t automatically mean he agreed with everything happening. Depending on how strongly someone feels about something, some people are content to disagree in silence. Not everyone who seeks employment considers it a priority that the establishment they work for aligns perfectly with their moral values. After all, there are other reasons to take a job: financial benefits, exclusive educational and career opportunities, pure convenience, etc.

I’m not here to say either way whether Pharma’s willingness to turn a blind eye to the events at the New Institute was wrong or right; that’s up to each reader to decide for themselves. However, Pharma’s choice to remain employed at the Institute for some time can say something about him as a character: his priority as a doctor and person is not to take care of everyone he encounters, or to act as some kind of moral or ethical authority.

This isn’t to say Pharma won’t ever stand up for something he regards as right or push back against something he sees as wrong, “off screen.” It’s just that everything in canon points more to a tendency to choose his battles instead of acting immediately on any moral sense the way someone like Optimus or Ratchet might.

This also isn’t to say Pharma doesn’t care about saving lives, but from what little is shown of him before Delphi, it’s hard to say how much he cared. Ratchet confirms later that Pharma was an excellent doctor for most of his life, but all that tells us is he was an excellent doctor; it says nothing about his internal attitude toward his work or patients.

However, inferences can be made based on doctors in our own world:

Being a doctor—especially one in trauma care—is far from easy. It takes a lot out of a person, and there are very few people who last in the profession for a long time. Most medical professionals fall into one of the following categories:

People possessing a strong will that’s coupled with an unwavering passion for taking care of others (the public’s favorite)

People who naturally have, or develop, an ability to switch their empathy off and on at will, or build walls around it—also possessing a strong will (the ideal)

People who naturally have a limited capacity for empathy (the one the public hates to acknowledge)

People with a strong social and professional support system (the necessary, but underutilized and underappreciated factor)

Of course, even if a person has one or more of the above, burnout can and does still happen, but individuals who have at least one have the best chances of surviving and thriving amidst the demands of the majority of medical professions.

As far as is shown in canon, Pharma never had a strong support system—either circumstantially or by choice—so something else was keeping him in medicine.

Pharma shows concern for both Tumbler (Chromedome) and Hubcap:

But even though he obviously cared enough to step in, neither instance makes a strong case for a capacity for empathy beyond the “average” or “norm.” Performing a job well is a lot different from being personally invested in the work.

Based on everything up to this point, and this later comment from Pharma, about Ratchet…

…Pharma has probably never shared the same I-care-about-everything-and-everyone view of the world. Instead, it’s more likely that Pharma holds a more rational view of his work and patients.

One of the first things learned in medicine, especially in trauma medicine, is that you can’t help or save everyone, and to hold yourself to that standard can destroy you quickly if you have a certain temperament or lack healthy boundaries for your empathy.

“There are times when it may seem as though I view sick or injured people not as living, breathing humans with feelings and emotions and people who love them, but simply as cases, as problems to be solved. And that is absolutely true. It's not that I don't have empathy, but the hard fact is that as a doctor, and especially as a trauma surgeon, too much empathy can get in the way of your job and cause you to make decisions based not on sound medical judgment but on your own emotions. Sure, I've seen things that even years later can still make me choke up when I think of them: a little girl shot and killed, a shattered young Marine who shouldn't have died but did. But you can't choke up in the ER or the operating room. To be effective as a trauma surgeon, you have to put a layer of Kevlar around your heart.” —Dr. Peter Rhee, Trauma Red: The Making of a Surgeon in War and in America’s Cities*

Pharma may have learned this difficult truth earlier than Ratchet and developed a practical way of managing his empathy that comes across as “cold.” He may have always had an ability to put up walls around his spark. Or, he may have always had little to no capacity for empathy.

The fact that the morality lock on Tyrest’s portal prevented Pharma from passing through proves he felt guilty for what he’d done, and JRO confirmed this. Therefore, it’s safe to assume Pharma had some level of empathy for his former patients, suffering moral injury when he felt he had no other option but to start killing them.

Still, looking at Pharma’s psychological drives and his behavior throughout canon, it’s clear compassionate care and morality are subordinate to his other values and interests.

*I highly recommend this book, and learning about Dr. Rhee in general. He’s a huge inspiration of mine, and one of my main sources of inspiration when writing Pharma. Level-headed and capable, strong-willed, selectively empathetic, an excellent scientist, etc. He lives for the thrill of practicing medicine both on the floor and as an expert in his field who pushes trauma medicine to new heights through his research. He also takes great pride in his hands. Seriously—the man spent an entire paragraph and a half talking about his “good hands” and how they were one of two reasons he decided to go into trauma surgery. The other reason was that he “liked action and excitement, liked the feeling of being able to walk into a tough situation and take control.” (Sounds familiar…)

Delphi

First thing’s first: we don’t know how much Pharma did or didn’t know about the DJD before agreeing to take the Delphi assignment.

That far into the war, he would have known something about the DJD and their ways of terrorizing traitors and Autobots, but for whatever reason, he took the assignment anyway. Perhaps Prowl assured him the situation on Messatine would be monitored and that the security team would be enough. Perhaps he underestimated the DJD’s capabilities, or scale of territory, and thought he would be able to handle things on his own. Perhaps Prowl gave him no choice. Maybe it was all of these and more.

Whatever the case, according to JRO, Pharma didn’t hate Delphi before the incident with the DJD.

Word of god remains a touchy subject in fandom, but in this case, it’s important because it says two things:

The DJD left the Delphi medical team alone for some time.

Being on the edges of DJD territory didn’t automatically mean isolation and harassment by their hand.

On the second point, First Aid was free to come and go from Messatine as he pleased, seeing as he attended a medical conference at Kimia five years into his assignment at Delphi:

Five years ago [mid-Delphi assignment], the leader of the Wreckers had cornered him at a medical conference at Kimia, the space station that doubled as a weapons research facility. —from Bullets

And five years after that, he was able to not only contact Springer without delay about one of Agent 113’s bullets he’d discovered in an Autobot badge…

He raced upstairs to his computer terminal and typed in a certain frequency code for the second time in his life. A face appeared on the screen and grinned. “It’s me,” said First Aid. “And you're never gonna guess what I’ve got for you..!”

…but he was also able to meet up with Springer to hand off the bullet:

“Your friend has a funny way of making contact,” First Aid had said when he’d got in touch three days earlier, and he was right.

It’s not known if this handoff happened on or off world, but either way, the DJD didn’t interfere.

At some point, Tarn set his sights on Pharma and the Delphi team. Knowing the DJD, one can only imagine what Tarn used to show off his team’s capabilities and convince Pharma the best option was to cooperate.

In striking a deal with Tarn to keep the DJD away from Delphi, Pharma established his territory and ensured his continued security and the safety of his staff. As long as Tarn got his T-cogs, Pharma could continue on in relative peace. He could work his magic on bots that ended up at Delphi, carry out his management duties, and work on whatever projects or research he may have been conducting in his free time.

For whatever reason, after he first came into contact with Tarn, Pharma didn’t call for help. Communications were still operational, as Pharma wouldn’t have suggested contacting High Command about the Duobots if the team was aware of any comm malfunctions:

Also, First Aid later confirms that communications were fine until the Big Bang (soundbomb detonation):

It’s always possible the DJD was monitoring the radio waves, but secure subspace frequencies exist, such as the Datalog Network First Aid used to send the datalog containing the death statistics:

Speaking of which, assuming First Aid sent the datalog with the statistics right when things started to get ‘weird,’ and before the Big Bang shut down comms, it only took—at most—a few days for them to reach Ratchet and Swerve on the Lost Light:

But back to Pharma not calling for help: for all of Prowl’s intel, contingency planning, and fretting over the security of Autobot territories, I find it hard to believe he would have stuck an Autobot medical team on the fringes of DJD territory without giving them some means of securely contacting the outside in case of issues.

But even if Prowl didn’t give Pharma a secure way to contact him or anyone else, and even if Pharma was convinced the DJD was monitoring regular communications, there were other ways he could have reached out for help. After all, the team wasn’t alone on Messatine. Like Pharma said, Prowl continued to send bots to defend the nucleon mines:

The Autobots had been mining nucleon for millions of years at this point, so I doubt the mined nucleon was just sitting in storage on Messatine; shipments of the stuff would have been sent off-world to wherever the Autobots needed it. Why not send a message for Prowl with someone leaving with one of those shipments? A message meant only to be sent over a call when absolutely certain they were out of range of the DJD’s potential monitoring.

Or, why not order in off-world medical supplies and send a message back with the delivery bot(s)?

There are two possible answers to this. One takes into account JRO’s word on the subject; the other is more intricate and speculative on my part, but it leads to the same place. So whatever your stance is on the validity of word of god, there’s an answer for you.

Answer one (word of god)

Simple as that. Pharma was aware of the scope of the DJD’s capabilities and relentlessness, and determined he was trapped prey.

Answer two (no word of god)

There are a few possible reasons Pharma didn’t call for help right away:

He was convinced all his other options would take too long and/or would still lead to him being put under suspicion. After all, being found to have harvested even a single T-cog from an already-dead patient for the DJD could have raised concerns that would lead to Pharma being investigated and/or having a mark put on his record.

He underestimated the severity of Tarn’s addiction, and was certain he could keep up with the T-cog demand without resorting to other means of harvesting, not realizing Tarn’s quota would increase later on.

He was already paranoid as a result of whatever mind games Tarn had set in motion at their first meeting, making Pharma think escape was futile.

Word of god or no word of god, there are clear reasons as to why Pharma ended up trapped. Most likely, it was a mix of all of the above.

Whatever was going on in Pharma’s mind before, he ended up in deeper trouble. Tarn increased his demand for T-cogs, and Pharma couldn’t keep up. By the time this happened, even if he had wanted to call for help, it was too late to do so without implicating himself. He reasoned his only option was to start killing patients to harvest their T-cogs.

Soon, Pharma was so consumed with fretting over whether he’d be able to meet Tarn’s next demand that he didn’t have time or freedom to do anything else except worry and feel guilty. His whole life revolved around Tarn’s addiction; he was no longer in control, and could no longer enjoy whatever it was about Delphi he’d previously enjoyed. Perhaps the facility itself enabled Pharma to research cures and perform scientific miracles of medicine.

Being at the mercy of Tarn—convinced the DJD would find him no matter what—would have been pure psychological torture on its own, but also knowing that any small chance he did have of getting help would end in him losing everything would have added to his suffering. Pharma became desperate to reclaim control over his life and began planning an escape.

Now, JRO has said that Pharma didn’t originally plan to use the rust plague on the DJD…but canon says otherwise:

Of course, Pharma could have been lying to make himself look better in Ratchet’s view, but based on everything he’d been through up to this point with Tarn, it’s more likely he was telling the truth and had tried to eliminate the source of his suffering first. After all, wiping out the DJD would have been the simpler, cleaner option.

When the Duobots refused to detonate the soundbomb near the DJD, Pharma’s objectives shifted. He had to get Delphi shut down in a way that would:

Convince the DJD the shutdown was legitimate.

Pharma knew chances of escaping the DJD at all were slim to none, but he was desperate. Getting Delphi shut down would cut off Tarn’s supply of T-cogs and allow Pharma to escape Tarn’s immediate control, but the shutdown had to be “legitimate” to prevent Tarn from retaliating and hunting him down later. Leaving Tarn even the slightest chance of regaining control was too risky, so Pharma had to make sure his plan was as airtight as possible.

Cover up the patient murders.

If the truth got out about Pharma killing patients, he’d lose his medical license and most likely be put away for life. Being cut off from the practice of medicine and his intellectually stimulating work as a doctor would mean losing more than a job and a reputation. It would mean losing everything in which he’d anchored his sense of identity and life’s meaning. His refusal to consider any other options wasn’t just about ego and preserving his image as an excellent doctor; it was about preserving any kind of meaningful future he saw for himself.

Pharma needed a plan that would fulfill all of the above. Turning the engineered virus on the medical facility was the most effective and efficient solution. Anything else would have made him suspicious in the view of either Autobot High Command or the DJD, and neither of those would have ended well for him.

Because of his goal to preserve his reputation and future in medicine, he couldn’t even risk revealing anything to First Aid or Ambulon, who would have seen to his ruin. They became nothing more than loose ends that had to be tied up, and based on the fact that Pharma only prepared one vial of the vaccine, his original plan involved him being the only survivor:

He probably would have had no problem making more of the vaccine for anyone else who survived, but he wasn’t counting on it. He wanted a totally clean slate; in letting his staff die with most of his patients, he would be getting rid of any and all evidence and reminders of his failures. He may have cared about First Aid and Ambulon before things got bad, but somewhere along the way, he decided either it wasn’t worth it to go through the trouble of finding a way to save them without raising suspicion, or he didn’t want to risk them putting together the pieces later on.

Of course, when Ratchet showed up, plans changed.

Ratchet

Ratchet is not the kind of person who seeks first to understand or be understanding. He’s inclined to trust what’s in front of him over anything abstract, and tends to look at the results of someone’s actions over trying to find any kind of ‘why’ behind them. Also, unlike Pharma, he operates from a strong moral sense, and reacts quickly and strongly when something or someone goes against that internal moral sense.

Ratchet’s reaction to finding out what Pharma did may seem hasty and harsh, but it makes perfect sense on a human level. There is no such thing as unconditional love; everyone has personal and moral lines (boundaries), and they’re different for each individual. When the most rigid of lines is crossed, that’s it; walls go up and the offender is cut off, no matter how strong the relationship may have been.

Ratchet obviously knew Pharma well enough to think he could try talking some sense into him, but then Pharma revealed that he’d crossed one of Ratchet’s lines: murdering patients. Any willingness Ratchet may have had to try to understand vanished. By the time Pharma started trying to provide a ‘why’ for his actions, Ratchet’s moral judgment had already shut down any chance of understanding what could have possibly led Pharma to kill patients. It didn’t help that Pharma seemed totally unapologetic and outright proud of his plan. For Ratchet, the ‘why’ didn’t matter anymore. What he saw was what he trusted, and what he saw was a friend who’d become his idea of a monster.

Now, Ratchet and Pharma’s relationship is one of the most confusing IDW relationships I’ve had the pleasure and pain of dissecting.

It is notoriously difficult to determine the depth and strength of a relationship from the outside. However, I’ve decided to go ahead and address it anyway because it has the potential to provide insight into Pharma as an individual.

If I were to sum up Pharma and Ratchet’s relationship in a single word, I would use “ambivalent.” The first time I read MTMTE, the thing that stood out to me most about their relationship was the drastic differences between how they each perceived the relationship.

In one sense, there’s the idea of Pharma basically being Ratchet’s crazy stalker ex, which is tossed around in fandom a lot. While I personally dislike seeing it regardless of context (yes, even as a joke), I do see how JRO’s writing choices set things up in a way that makes it easy to superimpose that trope.

In another sense, there’s the idea that Pharma and Ratchet were always close friends, and that what happened at the end of the Delphi story was a betrayal of both sides that came out of nowhere and whose consequences were taken too far.

I disagree with both. Personally, what I see at the end of the Delphi story isn’t an obsessed ex gone mad, a sudden betrayal, or a badly executed backstabbing. What I see is a breakdown of an already-complicated and poorly-maintained relationship: true feelings being revealed, long-repressed bitterness being forced to the surface, carefully-hidden cracks being split wide open.

Most people don’t have an accurate understanding of how much or how little they truly know the people in their lives, often overestimating how well they know a person until something surfaces and blindsides them.

According to JRO, Ratchet was oblivious to Pharma’s romantic interest, and throughout canon, it’s easy to see Pharma was more invested in the relationship than Ratchet ever was.

The question is, did Ratchet ever care about Pharma at all? And if so, to what degree?

Yes, Ratchet calls Pharma “buddy” and “friend,” but the former was sarcastic, and the latter means something different to each person. Also, in light of the circumstances, Ratchet could have just been saying “friend” in response to Pharma saying it—an emotional appeal more than anything.

However, Pharma must have been aware of Ratchet’s lack of relational investment because during the confrontation at Delphi, Pharma’s first reaction wasn’t to appeal to their friendship (ex: “But you know me!”). Instead, he appealed to their shared profession:

Then there’s the exchange of insults:

This is what I meant earlier by “true feelings being revealed.” Ratchet may have just been trying to match Pharma’s insult, but it’s unlikely it was merely reciprocal because while Ratchet is snarky at times, he’s sincere in that snark. There’s almost always some truth in his verbal jabs no matter how unserious they seem, and he’s never cruel for cruelty’s sake.

So, if Pharma saw Ratchet as an inferior doctor, and Ratchet saw Pharma as an inferior Autobot…it’s reasonable to assume there was always some deep-rooted competition and conflict preventing them from being super close.

Possible suspicion surrounding Pharma’s conduct as an Autobot paired with a tendency to misjudge the nuances of relationships could explain why Ratchet was so quick to decide Pharma was a lost cause. Maybe Pharma’s actions at Delphi confirmed something from the past that Ratchet had brushed off for whatever reason.

In any case, Ratchet seems to have been largely unaffected by the Pharma he found at Delphi. While leaving Messatine, he emphasizes that he’ll miss Pharma’s talent.

Not “who he used to be.”

Not “what we used to have.”

Just…“his talent.”

Later, on Luna 1, Pharma mentions that he and Ratchet were inseparable, but that could mean a few different things:

Best case scenario: Pharma and Ratchet sought each other out on equal terms.

Worst case scenario: Pharma followed Ratchet around.

Somewhere in the middle: the job forced Pharma and Ratchet to work in close proximity most of the time, and while Pharma intentionally ran into Ratchet more often than necessary, Ratchet also sought out Pharma every now and then.

Whatever the case, working with someone every day doesn’t tell you anything about who they are as a person, and the amount of time spent with someone doesn’t automatically correlate to how deep the relationship is or how well the people know each other. It’s not like either Pharma or Ratchet are shown to be good at expressing their personal feelings outside of extreme circumstances.

Ratchet does bring up late-night conversations of the past:

But while this indicates there was something deeper between him and Pharma, because neither of them were ever shown to be super open with their true feelings, it’s unlikely the conversations were full of touchy-feely talk. In all likelihood, the conversations were mostly medicine and war-related, with the rare spark-to-spark talk sprinkled in. Also, considering everything up to this point, one has to wonder if those talks ever meant anything to Ratchet, or if he was just digging for something that might stall Pharma’s torture.

Maybe those late-night conversations did mean something to Ratchet, but whatever the case, Pharma didn’t take the bait. He knew Ratchet was trying to stall by making an emotional appeal, and perhaps he was convinced the conversations hadn’t meant that much to Ratchet.

Looking at all of this, it’s hard to believe Ratchet ever cared about Pharma as more than an interesting work friend. But even if he had cared more than he let on, it wasn’t enough to overcome the doubts he had about Pharma’s character.

As for whether Pharma truly cared about Ratchet, I’m convinced he did, but in a mostly unhealthy way, and with a strong undercurrent of one-sided rivalry. At some point, Ratchet had been an equal and a source of challenge, and he probably listened to Pharma pretty often. It’s reasonable to assume Ratchet was one of the only people—if not the only person—able to handle Pharma’s intense temperament and challenge him in a meaningful way, providing some semblance of friendship for Pharma.

However, one last thing that stands out is that, when telling Ratchet why he’s torturing him, Pharma didn’t say anything like, “Because you hurt me” or “Because you turned against me—your friend.” Instead, he said it was for “ruining things at Delphi” and because “you declared war on my body.”

Either Pharma wasn’t being entirely honest, or Ratchet’s friendship didn’t mean as much in the first place as he’d previously implied. It’s possible the ‘Because you hurt me’ was implied in “for ruining things back at Delphi,” but why not say it outright? Perhaps it was a fear of vulnerability and admitting there was ever a relational need at all.

At the end of the day, it’s difficult to say for certain how close Pharma and Ratchet were, but it’s clear they were never on the same page and there were always barriers between them.

Luna 1

Revisiting the matter of Pharma’s morality taking a backseat to other priorities, his time on Luna 1 further underscores this. Again, Pharma chooses his battles and is unwilling to put himself at great risk for the sake of others, but a closer look at the situation with Tyrest reveals there wasn’t really anything he could have done for the Cold Construct population even if he had wanted to. It would have been him against Tyrest, an army of Legislators, and a bunch of Decepticons. Pharma knew his limits, and seeing as his goal was self-preservation, it was perfectly rational for him to go along with Tyrest’s grand scheme.

Besides, it doesn’t look like he was given much of a choice:

Although, knowing Pharma, he still would have demanded to know beforehand what he would get in return for the pain, and evidently, Tyrest held up his end of the deal since Pharma had access to the Luna 1 tech collection.

As for Tyrest’s plan to wipe out the Cold Construct population, there’s nothing indicating Pharma’s decision to turn a blind eye to it was rooted in malevolence or bigotry—just rational apathy: ‘I can’t stop Tyrest, so why concern myself with the outcome?’

Again, you can’t save everyone; Pharma had all he could do to save himself.

But it wasn’t all horrible. I would even go so far as to say Pharma found some happiness on Luna 1. Tyrest didn’t care about him, but he didn’t need Tyrest to care. Everyone else there hated him, but he didn’t need to feel like he belonged or was admired. At this point, Pharma’s only interest was Tyrest’s Luna 1 tech collection, and that meant playing nice so he could keep his reward. Back at Delphi, he probably assumed he’d never again practice medicine the way he’d loved; being brought to Luna 1 was an unexpected, yet welcome, second chance.

Even so, Pharma had his moments of cruelty. Back at Delphi, he had easily-identifiable reasons to kill patients—both the ones whose T-cogs he harvested and the 20 more he tried to kill when he shot the life support machine. But on Luna 1, he had no reason to be cruel, yet he chose to be. By this point, he’d mastered the ability to almost completely ignore or subdue his conscience.

In the case of Ratchet’s torment, one could argue Pharma only drew it out for retaliation purposes; it was personal for him.

As for cutting Ambulon in half, it was obviously meant to be as gruesome as possible, yet also quick. But personally, I don’t think it was about Ambulon; it was more about hurting Ratchet. Due to the fact that Ratchet’s identity is wrapped up in his compassion and his ability to be helpful as a doctor, one of the most effective acts of revenge would be to do something that makes him feel utterly helpless.

Also I wonder if, subconsciously or consciously, Pharma was attempting to recreate the sense of helplessness he felt back at Delphi under Tarn’s watch: “Do you see, Ratchet? Do you now understand how it feels to have control ripped out of your hands? To be totally helpless?”

Next, for some reason, Pharma was invested in the promised execution of Getaway and Skids:

He had no personal connection to either of them that would give him a reason to be interested, so maybe Tyrest told him he could perform the execution and/or have the corpses for medical experimentation. Either way, Pharma would have had a chance to use some of the tech in Tyrest’s tech collection, possibly explaining his excitement.

Of course, any chance of an execution disappeared when the final showdown went wrong.

When Pharma tried to escape to Cyberutopia and discovered he couldn’t pass through the spacebridge forcefield, he gave up. He’d been caught; he would no longer have access to Tyrest’s tech collection; Ratchet and every other self-righteous Autobot would never forgive him; and the morality lock prevented him from escaping. By all appearances, he would never again be able to engage in that which gave him a sense of meaning. He had shrunken his world down to his obsessive interest in a specialized field and one significant, yet unrequited relationship. With both of these lost, his world collapsed.

Yes, guilt played a part in Pharma’s despondency, but because he seems to have been in denial of said guilt, it’s more likely his despair was primarily due to the fact that he saw no future for himself. He had nothing left to live for.

In light of this, Pharma’s flippant comments to First Aid make sense. He wasn’t being insensitive as much as he was goading First Aid. Pharma’s not stupid. First Aid had a massive rotary cannon on him, and Pharma knew exactly which emotional buttons to push to get him to pull the trigger.

Pharma wanted to die.

Adaptus

First, let me emphasize that Adaptus did not take possession of Pharma’s body. Instead, Pharma was the unwelcome guest:

How Pharma ended up in Adaptus’ new body is a mystery, but whatever the case, Pharma didn’t pass on to the Allspark. Whether or not he had a choice can only be speculated.

First Aid had blasted Pharma’s head clean off, so whatever happened must have been related to the spark. Perhaps some residual spark energy was trapped in a body part that Adaptus repurposed, leaving Pharma tethered to the new body unwillingly.

Still, Pharma managed to assert his will and override Adaptus for a brief moment. Considering Adaptus was basically a god, this is impressive.

Based on Adaptus’ surprise at being interrupted, it seems he didn’t know Pharma was there. Why Pharma hadn’t tried to assert himself sooner is a mystery. Maybe Adaptus’ scheme was entertaining; maybe Pharma actually liked the company; or maybe he’d been waiting for an opportunity to get revenge on Tyrest for everything done to him back at Luna 1.

Sure enough, just like with Ratchet back on Luna 1, Pharma’s vengeful streak came out as soon as there was an opportunity.

Unfortunately for him, this left him vulnerable, and Tyrest took advantage of the confusion:

Conclusion

When someone reduces their world to narrow personal interests and one or a few very special people, their grip tightens around what little they have. They often become obsessive and possessive of the few things that make them feel alive, and their view of the world becomes increasingly more subjective and detached from the outside world. Pharma seems to have fallen into this trap.

Even so, in the context of the circumstances, several of the decisions he made were rational—even if coldly so. Oftentimes, “extreme” rationality and self-preservation are villainized in fiction, and characters like Pharma who don’t automatically put themselves at great risk for anyone and everyone are villainized, or at least looked down on. Their choices are often regarded as less human, but rationality and self-preservation are just as human as compassion and self-sacrifice.

Ultimately, Pharma was trapped and pushed over the edge into “insanity” by Tarn’s cruelty, but his own choices made from a place of pride determined how he fell, and how far he fell. It was a perfect storm of Tarn’s mind games and Pharma’s intellectual arrogance, excessive self-confidence, obsessive nature, and stubborn grip on the kind of future he wanted for himself.

Pharma is yet another Icarus who flew too close to the sun and paid dearly for it, and while JRO/the narrative could have given this Icarus better wings, that doesn’t change the fact that he chose to fly so high.

***

Many thanks to anyone who made it to the end of this monster of a post.

-tosses a Rodimus Star at you-

#look who finally finished this thing #idw transformers #idw1 #maccadam #MTMTE #lost light #idw pharma #pharma #tf idw character analysis #tf idw meta #dr. fancy hands #nova’s nerding out again

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taintedbenevolence · 8 months ago

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"𝕯𝖔𝖓'𝖙 𝖙𝖊𝖘𝖙 𝖒𝖊." — YANDERE DAN HENG · IMBIBITOR LUNAE x FEMALE READER

𝐂𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐆𝐎𝐑𝐘 — nsfw, short prompt 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 — Not proofread! Use of profanities, non-consensual display of affection, obsessive & possessive behavior, (brief insinuations/mentions of) breeding kink. Dan Heng bites and marks reader. notation: any character participants are aged 18 and up. just for the record. I don't write sexual content for minors. please know that.

"I warned you," he huffed with mild irritation, as he thrusted himself inside of you for what seemed to be another, countless time. "Don't test me."

It was a bad enough idea when you had decided to argue, telling him that you'd find a way out, pointing out all the individual flaws of the manner in which he kept you trapped.

You'd begun to find solutions to your inescapable cage with this man, and it filled him with indignation, because he was entirely enraptured by you, and he refused to let you go. The very thought of you escaping was something he couldn't stand.

Being all alone was the last thing he needed. Break his arms and legs, but he'll cling to you like there's no one else he loves more and needs.

But seeing as how you'd decided to try and make an attempt to escape, he had zero intent to let you go now, more than ever. He pondered on just what he'd do to finally ingrain in your head somewhere that you were not going to be leaving – not anytime soon, nor any time later.

He was fine doing anything and everything to keep you by his side.

He'd pump you full of his seed, fill you up with his cum day and night, if it'd remind you that you had no one and no place to go but him and only him, that you were meant to stay with him forever. You would be his and his alone. Right?

He couldn't bear the thought of someone else taking you away from him. With all that he's gone through, he at the very least deserves this. Wouldn't you agree?

Even so, you'd grown accustomed to the feel of your wrists bound by chains and cuffs above your head, your ankles tied down similarly whilst his tail coils around your waist, holding you down in place as he pushes in and out of you.

All nice and tied up, open and ready to take whatever was going to ruin you tonight. Would it be his fingers, his tongue, or his cock this time?

It was a chilling feeling that never failed to scare you—the feeling of helplessness that the Vidyadhara always managed to incite within you. It terrified you—to be taken advantage of in such way without being able to do anything about it.

Whether his carnal instincts were led by his previous incarnation or not, you had not the slightest idea, and frankly, you didn't really want to know either.

All you could do was stay down while he fucked your brains out. ... You should probably watch your mouth the next time you're mad.

He drinks up your mewls, your abused, puffy hole unable to handle any more, but he licks your tears away, seemingly uncaring about how you beg him to stop. In his eyes, this is a punishment. If you keep acting like this, he really won't be able to be as kind as he wishes to be.

He doesn't mean to hurt you, and if you'd let him, oh how he'd worship your body without leaving a single mark, but he can't help himself if you keep behaving yourself like a brat. Please, can't you comply at the very least once? Would it kill you to show some acceptance for him?

Maybe.

And with how many times he has cum inside you, it upsets him that you really can't be impregnated by him. It'd delight him to see your belly swollen with his baby, but alas, it's only a fantasy.

A fantasy that he can't help but try to indulge in every time he fucks you raw.

Perhaps it's a little wrong of him to enjoy how much you cry whenever he does this to you. Just maybe. Maybe. Your cheeks all red, stained with tears, pretty puffed lips all swollen because of his rough, frequent kisses — it makes his heart swell.

He loves it. He loves you.

His face is nuzzled up in the crook of your neck, teeth sinking into the soft skin, leaving numerous red marks that most likely will stay for a long time, if not forever, his mouth moving to leave more bruises upon your skin to claim you as his own.

"Dan Heng—" You manage to moan, almost choking on your tears, feeling him push in and out with a rapidity you cannot measure. "'ts too much, 'm cumming, please, a-ah—!"

It's all too much. It hurts too much. You feel too much. Too much pain, too much pleasure, it's all mixing up and your brain by now has been reduced to mush, your words a babbling mess as you whine, whine, and whine, to a point where you don't know how you have not lost your voice.

"Mine, mine, mine, please, s' good," you hear him murmur incoherently to you, the only sound left in the area being the wet squelch, the slapping sounds of skin against skin, your unstable cries, and your sobbing along with his sweet moans as he makes love to you. "P-please, don't leave, mgh-"

Any trace of his gentle demeanor was thrown away from the moment he had you pressed on the mattress. There was only a burning need left in him.

A need only you could satiate. An obsession that would never end.

And for what he's done to you, he knows you harbor hate, but he knows it makes you feel good, so why play pretend? ♡

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

A / N - It's a little shorter than usual, sorry </3 Writer's block has been absolutely demolishing me, but I'm hanging in there, I've got a few requests which I'm almost done with rn.. Sorry for the inactivity, I'll be hopefully posting more often if I'm not too burnt-out. Getting this one out so I can finally publish the Neuvi request..

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keravnous · 2 years ago

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desperado! ; tangerine/fem!reader (smut 18+)

read pt. 1 here | read pt. 3 here | read pt. 4 here

The Twins are laying low in Amsterdam. Growing bored of being stuck in the hideout all day, Tangerine decides to explore what the shifty parts of the city have to offer at night.

word count: 12,9k

warnings: i mean if atj can dance then tangerine can too, tango dancing bc it's very sexy and steamy ok; car sex, head while driving, oral (male receiving), masturbation (female), fingering, rough and passionate sex, undernegotiated kinks: (light) spanking, daddy kink (once or twice), unprotected sex, choking, pet names, dirty talk, name calling, hotel sex; they steal a car bc why not, short intro from tangerine's pov, small glimpses into his dysfunctionality, rather slow story development at the beginning, i still have very strong feelings about this angry man so please, have this

title is from the song of the same name, desperado by rihanna

the songs they're dancing to are esta noche en vivo by carlos libedinsky and otra luna by narcotango

mel said: kinda sad we didnt get to suck his dick in bathroom b!tch and I said: same

The air is still warm and a little humid despite the late hour, filled with laughter and the sweet, sweet smell of alcohol and marihuana, sweat and summer. Tangerine takes another drag from his cigarette, watches how the smoke curls into the dark sky, illuminated by the colourful lights of the city. He takes a deep breath.

He sighs, relishes in the way his shoulders relax. He feels alive -- again; finally. It's a real relief, has his limbs going a little slack. He had felt anger clawing at his chest for the past week now, the beast inside ripping his skin to shreds and lashing out with its razor-sharp claws - mostly at his brother. But since he had left the flat about an hour ago it has been curled up rather peacefully in his chest, with a satisfied purr in sync with his heartbeat.

Next to him, the water in the canals lays calmly, reflecting the city's lights and echoing the clinking of glasses and music that wafts through the streets. Tangerine passes by a restaurant, people sitting outside under string lights, drinking, chatting, eating and he watches them as he strolls by. They radiate happiness and it catches onto him like a wave, has him smiling at the sight. He takes another drag of his cigarette, enjoys the way the smoke burns in his throat. Jesus Christ, how he had missed this.

There just aren't enough books, good books, that can keep him holed up in a small flat for a whole fucking month. And thus, he had decided to break - well, bend - the rules a little tonight.

Their contact, Henk, had told him about that one spot where one could get anything: from alcohol to various drugs and weapons, maybe even a hitman. If one's lucky. And Tangerine does feel a whole lot of fucking luck pumping through his veins tonight, making him feel a little light-headed, stardust at the heels of his shoes.

His chest feels light and his feet are practically flying over the cobblestones, a smile toying with the corners of his mouth as he lays his head back, watches the illuminated sky above - exhales smoke, inhales the night.

A group of students staggers by, laughing and cheering, passing a bottle of liquor around. His gaze follows them, nostalgia tearing at his heartstrings as he remembers the times when Lemon and him were just that - young and without a care in the world.

Now, their hands are sticky with blood - metaphorically, he had washed his well and thoroughly after last month's job went wrong - and they are both in hiding. Again.

Lemon insisted it would be careless to go out at night, at any time of the day really - "That's bollocks, mate. You can't just go out, can ya? What if they sent someone after us?" -, but especially if it was just to have some fun. Because fuck fun, right?

But, there is nothing else to do anyways, with the way his brain always, always finds a way back to his own recent failure and how it was linked to Bolivia.

Bolivia -- it still leaves him sleepless and shaking sometimes, just like tonight.

Tangerine had been pacing the living room craving a drink until Lemon fell asleep, and then decided that he needed a change of scenery, something to take his mind of the carnage and its debris.

"Yeah, let's just all go fuckin' insane in that flat, huh", Tangerine huffs to himself, looking at his phone. It beeps, signalling him that he is getting closer to his destination. His feet carry him through the streets of Amsterdam, a warm summer breeze rustles his silk shirt and cools his warm skin as he passes by restaurants, bars and closed book and flower shops.

Eventually, he comes to a halt in front of a launderette: Wassen bij Muriel.

The neon lights inside are on, illuminating the sidewalk in a cold white. He blinks. There is no one inside but an old lady behind the counter and a grimly looking man sitting on a plastic stool in the back corner. He can hear faint music coming from behind the glass door.

To an unsuspecting tourist it would look like a rancid shop but to him, it doesn't. Tangerine knows better, has been to a lot of places like this.

"Alright", he says - lets his neck crack once, twice and throws his cigarette away - before pushing the door open, the bell above ringing.

***

You watch your friend leaning down towards the young woman, sitting in a darkened corner. Your father never wanted you to befriend any of his third or fourth row dealers but you never were one to follow rules, always going for the next thrill, the next rush of adrenaline. But tonight, there's been no rush so far, no tingling of your veins - just pure and blank boredom.

You had picked out your favourite dress in the prospect of being offered to dance with a handsome stranger, even ditched on the underwear to make sure the thin fabric hugged your curves nicely, but the men in here are mostly uninteresting, ordinary - simple dealers or lowlife thugs, street criminals that steal money from unwary tourists.

You watch how your friend, with a quick sleight of hand, exchanges cocaine for money, laughing at the woman like she is an old friend and then makes his way back to the bar. He winks at you and squeezes past a young couple, orders himself a drink.

You swirl your glass between your fingers, watching the remaining puddle of wine running up and down its walls - dripping down like blood - and then bring it up to your lips, emptying it in one sip. The taste is warm and full, rich and you close your eyes for a moment, allowing yourself to get lost in the strumming of the band's contrabass and the red wine on your tongue. It reminds you of that one time in Bogotá, when you and your father had visited his suppliers - wine and music melting together with the summer heat, having you dream of the jungle, old villages, and the beaches of private islands off the coast.

Your father had dragged you along once more, this time to Amsterdam, despite your pleas not to - "You will have to take over one day and I want you to be prepared" - and you were gladly sneaking away when your friend invited you to spend the night at his favourite bar.

It is a tango joint and a beautiful place, an old basement with low ceilings and a small bar, people and furniture bathed in colourful neon lights. Purple and red are dancing across faces and sweaty bodies - swirling over the dance floor or pressed against the cold walls, tongues shoved into mouths - reflecting off glasses and expensive jewellery.

It is a place where people like you and your friends get together: the upcoming generation of an international crime elite, sons and daughters throwing away their parents’ blood or drug money, getting high and drunk hidden by the shadows of the night, staying awake until the sun rises again. It's a place where people like you mix and mingle with those working for your families, a welcome change to a certain hierarchy at something a civilian would naively call a safe space.

You open your eyes again, as the band starts to play a new song, blinking while your eyes adjust to the dim, colourful lights. There still are couples swirling across the dance floor to the sensual rhythm of the tango, that the small band in the back is playing. You let out a sigh at both, the loneliness and the boredom creeping in on you, and turn around on your barstool to order yourself another drink as --

Your shoulder suddenly connects heavily with something firm and warm - triggering a muttered Fuckin' hell - and a second later the man, who you just bumped into, turns around. He looks pissed, left eye twitching.

"'M sorry", you say quickly, a little taken aback by both: his anger and his beauty. The former doesn't seem to last very long, with his lips tilting up a little, eyes gleaming mischievously while they dance over your frame.

"Apology accepted, love", he has a strong northern British accent, like some of your father's business partners do.

But he is arguably a lot more handsome than any of them are. Dark, combed, and slicked back hair that curls right over his shoulders building a nice contrast to his light blue, short-sleeved silk shirt, unbuttoned down to his belly - exposing golden jewellery. The necklace shines warmly against his pale skin, glimmering purple in the dim lights.

It might be the alcohol and the loneliness but you really, really want to just dart one hand out, run it over his chest and his neck, feeling his warmth and the few locks of chest hair, smelling and tasting the scent of summer on his skin.

You wonder what he does, what his profession is. The 70s porn-stache, vintage Rolex and golden rings scream Miami and you can't help but imagine him in the hot sun, bare chested, blood on his hands - red red red - cutting open bricks of cocaine -

"May I get you a drink, love?", his voice pulls you out of your daydreams and you blink. He must've caught you staring.

You know, that men like him usually mean trouble. And yet, you can hear yourself say: "That'd be very nice, thank you."

He lifts two fingers up, signalling the man behind the bar that he wants to order something and you notice that his knuckles are bruised. Blue and green mixing with the red of the scab, partially healed. There are scars on his forearm, meandering between his tattoos and up up up his arm below the soft, expensive silk of his shirt.

The goosebumps that erupt on your skin are nothing but pleasant as you immediately know what type of man he is. Everyone in here is on the market for something: drugs, love, sex, guns - but rarely does one sell murder. Real, cold-blooded murder. Ruthless, fast, dirty.

He's trying to hide it but watching him as he discusses the menu with the bartender, it sticks out like a sore thumb: the well-mannered gestures crash with his fucked-up hands, the way he's dressed like a drug-selling pimp refuses to fit in with his sugar-coated talk and the way he moves can't hide a lingering anger, like a raging beast pacing in a cage.

It is a carefully put together façade, but it's no use against you. You know men like him and you know them well. They don't scare you - quite the opposite, and thus the pure and utter danger he emits has excitement tingling in your stomach. As fucked up as it is: it makes you want him - adrenaline kicking in, shooting a tingle right between your legs.

He turns around again and you lean forward a little, deciding to make your move soon.

"'S a Mezcal Margarita alright with you, love?", he asks and you throw him your most charming smile, nodding.

"We'll take two then, mate", he nods and slides a few bucks over the counter, watches the bartender pouring liquid into a cocktail tumbler.

"Sooo", the man turns around towards you and grins, shows some teeth as his hand vanishes in the pocket of his linen trousers, pulls out a cigarette and lights it up. He's taking a looong deliberate drag, puffing out the smoke, "What's your name, sweetie?"

"Y/N", you reply, gaze dropping to his lips and back up, where his gaze catches yours. He has beautiful eyes, blue like the fucking sea and the purple neon lights make them glow with mischief and smugness - dark and oddly promising, inviting - framed by long lashes.

One of your fingers brushes over his hand, that is resting on the counter. The wooden surface is sticky with half-dried alcohol. His gaze holds yours while he takes another drag of his cigarette. You just might lose yourself in the hue that dances over his eyes.

"And you are?", you say, just loud enough to be audible over the music.

His gaze drops to your fingers that are brushing over his golden rings and he chuckles: "Don't ya try stealing those, sugar, I know that fuckin' trick", and you smile innocently, as he leans in a little, "Name's Tangerine, love." There are cheers erupting from the dancefloor, the rhythm of the music picking up.

You pout playfully and his eyes dance over your face, glimmering mischievously. "Oh", you sigh, "And here I was, thinking you'd may even give me your real name."

"Can't, love, m'sorry."

"Mh pity -- who did you kill?"

"Who said I killed someone?", he's dangerously close now, voice a low rumble.

"Your hands", your fingers dance over the crust of his knuckles and his eyes gleam. For a moment he says nothing and then, towering over your sitting form, voice low and rough:

"Aren't ya afraid o'me, love?"

"Terribly", and he grins at that, his eyes holding yours captive.

"Bet you are", Tangerine hums, barely audible and sticks his cigarette between his lips, one hand darting up, has his thumb gently grazing over your chin.

The touch is nice, soft and gentle but firm, in full control. It makes your chest tingle, sends a wave of pleasure through your body. His eyes flick over your face and you find yourself growing a little hot under his gaze. You wonder is he's going to lean in, ditch his cigarette and --

The bartender places two glasses in front of you and it makes you snap out of it for a second, noticing how close Tangerine got. His thighs are touching your knees and his face is so so close to yours, noses mere inches apart.

"Thanks, mate", Tangerine says, pulls the glasses closer. You watch him - slender fingers getting a little wet with condensed water, cigarette between his lips, chain and bracelet rustling with the sudden movement. There's a thin film of sweat glistening on his chest and it has your thighs clench with raw and utter want, wanting to put your lips onto the firm the muscles, licking his skin clean.

The way his body still presses against your knees, is electrifying and you decide to invite him in more. You let your knees fall apart, making way for him. His gaze drops down and he chuckles to himself but moves in nonetheless, one of his hands gently coming to a rest on your thigh, holding you close and in place. The touch shoves the soft, flowy silk of your cowl dress aside, the slit in the fabric exposing your thigh. Tangerine's hand is warm on your skin, rings pressing cooly against your hot flesh, as he starts groping you - thumb digging into your thigh and you gasp quietly.

"Been wantin' to ask -- what's a pretty girl like you doin' in a place like this, huh?", he says, cigarette bobbing up and down in the corner of his mouth.

"My friend sells blow here", you say truthfully - not a full lie and yet not the complete truth, but you know better than to trust a stranger with your ties to your family's business - and piqued interest flickers through his gaze.

Tangerine then, very languidly, takes another looong drag from his cigarette and taps some of the ash on the counter, holding your gaze with his own. "D'you sell yourself, love?"

You laugh at that, violently shaking your head. "Hell, no."

He chuckles, eyes roaming over your face. "Well, looks like I got myself a good girl, then eh?", he knows what he is doing, voice low and deep and you swallow.

"I wouldn't say so", you whisper, "But why don't you come a bit closer and find out?"

Tangerine flashes a grin, shows his bright bright teeth, one of his hands coming up and stroking his moustache while he shakes his head in disbelief.

It's stupid. Very fucking stupid. He shouldn't. He should get the fuck out of here - quickly. This is dangerous. She might be, too.

Instead, he looks up again. Ah, fuck it - fuck the rules. Lemon will get it - maybe. Ultimately, he will, simply has to - with the beast inside rattling the cage.

Tangerine leans in, his hand on your thigh sneaking up, making its way over your hip, your side and then cups your body, thumb digging into your flesh underneath your tit. Your heartbeat picks up as he pulls you close and you nearly yelp, scooting forward on the barstool, your hand coming up and grasping his forearm, holding on to him. "Well, why don't we fuckin' drink to that then, love?", he rasps, the hand resting on the bar pulls your glass in.

With a shaking hand you take it, fingers closing in around the cool glass and you watch him raising his, bud of cigarette nearly touching it. He is exhilarating, demanding and firm underneath the attire of a gentleman and it has your head swimming, wetness pooling between your legs. Excitement bubbles up in your chest, wondering where the night may, will lead.

"Cheers, love", Tangerine smirks and winks at you, both your glasses clink. He is still so so close, your knees still hitting his hips and his tongue runs over the edge, licks the salt away slowly, playfully until he downs half the Margarita in one go, like it's water.

You raise one brow, carefully taking a sip. The salt on the edge of the glass tingles on your lips and the liquor burns nicely in your throat as you take another. It's a hellishly strong cocktail and you wonder if he's a regular drinker. A lot of people like him - call them what you like, assassins, killers, hitmen - are.

Tangerine eyes the glass in his hand, weighs it from left to right a little, then nods to himself in approval while you take another sip. He instead downs the other half of the cocktail and puts the glass back on the counter. It's a quick, routinely movement and you come to realize that you may be right. You decide to not give it too much thought, because he's hot and he freed you from the boredom threatening to swallow you whole tonight and because everything about him has your blood singing with the gleeful promise of adrenaline. You put your glass next to his and look up at him through your lashes. He catches the invitation.

Tangerine throws his cigarette into his empty glass and then leans in again. The tip of his nose brushing over yours, the sensual music entangling both of you as his gaze flicks over your face.

You hook one leg around his waist and he moves in closer, pressing yourself against him, one hand on his arm - to anyone looking over you might even seem like an actual couple, enjoying the night out - and hunger burns in his eyes. His lips brush over yours and you know he's toying with you, keen on him leaning in to fucking kiss you already --

The music stops.

There's sudden silence as the band passes a bottle of whiskey around and the two of you freeze, blinking dumbfoundedly. The silence is odd, stalling both of you but you can't help it, feeling like drowning in the dark dark blue of his eyes, shimmering with green in the purple light. You can hear Tangerine breathe quietly with him being so utterly close to you and it's nice, comfortingly human and you can't help but smile against his lips still hovering over yours, a gentle gesture that is being reciprocated by him.

You're a little dizzy with it too, the alcohol, lack of fresh air and his body warmth mixing together, making you a little unsteady. He has pure and raw want tingling in your belly, your hand on his upper arm clenching around the firm muscles a little, thumb brushing over the soft material. And then, just as the music picks up again, his lips brush against yours: "You don't happen to wanna dance, do ya, love?"

"Fuck yes, thought you'd never ask", and Tangerine laughs, a deep, pleasant sound that rumbles in his chest and offers you his hand.

Yours runs down down down his arm and closes around his, while he's making some room for you to slip off of the barstool and then he's pulling you close again - your body pressing smack against his side as he's dragging you along to the makeshift dance floor.

The crowd still cheers, applauds the band and the bandoneon plays the few first chords of a new song. Tangerine gently takes your hand in his, thumb cupping your index and middle finger as your palm rests against his. His other hand sneaks around your waist and rests and the small of your back, holding you close. He looks at you and you feel like drowning in his eyes, pupils blown wide and you wonder when he'll show first signs of being drunk, with the way you already feel a little warm, light-headed. In a few minutes, maybe an hour you'll learn that he holds his liquor way better than you hold your own.

He is even closer to you now than before at the bar and now you can smell his perfume through the thick cloud of smoke that wavers through the basement's air - he smells nice, deep and rich of citrus and a little of vanilla and cigarettes, reminds you of the summer you've spent in Palermo once.

Tangerine gently places one hand below your shoulder and yours comes up, rests on his shoulder, just as he starts to move to the music. He takes a step backwards, guiding your forward and gently guides you through the crowd - a steady back and forth in rhythm with the tango.

Tangerine's hand still holds yours, guides your arm until it is stretched out and then it abandons your hand, runs down down down your arm very gently, pads of his fingers brushing over your soft skin, hairs on your arms rising. A shiver runs down your spine as his fingers cradle back between yours, a smile tugging at his lips.

One of his legs pushes between yours while he manoeuvres you backwards, hand on your waist holding you close. Tangerine presses himself against you, heat radiating off of his body with both your arms still stretched out and you grip his hand tightly, leaning back. You arch your back, raising one leg and hooking it around his waist as his gaze locks with yours. You can feel his crotch pressing against yours, with the way the skirt of your dress hikes up your legs. He is warm and a little hard already, has the breath hitching in your throat and arousal igniting your loins.

Tangerine leans down a little, lips still curled up in smile and then pulls you up like you weigh nothing and you stretch your legs in a delicate, slight split as he twirls you around, your chest firmly resting against his.

His arm presses onto your back, holds you close until your feet touch the ground once more and he immediately guides you sideways with a few long and slow strides until he comes to a halt. One of your arms wraps around his shoulders as he holds you close and you stretch your leg out, your heel gliding forward over the concrete floor of the basement, stretching your leg out in front of you and then gently sliding it backwards into a deep lunge, your body following the movement. You lean back and Tangerine follows, leans down and towers over your body.

He holds you there for a moment, chest rising and falling, brows furrowed a little before he carefully helps you back up - immediately embracing your body once more.

The music speeds up and so does he while guiding you over the dancefloor, face close to yours with unbreaking eye contact as you swirl over the concrete.

At the next strum of the contrabass, you take a step back, arching your back. Very playfully you sway your hips, shoulders loosely following while one of hands rests on his forearm, the other lays in his hand, feet tapping the floor rhythmically with the movement of your hips.

You know that he has a perfect view of your body, your hard nipples being visible through the thin fabric of your dress. His gaze drops down, watches how the silk plays with your curves, eyes growing a little darker. You move in and Tangerine pulls you close, your hand intertwined with his resting on his chest and his lips ghost over the shell of your ear, moustache tingling. "No underwear, I reckon, love?", he hums, the fingers of his other hand brushing over your waist.

And you shake your head, whispering: "No, none", and it has his eyebrows shooting up in surprise, a low chuckle escaping his throat. "Fuck me", he breathes and holds you close while moving over the dancefloor, one hand gently but firmly resting on your ass cheek, hiking the hem of your dress up a little.

The touch ignites you and you press against him, leaning in, nose brushing over his jaw, eyelids fluttering. You are pressed against each other, movements slowing down and blooming into a languid sensuality in dance: long strides, toying with him a little - turning your head away, stretching your arm out, only for his hand to gently caress it - feet wrapping around his calf, leg pushing between his. Tangerine is patient with the little game you are playing, unerringly keeping the lead and you in your place.

You wonder if he fucks like he dances. It makes your skin going hot, imagination running wild and breath hitching.

The song ebbs and the crowd applauds and the two of you come to a halt as well, but not parting, not partaking in the celebration of the band. You are clawing to him, breath going fast and heavy and so does his, a thin layer of sweat on his forehead. His hand momentarily rejects your waist to brush through his hair and then returns. His touch is firm, a little rough and you sigh contently.

Some people are looking your way, intrigued by what got over the two of you, enticed by each other and oblivious to the surrounding world. It's a dangerous thing - letting your guard down, for both of you - but you couldn't care less.

Tangerine smirks down at you and licks his lips. "D'ya know what ya do to me, dove?", he says quietly and you know but you feel the same, and thus, your hand brushes over his shoulder to his neck and you nestle your bods against his.

You wonder if he can feel your raising heartbeat, smell the lust and the excitement spreading in your body. You look up at him, fingers burying themselves in his locks.

"Mhm - do you?", you reply just as quietly and Tangerine chuckles, eyes falling shut.

Your bodies stay like that, closely pressing against each other with the music picking back up. You gently rest your forehead on his temple, leaning onto him as he holds you close. You can't help it, you just want to fucking touch him and your hand runs over his shoulder to the front, gently moves up his throat and then cups his jaw, fingers brushing over the clean-shaven skin. It's soft and warm and you can feel, hear him take a deep breath.

Moving across the floor slowly, Tangerine's body turns into an anchor for your long, ardent strides; his strong arms holding you up during each turn, muscles twitching beneath your touch. He is so so close to you, so warm - each one of his steps lingering with desire and it washes over you like a wave, has the hairs on your body standing up.

You sink against him, falling into his embrace, arms clinging around his neck and his hand is pressed on your shoulder, the other remains in the air uselessly as he looks down in surprise, brows furrowed. He can see, feel your chest heaving, a quiet whimper escaping your mouth.

Then, his lips curl into a smug grin.

Tangerine carefully twirls you around, hands gripping your waist and pulling you closer. Your back rests against his chest and you can feel the tip of his nose brushing through your hair as his hands move over your body - one resting on your belly, the other gently cupping you below your breast, feeling the way your heart races against your ribcage, and his touch sends shivers down your spine, has arousal shooting right between your legs. You remain this way for a few beats, the blood in your veins pumping with the rhythm of the music, feeling his strong frame pressing against you - his breath on your temple and his cologne wrapping you in. His body radiates warmth and you can feel his chest rising against your back, his hardening dick pressing against your ass.

Lust tingles in your stomach looking up at him and, at the next strum of the contrabass, you take his hand and twirl out of his embrace. Tangerine follows and pulls you back in and your hand crawls up his arm, another one resting on his neck. His gaze locks with yours as he leans down, tip of his nose brushing against yours.

The hands on your back keeps you close, a dark shadow resting over his eyes, turning them into a deep deep sea. He slowly guides you forward with two long strides and then firmly hooks one arm around you, lunges backward a little and you follow his movement, bending your leg and resting it against his groin. His hard cock presses against your thigh, and he leans in, lips brushing over yours before straightening both of you back up, heels of your shoes connecting firmly with the ground. Tangerine swirls you over the floor and manoeuvres you through the dancing couples, until he eventually, when the space arises, grabs your hips once more. You let yourself fall, upper body leaning back delicately, enthralled by his strength and the way he guides you through the dance, and he pulls you back up.

Your hand runs up his chest, fingers clawing at the silk as your gazes lock once more. You suck in a few breaths, his scent clouding up your mind, hand running higher and higher, thumb cupping his cheek and fingers resting in his hair behind his ear, earring pressing cooly against your skin.

His lips are slightly agape, eyes you up and down, while his hand presses you close. "Yeah, fuck, you wanna take this elsewhere, love?", he rasps and you nod, eyelids fluttering with the hidden promise.

All the while Tangerine navigates you through the crowd, he holds you close, blood pumping in your ears with the way the music makes your chest vibrate, his scent clouding up your mind - only him him him.

As soon as you are out on the street Tangerine is onto you again, pulls you close in the bright lights of the laundrette and kisses you like a starving man. His arms wrap around your waist, pressing you against him, tits flush against his chest, as his tongue licks into your mouth. Your hands run up his arms, one of them curling his neck and the other cupping his jaw. You can feel his hard dick through his linen slacks and it makes you hot all over, wetness pooling between your legs. You break the kiss, heaving against his lips.

"Fuck", Tangerine huffs, hand on your waist wandering down, cupping one of your ass cheeks. You mewl, eyelids fluttering. You're desperate to touch him, for him to fuck you.

"My hotel's nearby", you whisper and it sounds so fucking needy, "We could take the tram?"

"Yeah sure, lead the way", and you do, stealing another long and sloppy, hungry kiss from him and then he's pulling you close, holds you by his side as the two of you rush down the streets of Amsterdam - heels clicking, sweet nothings on the tip of your tongues. Some people turn their heads, voyeurism kicking in at the oddly hot couple with the air around them cracking with their energy, watching how the two of you rush by - the woman giggling and clearly a little drunk, hands roaming all over the man's chest, while he holds her close, thick British accent wrapping her in.

That is, until he stops dead in his tracks next to an alley on a rather empty street.

"Oi, wait a bloody minute, love -- would'ya look at that", Tangerine looks down an alleyway and you lean in closer, trying to get a look at what he's seeing, peaking over his shoulder on the tip of your toes. His hand is still resting on your waist, fingers splayed out.

"What?", there's nothing. Just cars parked beneath a warmly glowing streetlight in a dark alley.

"That", his finger darts out and points at a beige convertible.

"I -- that's a car?"

He looks a you, a little offended.

"That's not just a car, love. That's a 1966 Cadillac Coupe DeVille."

You blink, watching him while he eyes the vehicle, fingers brushing over his stache absent-mindedly.

"What are you thinking 'bout?", and it doesn't even take him a second to reply: "I wanna steal it."

Well, that's a surprise. "You wanna steal the car?"

"Yeah, I got this fuckin' thing -- 's kinda like compulsion, innit?"

You raise your eyebrows and he looks at you, lips curling up in an amused smile that's looks an awful lot like Sugar I can't change it, now can I? and before he can come up with something witty to go along with it, you say: "Yeah fuck, alright. Let's do it."

He laughs, eyes you up and down. "Ya naughty little girl, eh."

You can feel your skin growing hot, hand brushing over his forearm, leaning in a little. His eyes gleam. "Show me what you can do, babe", and he does, wraps one arm around your hips and strolls over to the car, carefully eyeing the alley.

The windows are rolled down and he grins. "That's an easy one, love, watch it", his hand brushes over your hip and the touch has goosebumps erupting on your arms, running down down your back and you nod - fuck yes, you'll watch.

Tangerine leans against the driver side's door and reaches inside through the rolled down window. You don't know what exactly he's doing but you can see the way his muscles work underneath the blue silk, as he grabs the handle and then, suddenly lifts the door a little out of its frame. The lock bursts, and for a second your muscles tense, body anticipating alarms going off and reading to flee.

Nothing happens; no sirens erupting - just the door swinging open lazily.

Apparently; obviously this is not his first time stealing a car. The thought of him just taking what he wants does something funny to your stomach.

You peak inside. It is an old-timer, with one large seating bench in the front, instead of two seats. Tangerine is holding the door open for you.

"After you, Lady", and he fucking winks at you.

Crawling onto the seats you make sure to make a little show out of it. You can feel his gaze roaming over your body as you bend down, until you eventually sit down in the middle of the front row seat. Tangerine sits down next to you and you immediately close the distance between the two of you, pulling one leg up, knee resting firmly on the soft beige leather and pressing against his thigh. The fabric of your dress hikes up, the slit exposing your leg up up up to your groin.

The sight distracts him for second, as you throw a look over your shoulder and out of the rear window, into the night. The alley still lays silent and deserted - but for how much longer? Tangerine watches you tensing up next to him.

"Easy, love, just a minute", he huffs and pulls an envelope out of his pocket, takes out a set of lockpicks.

"Oh, so you just carry that around with you?", you blurt out, blinking.

"Yeah", he says casually, bends down a little, trying to get a good look beneath the steering wheel.

If you were to be more of a thief and less of a drug lord's lazy daughter, you'd be able to identify his choice as a Lishi lockpick.

You watch him as he carefully sticks it into the keyhole of the ignition, slooowly starts to move the tool forward and feeling for the contact of the wafer. Quiet clicking sounds fill the humid air.

You can tell, that Tangerine is showing off a little, trying to impress you with speed and precision. He squints his eyes a little, brows furrowing and eyeing the small lock while carefully turning it clockwise.

It jams.

"Bastard", Tangerine curses underneath, pulls the reader of the lockpick back and carefully feels for the missing contact, tuuurns it --

The engine jolts alive, purrs lowly and the headlights snap on.

"There ya go", he mutters, "Piece 'o piss, eh?"

You snort at his vulgar cockney but you must agree - it did not take him more than two to three minutes, from breaking the lock to starting the engine. It shouldn't, but it does turn you on a little.

Tangerine is slamming the door shut and whips out his phone, handing it over to you. "Type in the address, love, would ya?"

You do and then quickly discard it into the cupholder - you want him and your fingertips tingle with it, wanting to touch him and being touched by him. The female voice - uncanny valley personified - of the google maps assistant pipes up and if you weren't so very fucking intoxicated by him you would laugh.

Instead, a fresh wave of desperate lust takes over you and your hands are onto him again in no time, one crawling up his arm, the other resting on his thigh and feeling his muscles work as he backs the Cadillac up. Tangerine chuckles, throws you a quick look before he is steering the car out of the alley.

You are aching for him to touch you, to be closer to you, hand tugging at his shirt a little while you lean in, nose brushing over the side of his throat.

"Jesus, love", he huffs, "Can't keep ya'self together, can ya?"

And you mewl, shake your head and then your lips are closing in around the exposed crook of his neck. Your tongue laps over the sweaty, hot skin, tasting him - his cologne mixing bitterly with his sweat and you hum, gently sucking at his soft skin.

"Fuckin' hell", Tangerine's right hand abandons the steering wheel, coming to a rest on your exposed thigh brushing over your skin. The tone of his voice has your head swimming, spurring you on, encouraging you. Your eyelids flutter as your tongue comes loose:

"Want me to suck your cock while driving?", you say, looking at him - the tips of your fingers are playfully brushing over his shoulder, silk of his shirt rustling under the feather-light touch.

He snorts, shakes his head a little with disbelief, before looking back at you. It seems to click.

"Bloody hell, you're serious, aren't ya?", and you blush a little. You can see the way his Adam’s apple bops as he swallows, eyes aimlessly darting over the road, considering.

The google maps assistant pipes up again, chirps out the directions and then falls silent again.

"Yeah, no, that's a very lovely idea", he rasps, and then: "C'mon love, get to it."

And you do, mouth watering at the same time your sight drops down to his linen slacks, the fabric wrapping around his muscular thighs nicely and pressing firmly to his crotch, exposing the outlines of his hard dick straining it.

Your hand wanders up his leg - feeling his muscles twitch as he hammers down the gas pedal, racing by the light switching from yellow to green - and then sour fingers close in around his cock. It is large and hot through the fabric and just feeling it has fresh arousal pooling between your legs, making you hum, before rubbing his bulge through his trousers. Tangerine's right hand leaves your thigh and comes to a rest on your neck, thumb rubbing over your warm skin and making way for you, giving you some space and encouraging you further.

It's a nice, somewhat patronizing touch that is pushing all the right buttons, has you quivering with excitement.

You make quick work of his slacks, pulling the zipper down - already bowing down a little, stretching your lower leg out on the seat behind you - until you open the fly up. There's a damp stain on his dark silk boxers and your mouth fucking waters, before you pull the hem down. His cock springs free lazily and your breath hitches.

Tangerine's cock is large, cut and a little curved, resting between neatly trimmed pubic hair - vein at the bottom pulsing and the tip already flushed, precum glistening in the low light of the passing street lamps.

You can't wait to suck it, taste it, feel it inside of you -- you are fucking hungry for it, spit pooling around your tongue and heart beating in your chest. Arching your back while bowing down between his lower body and the steering wheel, you put your lips onto his dick, kissing from the base to the top, his musky scent wrapping you in, clouding your mind. You can hear him hum, a nice and deep sound, and the city rushing by through the rolled down window.

Your tongue flicks over the head of his dick, lapping at the precum, circling it. The way he tastes - salt and musk - has your head swimming a little, wetness pooling between your legs.

It makes your brain go mushy, hazy and one of your hands brushes over his thigh, desperate to being closer tohim, to make it feel good for him, caressing the warm skin beneath your touch before you blink up at him.

"Fuck, you got a nice cock", you nearly moan as your tongue betrays your brain, impatiently opening your mouth and letting him slide in a little, feeling him pressing hard and hot against your tongue.

"Shit", Tangerine laughs roughly, hand grabbing your neck as his dick twitches against your tongue, "D'ya even hear yourself speak, girl? Fuck."

You smile to yourself, a little coy, and you start to move your hand up up up his muscular thigh, palming his balls through the linen and then grabbing the base of his cock, slowly jerking him. Tangerine groans, breathing loudly, the city passing by.

Spit runs down his dick over taking him in deeper, pools between your fingers and you flick your wrist, moving your hand in rhythm with your tongue.

The car comes to a halt at the next red light, as Tangerine hits the brakes carefully. Your eyelids flutter and then your gaze darts up, meets his while you are releasing his dick from your mouth a little.

Tangerine moans deeply as tongue swirling around the thick head of his dick once more, his gaze boring into yours. "Isn't that just a lovely sight", he groans, right hand brushing through your hair, while the left grabs the steering wheel hard.

Tangerine watches you, traffic light long forgotten, how your tongue licks over his cock, your eyes looking up at him through your lashes. "You fuckin' minx -- ya do like behavin' like a slut, don't ya", and you smile against his cock, a quiet Uh-huh leaving your lips, before they close in around the tip of his dick.

His eyelids flutter as you start to suck, bobbing your head a little, tongue rubbing over the tip of his cock. "Fuckin' hell", he puffs his cheeks and throws his head back a little, exhales theatrically. The traffic light switches from yellow to green and you let him sink deeper into your mouth - the engine roars. You are certain he's close to breaking the speed limit, veins bursting with adrenaline and testosterone but you couldn't care less, the musky taste of his cock hazing your mind, lust taking over.

You feel yourself growing wet, cunt aching and you surrender to yourself, complying to your body's wishes, as one of your hands slooowly dips between your legs and underneath the hem of your dress. Your fingers brush up your thighs and over your slick folds, mentally thanking yourself for not putting any underwear on, mostly due to the unbearable heat and your skin-tight dress - but it sure does come in handy now, too. Your index finger flicks over your clit, just as his cock slides deeper into your mouth.

It feels fucking nice, the way Tangerine's dick is hard and heavy and hot on your tongue, his taste and scent engulfing you, the way you rub your clit has lust spreading through your body, moaning around his cock.

And then suddenly, Tangerine hits the breaks, hand hammering down on the horn. One of your hands darts out, barely catching onto the dashboard as you are thrown forward. Blood rushes in your ears, hastily sucking in a few breaths through your nose while you sputter around his cock.

The maps assistant chimes up in that second, reminding the driver that he will need to go right at the next intersection but --

"Ya fuckin' prick, imma fuckin' shoot ya in the fuckin' head ya stupid twat -", Tangerine yells and your head immediately pipes up, abandoning his dick and looking out of the windshield. Tangerine is just speeding up, passing by the car in front of him, angrily looking inside. "Ya dirty fuckin' chav, I got a right fuckin' lady with me 'ere, ya git", he spits and the man slowly turns his head. First, he looks at Tangerine, a cascade of insults flying his way and then he looks at you, smudged mascara and spit on your chin, your lips wet with it. You can see the wheels in his head turning, eyes growing wide as they drop down to one of your hands - the one that is still holding Tangerine's cock - vanishing between his legs. The man blinks and Tangerine flashes him the finger, before speeding by.

"Fuck about -- that fuckin' arsehole, love, could've killed ya drivin' like that", he grumbles, throws him one last look in the mirror, "Seriously, where did that prick get his license, the bloody fuckin' lottery?"

Tangerine's eye twitches and you can see his pulse speeding up, aorta pressing thickly against his neck, pumping. He is like a force of nature and a mental image of him, covered in bruises, blood and sweat flashes before your eyes - chest heaving and knuckles bruised, hair curling and framing his face like a halo, dripping with blood.

"You're so fuckin' hot when you're angry", you mumble and then you're bending down again, tongue licking over his cock, from the base all the way up the top, flicking around its head and then gliiiding back down.

A growl, a real fucking growl, leaves his chest, hand on your neck tightening. "You better get fuckin' back to it, love, Jesus fuckin' Christ", his voice is coarse and it gets you going, makes you wet wet wet and has your head diving back in, tongue lolling out of your mouth as his dick slides back in.

"Atta girl, fuck", he groans and then his hips jolt up, pushing his dick deep into your mouth and you hum around it. You start to bob your head up and down, meeting his thrusts - your hand abandons the dashboard to clutch his thigh, nails digging into the flesh a little.

Tangerine moans at both, your hot and wet mouth sucking him off and the slight pain that blooms in his thigh, dangerously mixing with the anger pulsing in his chest and he throws his head back.

"Just like that, fuckin' hell love", his hips buck, shoving himself deeper into your mouth. The sudden intrusion has you choking a little as he hits the back of your throat, spit gathering around the corners of your mouth while you sputter around his dick - jaw going slack and his hand finding its way into your hair, fisting it as he starts to fuck into your mouth.

Holding your head in place his cock hits the back of your throat, steals your breath. Your nose is buried in his pubes, inhaling his scent - sweat and musk - more saliva pooling at the corners of his mouth, wetting his locks. You relax your throat and whimper around his dick, the way he uses you has fresh wetness spreading between your folds, squelching sounds filling the air as your finger is joined by a second, rubbing tight circles over your clit.

You moan around his cock, strangled noises escaping your throat while your rock back against your fingers, choking around the head of his cock hitting your throat.

"Shh, shh shh", he tuts, a little breathless, "Daddy's got ya, mh pretty girl? Lemme just--"

Tangerine's right hand lets go off your hair and then you can feel it sneak past your back, a feather-light touch brushing over the silk of your dress. It travels further and then grabs your ass, the sudden rough touch has you moaning around his dick once more. Your eyelids flutter as he pulls the fabric up up up, fists it and exposes you to whoever or whatever may rush past the passenger side's window. Your fingers speed up at the thought while his hand kneads the flesh of your cheeks.

"Fuckin' pretty", he hums, taking another quick look at the way your head bobs up and down his cock, "All over my cock like that, pretty fuckin' slut."

His hand wanders further down and before you can process it, one of his fingers circles your hole, feeling your slick and your plump folds. "Jesus Christ", he nearly groans, "You just love sucking cock, don't ya?"

That you do, whining around his base as the thick head of his dick hits the back of your throat again, with your fingers still working your clit. "Let me help you with that, love", and with that he pushes one finger in, up to his golden onyx ring, nestles it snugly between your hot walls. They clench around him and the sensation - the lingering promise of more - has you squirming a little.

Tangerine gives you what you want, need - finger curling a little, digits brushing over your spongy hot walls, before he slooowly pulls it back out. It circles your hole once more, quickly joined by a second, before he pushes them in again, starting to fuck you fast.

You moan, feet kicking a little and eyes tearing up at the sensation, with his dick pushing further into your throat and your fingers rubbing your clit, quickly has your muscles clench and cunt squirting.

"Yeah, just right 'ere, love, huh? Gettin'ya all loose 'n wet f'me? Such a good girl, aren't ya?", obscene sounds fill the air as he fucks your slick back into you, bottoms his fingers out, rubbing over the spot that has you seeing stars.

Tangerine moans deep in his chest as his cock starts to fuck into your mouth again and you let him use your throat gladly while his fingers pump in and out of your cunt, accompanied by the way your fingers flick over your clit rapidly.

The lack of fresh oxygen has you bucking against his hand, choking and sputtering around his cock that rams deeply in your throat but your stomach still flutters with it, lust igniting your loins and limbs tingling with it.

You can feel the muscles in your abdomen clenching, heart racing in your chest. Your fucking close and he seems to notice, too, his moans barely reaching your ears through the blood pumping and engine roaring. Tangerine nestles his fingers deep deep inside of you, rubbing over your walls and the spot that has you seeing stars, eyes falling shut and moaning against his cock.

It is all too much and your chest heaves as you finally cum, muscles clenching around his fingers, hips stuttering. His dick pulls back a little, tip resting hot and heavy against your tongue and then, his movements still.

"Open up your pretty mouth, doll, lemme see", he rasps, barely keeps an eye out to the street and you comply, fucked out mind making everything a little hazy, a little slow. Your jaw goes slack as you open your mouth, giving him a perfect view of his dick resting on your tongue.

Tangerine looks at you: mascara pooling beneath your eyes, lips swollen and red and jaw wet with spit and then comes too, shoots ropes of hot cum into your mouth. He watches the way it paints your tongue white, some of it landing on your upper lip, slooowly dripping down, running over your chin.

You swallow and then your tongue darts out, licks over your lips and then darts out, licks his cock clean, too.

Slowly, with your mind still foggy and limbs a little heavy already, you get back up. Your fingers brush through his remaining cum on your chin, wiping it away and letting them slip into your mouth, licking them clean. "Jesus, love", Tangerine's voice is a little coarse, gaze darting back and forth between your mouth and the street, as he carefully pulls his fingers out of you and your body closer instead.

You yelp, pressing yourself onto him, of your knees resting between his spread legs. None of you fucking care anymore, lust tugging at your brains dangerously, daringly. His hand, fingers still wet with your juices, brushes over your waist, grabs your ass and you lean in, lick over his throat, tasting his sweat and cologne.

"Can't wait for you to fuck me", you rasp, hands brushing over his chest, his necklace jingling, down down down, hand brushing over his cock and carefully putting it away, his clothing back in place.

Tangerine huffs, google assistant chiming out a direction, indicator clicking loudly as he sets it and then his hand comes up quickly, grabs your chin hard and holds your head in place. You look at him, deer in the headlights, holding your breath and then he's pulling you close, locks his lips with yours. He can taste himself on your tongue licking into your mouth, pulls you close.

You don't know how you made it to the fucking hotel alive, with Tangerine's hands roaming over your body, lips locking occasionally while he was speeding down the streets, cutting corners and red lights.

The two of you barely make it through the lobby and into the elevator, until Tangerine is onto you once more, presses your back flat against the cold, bronze metal. "I'll fuck ya so good, love", his dick is already hard again, pressing against you through the linen of his trousers and the satin of your dress, "'S gon' be all you'll be thinkin'bout for the next weeks." In a little more than an hour you will come to realize that he is right. You will be thinking about it for weeks. But now, there are only his lips roaming over your throat, occupying your mind and letting you drift back to a hazy, lustful state, with his hands feeling up your hips, your waist.

Eventually, the elevator piiings lazily and the two of you rush out it, like you are on the run from your own lust, hand clutching his as you quickly make your way down the hall to your suite. You unlock the door and turn the dimmed lights on inside. The room's just like you left it, guns and cash on the coffee table, soft light coming from the bedroom on the left. The window there is still opened, a soft breeze rolling in through the light curtains.

Tangerine throws the door shut behind himself and immediately grabs you by your waist, pulls you onto him, hand on your back on your ass as he leans down, devours you with a kiss. His tongue pushes into your mouth while he manoeuvres you backwards through your suite. Your hands dart out, catching the doorframe of the bedroom and you grab it hard, using it as leverage as you push back against him, your crotch rubbing against his. Tangerine grins against your lips and grabs your hips hard, makes you moan into the kiss.

He breaks it, chest heaving a little. "Fuck, love, imma ruin ya." Your breath hitches at that and your hands let go of the doorframe, wrapping around his neck instead like you're on some sort of fucking autopilot. "Yeah fuck, please", you whisper.

It takes Tangerine a moment, gaze growing a little soft before the beast takes over again, a gleaming dark hue turning the blue into an endless ocean and he hoists you up, carries you over to the bed.

He is carrying you like a caveman would his bagged prey and he tears at your dress just the same, one hand shoving the straps down your shoulders. Then he's onto the zipper, sliiides it down and throws you onto the bed.

You land onto the duvet with a soft thud, tits bouncing a little and his gaze follows the movement hungrily, before he tugs at the hem of your dress, pulls it down and throws it to the ground carelessly.

Tangerine just watches, gaze hungrily moving over your naked form, slooowly starts to undress himself. His slender fingers unbutton the silky shirt, button by button in an agonizingly slow speed. You know he's deliberately taking his time with you and it works, has your body quivering with anticipation and lust, one of your own hands running up your body, cupping your tit. He lifts a brow as he watches you tweaking your nipple and the haughty disdain has your head swimming, legs falling apart. "Please", you whisper, pussy aching for his touch, "--Need you."

The silk falls open, still hugging his shoulder and Tangerine continues watching you, playing with a ring on his finger, just like he's playing with you. It's cruel but it has lust building up in your belly, shooting arousal down between your legs and making fresh wetness pool between your folds in a way that you just know, that his touch will be heavenly.

And yet, impatience taking over, you mewl and in a desperate attempt for any sort of attention - for him to just fucking touch you again - you scramble to your knees, stretching out on the mattress and pressing your body flat onto it, ass high in the air. You know that he'll see it: your wet cunt, glistening in the dim light, hole clenching desperately around nothing. You feel exposed and at his mercy alone, and the degradation and danger of being unarmed like this in the presence of a killer, has your heart racing, thighs rubbing together for any sort of fucking friction.

Tangerine bellows out a laugh, surprised and dark, can't really hide either how turned on he is, and then his hand comes down on your ass. The sound bounces off the walls and has your bods jolting forward, first a gasp and then a moan falling from your lips, hands fisting the sheets. "Ya dirty fuckin' whore", he groans, hand groping your already reddening flesh. You can hear the silk flowing down to the ground and then he is pressing his crotch against you, fine linen against your wet cunt.

It's electrifying, the rather rough material pressing against your soft skin, your slick immediately wetting the fabric as your start to roll your hips against it, rutting over his clothed dick. Tangerine's cock is so so hard, hotly pulsing through the linen and you can feel its curve pressing against your pussy. You whimper, hips stuttering.

"Jesus Christ, love, can feel ya through my fucking pants -- lemme see", Tangerine groans and then grabs your hips hard, stalling your desperate movement, shoving them forward a little. You can feel his gaze dancing over your cunt, hear him whistle lowly, hands spreading your ass cheeks, assessing your slick. One of them comes loose and then --

He gives your cunt a light slap - the slight pain and degradation making your head swim - has you squirming on the mattress, a whiny Daddy, please escaping your lips. Your mind fogs up, all hazy with lust and his perfume, aching your back for him, pressing your chest flat against the sheets.

Tangerine pouts at you, eyes gleaming playfully. "D'you wan'it that bad, love?", and you nod nod nod, wiggling your hips as you chant - a desperate Yes yes yes escaping your lips, muffled by the mattress - hands uselessly darting out for any leverage.

His middle finger runs through your folds and you tremble, goosebumps erupting on your arms, spreading all over your body. He spreads your slick and his other hand comes up, kneads the flesh of your ass, spreading your cheeks further apart. "Always fuckin' wet f'me, innit? Picture perfect cunt ya got, love."

You mewl, throwing a glance over your shoulder to see him watching your hole clench around nothing. His eyes gleam. "Shit", you huff out as his finger brushes over your clit, feet curling a little and he grins smugly - Bastard - and gives your ass another sharp slap. You groan and then his hands are off you, making work of his trousers.

You watch him get fully undressed and your mouth waters at the sight. Tangerine's body is covered in scars, smaller round ones from bullets and larger, longer ones from knives and nasty fist fights and you want to crawl to him on your knees, kiss and lick them, worship them and him - his body, his tool of death - like he's your very personal reincarnation of Ares.

His dick springs free as he drops his boxers, completely exposing his muscular body to you, dusted on body hair and tattoos and scars scars scars and in the moment, that you can see precum glistening on the tip of his cock, you realize that you had already missed it. You fucking missed his dick. The thought has warmth spreading on your cheeks.

There's a light pat on your hip. "C'mon love, turn around. Wanna see your face while I fuck you nice and proper", he hums and your eyelids flutter, humming deeply in your throat at the proposition, turning around and laying on your back.

The mattress dips as he sinks down on his knees, chest flushed a little - the golden necklace dangling between your bodies - and then he's onto you, crawls over your body like an animal, leaves sloppy kisses on your skin, tongue licking over your nipples, stache tickling.

"Oh fuck", you huff, hands darting out and finding his hair, gently tugging at it. Tangerine's lips move over your throat and he sucks, makingyou gasp, throwing your head back as he marks you up.

"Spread ya legs f'me, sweetie", he rasps against your jaw and you do, knees falling apart. He grabs his dick with one hand, the other one supporting his own weight next to your head, rubs himself along your folds, using your slick as lube. "There ya fuckin' go", he huffs and then the thick head of his cock presses against your hole.

"Fuck, yes", you whimper, hot with anticipation, one hand leaving his hair and clutching around his shoulder. And then, he finally - fucking finally - puuushes in, your hole stretching around his girth a little, dull pain spreading excitement across your body.

Tangerine groans. It's a low and honest sound, has his chest vibrating against yours while he looks down to where your bodies meet. "Shit, fuckin' hell", he says, hand abandoning his dick as he slowly slides into you, fills you up and spreads your walls, grabbing your inner thigh instead. The way he spreads your legs is delicious and you hum, his dick is completely seated inside of you.

He lifts his gaze once more, looks at you. His eyes are dark, a stormy stormy sea, a few loose strands falling into his face, curls of his hair freeing themselves from the hair gel. He looks like a fucking god. "Fuck", you say, lowly, hole fluttering around him, stomach tingling at the sight.

"Ya cunt's so fuckin' tight, love", he growls and you can hear, feel it on your skin, that he is having a hard time holding back, "'S perfect, Jesus Christ."

Tangerine rolls his hips, once, twice and you moan, fingers digging into the flesh of his shoulder. "'S good for ya, too, love?", his nose brushes over yours, lips ghosting over your cheek. "Yeah, fuck", you huff, and then he's onto you, licks over your lips with his tongue and shoves it into your mouth, invites himself in. You lick over it, lips locking with his, stealing the air from both of your lungs. It is a sloppy kiss charged with energy and lust, your hands tugging at his curls, making the thrusts of his dick more feral, as he forces himself in deeper, groaning into your mouth. In return you moan, chest heaving against his, tits rubbing over the muscular skin.

His lips brush over the corner of your mouth, breathes against it, stache tingling a little as they move down to your throat, kissing and nibbling at the skin, marking you up.

"Fuck", you gasp at the stinging sensation, pulling his hair and he groans.

It feels nice; the way he is fucking you - you push away the thought that it's dangerously close to actually making love - the way he feels inside of you, how his body feels against yours, but it's also not enough. You need more.

A whine escapes your mouth, all desperate and needy and breathless and his movements still for a second.

Then, Tangerine looks up at you, dark blue eyes meeting yours. "Tell me what you want", he whispers, hand groping your thigh and dick buried deep deep inside of you. You can feel it twitch inside of you and your breath hitches. "Want -- want you to fuck me", you say quietly, "Like - hard."

"Aint' ya just a fuckin' dream, poppet", he growls and then his lips are unto you once more, licking into your mouth, teeth catching your lower lip; licking and kissing your lips until their sore while picking up a faster rhythm, pounding into you.

Tangerine eventually breaks away from you, leaves you panting and straightens up until he's kneeling between your legs - rolls his hips into you with his dick fucking in and out your hole, accompanied by an obscene squelching sound. One of his hands grabs your thigh hard, rings digging into the flesh, and then he's hoisting it up, resting your ankle on his shoulder and you moan at both: how deep his cock now pushes into you and the way Tangerine looks.

A thin layer of sweat covers his cheeks and his upper body, chest and cheeks flushed, a few strands of hair falling into his face as his brows are furrowed, lips slightly parted. You can hear him breathe heavily, occasionally moaning when your walls clench around his cock, squeezing him. He looks like a fucking porn star, with his defined muscles working beneath the skin and the golden jewellery, a soft summer breeze rolling in through the opened window, toying with his hair. Tangerine's gaze is glued to his dick that rhythmically pumps in and out of you, watches the way your juices squelch around the base of his cock, balls slapping against your wet skin.

His free hand runs up your belly and cups one of your tits, squeezes it, rolls the nipple between his fingers - the bracelet around his wrist jingles and the rings are cold against your skin. You hum deeply, breath ragged and fingers clawing at the sheets desperate for any leverage, while his deep thrusts throw you back and forth like a fucking ragdoll, tits bouncing and gasps falling from your lips.

Your mouth falls agape, watching Tangerine through hooded eyes and dark lashes and his gaze crawls up up up your body until it meets yours. It is accompanied by his hand, ditching your tit, and brushing up your neck, cupping your jaw and then falling in the crook beneath it, pressing down. The sudden lack of air has the muscles in your legs tensing and he feels it, too, mischief illuminating his face, his eyes, as you gasp for air. You know he could kill you then and there, watch you as your lights fade out and as fucked up as it is, it has your rutting your hips against him, spurring him on.

Tangerine furrows his brows and picks up a quicker rhythm, hand closing in tighter around your throat, rings pressing down onto your windpipe, and you lay your head back, feeling the stretch as he's choking you. The lack of fresh oxygen has your chest heaving, body surrendering to him and the way his cock pumps into your hole fast and deep, lust igniting your nerves. Tangerine can feel you clenching around his dick, wetting his trimmed pubic hair as you squirt, slick dripping down his balls and staining the sheets below. The beast inside him roars, thrums against the bars of its cage, his ribs and he sees your eyelids fluttering, cheeks prettily reddened.

"Atta girl", he groans, fingers giving in a little and you suck in a few deep breaths, before he presses them back down again. It's too soon and your hands dart up, clutching in around his wrist, bracelet jostling and clinking under your touch.

The cage breaks.

Suddenly, quickly, with the force and speed of a predatory animal, Tangerine lets go off your throat and flicks his wrist, catches both of yours in an iron grip and pins them above your head, down onto the mattress. His body follows the stretch of yours, bending over you, holding his own weight up with a hand that crashes down next to your chest. He is feral and it should scare you, especially as air floods your system again, lifts your mind out of your foggy state just a little, but it just doesn't no fight or flight kicking in. The way Tangerine hovers over you now has your leg on his shoulder bend, too, allowing his dick to fuck into you deeper, delicate pain from the stretch of your back igniting your loins.

Ragged breaths escape his throat while he pounds, ruts into you and you lose yourself in both, the sound of his utter pleasure and the way your body feels: on fire, chest tight with your approaching orgasm and raw lust, pure want, that chews up the ends of your nerves, has your limbs tingling.

Tangerine's hand keeps your wrists in that iron grip of his as he rolls his hips into you, dick hitting your cervix, his fingers digging into the flesh of your wrists. You throw your head back, gasping with each of his thrusts and his eyes follow your movement hungrily, groans as your eyes roll back. There's a strong pull in your abdomen and your hole flutters around his cock, his balls slap against your wet skin.

"Fuck fuck fuck", you whine, high pitched moans falling from your hips as he ruts into you, "I'm gonna cum, oh shit --"

Tangerine's eyes fall shut, a throaty moan erupting deep from his chest when your muscles tighten around him. "Yeah, shit love -- that's it, fuckin' cum f'me", he rasps, forehead coming down to a rest on your shoulder.

And you do after a few more of his deep thrusts, whining and legs kicking a little, shakes erupting in your chest as you press against him. Everything goes white as you ride your orgasm out on his dick, moaning and gasping as he does, too, shoots thick and hot ropes of cum into you, painting your walls and pulsing deep inside of you.

Tangerine moans, coarse and raw and his chest heaves, presses his nose into the crook of your neck - but you barely notice it, too far gone, mouth agape and legs shaking.

It takes you a while to come down again, eyelids fluttering open lazily. There's a hand on your cheek, a deep hum near your ear. "Welcome back, love", Tangerine says quietly and then, "Ya did so good for me, eh?" You mewl, stretching your legs a little. Your whole body feels sore, his cum leaking out of you and into the sheets. All you want to so is to get up and clean yourself up, but your legs are so so heavy and you just feel so so tired. Tangerine seems to notice, too.

"You stay here, darlin', imma get you something to clean you up", Tangerine says, voice coarse but soft and he gets up, just as a fresh breeze rolls in through the curtains, blows them up and sends them flying a little. The forecast prognosed heavy rainfall for next week. The air already smells like it a little - damp and mushy.

The breeze cools your sweaty skin, has you sighing with content while you watch Tangerine's naked form as he is walking to your bathroom, muscles in his legs and butt working nicely with each step.

***

It has been over a week and this is his third night. It starts to feel like a fucking stake out.

He feels incredibly silly. Silly for coming here again. Silly for lying to Lemon - again. Silly for ordering two Margaritas. Silly for drinking both.

Tangerine leans against the bar, elbows planted firmly on the sticky wood, smoking a cigarette. The band, same musicians, play a soft and melancholic tango. The air had cooled down a little after yesterday’s rain and maybe, just maybe, that'll be the summer's first soft goodbye before it will go down in a last great huzzah with a hot Indian summer before autumn takes over the city.

He wonders if he will still be in Amsterdam by then, if he and Lemon will watch the leaves fall. There is an offer for a job in Japan and he is considering to take it. He'll have to talk to Lemon about it.

"Anything else for you, Sir?", the bartender asks. And Tangerine nods, orders another Margarita. The bartender takes the empty glasses away and he stares at the wood. Oh, he's just so bloody fucking silly, isn't he?

He takes another drag from his cigarette, shifts his weight from one foot to another and rubs his eyes. She won't come. He knows.

She just won't. Tangerine did have a suspicion who she was, has heard stories about her father and he knew, as soon as he had laid eyes on her, that he was in big, big trouble. He wonders if he had already taken her away, wanting better for his daughter than a no-good ordinary killer. Did not want the danger in his life that came with a man, who potentially could be holding his daughter for ransom at some point or worse, could get her killed.

He gets it, though. He would probably do just the same.

"There you go, Sir", the bartender says and Tangerine just nods, suddenly feels very very exhausted and just barely notices that something, someone is moving next to him.

"Can you still afford to buy me one, too?", a familiar voice says, "Or did you burn it all on car insurance?" He chuckles, feels a sudden burst of energy surging through his veins, straightens back up and slowly turns around to her.

"Wasn't my fault, 'prick was driving like a fuckin' loony."

She chuckles and the noise makes his head swim, a strange fluttering feeling in his stomach. He wants to tear his chest open and claw at it, rip it out. That is how much it fucking scares him. How much she scares him.

"Wasn't sure if you were coming back", she says, casually, calmly like she thought about it so much she's just used to it by now.

"I'm not leavin' that soon, love", he says, signals the bartender that another Margarita is in order.

"Where you going?"

"Tokyo, love. Probably -- most likely."

"Come back in one piece then", her smile is genuine. And he knows, that he just has to now.

#tangerine #tangerine x reader #tangerine smut #tangerine x y/n #tangerine bullet train #tangerine x you #tangerine x fem!reader #tangerine imagine #my writing #smut #bullet train #bullet train 2022 #aaron taylor johnson

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scarlethexelove · 5 months ago

Note

If you do a pt 5 the why are you here could you possibly show some grandma Wanda like after the baby is born, a maybe Agatha having a lactation/nursing kink? But if you decided to just leave it with the 4 chapter thank you so much for writing all that you have, and letting us have the privilege of reading such amazing work♥️

This Is Family

Pairing: Agatha Harkness x Reader

Word Count: 2679

Warnings: Fluff, Smut, Enchanted Strap, Lactation kink, Cum Strap, Oral, Clothed sex, Grandmother!Wanda, Magic use, Small part of Pregnant reader, Little bit of breeding kink, Little bit of degration

Pt 1, Pt 2, Pt 3, Pt 4

A/n: Hopefully this rounds it out nicely for everyone. After this I don't have plans to go any further. So I hope you like it.

NO ONE IS PERMITTED TO STEAL, COPY, OR REBLOG MY WORK AS THEIR OWN

The door swings open revealing your Mother. “Aww my baby!” Wanda says happily crouching down to the stroller cooing over your daughter. “Yes, while your actual baby is standing right here.” You say exasperated. Wanda pulls your daughter out of the stroller and places her on her hip. She leans in kissing your cheek with a bright smile. “Yes you’re my baby girl but this little cutie is my grandbaby.” She tickles your daughter's stomach. You playfully roll your eyes at your Moms antics. “Love you too Mom.” Wanda can’t help but be so excited to spend the night with her granddaughter. “I love you too sweetheart.”

Agatha walks up behind you wrapping her arm around your waist and sliding beside you. “Wanda.” She acknowledges the other woman. “Agatha.” Wanda acknowledges back. Since the birth of your daughter four months ago, the two have been more civil. Both of them have more in common with you and your daughter being some of the most important things in their lives. Vowing to be civil and kind to one another for both of your sakes.

After you forgave Agatha for what she had done you two agreed it would be a good idea for you two to move in together to raise your daughter together. Agatha really stepped up in your final months of pregnancy and has been an amazing Mother to your daughter Luna. Things have fallen into a comfortable new normal.

Yesterday Wanda offered to watch Luna for you both so that you two can have a night out. Wanda has an ulterior motive in getting to spend the whole night with her granddaughter and to just spoil her rotten for the night, missing having a baby around. So she offered to get to have the time with Luna and you couldn’t help but jump at the chance. So here you are standing outside your Moms door dropping your daughter off, dressed up and ready to go out to dinner.

“Are you ready to go baby?” Agatha asks you, holding you closer to her. “Just about.” You make sure to put the diaper bag in the stroller. “I put enough pumped milk in there for the night with some extra just in case she goes through what she has normally been drinking. If she gets fussy she just might need-” Wanda cuts you off. “Sweetheart, I have raised three babies on my own. I think I can handle my adorable grandbaby.” You let out a sigh knowing she is right. “Sorry Mom. I’m just a little nervous to leave her.” She is gently rocking Luna. “I know. I will call if we need anything.” You smile. “Thank you Mom.” Your Mom gives you a soft smile. “You’re welcome. You look beautiful baby girl, enjoy your night. See you in the morning. Me and this little one are going to have an amazing night. ” She tickles Luna’s stomach which causes the girl to squirm.

You bid your Mom farewell as you walk the sidewalk back to your home. Agatha stops you in your tracks from behind. Her hands grip your hips as she kisses your exposed shoulder. You are clad in a spaghetti strap red dress that hugs your curves perfectly. Agatha looks beautiful in a form fitting suit.

“Fuck you look so beautiful. I want you for my meal.” She sucks spots on your neck. A shiver runs down your spine as you try not to let out a moan. “A-Aggie, we h-have a reservation.” You stutter out as she nips and sucks. “I just want you.” She breathes out making your legs buckle. “Fuck take me inside.” You moan. You both quickly make your way back into the house.

Agatha turns to lock the door behind her, giving you the chance to let your dress drop off your body, pooling on the floor around your feet. Before she can even turn around you are already making your way to the bedroom. The only sign of you left is your dress on the floor. Agatha groans when she sees it. She starts kicking her shoes off and shrugs off her suit jacket. She chases after you unbuttoning her dress shirt as she makes her way into the bedroom. You are already laying seductively on the bed. You slowly uncross your legs letting Agatha see the wet spot forming on your panties.

Agatha drops to her knees and crawls to the edge of the bed. She kneels between your legs. Kissing your ankle as she undoes the straps of your heels. Slowly kissing up your thigh as she slides it off. Doing the same to the other side. Your chest is heaving in anticipation as you watch Agatha between your legs. She continues to kiss up your legs and kisses your plump thighs before she leaves a kiss on the wet spot of your panites.

You lean up and lace your fingers through her hair. “Aggie please don’t tease me. I’ve missed you.” You were just cleared for sex again and you just want her to use you. She smiles, placing another kiss before she is pulling back, hooking her finger in the waistband and pulling down your legs before throwing them to the side. She moans seeing your glistening folds already so wet for her. “Fuck baby girl you’re dripping.”

You tug her closer, she lets you do so without a fight. You roll your hips into her face trying to get some kind of relief. Agatha relents and licks a strip through your folds causing both of you to moan. After tasting yours for the first time in months Agatha can’t help but dive in. She eats you out like a starved animal. Her tongue expertly licks and sucks your bundle of nerves. Her tongue sometimes dipping down into your entrance. You grip her hair tighter, her scalp burning from your hold only making her want to bring you more pleasure.

“S-so good.” You moan. Your orgasm builds embarrassingly quick with how long it has been since you last had sex. Agatha can tell that you are already close by the way your hip twitches and how you sloppily grind against her. “You gonna cum? Fuck such a whore ready to cum already and I’ve barely touched you.” She mumbles against your pussy. You nod and look down at her. Gasping when you see how she is intently staring at you already. She sucks your bundle of nerves harshly and scraps her teether over your clit.

“Cum slut. Be my good girl and cum in my mouth.” You let out a wanton moan. Your legs shaking and clamping around Agatha’s head. Your orgasm washing over you as Agatha laps at your folds, swallowing your cum as you continue to rut your hips into her face. You pull her hair harshly as your back arches off the bed. Moans still tumbling from your lips. Agatha continues to lick and suck riding you through your orgasm only stopping when your body goes limp on the bed.

Agatha leaves a small kiss on your engorged clit before she slowly kisses up your body. Sure to leave a few extra kisses on your breasts that are spilling from your bra. Before kissing you hard, making you taste yourself on her tongue making you moan in her mouth. She continues to kiss you until you're breathless. “Fuck baby girl.” She leans her forehead against yours panting with a smirk on her face. You let out a small chuckle as you calm down.

Agatha’s hips drop down as she grinds down on you. You’re just now noticing the bulge in her pants as she grinds. Both of you moaning at the feeling, letting you know which strap she is wearing exactly. You wrap your legs around her waist and grind with her smearing your cum and arousal on her still clothed bulge. She groans feeling you grind back. “Aww does my poor baby want my big cock filling your tight little hole?” She fauxes innocence as you whine. “Please Aggie.”

Neither of you want to wait any longer. Purple swirls around Agatha and yourself removing the rest of her clothes and the bra that your breast is already spilling out of. Agatha’s mouth waters seeing your swollen breast free from their confines. Milk is pebbling from your full breast. You look down seeing what she sees before you start pulling away. “S-sorry. I thought I pumped enough.” Agatha doesn’t let you get far from her though. “Oh baby girl I told you you were going to be my meal tonight.” She leans down and kisses your leaking nipple. You don’t even notice how you're grinding against her strap already. Agatha looks at you hungirly making a gush of arousal leak out of you.

“P-Please.” You beg not exactly knowing what you want. Whether you want Agatha to either fuck you or to drink you dry. Your heavy breast begging for her mouth. Or do you want her to do both? “What do you want, hmm? Do you want me to fuck you full of my cum? Do you want me to suck these full tits dry? Or you want me to fuck you while I suck you dry?” You’re not sure how she knows exactly what to ask but she does. Your only response is to moan at her words. “I bet my whore wants me to fuck her while sucking her dry. Isn’t that right baby?” You nod at her words, pulling her closer with your legs and grinding against her.

Agatha lines her strap with your entrance before slowly pushing in. Your tight warm walls eloping her cock making her groan. “Fuck so tight.” She mumbles leaning down and starts to suck purplish red marks on your breast. Your hand threads through her hair trying to push her towards your nipple wanting her to relieve the fullness of your breast. She smirks against you letting you guide her where you want her. As her strap is fully sheathed in you she wraps her lips around your nipple licking over it before she sucks. Your warm sweet milk filling her mouth and sliding down her throat. She moans at the sweet taste adding to one of her favorite tastes of you.

“Oh fuck.” You moan and arch your back pushing your breast further into Agatha’s mouth. She starts to thrust her hips. Pulling the strap all the way out before slamming her hips back in. Your walls clenching around her strap as she laps at your milk and fucks your pussy. Whimpers and moans fall from your lips as Agatha continues her ministrations on your body. When your walls clamp down on Agatha she moans around your nipple, some of your milk dribbling out and down your sides.

You continue to buck your hips to meet Agatha’s thrust. When your milk turns to a dribble Agatha kitten licks your nipple and leaves a kiss before switching to the other side. Wrapping her lips around the other nipple as her hips piston into you. You let your head fall back as your grip tightens on her hair. Agatha loves the burn of your grip. Both of you are building to your releases.

“Mmm.” You moan loudly as your head falls back and you continue to roll your hips into Agatha’s. Your walls tighten around her strap bringing her to the edge. Agatha holds back wanting you to cum with her. She knows that you are close. Her hips slamming harshly into yours as she grips your hips tightly. You don’t know how much longer you can hold back as your walls tighten and your legs tremble. “W-wanna cum.” You let out a breathy moan.

Agatha sucks harshly on your nipple drinking you dry. “Cum for me.” She mumbles against your breast. You silently scream as you release all over Agatha’s cock. Agatha feeling your walls squeeze her tightly she cums filling your tight hole. Her hips stutter, painting your walls white and filling you full. She ruts her hips against yours as she releases your nipple, some milk pebbling around your nipple as she lays her forehead against your chest.

Your hand rakes through Agatha’s hair as she helps ride the both of you through your highs. She thrusts slowly until she comes to a stop. Staying completely sheathed inside of you making sure none of her cum leaks out. Agatha wraps her arms around your waist tightly as she nuzzles your chest. Your hand moving to rub her back. Both of you breathing heavily as you calm down.

“I love you.” You say softly in the mostly quiet air. Agatha kisses your chest and mumbles against your skin. “I love you too baby girl.” You both smile, enjoying the softness between you two. The softness only lasting for a short time before the two of you continue to fuck through the night only stopping long enough to get some pizza and water.

The air is filled with laughter and screams of your children. Still young, the prophecy pushed to the back of your mind for the time being. You watch how your brothers chase your kids around the pool. Luna jumping into your Mom’s arms for protection which works like a charm. Your twins Cordelia and Raven are running towards you at full speed.

You're laying on a pool chair with your belly swollen with your fourth child. Agatha wanted to try for a boy after three girls. Which you of course agreed with. Successfully getting pregnant with the little boy that all of you are excited for. Agatha sits in the chair beside you reading her book.

The twins jump into your lap getting away from Tommy as he stops in front of you. “Girls be careful. Mommy is growing your little brother in her tummy and you don’t want to hurt either of them do you?” Agatha lowers her sunglasses and lightly scolds the twins. “Sorry Mommy. Sorry Momma.” You smile at your girls and pinch their cheeks. “It’s ok.” They both swat your hands away as they climb slowly around your body. Luna crawls from your Mom’s lap and runs over joining the twins.

“Hey I’m not a jungle gym.” You chuckle and the girls all giggle still climbing on your. “Hey, is anyone going to help me over here?” You call out to the other adults only getting chuckles from the rest of them. “You’re on your own sweetheart.” Wanda smiles leaning back and getting some sun in her chair. You gasp. “Mom, I thought you wanted your sweet grandbabies.” She chuckles again. “They want their Mommy it looks like.” She gives you a smile and the kids all giggle in your lap.

“Aggie?” You look over to your wife who just smirks and shakes her head. You gasp at her response. “So I’m heavily pregnant with your little man and a jungle gym for your little girls?” Agatha gives you a pointed look. “Our little girls.” You playfully roll your eyes. Agatha smiles getting up and picking up the twins in each arm which causes them to squeal in glee. Your Mom making her way over and picking up Luna and bouncing her around making her also squeal in glee.

You're now watching as your family laughs and squeals happily. Your Mom and Agatha are now chasing the girls around with your brothers behind the woman. You can’t believe how far your life has come in the last 6 years but you are so glad that you are where you are now. The love of an ever growing family. You have the best partner who has given you the world. Your Mom is the best grandmother to your kids and your brothers being the fun uncles that your girls love so much. Your heart swells with love as you rub your stomach, just imagining how your dynamic will change with the addition of your little man. A wide smile excited for what is to come in the future.

#agatha harkness x fem!reader #agatha x fem reader #agatha x reader #agatha harkness #agatha harkness smut #agatha harkness x reader #agatha harkness fluff #agatha harkness x female reader #agatha harkness x you #agatha harkness fanfic #agatha harkness x reader fluff #agatha harkness x reader smut

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handmade-witch · 8 months ago

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Is It Over Now...? Part 2

Pairing: Toxic!Mattheo x fem!Reader

Hogwarts University!AU

Warnings: cursing, substance use (alcohol and marijuana), cheating ((please lmk if I missed any))

Read Part 1 here

[[AN: thank you for the notes and support on part 1!! 💓💓 if you'd like to be added to the taglist for this series send me a message or leave a comment. Feedback is always welcome and appreciated! 🥰]]

🎶 Let's fast forward to three hundred takeout coffees later

I see your profile and your smile on unsuspecting waiters 🎶

"I can't believe you took him back after he kissed some other chick."

You and Pansy sat in the library, surrounded by textbooks and takeout coffee cups. Your eyes flick up from your book to glare at Pansy. "*She* kissed *him*." You asserted.

"Sure," she muttered under her breath, sipping her coffee.

"He said it was a mistake."

"I'm not arguing with him there." She says flatly, rolling her eyes.

You felt your irritation build. "He's not like that anymore, Pansy." You snapped at your friend.

Her eyes were piercing and fierce, but hidden in her stare was a softness that told you she was coming from a place of care and concern. "But he was. I just don't want you to forget that."

•••

The incident at the party and the conversation with Pansy was three weeks ago. Since then things with Mattheo settled back into a comfortable normalcy.

After class one day, you exited the psychology building with Luna and Pansy and your eyes fall on a familar pair of brown eyes sitting on a bench in the shade.

"We'll see you guys at dinner!" You bid your goodbyes to them before skipping over to Mattheo.

"Well hello there, handsome." You grin, leaning down to peck his lips.

He holds up one of two takeout coffe cups in his hands. "One iced vanilla latte for my favorite girl." He smirks at you, eyes gazing at you with soft fondness.

He stands and kisses you again, his hand resting gently on the small of your back. With your coffee in one hand and Mattheo's hand in the other, the two of you begin your walk across campus.

"How was your day?" You ask, swinging your hands between the two of you.

"Dreadfully boring." He complained. He gave your hand a soft squeeze, "Better now that I can see you."

"You're such a suck up." You snort.

"Only because I'm crazy for you." He bats his eyelashes at you flirtatiously. You roll your eyes playfully at him. He lets go of your hand to wrap his arm around your shoulder, pulling you into his side and pressing a kiss to your temple.

"I love you," he whispers into your hair.

"I love you too."

•••

Later that night, your group of friends sat in the common room, lounging on a variety of furniture so that they could wind down from their day. You sat with your legs thrown over Mattheo's lap, your cheek resting against his shoulder. You let out an involuntary yawn, feeling exhausted after a long day of classes. Mattheo's arm wrapped around your shoulder, holding you securely against him and tracing gentle patterns on your arm. The gesture was soothing and relaxing. The topic of conversation shifted to plans for the upcoming weekend.

"Babe, you comin' to the party this weekend? I think it's Ravenclaw house." Mattheo cranes his head to look at you.

You shake your head. "Nope. It's girls night."

"Fuck yeah girls night!" Pansy pumps her fist from where she sits across from you, illiciting a soft snort from you.

"Aww," Mattheo pretends to pout, "it won't be as fun without you there." He gives you a soft squeeze.

"I think you'll survive." You tease, reaching up to pat his cheek.

"You look tired." He says with a teasing tone and slight smirk.

"What makes you-" you interupt yourself with an involuntary yawn, "say that?"

"Wanna head up for the night?"

You nod sleepily, sliding you legs off of Mattheo's lap. The two of you bid goodbye to your friends and head to your room.

Mattheo flops on your bed with an exaggerated groan. You shake your head, smiling softly at him, digging through your drawers for some more comfortable clothes. You disappear to the bathroom for a couple minutes and emerge wearing a pair of pajama shorts and a band t-shirt you had stolen from Mattheo.

"God, you're gorgeous." Mattheo says from his spot on the bed, propped up on his elbows. His dark brown eyes seem to sparkle as they take in your form standing in front of him.

You feel heat rising to your cheeks and your fingers play with the hem of your shirt. "Oh, thank you." You avert your eyes from him, blushing furiously.

Mattheo sits up further, "Oh c'mon don't go shy on me now." He beckons you over to him. When you're close enough he wraps his arms around your torso, pulling you into him. He rests his chin on your stomach, looking at you with a loving gaze. Your hands naturally find themselves tangling into his curly hair.

With a quick motion, he pulls you onto the bed on top of him. You let out a startled yelp as you land on top of Mattheo. He grabs your face, pressing soft kisses all over it. You burst into a fit of giggles. He just grins at you while you struggle to stop laughing.

He lets go of you only for a moment to climb under the bed covers, beckoning for you to join him. He pulls you close to him, bending his head to rest his forehead against yours. You close your eyes sleepily, feeling the beat of Mattheo's heart through his chest. He tilts his head to press a kiss to your forehead. "You're so wonderful. I love you so much." He whispers against your hairline.

You eyes stay closed but you smile, snuggling deeper into his hold. "I love you too, Mattheo." In the warmth of his embrace, you find yourself easily drifting off to sleep.

Your dreams were filled with Mattheo. His eyes, his smile, his voice, his laugh, his kiss, his touch. And as you lie there next to him, wrapped in his arms, your heart feels warm and happy.

•••

On Saturday, armed with alcoholic beverages and a variety if snacks, you make your way to Pansy's dorm room.

"Let's get this party started." You sing as you burst into the room. Daphne is lounging on the bed and Luna and Pansy are sat on the floor. An episode of tashy reality television is playing on the TV. Not long after you arrive, Hermione and Ginny also make their way to the girls night. The six of you get wine drunk and do face masks and eat a little too much junk food.

"Fuck, marry, kill: Professor Snape, Professor Dumbledore, and Professor McGonagall." Hermione giggles as she poses the question to the group.

"Oh definetly marry McGonagall. That woman would treat me right." Ginny declares. "Then I would fuck Dumbledore and kill Snape."

"Oh c'mon Snape is not that bad." Pansy whines.

"You're just saying that because he's your teacher crush." You tease. Pansy sticks her tongue out at you. "I would marry Snape, fuck McGonagall, and kill Dumbledore," she lists off.

"I'd say marry McGonagall, fuck Snape, and kill Dumbledore." Daphne adds her list to the mix.

"What about fuck, marry, kill: Thestrals, Hippogriffs, and Puffskiens." Luna asks, her voice airy and light indicating her tipsy state.

"I mean have you seen a Puffskien's tongue?" You ask, wiggling your eyebrows suggestively, eliciting a chorus of laughter.

As the conversation continues, you glance down when your phone lights up with a notification.

From Mattheo:

💬: 'Bout to head out. Have fun with the girls. I love you 💘'

You shoot off a quick response back:

💬: 'Have fun babe! Be safe~ I love you 🥰😘'

•••

The party at the Ravenclaw clubhouse was in full swing. Mattheo hadn't meant to get as drunk as he currently was. The night had started with him entering the party with the other Slytherin boys. He played beer pong with Blaise and they challenged a group of Gryffindors to a game of flip cup. He was enjoying a pleasant buzz and having a good time.

At some point, however, the drinks kept coming. It seemed as if Mattheo's cup was never empty. He lost track of his friends. At one point someone offered him a joint. Now he was collapsed on a couch, his head swimming in his current intoxocated state.

"Hey there," the girl said seductively as she stepped between his legs, "Where have you been?" She leans forward, over where he lounges on the sofa. Mattheo couldn't look anywhere but her breasts if he tried. She had placed herself right in his line of vision and her tight dress left little to the imagination.

"Been busy," he mumbled. Moving his lips to speak took a tremendous amount of effort in his current state.

She reached down, trailing her fingers over his thighs. Her touch made his skin tingle. Without thinking he reached out, placing his hands on the girl's hips. She seemed pleased by this. Reaching out she took a strand of his hair and twisted it in her fingers.

"Want some company tonight?" She purred in his ear. Mattheo's skin felt like it was on fire. 'She smells good.' He thought as she leaned close to whisper in his ear. And, not considering the potential consequences of his actions in his cross-faded state, he pulls her against him and lets her kiss him.

•••

You blinked awake, reaching over to check your phone. Luna was already awake and sat cross legged reading a book. Everyone else was still sleeping. You rubbed your eyes and when your brain registered what was on your screen your blood ran cold. You sat up so quickly that it startled Luna. You were already reaching over to shake Pansy awake, eyes still glued to the screen.

"Leave me alone." She grumbles sleepily. She rolls over, squinting her eyes at you. When she registers the look on your face, however, she sits up just as quickly as you had. "What's wrong." She demands.

You're at a loss for words and your hands shake as you hand the phone to her. You wrap your arms around your knees, hugging them to your chest.

"That fucking bastard." She exclaims furiously. She quickly snaps her mouth shut, realizing that everyone was still asleep, and handed the phone to Luna.

"Oh [Y/N]" she says sadly. She reaches out to rest her hand gently on your arm.

The message on your phone is from George Weasley. It reads:

💬: "I'm real sorry but thought you ought to know."

Attached is a photo of Mattheo with the same girl you had caught him kissing a month ago. The photo was dark and blurry but there was no question. Mattheo lounged on a couch. The girl sat in his lap. They were kissing. One of his hands was resting on her ass.

A month ago you had been seething rage, but now you just felt hollow. The tears slipped quietly down your cheeks and your eyes glazed over.

"God, I feel so stupid." You whisper.

•••

Mattheo groaned, his head pounding in his skull. He rolled over, unconsciously wrapping his arms around the figure sleeping next to him. He inhaled deeply, expecting to smell your shampoo. Through his haze he makes out the alcohol on his own breath but something is... different. His eyes open lazily. The person in his bed, he realizes, is not you.

The girl lying next to him was naked-- that wasn't a good sign. He fought against the fuzzy haze clouding his mind. And suddenly, fragmented memories of the night before came flodding back. His eyes widened.

"Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit." He chanted over and over to himself as he shook the girl awake.

"You have to leave. Now." He demanded, scrambling out of the bed. Searching the floor he found discarded clothes that he threw back at her.

"What the...?"

Mattheo looks at her, eyes wild, and points to the door. "I said leave." His tone was hostile.

"What the fuck is your problem?" She snapped back at him, pulling her shirt over her head.

"I have a girlfriend. You can't be here. This was a mistake." Mattheo ran his hand through his messy hair, trying to gain a semblance of composure.

The girl grabbed her shoes. "Just saying, I don't think your gonna have a girlfriend for much longer." She exits the room, slamming the door shut behind her.

Taglist 💜: @nat1221 @hoeforvinniehackerrr @rorysbrainrot @leviosatothestars

Part 3 coming .... eventually..

This series is currently on hiatus but! Comment if your interested in being added to the tag list for a reminder when the series continues! Thank you for the love and support! 💗

#slytherin boys #Spotify #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle #harry potter universe #theodore nott

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snowywolf1005 · 8 months ago

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GEAR 5 LUFFY X MOON GOD FEMALE READER 🌙

THE SUN AND THE MOON

Warning: blood, curse

Luffy was defeated by Kaido, and now Kaido is attacking everyone. The strawhat thinks Luffy has died, as for you .

You were injured, badly injured so bad, you just passed out while luffy asked Law to put them in a better place.

You were with Nami, marco, and tama. "Luffy dead!? Now, way! That's ridiculous!" Nami cried. "When he says he's gonna win, he'll definitely win, at any cost!" She yelled.

Then Nami began to cry, "So stop lying, you disgusting snake! Luffy, I know you can hear me! Please don't make (Y/N) cry!" She yelled. "Keep your words as always!"

Luffy lay on the ground, and his heart started pumping, playing music. So, as you, your heart starts playing like shamisen.

Zunesha heard the sound of bumping and the shamisen. "momonosake," he said, "what? Zunesha!?" Momonosake asked.

Then the drum started playing in music. "Momonosake! I can hear them!" Zunesha yelled.

"It been a while..." he said, luffy hand start twitch. Momonosake looks confused, "you can hear them? It's been a while? Zunesha, what are you talking about!?" Momonosake yelled.

Luffy body started steaming. "I can hear the drum of liberation. I'm hearing them for the first time in 800 years! I'm positive that they are here!" he yelled.

"wh-who's here?!"

"Joyboy, luna... has returned!" He screams. Luffy hair turned white, and his body started jumping. Red and white lighting flying everywhere.

Luffy lifts his body. "What happened... to me?" he said, standing up and trying not to fall. " How come I can still stand up?" He asks, then Luffy starts smiling.

" I lost the battle," he said, smiling. "But this is getting fun!" He laughed, falling to the ground. As for your body, it started moving a little.

"Joyboy! Luna!" Momonosake yelled, "luffy and (Y/N) is joyboy, lunala!" Yamato yelled. "Is that what zunesha said!?" Yamato question.

Luffy laughed, rolling on the ground, and couldn't stop laughing even more. "This is getting fun!" He said, his clothes turned to white, his eyes turned pink.

In the performance floor. Everyone was shocked to see on above, "What? Is that straw hat man?" Said hyogoro, then he smiled.

"Straw hat!?" Said marco, he turned to Nami and tama, who were hugging each other and you too. "Hey! He's still alive-yoi!" He yelled.

"Luffy's not dead?!" Nami yelled, crying. "Big bro's still alive?!" Cried tama, "That's great!" They said crying. "(Y/N)! Luffy is alive!" Nami cried, hugging your body.

Luffy laughed, jumping.

In the mary geoise, pangaea castle, the hall of power. The five elders were in the meeting.

"Sacrificing one of our best agents... only to enrage kaido is like putting the cart before the horse," said warcury.

"But what if it's better than the alternative? It's better to eliminate a risk factor." Said Saturn.

"The world government... has always tried to get hold of the gum-gum fruit and the shape-shape fruit, but it never came into our hands. For 800 years!" Said nusjuro.

"It's as if... the fruit is evading us... That not entirely implausible," said Mars. "Zoan type devil fruit have a will of their own." Said Peter.

" Furthermore, that devil fruits bears the name of a God. Another name for the gum-gum fruit and shape-shape fruit is..." said warcury.

"The Zoan, human-human fruit, mythical type, model... 'nika' 'lunala'. They say that his body had the exact properties of rubber, as for lunala. She can shapeshift and illusion. They fought as they fancied and made people smile." Said Peter.

"The warriors of liberation and the moon queen, also known as... nika, the sun God! Lunala, the moon, God!" Peter yelled.

"Awakening it is said to give its user's rubber body and the shape shifting body even more strength... and freedom. I heard that it's the most ridiculous power... in the world, " said Peter.

Luffy jumps in the sky, jumping on the ground, clapping his hand. "I can do everything I wanted to do! I think I can fight a little bit more!" Said luffy.

Jumping around, dancing around. "My heartbeat sounds funny!". Luffy jumps high, "This is our peak! HAHAHAHAHAHA!!!" Luffy laughed.

"This is it! Gear five!" Luffy yelled, letting out all lighting go nuts around. And you, you opened your eyes and it full of red. 'What going on?' You question.

'How come I can't feel anything pain at all? What is this?' You keep questioning yourself. Then you hear drums, 'what that sounds? It sounded familiar? Why can't I remember?'.

Luffy jumped around, clapping his hand. Smiling, bouncing, dancing. Being all goofy all that stuff and started laughing.

As for the bottom, everybody was shocked to see full lightning. 'What going on? What happened to luffy?' You question, luffy grab his tumb and stared blowing on it.

His arm became bigger and bigger. "Hey, what going on?!" Someone yelled, "someone's color of the Supreme king?!" They yelled.

"Where is it coming from?!" Someone yelled two, kaido looked above and saw someone outside above. "What's that on the roof?" Kaido said. He looked a hole on above, then a huge hand burst out and grabbed kaido.

"L-luffy?" You said with a lower voice, luffy pulled kaido up, Law and kid was surprised. "Straw hat?!" Said kid, "is that luffy?!" Chopper scream.

Luffy pulled kaido way up, kaido scream. Then luffy pulled his pruple rope on his waist and became muscles. "Muscles! Muscles! Muscles!" Luffy yelled, luffy flew to kaido face.

And punching him, luffy jumps back and grabs kaido body. "Here we go!" Luffy yelled, luffy spin kaido body around, then slamming his body on the ground.

Luffy keeps slamming kaido body on the ground. You, on the other hand, are still injured. You can see Nami, tama, and marco taking, "l-luffy," you said.

Nami turned around to see you, talking. "(Y/N)! Aaaaaa!! I thought you were dead!!!!" Nami cried as she hugged you. "Luffy, I got to help Luffy," you said, trying to stand up.

"(Y/N), you have rest!" Marco yelled, and then you finally opened your eyes. Nami screamed, Marco and tama looked at you and was shocked.

Your eyes turn to red, "(Y/N)?" Tama asked, then you stand up. Your skin turns white, and pruple lightning comes everywhere on your body, and a pruple smoke sorm around you.

"(Y/N)?!" Nami yelled, your body turned to blue, then you transformed into a gaint shadows monster.

Like this:

"AAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!" Nami and tama scream. Then you fly up, everybody looks at you in horror, "What is that!?" Someone yelled. You look up to see a hole lend to outside.

"Luffy's," you said, you go through the hole and make bigger holes. You looked to kaido turn black.

Like this

And luffy laughed when luffy looked at you.

You flew over to luffy, and you turned to your human form. And luffy was shocked to see you alive. He put his hand on your cheeks, "(Y/N)!!!" Luffy laughed, and he hugged you tight.

He started kissing you all over your face, and you kissed him on the cheek. "So you're alive as well?" Said kaido, you look at him and transform your monster form.

You and luffy V.S kaido, let see who wins.

PART 2 COMING RIGHT UP!!!!!

If you want more, just leave a comment below!!!!!

#one piece x reader #luffy x reader #luffy joyboy x reader #joyboy #joyboy luffy x reader #luffy joyboy #joyboy luffy x god reader #one piece joyboy #one piece luffy #one piece luffy x reader #joyboy x reader #luffy gear 5 x reader #luffy gear 5 #monkey d luffy x reader #gear 5 luffy x reader

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 1 year ago

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Unexpected 47

Warnings: non/dubcon, pregnancy, pegging, Lloyd being the worst, post partum, csection, suicidial ideation, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

You moan, breath shallow and fleeting, chest burning, muscles aching. You rock frantically, chasing the spark eluding his touch. Almost, almost, and he loses it again.

You growl as you slip your arm between your bodies and swat away Andy's hand. You swirl your fingers around your clit, bucking in his lap as you restoke the flame. So close...

"Mmm, slow down," he nuzzles your neck, his other hand clawing at the fabric of your shirt, "easy..."

"Can't," you puff and hang your head back, arching your spine as you clench, urging on your mounting orgasm, "come on... just a little..."

You growl as you cum, spasming but keeping your urgent pace. You ride out your climax and draw him closer, burying his face in your tits as you pump your hips. You ignore the pangs your effort sends shooting up your back.

"Baby..." he rasps into a sudden gurgle.

His arm hooks around you tightly as he paws your swollen tits. You feel his muscles tauten then release at once. He shakes as he cums, heaving out his pleasure in gritty grunt. You slow and let him sit back as you fan yourself, gasping to catch your breath.

He closes his eyes as he rests his head against the couch. You grip his hip and push yourself off of him. The condom is glistening with your excess and the oily lube, the inside slick with his cum. You find your leggings and quickly pull them up your legs.

Andy opens one eye and watches you, "that was quick..."

"Gotta get back," you let the elastic snap back against your stomach, "told Dot I was going for a walk..."

"Hmm, it's always... quick," he mulls as his other eyes flicks open.

You sigh and chew your lip as you face him, hands on your side. You shake your head and shrug.

"What do you want? I don't have time for it to be anything else, Andy. I have a child and--"

"And? Where's your husband?" He leans forward, sliding the condom off his softening dick, "hmm? Who's the one taking you grocery shopping? Who's rocking Luna to sleep while you get a nap in?"

"I know, I know," you look away, poking your tongue in your cheek, "hopefully you can understand how my husband's absence might make me a bit... distant. We both know what this is."

"What is it?" He stands and grabs a tissue, wrapping the condom in it before he takes another, cleaning up his hand and sickened dick.

"Are you serious? What do you think? We're fucking. That's... it?"

"That's it," he says grimly and he tucks himself into his briefs, "got it."

You drop your chin. You don't have the time or energy to argue with him.

"Why don't you leave him?" He asks at last.

You scoff and fix your shirt. You go to the black TV screen and check your reflection, tidying yourself before you approach the doorway.

"For you? Andy, come on."

"Why not?"

"Because, I'm not doing that again. Besides, you don't need that mess," you stop and look back at him, "but we can stop this if it's not what you thought--"

"No, I don't want to stop," he interrupts, "I understand now. I just wanted to clear things up."

"Sure," you step into the hallway, "see ya."

You let yourself out, closing the door before he can catch it behind you. You tramp down the walkway and sniff. Of course, you should've known better.

Andy's a lot more sentimental than Lloyd, one week and he's already questioning a simple arrangement. You fuck and go on your merry ways.

Well, that's how things were meant to be with the last idiot too.

You get back to the house. Dottie's voice carries through the airy space as she sings to the squalling baby. There's been a lot of that lately.

"Hey," you greet as you enter the front room, "she hungry?"

"Oh, thank god," Dottie rushes over to you, "I think so, hun."

You take the baby and sit down with her. You're starting to hurt anyway. You slip down the strap of your tanktop and undo the cup of your nursing bra. It's wet already.

You angle the infant in your arm and focus on getting her latched. She suckles loudly as you sigh in relief. The tugging of her feeding eases the tension from you.

"How was your walk?" Dottie asks as she hovers nearby.

"Great. Getting colder out."

"Should take a sweater next time," she girds, "but looks like you got a good workout in."

"Mmm, yeah, needa sweat off this baby weight," you mutter.

"Yeah, well, there's those walking machines upstairs... I been doing about a half-hour myself," she refers to the treadmills in the home gym.

"Yeah, uh, I'd rather not go in there..." you roll your eyes.

This whole house reminds you of him and how he just left you to this purgatory. You don't need to make that any worse. Any excuse to get out is a blessing.

"She's starting to look like ya," Dottie leans over the back of the couch, "isn't she precious?"

You don't answer. You watch the baby. You don't feel that same loathing as before, you're not purely irritated by her very existed but you're not entirely sure what you feel. Indifference, numbness. She's just a constant in your life now.

"I was thinkin', we could go down to the--"

The front door thuds. You jump, squeezing the child tight so she looses her grip on your tit. You swear and relatch her as the hinges swing open and the door hits the shoe rack with a horrid clatter. Dottie spins and lets out a confused exclamation.

"Now what is all this--"

"Get in there, boy!" Harlan's voice booms around the entry way, echoing with an anger you've never heard before, "'fore I lash ya like I shoulda years ago."

You hear something, rather someone, land on the floor heavily. You cradle the baby close and push yourself up with one arm. You walk around awkwardly and come up beside Dottie in the archway.

You see Lloyd on the floor, bloodied and panting, as Harlan grips his ribs and snarls at him. Your chest feels ready to collapse in on itself as you stare at the figure slumped across the hardwood. He raises his head and his sparkling eyes meet yours, dark circles encasing them. He bears his teeth in a smirk and wink, pushing himself to one knee.

"Honey..." he breathes deeply, "I'm home..."

You're paralysed in the spot. Your skin speckles with vibrant heat, the kind that makes you itchy. You're dizzy in shock? Anger? Disbelief? You thought so many times of how you would scream and slap and howl at this man if he ever showed his face again.

Yet you can't. He deserves none of that. He deserves exactly what he gave you. Nothing.

You come forward, hugging the child close. He reaches up as you near, "can I hold her?"

You step past him before he can get to his feet and you go up the stairs. Not a glance, not a word in his direction.

"Peaches..." Lloyd hollers as he goes to follow but you hear Harlan hiss and stop him.

Your heart is racing, your ears are buzzing, and your skin is crawling. You close yourself in the guest room and put the baby in her bassinette, leaving her hungry and your chest still heavy. As she starts to cry, you sit and drop your head in your hands, letting yourself do the same.

#unexpected #lloyd hansen #dark lloyd hansen #dark!lloyd hansen #lloyd hansen x reader #the gray man #drabble #series #au #defending jacob #andy barber #andy barber x reader

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yuesya · 5 months ago

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With a gasp, awareness floods into his body once more.

Open cuts knit themselves back together, broken bones realign with no regard for his own will. A dead heart that was just run through by a sword of ice and moonlight begins beating once more, forcing blood to pump through the veins of an abomination that has no desire to be tethered to life.

A frustrated hiss escapes his throat, and Blade hauls himself upright, slowly rising from a pool of his own blood.

… The Mara is quiet, for once. It’s quiet for the very first time since his return to the Xianzhou Luofu; the past several days in this agonizingly familiar land have served as a special hell all of its own. But he knows that the current respite in his head is only an illusionary peace, merely one that follows the aftermath of every temporary ‘death.’ Soon, the Mara will rear its head once more, flooding his mind with madness and bloodlust that isn’t entirely his own–

But that’s nothing new.

Staggering to his feet as his body continues healing in complete disregard of his own wishes, Blade casts a glance around his surroundings. The young Cloud Knight child, Jing Yuan’s apprentice, is speaking quietly with his master. A slight distance away from them, closer to the lapping waves of the Scalegorge Waterscape, stand Imbibitor Lunae’s incarnation and Jingliu.

Jingliu.

The one who’d carved her swordplay into Blade’s immortal body, every cut and slice and ice-cold utterance, Of five, there are three who must pay a price. Who’d been the one to kill him just now, at Blade’s own behest.

Who’d failed to kill him.

Again.

…

Elio had informed him beforehand that this was not the stage where he would find his final death. Once more, his scripts are accurate to a fault.

It’s not yet time, Blade.

Yes. He knows.

His end… will not come at the hands of Jingliu, who’d already killed him thousands upon thousands of times before. Nor will it occur in an altercation against a powerful opponent who far outstrips him in combat ability, nor from any enemy that he encounters when playing out his role in Elio’s scripts.

“As expected,” he murmurs quietly, “In the end, my death… can only be wrought by your hands, Shiki.”

White hair, blue eyes. Quiet, and expressionless. A calmness that remains unchanged even as she stands upon a mountain of corpses, and the ground beneath her feet runs red with blood.

‘The swords of mortals cannot kill the flesh of Emanators, who are blessed by Aeons.’ Jingliu’s words do not lie, but Shiki is an exception. She’s also more curse than mortal.

One day, eventually…

“Who’s ‘Shiki,’ if I might ask?”

There’s a guileless smile on Jing Yuan’s face when Blade lifts his gaze towards the other man. Guileless, but lined by something sharp.

“As an Arbiter-General of the Xianzhou Alliance, it’s only natural that I’m a little curious,” he says, “About someone who has the capability to kill a being created from the flesh of an Emanator of Abundance.”

“Not yet.”

Jing Yuan arches an eyebrow. “But they will in the future?”

Yes. That much, Elio has confirmed.

“… Interesting. What’s your relationship? Ah, don’t tell me it’s another Stellaron Hunter–”

White hair splaying out everywhere. Blue eyes looking up towards him from the ground. Silver Wolf holding out a phone with a colorful glowing screen, “Hurry up, I need you two for co-op rewards!”

Falling asleep, using Firefly’s shoulder as a pillow. The air in the corridor is cold, and both of them are wearing too little. They need a blanket. Firefly glances up and smiles when one is draped over them, “Thank you, Blade.”

Sitting beside a coffee machine, three steaming cups arranged atop the counter. Kafka shaking her head, bemused, “Why do you always make your coffee so sweet? Even Bladie is going to get cavities at this rate.”

A single girl, surrounded by a sea of dismembered corpses. Every step leaves a bloodstained footprint as she approaches.

“There you are, Blade. Let’s go back.”

…

Shiki. His relationship with her would be…

“One who seeks death,” he answers, “And one who brings it.”

#writing #zenith of stars au #stellaron hunter au #this takes place towards the tail end of jingliu's character quest #after the cutscene where she and blade fight each other basically #thank you to ko-fi friends!

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justtwotired · 7 months ago

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Whispers of the night Lloyd G. X F!reader

Part 1 - previous - next

Warning: slight sexual content

Tag list: @cipheress-to-k-pop @whore-of-many-hot-men @bodieohbo @anyth1ngfor0urmoony @luvizuku @viannasthings

Your pov:

I closed the door behind me and waved at Luna who was serving tables. It was a day before Christmas Eve and it was rather busy today.

Normally I don’t work on Wednesday’s, but Luna, who stood alone today, called me as there was an unexpected crowd.

Quickly, I dumped my jacket in the kitchen and headed out to help the people at the counter.

“Are you guys open tomorrow?” The woman asked me and I shook my head.

“Uh no, seeing it’s Christmas Eve tomorrow we are closed, I’m sorry,” I apologised and the woman frowned for a second.

“But I really need a cake tomorrow,” she said and I internally groaned, how did I manage to be here for five minutes and there was already someone being annoying?

“Do you have an order?” I asked, and took the map where we managed the orders from the shelf.

“No? I just thought to swoop by tomorrow and grab a cake,” she said and I let out a sigh.

“Then I am sorry to say that that is not possible, we do not have the time to make a cake on such short notice,” I said and she looked like she wanted to argue but decided against it.

The woman walked out, without any goodbyes and I turned to the young couple who had stood behind her.

“Can I help you two?” I asked, exchanging looks with poor Luna who was stuck talking to one of our regulars. That woman never shut up about herself and escaping was not an option really.

“Yes, please, is there still room for us to sit?” The girl asked and I nodded.

“Uh yeah, at the window over there I think, other than that we’re completely full,” I said and they exchanged happy looks.

“Great, can we get two cappuccino’s then?” She asked and I nodded again.

“Yes, of course,” I quickly wrote it down together with the place they would be sitting. “Please take a seat, I’ll bring it in a second,” I gestured to the spot and they thanked me and walked off.

I quickly headed for the espresso machine and started two cappuccino’s along with a latte, spotting the small sticky note that still stuck to the counter, an order Luna probably hadn’t been able to fit onto her tray.

As I was steaming the milk, she joined me and quickly started arranging a tray for the two yet to be made orders.

“Can you also make a double espresso and a normal coffee for table four?” She asked and I nodded.

“Finally escaped uphill?” I asked amused as I poured the steamed milk into the two cappuccino cups, only to steam milk again for the latte macchiato.

“God, that woman is insufferable,” Luna shook her head and took the two cappuccinos. “Honestly, can’t we just ban her from the shop? If I hear something about her dog one more time I’m going to barf,” she said, walking off as I laughed.

Half an hour later, most people where gone, only three teenage girls and an older couple who regularly came for just two coffee where seated.

“Thank you so much for helping me out here, you are an angel,” Luna came to stand next to me and handed me some coffee, which I found out contained a pump of caramel, when I took a sip.

“Oh I know,” I grinned, watching the rain outside. “I don’t think we’ll be getting a white Christmas,” I pointed out a tat disappointed.

“Oh god, you don’t have to walk home trough this rain right?” Luna asked, giving me a pitying look, making me chuckle.

“Nah, I already managed to get a personal taxi,” I winked and as if on cue, greenie walked trough the door, surprising even me.

I had called Lloyd, but I didn’t know he’d show up like this.

“You called an uber?” He asked amused and Luna laughed next to me.

“Of course,” she said shaking her head, “when one needs a ride home, call the green ninja,” she gave me a look and I shrugged.

“Hey, Lloyd was busy, and I needed a ride, if you have the privilege, you should use it,” I said and headed into the kitchen to grab my jacket.

“Ready to go?” Greenie asked and I nodded.

“Jup, ready as can be, what are we taking? Motorcycle or the dragon?” I asked him, before he could answer, the door opened and the earth ninja also joined us.

“Can you two hurry up? Red is loosing his mind waiting for N/n,” he said and both me and greenie chuckled.

“Yes, coming,” I quickly walked towards the door and followed Greenie out.

“Bye, Lu!” I waved and she smiled and waved aswel.

“O-oh, bye Luna,” Cole noticed her and also waved, making her chuckle shyly and waved back, her cheeks tinted a bit red.

“I will never get over the fact that you have the hots for one of my best friends,” I said when the door was closed, making Cole shush me as if Luna would be able to hear.

Both me and Lloyd laughed at him while he rolled his eyes and flew off on his dragon.

“Trouble!” Kai flew into my side, hugging me making me laugh. “Finally you’re here, these guys where getting boring,” he waved a hand at the others who made offended noises.

“Awe, I missed you too,” I said with a small smile before it fell, “but uh, can we get going? I’m getting drenched and I would appreciate some warmth,” I said making the others chuckle, before calling upon their elemental dragons.

Lloyd held out a hand for me to take, and so I did, before he too, summoned his dragon and we flew off.

“You’ve got to teach me how to do that some day soon,” I said, making him look back at me, “my father never learned me, he never knew how to do it himself,” I explained further and his eyebrows rose.

“I’ll teach you, but let’s get you home first,” he said before pausing, “you can come to the monastery to if you want,” he suggested and a smile grew on my face.

“Yes!” I said excitedly and he chuckled before saluting and taking a turn, changing the course to the monastery instead of my house.

At the monastery, he led me trough the garden, which he hadn’t showed me yet. It was beautiful, all kinds of plants grew everywhere and Lloyd promised that in the spring, the first flowers would start to grow and the whole garden would be full off colour.

I beamed at him and looked back at the garden, imagining it with flowers and other kinds of plants.

The breeze picked up and I shivered, pulling my coat tighter around myself in hopes of warming myself up.

An arm was put around me and Lloyd leaned in close, “let’s get you inside,” he whispered right next to my ear, causing my cheeks to heat up.

Inside, he lead me towards his room and we bumped into Koko along the way.

“Y/n, you’re here, how good to see you,” she pulled me into a hug and I smiled, hugging her back. She put me at arms length and smiled at me, “has Lloyd asked you to spent new years here yet?” She asked and my eyes widened slightly, I looked back at Lloyd who gave me a sheepish grin.

“I was planning on doing that later!” He insisted when he caught his mothers scolding glare. I chuckled at the exchanged while Lloyd crossed his arms and Koko shook her head before giving me an expecting look.

“Uhm, I’ll have to talk to my parents about that first, but I really love the idea, thank you so much for inviting me,” I wasn’t shy in showing my excitement and the woman beamed at me.

“Let us know, I’d love for you to be there,” she insisted before pulling me into one final hug and walking past us, giving Lloyd an affectionate pat on the shoulder before turning the corner.

He took my hand and lead me towards his room, closing the door behind him while I went and took a seat on his desk chair, turning it around so I had my back turned to the desk.

“What are we going to do?” I asked, glancing around the rather empty room.

“Well, I was planning to ask you to join us for new years here, but that plan is ruined,” he hugged and I giggled.

He looked at me and his gaze softened. I sent him a smug smile back and leaned back against the chair a bit more. “What’s the new plan?” I asked, looking up at him and he huffed a small laugh, taking a few steps towards me.

“What do you want it to be?” He shot back and placed both his hands on the desk behind me, causing me to be trapped between his arms, making me look up at him, probably an absolute blushing mess.

“Take a guess,” I breathed out and he looked thoughtfully for a moment.

“Hm, I don’t know, maybe we can watch a movie or something,” he teased and I groaned.

“Oh shut up and kiss me already,” I said and with a chuckle he leaned down and caught my lips in a soft kiss.

My hands clasped around his neck, pulling him into me even more. One of his hands slipped from the desk to my waist, making me softly gasp, he grasped the opportunity to slip his tongue into my mouth, making me absolutely melt.

We parted and he pulled me up to stand, and if it wasn’t for his hands on my waist, I bet my knees would have buckled.

He didn’t waist time to kiss me again and I couldn’t help but softly chuckle at his eagerness, he deepened the kiss and I pressed my body against him as much as I could, if I was able to mold into him I would.

He pulled away and took my hand slowly walking backwards and I followed without much thought, when he sat down on the bed, I softly kissed his lips again before sitting down to straddle him. He moved his hands to my hips while mine were tangled in his soft hair.

Pulling away from me, he started trailing kisses from my jaw down to my neck. I sucked in a sharp breath when he placed and open mouthed kiss on my neck and I completely lost my breath when he carefully nipped at my skin.

I had a complete error at that, it took a moment for me to start breathing again and gave me an amused smirk before pecking my lips again.

“Hm?” He hummed teasingly and I let out an airy laugh.

“God, you’re irresistible,” I said breathlessly causing his cocky smirk to grow before placing another open mouthed kiss on my neck and I couldn’t help but let a whimper escape me at the feeling of bliss.

It only caused him to chuckle in amusement before pulling his head back and kissing my lips again.

Suddenly there was rapid knocking on the door and it flew open a second later.

“Are you two joining us- HOLY FUCK!” Kai covered his eyes in horror. “Damn you two horny ass teenagers, at least lock the fucking door!” He yelled and left the room, shutting the door behind him, his yelling voice disappearing into the hallway.

I met Lloyds eyes and he snorted, covering his mouth with his hand and I followed. We silently giggled and I leaned my head on his shoulder.

“Let’s go see what he was going to ask us,” I suggested with a grin and he nodded and stood up, still holding my waist to put me back on my feet.

He pressed one last kiss to my forehead before taking my hands and walking out of the room. I followed wordlessly, looking at him with adoration, I loved this man so much it hurt.

I spent Christmas Eve the next day at James’ house, just like every year. After eating a delicious meal and finishing dessert, the both of us left our parents and my siblings at the dinner table and head up to his room where we could watch a movie.

“So… are we going to talk about it?” He asked smugly making my eyebrows rise I confusion. Nothing remotely interesting happened at the dinner table today and as far as I knew, there was no drama in either our friendgroup or anyone else at school.

“Talk about what?” I asked, crossing my arms and narrowing my eyes while he just sighed and rolled his eyes.

“Listen here, ma’am,” he pointed at me accusingly, “that makeup on your neck might fool your parents but it ain’t fooling me- now tell me, did you get laid?” He asked and my eyes widened.

I spluttered while my cheeks grew bright red. My hand instinctively shot up to my neck where Lloyd had left hickeys the day before. I had covered them up with makeup so my parents wouldn’t start asking questions.

“James!” I shrieked when I managed to compose myself and went to whack his shoulder while he jumped back, laughing.

“What!?” He called out trough huffs of laughter, “it’s a genuine question- you’ve never done it before, I just want to know how it went!” He insisted before turning serious. “How was he? Was he big? He didn’t hurt you right? How was the experience? Did he take good care of you after?” He shot question after question and my face grew even hotter if that was even possible.

“James!” I interrupted him, “I didn’t not get laid!” His eyes widened at this and than he groaned.

“Still not?” He shook his head and rolled his eyes, “give me his number, I’ll tell him you want to get laid or at least suck his dick or whatever,” he held out his hands as if I would ever give him my phone voluntarily.

“What- no!” I took a few protective paces back, hugging my phone to my chest, “you aren’t telling him that,” I hissed. Even if it’s true.

He huffed and crossed his arms. “Hey- if you want to get laid, you hint to that boy you want to get laid, that’s how simple it is,” he insisted and I dropped my head into my hands.

“God- James stop,” I cried out and he laughed at my misery, making me pick up one of his hoodies that hung over his chair and chug it at him, making him try to dodge it but it went straight into his face, causing me to laugh instead while he gave me an unamused look.

#lloyd garmadon x reader #ninjago x reader #ninjago lloyd #ninjago lloyd x reader #lloyd garmadon #lego ninjago #ninjago

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peonierose · 8 months ago

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Losing Game (3/4)

Book: Open Heart

Pairing: Luna Auclair (F!OC) x Bryce Lahela (M!MC)

Rating: Mature / Angst

TW: Mental Health

Words: 3,000+

Summary: Bryce visited his dad in prison and now he and Luna are oceans apart, but after a scare during his surgery he can only think of one person to call.

A/N: In case you missed the parts before here they are: Part 1, Part 2

2nd A/N: I went a bit off canon with Bryce and what happened with his parents, just as an fyi. Also thank you for everyone for reading this story and giving it a chance 🩷

Side note: I also made a playlist for Part 3, the previous two parts include a playlist as well.

Maui, Hawaii

A few years ago…

Bryce

I sang along to some song playing on the radio, still pumped from a round of basketball with my friends. I kicked Kainalu‘s ass and ran laps around him. I still can’t believe I beat him this time around, he cursed throughout the game. But it was just a game between friends.

When I turned the corner to our house I saw blue flashing lights, alerting me that something was wrong. I put the car in park and slammed the door as I got out.

Did something happen? This is a pretty safe neighborhood. My parents made sure we had the best-equipped security system around. The best money could buy.

Several cop cars have pulled up in front of our driveway. I saw two police officers escorting my dad into a police car. My eyebrows rose high. Not able to make sense of this whole situation and what is unraveling right in front of my eyes.

I ran towards the entrance of our house where officers were carrying out some of our things. Such as computers, laptops, phones, everything, and putting them into evidence bags. I kept staring as if this was a nightmare I couldn’t wake up from.

When I wanted to enter our house an officer stopped me.

”You can’t get inside.“

”What do you mean I can’t get inside? I live here.“ I replied, with a sharpness I reserved for people who get on my nerves.

”Please Officer, that’s my son.“ My mom‘s voice came from the entrance. The officer looked me up and down and finally, after what felt like hours passed, he nodded and let me enter.

”Alright. He can enter. But don’t touch anything.“ He called out after me.

I got inside and my mom pulled me to the side.

”Let’s go to the kitchen.“ I followed my mom as if I were in a trance. My body moved, but my mind was somewhere else.

The questions kept circling in my head like hungry vultures ”What the fuck is going on here? Why are there cops in our home? Why did Dad get arrested? What did my parents get themselves into?“

I whirled on my mom, but she put her forefinger on her lips telling me with her eyes not to ask any questions that were burning on my tongue. Then she hugged me and whispered into my ear.

”Listen carefully, we don’t have much time. There’s a small bag in your sister's closet. Take it and get her out of here. There’s enough money that should last you for a while. Since I’m sure they froze all of our accounts.“

I wanted to break off the hug and look at my mom. But she held on tight.

”But…“

”Do as I say ku’uipo. Know that your father and I love you. Take care of your little sister until we figure things out. You hear me?“ My mom hissed. I nodded slightly. ”Good.“

We broke off the embrace and it’s as if I’m seeing a different mom. Not one who kissed my bruised knee when I fell from my bike as a seven-year-old, or who sang me Hawaiian songs when I had the flu.

She put her hand on my cheek as if she sought comfort from me. She kissed my cheek and a feeling of dread settled in my stomach. I let out a breath I’ve been holding in.

After a few seconds, I went upstairs. Before heading up, I took another look at my mom, tired lines had etched themselves into her bronze skin. I turned around, taking one last close look at her before I climbed the stairs leading to our bedrooms.

As I went up I looked for the bag my mom mentioned. Though Keiki is nowhere in sight. I sprinted to the closet and when I opened it I whistled when I saw all the cash, fake IDs, and passports inside the bag. Whatever they did, they must’ve had a backup plan.

I recognized a fake ID when I saw one. I used one to get into clubs and bars while still underage. This isn’t a simple bag, this is a run-for-the-hills, get-out-of-town for a while kind of bag.

I replaced the bag my mom prepared with my gym bag that was slung over my shoulder a few minutes ago. Making sure no one saw me swap the bags I went outside and looked for my sister.

”Kei-Kei?“ I went to my room, and there she was. Hugging her green sea turtle to her chest. I gave it to her last Christmas.

She was sitting on my bed. Scared to death if her tear-streaked face was any indication. Her dark brown hair was held in a ponytail by a pink elastic. I kneeled next to her.

”Keiks? Come on, let's go.“

She looked at me and I took her little hand into mine. Her hands were shaking and I covered them with mine to lend her some strength.

”Go where? I’m so scared.“ Her big brown eyes, so much like my own, were full of more unshed tears.

”I know you are scared. But I’ve got you Kei-Kei.“ When she hesitated I smiled and squeezed her hand.

”I’m scared too, Keiks. But why don’t we go to a safer place? Hmm?“

”Today is my birthday, Bry. Are we going to celebrate with mom and dad?“ She asked, looking up at me.

I closed my eyes. Shit. It’s her birthday. How do you explain this shit show to your six-year-old sister?

”We‘ll go to some friend's house for a few days. You and I will celebrate with some cake and ice cream. Mom and Dad will join us when they can, okay?“

”Okay. But I want a big cake. With mango flavor.“ She said excitedly.

”You got it Kei-Kei.“ I said and smiled at her. When she saw me smiling at her she smiled back, nodded, and wiped her tears away.

I put the bag over my shoulder and hoisted Keiki up, carrying her downstairs. She clung to me and I winked at her which made her smile. Officers were still taking everything and bagging it as evidence.

Damn what the hell happened? I’ll have to ask my parents another time. First I needed to make sure Keiki was alright.

Though from the looks of it, our lives would inevitably change forever.

Honolulu, Hawaii’

Present Day…

Bryce

With a start my eyes snapped wide open, looking left and right, seeing familiar surroundings, making me relax in bed. I reached for my glass of water on the white nightstand next to me, since my throat was all dried up.

I haven’t had memories resurface like this in a long time. Moments from when my parents were arrested. I’ve always wanted the memories gone and I’ve suppressed them. Guess they’re coming back in full force now.

I rubbed my tired eyes. When I turned my head I saw that Luna's side of the bed was rumpled. Though her side was empty.

I didn’t have to be at work until later in the afternoon. As I turned my head I looked at the clock at my bedside. The green numbers said 7.35 am and I just wanted to stay in bed all day, but I knew I’ve got to get my shit together and get out of bed. No matter how hard it is.

I rubbed my eyes again and got out of bed. I went into the bathroom to take a cold shower. Maybe that’ll wake me up.

15 minutes later I was dressed and ready to face the day. The first thing I noticed as I got downstairs was that the kitchen was empty except for Keiki and Evie sitting at the kitchen table talking in hushed tones.

After the flashback I just had, it feels weird to see Keiki all grown up now. As if you fast-forwarded turning Keiki 23, instead of 6.

When I entered they stopped talking.

”Good morning,“ I walked towards the coffee machine to get some coffee. Starting the day without coffee? Impossible.

”Morning Bryce,“ Evie said while Keiki kept herself busy with Cheerios and some mango slices.

Looking at me, her eyes full of questions I don’t have the answer to. I put it aside to answer later. Because as of right now? I don’t know what to say. Honestly.

”You know an apple would be good for you. Instead of all that sugar, you eat all the time,“ I said pointing to the bowl in front of her.

”How about no? Also, I have some mango smartass.“ She said and stuck out her tongue at me.

I grinned.

”Real mature Keiks,“ I replied and sat down at the kitchen table, across from Evie. Keiki's phone chimed and she went upstairs to take the call.

Evie scooted closer.

”Is everything okay Bryce? Luna is usually up before you. She’s usually in the kitchen preparing breakfast or ordering in and singing around. You know, since you and making breakfast usually almost turns into having to call the fire department,“ she grinned but her green eyes turned serious within seconds.

I chuckled but the sound was more hollow than rich with joy.

”It’s complicated. Let’s leave it at that Eves,“ I said, not really in the mood to hash out what happened last week. Too restless to sit, I get up and just lean against the fridge.

Evie got up too and she squeezed my arm.

”I get it, this is between you and Luna. And you want to solve this on your own. I won’t pressure you for details. But Bryce? You’re one of my favorite guy friends, well make that the only one. So if you ever need to talk, or just get wasted? I’m your girl. You went through a lot. I can tell. So if there’s something you’d like to get off your chest I’m here. Don’t bottle it up. When you’re ready we’re all here. For you and Luna. You’re family okay? You’re not alone,“ she aimed a watery smile at me.

I nodded and hugged her, not able to say more than that. She gave me another hug and grabbed an apple from the fruit basket.

”At least one person in this house eats healthy,“ I said teasingly.

”I heard that,“ came Keiki's shout from upstairs.

”Good,“ I shouted back.

I do what I always do when everything gets too much. I go to Manoa Falls when I feel upset. It’s my and Luna’s favorite place in the world.

Sitting there on the moss-covered stones and hearing the rush of the waterfalls? It’s like you’re one with nature. That peacefulness? Food for the soul. When I get there I let the silence and chirping of birds envelop me and ground me. My phone chimes with a text, my heart sped up and I think it might be Luna, but it’s just a Spotify alert. Suggesting a new song to one of my playlists. I unlock my phone to see which song it is. It’s , which must be for Luna she loves Maddie & Tae. I sigh when I lock my phone again.

Only too soon do I have to get back because my shift is about to start.

I got dressed for work and before I was out the door I heard Keiki calling my name and I turned around keys in hand.

”Hey are you guys okay? I could tell Luna was upset about something,“ she asked gently.

I nodded.

”We’ll be okay again. We’re just going through a rough patch. It’s all going to work out,“ I said and kissed my sister on the forehead.

She nodded.

I walked out the door to get to work. Hopefully, work will distract me from my problems for now.

Later that day…

Aubrey got out of the OR. Her brown eyes blazing.

”What the fuck is wrong with you Lahela?“ She asked me.

I leaned on the wall. Trying to get a breath out. But all that came out was a wheezing sound rather than an actual breath.

She noticed I was not saying anything and must’ve seen my face. Pale as a ghost.

”Deep breaths Lahela. Come on. You got this. Deep breaths. In and out,“ she instructed me and I did as she said.

My hands started to tremble earlier during surgery. Again. What the fuck is going on?

I tore the surgical cap away and threw it onto the floor. Tearing at my longer hair. Not seeing where the cap landed and not really caring at this moment.

”Okay talk to me. What’s wrong?“

When my breathing was under control again I looked at Aubrey.

I was breathing slowly, still not able to talk to anyone.

”I had a fucking panic attack. That’s what’s wrong.“ I said a heartbeat later.

”Okay. Just breathe and relax. Just stay here, okay?“ She said and left to give me some space.

This happened before but I didn’t see it as a panic attack.

I thought I just had some anxiety left from the day before when I talked to a family who were seeking answers for a surgery I couldn’t perform because it was too risky.

What if complications occur? They will blame me for it.

It’s a pretty complicated surgery and I didn’t know how well they would handle any complications or repercussions I told them about.

I sighed again. I didn’t even realize that I pulled out my phone and dialed Luna’s number.

”Hey B, what’s wrong?“ She said and I could hear other people mutter in the background. She must be at the store or something.

”Can you come to the hospital? I know we’ve fought, but I really need you.“ I said quietly.

”Of course, I’ll be right there.“ She said. It‘s as if our fight was forgotten.

I don’t even know how I got to the locker room as I’m sitting on the cold, hard linoleum floor. My head is resting between my knees.

As I’m trying to get my breathing and my heart rate under control.

Breathing exercises didn’t cut it. But slowly my heartbeat normalized and I could breathe freely again.

I didn’t know if she’d even come if I called her. After our fight, everything seemed out of balance.

But Luna is the only person I wanted to see. I just wanted to feel her soft touch and smell her guava shampoo. Knowing she’s close and I can hug her when my anxiety is high? Deeply comforted me.

I was still sitting like that on the floor when I felt soft hands caressing the hair at the nape of my neck.

I shivered and when I turned around I saw Luna’s concerned face.

”What happened?“ She asked and opened her arms for me.

I hugged her because I needed her. For the first time in a week after our fight, I felt good again.

It’s as if I‘m a functioning human being, who’s been deprived of human touch for so long. However weird that sounded, it helped to hug her. That physical contact from the person I love is exactly what I needed.

We barely talked, just exchanged a few words here and there. But it’s not like it’s usually with us. Jabs and teasing here and there. Laughter and kisses.

I missed her. I didn’t know you could be in the same room with the person you love, yet feel so lonely. As if you’re miles apart.

She stroked my hair and just whispered some lyrics of a song to me. I think it was ”I Have a Dream by ABBA“.

”My hands started shaking and I panicked during surgery.“

”Oh B I‘m sorry that happened, but I think ever since you visited your dad you came back differently.“ She pointed out carefully as if she wasn’t sure what my reaction would be.

”Of course I did. There are way too many emotions eating me up right now. I just needed to sort them all out.“ I remarked.

”B please tell me what’s going on. Please, I don't know how to help you if you don’t tell me,“ Luna whispered.

”I feel lost. Lost and sad and I don’t know.“ I admitted. I broke down. I wrapped my arms around her as I cried silently and she held me close, showing me she was right here with me.

”I’ll give you anything you want Bryce. I love you so damn much. I’d even eat some oatmeal.“ She shivered involuntarily. The disgust of having to eat oatmeal was evident on her face. She hates it. I laughed through my tears. She pushed some strands of my hair that had gotten longer out of my face and I squeezed her hand.

”Would you be willing to go to therapy? We could go together if you want. Or you could go alone. Whatever makes you feel more comfortable.“

To be honest I’ve been thinking of going to therapy for a while. I’ve been a wuss to go though.

”I’d like that. Know any good ones?“

Luna nodded.

”I do. We can make an appointment. And we can go whenever you feel like you want to go.“

I nodded and just kept leaning into her. I turned my head and looked into her blue-green eyes.

”I never meant to hurt you when I didn’t tell you I visited my dad. I…just don’t know…“

Luna took my face into her hands.

”It’s okay B. We’ll figure it out together. And if you want to spend some time figuring things out with your parents I support you.“ She said and after a heartbeat, she continued.

”I suffer from anxiety and depression. I know what it’s like when it’s getting too much and when I don’t know what to do with my emotions. When I want to scream and cry and just get out of my skin for a while. I get it. That’s what painting is for me. Maybe we can find something you can find comfort in.“ I smiled. Even now when we’re still not sure where we stand exactly, she tries to help and support me. I couldn’t love her more if I tried.

”I always liked working with my hands. Building things. I was always good at it. I once built a princess castle for Keiki.“

”That is so sweet. I bet it was pink.“ Luna smiled softly and I smiled back at her. If there’s one person who loves pink? It’s Luna. But it’s endearing and I love that about her.

”Maybe you can work something out with Adam?“ She suggested.

”You think he’d let me?“ I asked not sure if Adam would let me help with any of his projects.

”Of course. Adam loves you like a brother. He’d help you. Especially if he knows it helps you to feel calm.“

I admit feeling ashamed and mortified that my hands would start to shake again. Is something wrong with me?

”There’s nothing wrong with you B. Sometimes emotions boil over. It’s when you’ve bottled things up too many times. I know that. That’s why I’ve turned to art. When I create art it lets me get out some emotions I‘ve been feeling. We can do some painting together if you want.“

I didn’t realize I'd spoken out loud. I nodded, not able to look at her, afraid she’d see how emotionally exhausted I was.

First visiting my dad, our fight, and now this panic attack during the surgery. Maybe some vacation would do me some good. I‘m sure I can work something out with the chief of medicine. Alana is amazing and she‘s very understanding.

”I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about my dad. I just didn’t want to share it because I was scared that if you saw and knew everything you’d…“

”What? Run away? B there’s nothing that could make me run away from you. No matter what happens. Sure I was hurt that you didn’t say anything, but I understand that sometimes certain conversations aren’t that easy. Especially when it’s with a family member you haven’t talked to in a while. But whether we fight or if we have a make-out session all day, a relationship is never easy. But we work on it. We compromise, and most importantly we love each other. Come hell or high water.“

I looked up at her and I could tell from the expression in her eyes that she meant every word.

She hugged me again and I simply leaned into her, borrowing some of the strength that she was offering. We sat like that for another 10 minutes, until Luna had a pained look on her face and I could’ve slapped myself by letting her sit on the ground.

”B not to be rude, but can we maybe go somewhere else? I feel a bit uncomfortable sitting like this.“

”Oh my god I’m sorry of course. Here let me help you up.“ I got to my feet and helped her up.

”Thank you. For being there for me.“ I kissed her soft lips, giving you that warm, cozy feeling as if you were coming home.

”Always.“ She smiled tenderly.

I knew we’d fought, but things will get better again. I believe that.

#Losing Game (3/4)#Luna Auclair #Bryce Lahela #Keiki Lahela #Evangeline Auclair #Aubrey O'Neil #open heart #CFWC

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