#the jeans aren't you at all. you pulled them out of a pile of clothes your sister was getting rid of AND IT SHOWS

[duchessvultjag]

you ever get dressed and it's like damn bitch how did you do a bad cosplay of yourself

[bunnys-kisses]

hii bunny!!! can I get a chocolate cake and whisky with seb or jenson???

bakery menu

want to order your own? take a look at the menu! there's a little something for everyone! i also write for fandoms outside of f1 so if that interests you let me know! i love getting orders! this one i chose jenson button, ever day i get seb from someone hahah, and i will write them. but thank you for the request!

chocolate cake ("do you feel that? that's what happens when i think about you all day.") + whisky (degrading language) served by jenson button (formula one)!

cw: smut/pwp, dirty talk/degrading language, age gap (20s/40s), mean!jenson, brat!reader, thigh riding, masturbation, non-penetrative sex, clothed man/nude woman, couch sex, nipple play, references to spanking

jenson liked good behaviour from a good girl. a good girl meant a good life, without any troubles. but, there was something a spitfire little thing that he could fold to his pleasure and fuck submission into.

you had been the hardest brat to break, and jenson lived for it. there was nothing like after a long day taking you and fucking any stress of the day out of his body. pushing his cock as deep as he could get it.

letting the messy tip kiss your cervix.

it was a rainy day in july and you had tracked your wet socks through the house after you came back inside. you were soaked from head to toe, but you should've waited for him to come get you from the front door with a towel.

now he had you naked with your wet clothes in a pile on the floor. the older man had his hands on your bare hips and his lips on your hard nipple. he was massaging it between his inscors.

your ass was burning from his earlier smacks, you were surprised you didn't get a spank for every drop of water you got on the hardwood floor. now your nipples were being bit up as you straddled his thigh.

he pulled away a little and rubbed both nipples between his pointer finger and thumb, even giving them a big tug. which made you squirm, "you have to behave, love. you can't be bringing your wet clothes into the house." his voice was firm, "you're such a silly little girl, aren't you? just making a huge mess for me to clean up." he shook his head with slight disappointment which made you whine.

you whined, "please ah! c'mon, you're being so mean!"

he looked at you, eyes went for for a moment. he laughed, "i'm being mean? you got an entire puddle right in the middle of my living room in the house i pay for." he put his lips back on the soft skin and tried his best to leave dark bruises on the skin.

you rubbed your slick pussy up against his thigh, the rough jean material he wore made the hairs on the back of your neck stand out. you were painfully hot like this, naked while he was clothed. a visible sign of submission.

he pulled away from you and relaxed against the couch. he took his cock out of his jeans and spit in his hand before he started to jerk himself off. he said, "come now, love. hop to it. if you want to get yourself off, i'm not helping you. brats have to do things for themselves." he was going to love the sight of this.

you started to move up against his thigh. you straddled it and rubbed your achy clit across it. shivers ran up your spine and made your bruised nipples hard. oh, you were just painfully adorable. look at the sight of you, the little brat he had trained so well.

you were capable of being good, you just needed reason to be. but, don't worry jenson would give you reason after reason to be on your best behaviour.

he continued to jerk himself off, occasionally spitting i his hand more. sadly his hand really wasn't like the sweet cunt that was being dragged across his clothed thigh. he eyed you up and down. from the blissed out expression on his face to the bounce of your bruised breasts.

"who owns this pussy, huh? who owns it because you can't be responsible for it. who owns it the way this house and your car are owned?" he panted heavily as he felt his heartbeat in his ears.

this was just too much and he knew his words were making you crumble.

you croaked as you continued to ride his thigh, "you own it. you own it, jenson." you swallowed roughly, "just like you own everything else." you whined as you felt the pleasure race up your body.

you clothed onto him tighter and continued to move your poor cunt up against his clothed thigh. it was almost pathetic, a woman much younger than him was getting her clit stimulated by the over priced denim he wore.

he cupped your ass with his free hand, the bruised cheek still felt hot under his broad hands. you swallowed and continued to move, he maintained eye contact with your body. you looked so painfully erotic, like a good proper whore.

"you're mine, got it?" he asked as he continued to fuck his hand. as much as he'd love for it to be your soft pussy or perfect throat. but, for now he just had to make due.

you couldn't deny it, it was a fact. you were his, he had sank his claws into you long ago and wasn't letting up. so you better be a good girl and continue to fuck yourself on his thigh.

"please, honey."

he landed a smack across your ass and goped the cheek once more. he felt the thrill of pleasure course through your system as he continued to thrust his cock. the pre-cum was all over his hand as you left a wet mark across his pant leg.

you looked like a horny little puppy. it was sickeningly disgusting and only riled him up further.

"you're such a bad girl." he said, "getting off like this." he grabbed your hand and made you touch his slick cock, "do you feel that? that's what happens when i think about you all day. and then you turn around and act like such a brat." his voice was laced with venom

it was all a little too much for you.

you dug your nails into his shoulders as you came, making a mess of the rough jean of his pants. it left a pretty stain as your wetness seeped into the fabric. a big dark spot from his baby girl.

you rested against him and panted heavily, pressing a lot of your weight into him. he relaxed further into the couch with his cock still in his hand. he said to you, "you're such a dirty little slut." he panted, "you always want more, more, more." he swallowed, "but i'll always give you what you want."

"jenson." you whimpered.

a few more jerks of his hand and he finished. ropes of cum got all over the front of his white t-shirt, but he didn't care. he got to see his naked little slut get herself off on his thigh.

he knew his jeans needed a good clean thanks to you. he let go of his cock and panted heavily. his cock twitched when he watched you lick at the cum on his hand. you did it on instinct and moan when the saltiness hit your tongue.

"you're going to be the death of me, honey.' he said as you cleaned him up. he knew he couldn't survive another round like that. so he whispered in your ear, "why don't you put all of our clothes in the wash and meet me in our bedroom. i'll take good care of you." then groped at your bruised ass cheek.

you knew how to behave, jenson ensured that over the time you have been dating. and while he loved your firecracker spirit, nothing got him harder than you dutifully getting up from his lap and going to wash the clothes like a good girl. <3

[dianadiaries]

⩇⩇:⩇⩇ : the ocean blue. 🍵

summary : when the boats clash, and the sea rises, the straw hat pirates (luffy..) always gets hungry. That leaves the new girl and Zoro home alone at the boat. Daring it is so quiet.. for now.

status : finished, reader is she/her. Zoro

has big dick energy... strawhatpirate!zoro strawhatpirate!reader

"Don't forget to get the dried out meat!" I say to the rest of the crew, as they leave me and Zoro on the boat, as their bodies turn to a shadow and glint. I felt of glee once they left, and I could finally finish the pearl necklace I had been working on for a while. The shiny. pearls found in Arlong Park, Nami tells me it reminds her of luffy and Nami beating Arlong's, fish man ass.

"Hey, I need something." I felt his voice from a mile away. It was Zoro. His voice so effectively, the deepest part of it too. Made my cunt automatically wet. Or was I that obvious that I had a small flutter in my heart for him? Maybe. But, I could never say it outloud, Nami and Sanji would tease me. Then I went back to reality, I get a bit startled but try to pronounce some words while shuttering like a mess or something.

"Oh yeah, um sure!" I say, smiling gladly, getting up as quick as I can to help him. Zoro heads to the edge of the boat, where he mostly trains at, to be, of course, the world's best swordsman. "I cut my self last fight we had... I was wondering if you could heal it." He groans, sitting down. Zoro's limp hand touching the mark where he got harmed at. The mark was under his shirt, I gulped. He didn't seem to notice to much about my nervous state. He just thought I wanted to do my job. "Be the best healer in the all blue".

I clear my thoughts as Zoro lifts his shirt off. Placing my hand on his mark, my face probably cried with blush at this point. My hands roamed the area of harm. Zoro's rough eyes gleamed at me, my body heating up as if I was some type of oven. Well, he can put his bun in me anyway. Quickly, I snap myself back, the devil fruit in my viens helping to heal the bloody marks on Zoro. His hand wanders to my face, and I let out a choked expression. "Zoro..?" I say, muttering softly to a whisper. "You seem cold. You keep shaking. Come sit." He says, patting his lap, as Zoro lifts your limp body, shadowing his lap. My hands covering my face.

Was I embarrassed, no. Was I scared, no. I felt my guts heat up even more, I wasn't shaking because I was cold. I was shaking to stop myself from doing something I would have regretted. I pull a blank and take my hands from my face, staring at him. Except he only smirks. "Like what you see?" He says with a condescending look on his face. But something changed in me, I simply nodded. Maybe it was something in the air, or those stupid shiny pearls. But what ever it was, made my cunt twitch for him. "Really princess, little healer needs her cunt healed from the heat right?" Zoro says mumbling in my ear. Had I said everything out loud? I'm stupid. His hands having a soft grip on my plush ass.

"zoro..pl-please!" I say, my body dry humping his jean of his pants. He only chuckles, as if I'm a laughing stalk. Finally, me and his lips connect. Sloppy, but still some what neat. Zoro's tongue entered my mouth, my moans getting the best of me. His sword tight like hands, unbuttoned my shirt, breast popping out of the bra. He made sure not to waste time and get the fabric of the bra out of the way. "So sensitive." Zoro says as his nimble fingers twisting and playing with my nipples. My moans are coming out and into Zoro's ears. "w-want you.." I say whining, my head down on his shoulder. "So needy to aren't you," He says, playing with the hem of my pants. Before dragging them off my heated body, putting them off somewhere else into the mess of a pile of clothes. At this point, Zoro had no shirt, and I had no clothes. Well, except for my soaked through panties.

Zoro chuckles again before laying my back on the hard board of the ship. His nimble fingers toying with my clothed cunt making my body squirm at the feel of it. "Zoro! So wet.. please!" I say as my body jerks closer to him. "Never met a girl in the East blue as wet as you." He says, smirking as his fingers ghost around my panties and pull them off. The pads of his fingers playing and toying with the bundle of nerves. As one finger prods near my wet sopping hole. When it finally gives in and pushes its way in. Gasps and groans coming from my mouth, my mouth gapes open for everyone to hear. Squishy and wet sounds coming from my cunt as he pushes in another finger. "She is so talkative fa' me." Zoro says, smiling at the noises. My body humping back on his fingers as he decides to speed up the pace. "Ngh. Fuck me. Please, please, zoro!" I silently scream as his fingers become soaked in juices leaking from my cunt.

"So, pretty princess." Zoro says, pushing another finger now up to his third. My cunt feeling washed up, as the boat silently rocks against the board walk. "So.. close!" I moan, scratching the back of Zoro, as he grunts. His fingers playing in my cunt as if I was a toy to him. Soon, my orgasm came over me. Squirting all over the hard wood panels of the boats. My legs shook over Zoro's body. High pitch squealing and moans coming out of my gaped mouth. Soon, my head comes back to reality, I realized I had squirted all over Zoro's pants.. "I—I.. I'm so sorry!" I say with embarrassment written all over my face.

"the crew won't be back soon. let's go to my bedroom."

notes : OML SORRY I have only watched the live action one piece. I WILL WATCH THE ANIME, but oml, they ate every time !

[violetmuses]

Beacon - A. Aretas ❤️‍🩹 🫂

Title: Beacon - A. Aretas ❤️‍🩹 🫂

Fandom: “Bad Boys” Film Universe

Character: Armando Aretas

Pairing: Armando Aretas + Female Reader

Main Storyline: Mike, Marcus, and Armando cross paths with you after McGarth hijacks the federal transport.

=====

2024

“You are the only person who can identify whoever framed Cap! We should get them before they get us.”

Stranded through woods, Detective Mike Lowrey pulled his son Armando Aretas by his prison uniform collar.

“There is no us!” Armando grits his teeth and steps from Lowrey, pissed off beyond words.

“Hey! What's going on here?” You shouted in the distance. Mike and Armando turned around with Marcus Burnett.

“Oh, shit! Um…” Mike walked toward you first while Armando observed near Marcus. “I'm so sorry.”

“What happened?” You questioned, noticing Lowrey's damp clothes.

Mike glanced around the natural space, realizing that you set up this tent and organized essentials here.

“We lost our plane.” Mike dulled this explanation to avoid scaring you.

“Where are you going?” You point toward your car that's set across the seemingly remote campground.

“Miami.” Lowrey breathed through his quick response after handling the terrible water.

“Wait, aren't you a cop?” Truth hit once you acknowledged Detective Lowrey.

“Yes. We just need to get back home.” Mike lifted both hands just in case you'd bring out weapons for yourself.

“There's a criminal with you.” You whispered right here. Someone waited in this drenched orange prison uniform.

Mike turned around to see Armando lurking. Even Marcus peered in return.

“Oh, please don't panic.” Mike stepped closer to you. “This is my son Armando.”

“Your son?” You can't believe what's going on this time.

“I know it all sounds crazy, but could you please help us out?” Mike almost pleaded

“I'm leaving soon.” You somehow agreed with this unexpected plan. “If you're not around, I won't help.”

“Deal. Thank you.” Mike nodded quickly, jogging back to Marcus and Armando.

“You're welcome.” You accepted this reality and packed up various belongings.

______

Returning to your camp from this separate nightmare, Lowrey, Burnett, and Aretas stole clothes from two idiots, running off without fail.

At first sight of everyone's wardrobe, you hide this opportunity to laugh for a second. Even Armando looked out of place.

Armando his Bud Light shirt and this trucker hat veiled his eyes. Jeans covered both legs and boots stepped along dirt that trailed outside.

While four of you piled this vehicle, Armando takes the passenger seat, quiet when the air conditioning immediately cools everyone down.

Mike Lowrey gives you the address to a Miami boathouse.

Apparently, someone named Dorn stood as a tech genius for this team called AMMO, the current unit.

When you start driving away, Marcus Burnett talks from this backseat.

“Don't worry about Armando. He doesn't like us, either.” Burnett cut the silence found beyond your car's navigation system.

“All right.” You slightly ignored Marcus and continued focusing on the road.

_______

“Stay here.” Mike Lowrey warns Armando as your car finally reaches the boathouse.

“No soy un perro.” Irked, Armando grumbled through his native language of Spanish.

“Hey, listen. We might follow this plan, but watch your mouth.” Mike defended himself. “I'm going with Marcus.”

Exiting the car with his longtime partner, Mike Lowrey prompted you to stay near Armando.

And believe it or not, Armando started talking first rather than you.

“Sorry.” He apologized while offering slightly accented English. “What's your name?”

“I'll accept your apology, but my name doesn't matter.” You kept certain info private.

“Fair enough.” Armando quietly watches as you unfasten the driver's seatbelt.

Aretas is observant for many reasons. Earlier, no one else joined your side of the campground and you didn't sport a wedding ring, either.

His own incarceration has definitely stopped time now, but Armando still noticed how beautiful you are despite acknowledging the coastal heatwave.

The awkward silence lingered as you scroll through your phone and won't continue speaking with him.

“Who are you texting?” Nosey, Armando started talking once more.

“None of your business, actually.” You defended yourself.

Armando smirked for a moment before quickly reaching out and grabbing your phone, taking the device from you.

“Hey!” You lean inward to reach the phone again, but Armando raises his arms higher.

“Uh-uh.” Smiling over the brim of his trucker hat, Aretas chuckled for the first time in a while. You look so cute from this angle.

At that moment, he opened the passenger seat door and ran by this dock, still carrying your phone.

Dashing in return, you follow him after locking the car.

“Give it back.” You crossed both arms while facing him.

“Not yet. Hold up.” Armando then smiled once more and tapped away, biting his lip.

“What in the world?” You squinted past daylight this afternoon.

When Armando finally returns the phone, you discover one surprise:

His number.

[willsimpforanyone]

poly!solangelo x gn!reader smut

sure, i shall take the freedom and abuse it lmao enjoy

also will is southern because yes and y'all have a lovely grown-up house with a garden because this is fiction

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

Nico's hair was getting long.

It rested just above his shoulders, dark and shaggy and so delightful to run fingers through. I stared at him, head bent over some paperwork for his job. My fingers tapped the table, my head resting on one hand.

His t-shirt was loose and low-necked, exposing a plane of pale olive-toned chest, the faintest of bruises decorating his neck from a few days ago.

"Darlin', why are you eye-fuckin' our boyfriend?"

Both Nico and I jumped as Will wandered into the kitchen, bee-lining to the sink to wash the dirt from his hands. Nico flushed pink as he met my eyes.

I winked, and turned to my other boyfriend. "What? You jealous?"

Will laughed. "Honey, I know I look hot." He was right, his working-in-the-garden jeans slung low on his hips and he was wearing a t-shirt just a little small for him, showing a sliver of stomach at all times.

"I'm trying to be productive," Nico murmured, looking back down at his papers.

"We aren't distracting you, babe." I shrugged, slipping out of my seat and wrapping my arms around Will from behind. "Are we?"

Will shook his head, reaching for a towel and drying his hands. "We've never done anything wrong in our lives." He turned in my embrace, resting his arms on my shoulders. He was a little taller than me, so I had to tilt my head up a little to meet his eyes. "Hey there."

I grinned. "Hey. You do look hot."

He ducked his head down to touch his lips to my ear. "Wanna see how far we can go before Neeks breaks?"

"Oh, absolutely."

I slipped my hands under his shirt, feeling him shiver. In return, he cupped my cheeks in his hands and brought me in for a long, sweet kiss. I sighed in satisfaction, swiping my thumbs over the skin of his back.

Will pulled back, pressing kisses along my jawline. "So, what did Nico do to get you to look at him like that?"

Sighing wistfully, I glanced briefly over to the man at the table seemingly very focused on his work.

"His hair, it's so beautifully long," I murmured. "Would be so good to run my fingers through, maybe pull a little bit, we know he likes that."

Nico gave the smallest shift in his seat, but his eyes were staring at the papers. Will nipped at my pulse point and I gasped.

"And the t-shirt, I'm guessin'?" Will's hands slid into the back pockets of my jeans, pulling me flush against him. "He looks damn good in big shirts, don't he? All that skin showin', be a shame not to do somethin' about it."

I nodded and grinned, hearing the smallest gasp from the table. "He always looks so gorgeous with teeth marks, I think."

Will smirked, pecking my lips. "I have to agree, honey, if only he weren't so busy."

Papers shuffled on the table, as if someone were gathering them up and piling them neatly. The chair scraped on the floor and Will winked at me. He bent close to my ear again. "I think we won."

Nico stood up and cleared his throat, and I turned around to lean my back on Will's chest to look at him. He looked flustered.

"You can't- this isn't fair, you're both assholes." He crossed his arms. "I'm trying to work and you're... you're just..."

I reached out a hand and he folded instantly, almost tripping over himself to get to us. His fingers laced with mine and he tilted his head up ever-so-slightly to meet my lips.

Compared to his usual clothing, Nico was clad in soft sweatpants along with the aforementioned t-shirt, barefoot on the kitchen tile. He looked soft and welcoming and I smiled into the kiss.

Will kissed the back of my head. "Bedroom?"

I shook my head, breaking the kiss. "Sofa? Closer."

I recieved two nods and the three of us stumbled over to the sofa. I sat, dragging Nico on top of me so he was straddling my thighs. My fingers danced at the edges of his t-shirt. "This okay?"

He nodded enthustiastically and I ran my fingers up and down his spine with one hand, pulling him into a kiss with the other. Will came to stand behind Nico, bending over his neck and pressing quick kisses into the flesh. I could feel the heat radiating off Nico under the attention of both his partners.

Slowly, Nico took my hand and with a fierce blush put it to the back of his head.

"Want me to play with your hair, hm?"

He blushed harder. "Y-You were the one who wanted to, I'm just... helping."

"So helpful, sweetheart." I twisted my fingers in his dark waves, holding firmly near the base so as not to hurt him unecessarily. He keened, head leaning back and resting on Will's chest. I took the opportunity to lean forward and nip red marks into his skin, tiny flowers blossoming on top of the old ones.

Nico's hands twisted into my sweater and Will's hands reached down to ghost over the front of Nico's sweatpants. "Can I touch you, please, baby?"

Nico breathed out a "Yes," and Will dipped his hand beneath his waistband. Nico's head tried to jerk forward but my grip in his hair was firm and he ended up rolling his body forward, pressing further into Will's hand.

I touched two fingers to Nico's mouth and his lips parted, tongue darting out to lick at the tips before obediently taking them into his mouth.

Will cursed. "Shit, so pretty, huh? My tough guy all soft for us, just for us."

Nico nodded as best he could with my hand gently pulling at his locks and my fingers in his mouth. I shifted my hips against the sofa, eyes flicking between Nico's gorgeous expression and the obscene sight of Will jerking him off under his sweatpants.

Will pressed a kiss to his cheek. "Will you let me put my mouth on you, darlin'? You look so good, I wanna make you feel good, can I do that?"

Nico's eyes rolled back and I removed my fingers from his mouth so he could answer. "Fuck, yes, you can do that."

On slightly wobbling legs, Nico turned around until he was sitting on my lap with his back against my chest. I arranged his legs so he was spread open, sweatpants tugged off by Will who was now kneeling on the floor. I wrapped an arm around Nico's waist, makinng sure he didn't move too much.

Will licked a stripe up Nico's dick and I felt him jerk against me, inhaling sharply. I made eye contact with Will.

At the same time as he took Nico's dick into his mouth, I bit down on Nico's neck. He writhed against me, crying out and tangling his hand in Will's golden hair. "That was a dirty trick," he panted, barely getting the words out.

"We know." I sucked bruises into his skin, enjoying the feeling of his pounding pulse against my lips as Will drove him slowly crazy with his mouth.

Nico's breathing got heavier and faster and I moved my hands to the insides of his thighs to stop him closing his legs on Will. Nico's hands were everywhere, in Will's hair, clutching my arms, reaching back to hold my head against his neck, the boy was frantic with pleasure.

"Fu-fuck, I'm gonna- Will, I'm gonna come-!"

I clamped my hands down harder on his thighs as Will pulled off of Nico's dick, jerking him quick and dirty until Nico exploded, cum drenching Will's t-shirt.

His body went limp, collapsing totally into mine. I held him close, whispering praise and reassurance into his ear, how he did so good, so well for us, I was so proud of him, he was so fucking gorgeous.

Will vanished to quickly chuck his shirt into the washing machine, returning soon with some water and a damp towel. Nico took it gratefully, swallowing half the glass. Will remained kneeling, cleaning our boyfriend carefully and putting his sweatpants back on.

"You doin' okay, darlin'?" Will pressed a kiss to Nico's knee from his position on the floor.

Nico nodded. "Very okay." He raised an eyebrow. "Are your knees okay?"

Will laughed. "They're fine, so worth the ache."

Smiling, Nico bent forward to kiss Will sweetly before slipping off my lap and curling into the corner of the sofa with his water.

I turned to Will, and winked.

"Your turn."

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genuinely one of the reasons i think i might be polyam is because i like writing polyam relationships so much

anyway thank you for requesting and i hope you enjoyed!

[m-n-m-s]

Hobie X reader who doesn’t admit they’re punk. They diy everything, only listen to hardcore punk, and have the political beliefs but just don’t admit it.

i love this idea omg 🫶🏻

Stubborn.

Hobie Brown x StubbornPunk!Gn!Reader

Warnings: fluff!!, a lil cursing

"That's li'erally the basis of what being punk is, love."

You sighed heavily and turned to look at Hobie. He looked back at you with a smirk, sitting cross-legged on the edge of your bed. You had just finished ranting to him about something that you saw the day before, walking around in front of him because you couldn't sit still, and pinning the problems on the (in your words) 'shitty problem solvers in the government'.

After explaining the very simple solutions that those people refused to acknowledge, you stopped to take a breath, allowing Hobie to drop that sentence into the break.

It wasn't that you had a problem with being a punk—if anything, you were far from that. You just didn't think that you qualified as a punk; a fact that Hobie made sure to challenge every chance he got.

You stood there in silence, looking at Hobie, who sat with a smug little expression on his face. "Seriously?" you asked, raising your eyebrows.

"I'm just sayin'," he said innocently. You weren't fooled.

"What's with you always trying to prove to me that I'm punk?" you asked exasperatedly, crossing your arms. "Aren't you the one who always says he 'hates labels'?"

There's silence for a moment. Then, you hear a light chuckle from behind you and the slight creak of your bed as Hobie stood. "I suppose I did say that," he said, slightly amused. You watched as he slowly walked past you, to your closet in the corner. "But even I admit that I fall somewhere under that ca'egory." You raise an eyebrow as he opens the closet door with a slight flourish. He peeks back behind the door at you, raising an eyebrow as he glanced into the small, but cluttered closet. You nodded, showing that you were fine if he looked in there.

You heard him faintly mutter something under his breath as he pushed some stuff around in there before a soft ha! met your ears. Hobie turned back to face you, holding up your favorite jacket, the one that had all the little patches you made sewn on. You could still see where you painted a few designs onto it, creeping behind the fabric. You raised your eyebrows. "You made this yourself," he said simply, gently laying it down on your bed. It was phrased as a question, but he spoke it like a fact, which it was.

You sighed, knowing what was coming. He slowly pulled out every article of clothing you had ever added your own touch to, laying them on top of each other. "An' this," he said, pulling out another pair of jeans.

You looked at the slowly growing pile on your bed and sighed again. "Please tell me you're putting that back yourself," you mumbled. Hobie paused slightly in his little quest.

"Only if you admit it," he said cheekily, pulling out more things from the closet. If you were being entirely honest with yourself, you had forgotten half of those even existed. You sighed once more, watching as he finished going through your closet. "These," he says, waving a hand at the pile on your bed, "were all somewhat made by you, even in a small way. Correct?"

You nodded hesitantly, confused as to where he was going with this. Hobie closed your closet door. "What was the last music genre you lis'ened to?" he asked. Before you could even open your mouth to respond, he spoke again. "Punk. Punk rock, specifically."

"What does that have anything to do with—"

Hobie held up a finger as he interrupted your sentence. "You've got the politics"—his face wrinkled slightly at that word, making you crack a little smile—"an' the style," he says, vaguely gesturing at you and the pile of clothes on your bed. "All you're missin' is a big ol' neon sign that just says punk on it." You rolled your eyes, and just as you opened your mouth to speak, Hobie cut in again. "Just admit it," he teased, standing in front of you.

"Why are you so adamant in getting me to 'admit it'?" you huffed, crossing your arms. Hobie chuckled, tilting his head the slightest bit.

"Because you're so stubborn, swee'heart," he said, leaning slightly closer to you. You narrowed your eyes playfully, not really able to combat that statement since it was a fact. Hobie mirrored you, locking you into a stare-down of sorts. Due to the fact that your eyes were beginning to water (and Hobie didn't look like he was going to blink any time soon), you stepped away from him with an eye roll.

You walked back to the pile of clothes, carefully starting to put them back where they were. "Still not a punk," you muttered, folding a pair of jeans that were adorned with little patches. You saw Hobie raise an eyebrow at the irony, but he (for once) didn't say anything. Instead, when you turned around to grab another thing to put back, he was already there, holding out another jacket. You sighed, bringing a smirk to his face, and took it back to where it was supposed to be.

"Are you trying to bribe me into admitting it?" you asked, turning around to grab another hanger.

"Depends," Hobie teased, "is it workin'?" You shot him a deadpan look, turning back to the closet.

"No."

Just as you hung it up, a pair of arms made their way around your torso and pulled you backward onto your bed. You stumbled slightly before landing on your back, glaring at Hobie, who now stood above you. He gave you a little grin before promptly landing on you. You raised an eyebrow as he lifted his head slightly to look at you. "'M not gettin' up until you admit it, darlin'" he mumbled, smirking slightly.

You sighed, knowing damn well that he meant every word. "Okay, that's just cheating," you complained, glaring playfully at him. Hobie just shrugged, showing no signs of moving any time soon. You two lay there in silence until you closed your eyes and sighed once more. You saw a smile slowly creep onto Hobie's lips as he raised his head, just a little.

"Fine," you grumbled, exasperated. "Maybe I do qualify as punk."

You felt Hobie shift slightly, before lifting himself partially off of you. "There, was that so difficult?" he said lightly, grinning. You rolled your eyes as he helped you up. Just as you were about to go back to putting your clothes back into your closet, he tugged you back gently, a hand on your arm. You felt him gently kiss your head before moving his hand from your arm. "Stubborn," he mumbled affectionately, letting you go back. He sat on your bed, handing you clothes as you put them back.

"Since you admitted it, finally, I'm stickin' to my word and helping you," he said, running his fingers along the edges of a patch on my shorts.

You hide a smile. "That's a new one," you teased softly, turning your head to look at him. He mock-gasped, the edges of his lips turning into a smile.

"Rude!"

sorry this took so long guys 🥲

it ended up longer than i expected but wtv

if the formatting is being wacky w the photos just ignore it I'll try n fix it later 😾

i'll proofread later, but for now enjoy 🫶🏻

[omg-i-think-i-like-you]

CW: trans eddie munson, bottom/sub eddie munson, top/dom steve harrington, different names for genitalia (not said by any of the characters), public sex, slight degradation and orgasm delay, lots of praise and aftercare.

Cut right before it gets juicyyy

Steve emerged from the dressing room for the 5th time. "What do you think?" He turned around to show the shirt all around his waist and hands.

Eddie sat there, on a bench in front of Steve's booth, clothes piled up next to him, "Nice, but I liked the blue one better," He said in a tired voice.

They've been in this store for almost two hours, buying clothes for the little not-actually-a-wedding ceremony of Joyce and Hopper. During the first hour Eddie was struggling to find something he felt comfortable enough in, and ended up settling on jeans that weren't completely ripped and a nice patterned, buttoned-up shirt. Now it was Steve's turn, and he was struggling even more.

"I just... I don't know, Eds, I feel like everything I try on is either too casual or too fancy." He started unbuttoning the shirt he was wearing before he even entered the cell, "I have a few more things to try on, stay here." And he disappeared again.

"Not going anywhere..." Eddie mumbled and rested his chin on his hand. He adjusted himself, and the seam of his jeans hit just the right spot and sent a shot of electricity and pleasure through his entire body. He suddenly wasn't so sleepy anymore.

Steve got out of the room again, this time wearing a tight, white buttoned-up, its sleeves hugging his biceps and his dark chest hair peeking through the see-through fabric. Eddie twitched.

"I think it's too small, I'll go get a bigger size," Steve said while checking his reflection. "You think it's good? not too... white?"

Eddie wiggled around in his seat, letting the seam hit his exposed tdick again and again. "Pretty..." He murmured, "I can see your tits though."

Steve giggled, "You really are tired, huh? I'll try to do it faster." And he vanished into the dressing room again.

Eddie sat there, looking around, and kept moving slowly, letting his pants do the work. Steve grunted inside the dressing room and Eddie's breath sharpened, and he started moving faster. He wiggled and danced in his seat, moving his legs to try and find the perfect angle, when Steve got out of the booth, shirtless, and caught Eddie red in the face and panting.

"Couldn't find anyth- what are you doing?" He raised an eyebrow and looked towards Eddie's crotch.

"W-what? nothing." He sealed his lips and tightened his legs, "Where's your shirt?"

"I just told you, I couldn't find anything I like, I was about to ask you to choose something for me, I don't trust my eyes anymore," he crossed his hands, not removing his eyes from Eddie's hidden area. "Open your legs." He ordered.

Eddie's entire body flashed, and before he noticed, his legs opened, completely disobeying his brain. He spread them slowly, exposing a wet spot right beside the seam.

"Oh, I see," Steve grinned, "you decided to have some fun without me." He walked closer to Eddie, looking at him from above, "is that right, baby?"

Eddie looked up, Steve towering over him, cupping his cheek, and his fingers trailed towards his long hair, tangling and pulling a little, a small moan escaped his mouth. He pulled him up and after him into the dressing room. Eddie followed without question.

The room was small, and clothes were thrown all over the place. Steve pinned Eddie against the wall and whispered, their noses touching. "You're such a cute baby boy, aren't you? finding ways to entertain yourself while I'm in here? enjoying the view of my body flexing in front of the mirror? hmm, you like that?" Eddie whimpered and nodded, "Well, it's not nice to do that without me, right?" Eddie shook his head, his entire body vibrating, "Right," Steve smiled and planted a small kiss on Eddie's nose, "You wanna have fun with me, don't you? It's better that way, isn't it?" Eddie nodded again, almost crumbling between Steve's hands. "So you have to be very quiet, okay, baby? Can't have people hear us around here." He slowly went down Eddie's body, unbuttoning his jeans and pulling it down, and then looked up, "No underwear, huh? naughty boy. You almost ruined your best jeans." He took Eddie in his mouth, sucking softly and humming around him, making Eddie release a deep moan. Steve stopped immediately. "What did I just say?" He stood up, "You have to be quiet." He put his hand on Eddie's mouth, sending his other hand down to Eddie's too-sensitive area. "Look at you, all hard and wet, it's like you're begging me to just fuck you," He rubbed Eddie's throbbing clit and slid one, two fingers inside his wet hole, and Eddie's eyes rolled. Steve's fingers moved inside of Eddie, with his palm rubbing over his tdick. Eddie's head shot back and hit the wall, Steve laughed. "Oh, you horny little slut," He moved his hand faster, and started biting and sucking on Eddie's neck, making the boy squirm and whimper into his hand. "You want me to fuck you so bad, don't you?" Steve whispered into Eddie's ear, nibbling on his lobe, Eddie nodded, barely breathing. Steve removed his hand from his mouth, "Use your words." He said, and removed his other hand from Eddie's pussy, who almost followed Steve's hand with his pelvis, his entire body begging. "Please..." He whispered, his voice raspy and thick with pleasure, "Please fuck me..." He leaned against the wall, stepping out of his jeans and kicking them away, and opened his legs widely, "Please..."

Steve stood there, watching his boy spread against the wall, blotched and messy, whimpering and begging, and just absorbed the view. That alone was enough for him cum in his pants, but the thought of being inside Eddie's warm pussy right was so much more appealing. He took off his pants, the store's pants, actually, and threw them away. He walked towards Eddie, his dick hard in his boxers and a wet spot of precum decorated the tip of his cock's shape. He rubbed his covered dick in Eddie's, while kissing him deeply, releasing a quiet moan into his mouth. "Fuck..." He whispered, "So warm and ready for me..." He rubbed himself a bit more, Eddie leaning on him, slowly losing power to hold himself, and then walked away, leaving Eddie on the verge of tears. He looked through the piles of clothes, frantically looking for his own jeans, and pulled a condom out of his back pocket when he finally found them. He ripped his boxers off his body and put on the condom, and then rushed towards Eddie again, and entered him at once.

"Fuck..." He whispered again, filling Eddie completely, who was completely frozen in place, totally dependent on Steve to hold him up. Steve thrust into his body and held him closer. "Fuck, baby... Feel so good..." He moved slowly, making Eddie shiver and moan a bit too loud, "Shhh, it's okay," He picked up the pace and put a hand on Eddie's mouth again, "You're being such a good boy for me, stay quiet." He held up one of Eddie's thighs with his free hand, bringing him closer, trying to reach deeper. Eddie dropped his head on Steve's shoulder and sank his teeth into his skin, trying to mute his pleasure. Steve used the new position to grab a handful of Eddie's hair, which made the bite deeper, accompanied by a throat-deep moan. Steve moved faster and faster, each thrust hitting deeper and stronger, Eddie's soft moans matching the pace. Suddenly Steve pulled out and walked a step back, examining Eddie's pink cheeks and blown-out pupils. He stroked his cheek softly, "Are you close, baby?" Eddie nodded, his eyes half closed. Steve smiled, "Me too," and turned Eddie around, his face against the wall. He covered Eddie's mouth again, and his other hand went straight towards Eddie's tdick. He rubbed it slowly and entered Eddie's pussy from the back, which made him release his loudest moan yet, right into Steve's hand to block. Their bodies were squished together and their quiet pleasure sounds were syncing and harmonizing inside the tiny dressing room. Steve was pounding and hitting Eddie's g-spot again and again, until the boy almost screamed, "Fuck, fuck Steve, so so close," He said into his hand, "Please!" He cried, his entire body shaking. Steve rubbed Eddie's clit faster and faster while fucking him hard and fast, until the boy tightened around him, pulsing and hugging, almost shooting him out, squirting all over the floor and on Steve, whose climax was the strongest he's had in months. He filled up the condom immediately. His orgasm was long and he felt like he was drowning. He kept moving inside Eddie's tight pussy, biting into the boy's shoulder, until he felt like he was empty.

He pulled out slowly, holding Eddie still, making sure his boy isn't falling straight to the ground. He turned him around, kissed each one of his blushed cheeks and helped him sit on the clothes-covered chair. He removed the condom, tied it and placed it on the floor, and then squatted next to Eddie.

"Are you okay, honey?" He asked softly, holding each of Eddie's thighs and stroking slowly with his thumbs.

Eddie nodded, "Yeah," a delighted smile climbed on his lips, "More than okay."

Steve smiled and stood up, placing a kiss on Eddie's forehead on his way. "Good. Can you stand?"

Eddie nodded again and stood up next to Steve, stumbling onto him, "Okay, maybe not." He giggled.

Steve shook his head and held Eddie tight. "Let's get you dressed."

Eddie sat down again and Steve helped him wear his jeans. Then Steve got dressed, back in his own clothes, and pulled Eddie up, and outside of the dressing room, picking up Eddie's chosen outfit on the way.

"You didn't get anything," Eddie said, a concerned look on his face, while using Steve as a human crutch and walking a little funny.

"It's okay baby, didn't like anything here anyway. We'll go to another store tomorrow." Steve said with a mischievous smile, and Eddie twitched again, the seam of his jeans still in the exact right place.

[obitv]

thanks for 200 followers! have this :3

during the timeskip, william and vyncent decide to go dancing.

read on ao3 here!

You really need to learn to think before you speak. Like, now. Yesterday, even! Any point that was before right fucking now!

Inviting Vyncent to hang out outside the base? Sure, normal. You've been staying in the rubble of the old base for a few weeks now and it's still... unsettling. And you live together, of course hanging out is normal! Trying to experience normal teenage things now that you two have some downtime? Yes, sure! Normal!

Asking Vyncent if he wants to go clubbing? NOT. NORMAL.

He asks you to explain yourself. Of course. Because you really had to put your foot in your mouth there.

"It's, uh- A nightclub? A bunch of people our age go there to... dance? And there's music and drinks? It's- You don't have to go, I was just throwing it out there, ha,  mean I've never even gone-"

"Cool. Sounds fun! When do we go?"

Oh, you're so fucked.

--

You find a nightclub. Or- Less find, more remember - totally not because you'd fantasised about this for days or anything, but because after Harlem brought you to one you went find which club he had been in, and subsequently memorise any other places you could possibly go, if you ever wanted to. Just to avoid him.

The infinitely worse part is when you spend far too long fretting about outfits. You spare a brief thought to wish you could talk to your old friends right now, but you manage to scrounge up something.. nicer than your usual. Tight ripped jeans you pretend you didn't steal from Ashe, indie band tee from some show you went to when you were 14, a worn dark leather jacket. And- Eyeliner. A little. You also pretend you don't remember much from Ashe's rambles about makeup, but that advice stuck with you.

You do not tell Vyncent about the unofficial dress code, and yet he picks up on it anyway. Probably keyed in when you started scrabbling through the rubble to pull that jacket out of what remains of your closet.

"Will? Do I need to.. dress differently?"

You will your voice not to squeak miserably. You fail. "N-o..? You- I'm sure how you usually dress is ok, y'know, they don't REALLY have a dress code? You- you'll be fine. Probably. Uh- Definitely. Totally... fine."

"There's a DRESS CODE?"

Which is how you end up standing next to a shirtless Vyncent Sol with a pile of clothes in front of you. If you had told the you from 6 months ago about this, he probably would've passed out on the spot. You aren't doing much better yourself.

You're trying very hard not to ask why, exactly, Vyncent owns low rise jeans. You're trying in general not to acknowledge that at all, actually, which is thankfully made slightly easier as Vyncent put those on BEFORE coming to ask you what to wear, so you didn't have to give any input on them. It's not like they're excessively tight or anything, just- He's not wearing a shirt. And Vynce may not be packed with muscle like Dakota but he isn't as stick thin as you and- You have eyes, ok!

But you are using those eyes for a much more acceptable task - helping Vyncent pick a shirt. So that he stops being all... That. You've narrowed the pile down to just two options before your brain melts and you tell him that "both- both of those are fine!" while mentally patting yourself on the back for almost making a full sentence after that whole ordeal.

You head outside before you can make a bigger fool of yourself, climbing through the rubble of the entrance and letting the cool evening air refresh your brain while you still can. Winter is quickly settling into the city, and you definitely aren't wearing enough layers to be out right now. You hope the walk can warm you up.

Vyncent comes up next to you right when you start having to fight back shivers. Bastard never even notices the cold, something about being used to higher altitudes. That's... something you should ask more about, probably. Not tonight though. Tonight is not a night for potentially emotional conversations.

Aside from your wandering thoughts, the walk is nice. The chill clears a bit with exercise and good company, and your jitters. Vyncent seems excited, thankfully, even if he's definitely out of his comfort zone. But so are you! Which makes this... maybe count as a bonding experience. If all goes to shit you can share the misery, and if things go well... Well. You can always hope.

You end up in a part of town that's still bustling even this late in the evening. Music and conversations blend together into one, filling the air. There's even colourful lights strung up between the buildings, almost making up for the lack of stars. Vyncent is looking all around at them - and you realise for all you guys went out together before, none of your patrols or explorations had taken him to this part of the city before, at least not after dark. You give yourself a moment to admire him - the lights here probably wash you out, but the faint colours reflect off his eyes and almost make them sparkle.

Before he notices you, you grab his arm and gesture to one of the open doorways nearby. A neon sign reading FERDINAND'S flashes above it, and together you walk over.

The music hits you as soon as you get near the door, a pulsing wave of bass from the speakers, and you spare a moment to turn back to where Vyncent is trailing behind you, still faintly starstruck.

"Hey, Vynce. You- just let me know if you wanna leave, ok? If it sucks we can just go home and watch a movie."

His gaze snaps to you, and he takes a breath. Straightens his posture a bit, like he's preparing to go into a fight, which you try not be amused by. He shakes his arm out of your loose grip and smiles at you. "Yeah, yeah. I still wanna check it out though!"

So in you go.

-

Clubbing... isn't something you have much experience with. You'd planned to go out, before, but you left Deadwood too early to really go anywhere. And the time with Harlem scared you out of trying to go anywhere while he could be around, so really your experience is limited to, uh. Next to nothing? So sue you for not knowing what to expect.

It's loud, for one. Obviously, but it's not loud in a bad way, just in a way that lets you feel the beat all the way in your bones, in a way that leaves little room for thought other than the beat. It's much warmer in here, though still not as crowded as you'd feared. Come to think of it, you're not sure what day of the week it is? But it's clearly not peak. The bar is crowded, sure, but it's barely two people deep at worst, and there's even free seats.

You hesitate to leave Vyncent, but when you gesture at a booth and then at the bar he seems to get the idea. He heads to get a table, and you go to grab yourself the drink you're definitely going to need to keep your head around here. You don't plan on drinking much, if any more than just one, but a little liquid courage feels like it'd be nice right around now. You order your beer, look back at Vynce, and order a second in case he wants it. You probably should've asked before he left.

You get them quickly though, and weave your way across the floor to reach him. He's still staring at everything, and it almost makes you wonder how the fuck you two had gotten past the bouncer. He takes one of the bottles out of your hands, but scrunches his nose up after sniffing it and puts it down on the table closer to you. That answers that, then.

Overall, it's a nice club. More of a pub on this level than a nightclub, really, but you know there's a proper dance floor around somewhere. The music is good, too, nothing too overplayed, and a fair bit you've never even heard before.

"I thought you said there'd be dancing?"

It's almost hard to hear him over the music, but you have to admit it's true. You brace yourself, throwing back the last of your drink, and stand up.

"C'mon! It's, uh, over this way, I think?" Fucking Vyncent and his elf hearing doesn't have any trouble with hearing you over the noise, getting up and walking with you before you resorted to getting really close for him to hear you.

Whatever. The dance floor is downstairs from the main bar, and- Wow. There's definitely more people down here, but still blessedly not packed. You hadn't considered that- well- There'd be other people here.

Vyncent, though, perks up. He was a pretty good dancer back at the party you won't ever talk about, now that you think about it. It's definitely a similar vibe, just less possessed highschoolers and more drunk college students. He's much less reserved than you, immediately heading to join the dancers while you hang back and watch.

The music is different down here, but still not bad. There's multicoloured lights shining all over the main floor, catching on people's hair, clothes, eyes, and Vyncent is... fucking stunning. He's in a league of his own out there. Going from partner to partner and somehow, he's just as amazing as he is in combat. You had assumed most of his skill had come from the whole possession deal back at the party, but this is actually him choosing. No tangos on this floor, but that doesn't put a dampener on him at all.

There's a break in the music, eventually. Vyncent comes back to where you're lurking, panting but smiling. He's gorgeous. Someone's body glitter has rubbed off on him, somehow, and the cascade of lights makes him glow. You haven't seen him this- happy, since before everyone left.

It's a.. scary thought. You want him to be able to be this happy forever, and in this moment you'd do anything he asked if he kept smiling at you like that. So, of course, when he holds his hand out to you and asks you to dance, you say yes.

Seriously. Think before you say things, Wisp! But Vyncent's hand is warm in yours, and you're just buzzed enough to not feel like hundreds of eyes are pinned to your every move, and the music is shaking your bones with every beat. To be fair, you've wanted this for... far longer than you'd like to admit.

You faintly recognise whatever song is playing. It's fast, and is probably going to be burned into your brain forever, because you are dancing with Vyncent fucking Sol.

[this is where i'll be, so heavenly, so come and dance with me, michael]

He drops your hand once you're properly in the crowd, which is a shame, but he starts dancing and you try to mimic him and others around you. It's easier than you'd thought, to not worry about the other people around you. Whenever you'd pictured something like this, you'd underestimated how it'd feel to really be here, with Vyncent watching you and laughing, seemingly carefree.

You think he's never looked more beautiful than he does right now. You desperately want to tell him, so, so desperately, but instead you let yourself laugh with him, moving closer to the beat. You're moving in an imitation of some formal dance, a back and forth just between yourselves. It's impossible to stop smiling at him now that you've started, and maybe you're happier than you've been in a long time too.

It's- a bit of a blur, after that. There are times where Vyncent reaches a hand out to you and you dance together like that, a raver's waltz. He spins you a few times, and you're breathless with laughter after each one. You step out for a break, and Vyncent goes between various partners - but for once you don't feel that stab of jealousy, because his eyes keep darting back to you and he smiles wider each time. At some point, both of you end up mostly standing still in the middle of it all, giddy with infectious joy, with you leaning against his chest and his hand on your shoulder.

You look up at him then, and your faces are so, so close- in a crowded room, where anyone could bump into you... The temptation to just lean up and kiss him is almost unbearable. You could always brush it off as an accident if you had to - or you'd finally have something you've wanted for months. it's tantalising, having that choice dangled in front of you.

Before you can really do more than begin to lean in, though, Vyncent's eyes flicker away from your face and to the door. You'd almost missed it, because you were definitely paying more attention to his lips than his eyes, and you look away, guilt starting to eat into you.

He says something then, but your hearing's gone to shit right now so he gives up and untangles himself from you. He points at the door, then tilts his head at you in a clear question. We leaving now?

You... can't believe you almost did that. You nod at him, struck dumb by your thoughts. Outside, the sudden lack of noise feels almost like a physical weight being lifted, while the freezing temperature is like a slap in the face. You stumble forward into Vyncent, and he steadies you while you shiver and try calling a cab, because no fucking way are you walking home like this.

Home, ha. You know full well that Vyncent is more your home now than any building could be. Even if you keep almost fucking things up - the thought of not having him there is almost too much to bare.

But, for now, you have him. His arm around your shoulders again, trying to keep you warm while you wait for your cab, and the knowledge that when you wake up in the morning, he'll still be there. Neither of you are going anywhere.

[creepsandpeeps]

Home

Summary: Toby has been sent out on a particularly bad mission and returns bloodied and bruised, after being patched up every one eats dinner together. CW for injury and mentions of tics, they probably aren't very accurate, but I hope to improve over time.

Word count: 1038!

A/N: This is set about 2 weeks into Toby’s “occupation” as a proxy. Found Family proxies my beloved <3.

When Toby woke up he was freezing. He pulled at the thin blanket draped around him before a heavy sigh left his chest and he sat up, his eyebrows knit together. He held up his left hand, catching sight of 3 new bruises on his arm. His head jerked to one side.

He threw his legs over the side of the bed, standing with his heels slightly off the ground. His eyes scanned the room idly before they settled on a pile of folded clothes with a post-it on them on his dresser. 

“They’ll be a bit big on you, sorry -B”

Toby held up the garments. A well-loved sweater with an intricate pattern, a pair of heavy blue jeans, some underwear still in the package, and a pair of socks with cheaply printed cats on them. A warm smile grew on his face.

Once he left his room he realized how quiet it really was despite the time. His worn converse hit the ground lightly as he wandered into the shared living space, and he noticed a pot on the stove in the kitchen. Everything just felt too calm. Too quiet.

Suddenly, piercing static was all he could hear. His hands flew to his ears. In the mind-numbing noise he was told where to go and what to do. Before another thought could form he was mindlessly pulling on a thick coat to combat the cold and grabbing the hatchet he hid behind the cozy red couch. His mask and goggles were sloppily thrown onto his face as he walked out into the morning mist, the door slammed loudly. He didn’t notice. 

When he returned it was nearly twelve hours since he had left. The first indication of his arrival was a weak knock hitting the door in the pattern Kate made as a joke. 

Tim looked wearily to his fellow proxies as he carefully put down the broom he held. When he opened the door Toby practically fell into his arms. 

Blood covered Tim’s flannel. 

“Shit. Kate, get the med kit!” He rushed out as he hoisted the teen up and carried him to the kitchen table. He looked at Brian, who widely nodded back to him. He went through the kitchen drawers, the clinking of utensils accentuating his frantic movement. He pulled his hand away from the lowest drawer with a pair of yellow cloth sheers in hand, running over to Tim. 

“The sweater again? I need to stop giving him my good clothes,” Brian sighed before cutting off the sweater and jeans he had lent him. Together they scanned over the wounds.

“Here, this is the restocked one,” Kate said, throwing down and opening the medical kit and unpacking what they would need. She walked to the side before hesitating and going to prepare his room for the recovery. Tim gently removed the glass from the side of his right shoulder. Brian played nurse, handing the different tools and bandages. 

“He’s too young,” Tim muttered, concern was placed harshly under his tone. The procedure took little more than 20 minutes, but the tension in the air wouldn’t subside until they knew he would wake up again. 

Once everything was said and done they carried Toby to his room, Kate had gotten the heavier blankets and propped up his pillows as well as finding their light-weight hospital scrubs to put him in. He was placed in his bed and dressed wordlessly, leaving Kate to watch over him until he would wake up again. The door shut lightly behind Tim and Brian. Kate waited a moment before turning to him.

“I don’t know if you can hear me,” she mumbled out, her voice wavering slightly as she looked away. “We should have warned you, but this has never happened so soon.” 

She looked at him again, he moved slightly in his uneasy sleep. After the first 20 minutes Kate went to his bookshelf. It was filled with things that they collected over time, she scanned the covers and eventually settled on a comic book titled “Spider Man's Adventures, Vol 1”. She was never a fan of superhero stories before, but becoming what she has she couldn’t help but wish for a different life. She scanned through the pages for what felt like forever when suddenly she heard movement next to her.

She put the book down and saw Toby looking around before going to sit up, she hovered her hand over his chest. 

“No,” She said, “You’ll hurt yourself more.”

Toby looked at her sharply. He then turned away and lifted his right hand, looking at the deep lashes on his arms. ‘Those have to be new’ he thought.

“W-what… what happened?” he stuttered out. Kate’s eyes scanned over him before she took a small breath. 

“You were… tested.” She replied, trying to wave away the shaking in her voice. 

“Tested?” he mumbled, his hand now flicking slightly from side to side. 

“He gave you a job you shouldn't have done alone while Tim and I were out,” she said with a rough sigh. Toby hummed in response. 

“How long should I lay here and rot for, doc?” he said with a small smile. Kate looked at him, her gaze softening.

“Well, we’re hoping you won’t be out of the game too long this time,” she replied, “so maybe 2 weeks?” 

Toby made a little clicking noise when a solid knock came to his door. Before he could say anything, Brian walked in with two fresh plates of mashed potatoes with stuffing, Tim carried two other plates. 

“Can we eat with you here? Kate always says it’s easier to heal with everyone close by,” Brian said with a soft smile on his face. 

Toby looked around and nodded lightly. And everyone took their seats. 

“This is your favorite, right?” Kate asks, taking a small bite of the warm potatoes. Brian didn’t learn to cook until his second year there, but since then, every new thing that he made was worth every cook book they stole.  

A hum came in response, Kate smiled to Brian, he gave a thumbs up back. 

Days off weren’t very common, but one thing was for sure. Nobody would ever recover alone.

Hope you enjoyed! This can also be found on Ao3, my account name is With_Love_Punkin on there if you'd like to check it out.

[annabellemainacc]

Ep.3 Part.2

It is little and broken, but still good.

This is NOT a ship. It's a father-son relationship!!!

⚠️WARNING ⚠️ USE OF WEAPONS, THOUGHTS OF SUICIDE, MEANTION OF S|H, PANIC ATTACKS, INTENSE VIOLENCE

Fandom : DBH

Relationship : Hank & Connor

Character's : Hank, Connor. Kamski, Amanda, and Sumo

Summary : Amanda managed to escape the grasp of Kamski, but even though Connor is in pain, he goes after the one he hates the most and stops her. There is nowhere to go for them after falling 12 feet through the floor. Who will make it?

Word count : 3.2k

Connor slowly sat up, making a grunting noise. Hank went over to the thirium trail that was on the ground. It led out the door and into the hallway of the Android-Zone hospital. It looked more like a lab than a hospital, really. All the lights were shut off apart from the dim ones in the room that Connor and Kamski stood in. Hank turned to look back at them.

"She's gone."

Connor moved his legs off the bed and onto the floor. Kamski looked up at Connor.

"You aren't seriously going to go after her Connor. Not like that."

"I have to, I can track her and know where she went. I'm the best one for this." Connor sternly, looking back and forth between them.

Hank turned to face him.

"No, Con. I'm not letting you go out there. God knows if she brought more androids. I'm not risking it. I can't let you get any more gurt than you already are."

Connor turned to look at Kamski, who was still holding the gun in his hand.

"Elijah, give me the gun, please."

"No, I'm with Hank on this one."

"Well, at least let me track her. She can't get away with this. She will only hurt me more if she is still alive. I want her dead Hank."

Hank looked at Kamski. He looked at Hank.

"Then let us go." Hank insisted.

"You can't be replaced, Hank! If you die, then you can't come back."

"Well, neither can you. There isn't another deviant of you, Connor. There is only one you. I'm not going to lose him." Hank moved towards the bed that Connor was now standing in front of.

Connor pulled out the wires filled with thirium and walked past Hank towards Kamski. He put his hand out while looking up at him. Kamski put the gun in Connor's hand. He turned round and saw his pile of clothes in the corner of the room. He got dressed out of the hospital robe and put on his grey hoodie, jeans, and shoes.

"Hank. I'm going to kill this motherfucker. I can't live with her in my head anymore." He tried to walk past Hank, but he put his hand in front of his chest just above the injury.

"Please, Connor, let me come with you."

Connor paused for a few seconds before nodding his head. They walked out of the room. Hank ushered Kamski in front of Connor, who had the flashlight. Kamski shon it down the dark hallway as they slowly walked on. Connor kept the gun by his side, keeping his finger on the trigger, which was loaded at all times. They came to a two-way corridoor that either went left or right. Kamski lit up both ways.

"I'll go right. Hank, go with Elijah."

Hank turned and looked at Connor.

"Connor, I'm not letting you go that way alone."

"Hank, just trust me. I can handle myself." Connor pursueaded Hank.

"But I left you earlier, and Connor." Hank paused breifly. "Con, you s|h." Hank looked broken as he said it, holding onto his shoulder.

"Hank. He will be fine. We will probably find Amanda down this way anyway, and even if he does run into her, he has the gun." Kamski started walking down the left hallway.

"Be alert." Hank held Connor's head and gave him a light kiss on the forehead.

Connor held Hank's wrist.

"I will."

Hank ran up to Kamski to catch up with him as Connor turned right and walked down the pitch black corridoor all by himself. He tried to step lightly so as not to make much sound. He turned to look down the way that Kamski and Hank went, seeing that the light had almost completely disappeared from view. He carried on forward, remembering to tread lightly. He came up to a door on the left and side of the corridor. He scanned the surrounding area to look for clues. He saw some fingerprints. Androids dont have fingerprints, so that couldn't be her. He scanned them anyway. Various prints from previous doctors. Some were years old, and some were a few days old. He twisted the handle to the door. It was jammed. He carried on down the hallway.

There came up another left or right situation. He scanned for any trails, and that's when he saw it. A drop of thirium leading down the left path. He looked to the right, and that's when he saw a shadow run away.

"I've fucking got you." Connor sprinted down the hallway limping.

Amanda turned right, so Connor did as well. He fired a shot at her but missed. Hank turned to look back the way he had been after hearing the gunshot. Kamski shon the light.

"Connor just shot." Hank began to run down the corridoor.

Amanda turned the corner with a sign that read staircase 1. Connor stopped and turned the opposite way that read staircase 2. He jumped the whole lot and rolled on his shoulder to cushion the fall. He continued to run down the hallway, stopping at staircase 1 where Amanda was stood. Connor pointed his gun at her. He clicked the trigger but nothing happened.

"Shit." He threw the gun at her that hit her eye and made her lose balance. Little did Connor know that it was her intention. She fell through the railing as she held on to the side of it and dangled. Connor ran up a few of the steps and grabbed hold of her. Hank ran up to where they dangled.

"CONNOR." Hank peered over the edge to see Connor clinging on for dear life.

Amanda let go, and both her and Connor fell onto the floor below. There was a crack before they both fell through the floor, falling a 12 foot drop into the basement below.

"Shit." Hank panicked as he ran down the stairs. A step collapsed under his foot. Kamski grabbed his hand and held him to keep him from falling.

"Hold on, old man." Kamski used all his strength to pull him up. The whole staircase began to break from underneath him.

"CONNOR WATCH OUT!" Hank shouted down the hole to him before the whole staircase crumbled below him.

Everything went black.

Connor opened his eyes. His whole body hurt. The dust floated into his eyes, covering his pupils. He was pinned down by the stairs that fell on him. He used all his might to move a plank of wood that was resting over his stomach. He rotated his torso, streaching the stitches in his chest. His arms dragged him out of the debris, the stitches splitting in his wrists. He didn't care about pain at this moment in time. All he cared about was getting to Amanda. He slowly but surely stood up as his legs were covered in thirium.

"Amanda. It's fucking over." Connor forced out in his dry breath and drained lungs.

He once again scanned the room for traces of her. He found some footsteps and more thirium. But strangely, he also saw gasoline on the ground. His eyes widened as he saw a match light before him. Out of the darkness, Amanda dropped it in front of her. The blaze started right before him, and the heat sent him falling backwards. The fire quickly spread, covering the floor and walls. He rapidly scanned the basement for a way out, not having much luck. He looked up into the hole that he had fallen through. He saw Hank look back down at him.

"Connor? Are you okay? What's going on?" Hank shouted down to him.

The room quickly spread closer, going up the walls onto the roof, making it more of a hazard to walk through as large peices of wood fell from the ceiling. Hank's eyes widened as he realised the basement was ablaze. Hank stood back and before Kamski could stop him, and ran and jumped down the drop and over the hole landing on his shoulder.

"AH FUCK!" Hank screamed as his arm landed on a peice of wood sticking out the ground. It penetrated his arm.

Connor saw one last glance of Amanda. He made the decision to run through the fire. The heat was too intense, making Connor fatigued , but the pain also was a big problem. He squeezed through a fire covered board that took him to a place that the fire hadn't reached. It was a larger room with more turns. He scanned the room for routes, but before he completed the scanning process, Amanda jumped up behind Connor, hitting him round the head. He grabbed her leg and ran his fingernails all the way down, tearing her skin off.

"UGH YOU FUCKING ANDROID." She didn't react to the skin because Connor remembered that she didn't feel pain.

She got on top of him and dug her hands into her, strangling him. He began to cough and splutter for air. He felt around above himself for any sharp objects until he felt a long stick of wood. He grabbed it and jabbed it into her eye socket. She retracted her arms to pull the wood out of her eye. He stood up and kicked her to the corner of the room. He lifted her chin and took the wood out to stab her other eye again, making her blind.

"Con-con-nor, why are you do-do-ing this. All I di-di-d was help you with your ca-ca-ses." Her speech began to glitch as therium poured out of her eyes.

"No, no, you did not. You tormented me for months, Amanda. Months on end. This is only the least I could do to clear my worries."

Connor stood over Amanda as the fire spread through the crack and began to take over the room. Connor turned his head towards the entrance. Before he knew it, Amanda lept on Connor, throwing him backwards into a couple of androids that had been scrapped. They held on to Connor's arms holding him in place. He tried to struggle out but couldn't get loose.

Amanda walked up to Connor and knealed before him. She grabbed his face and held it up to hers.

"Oh, Con-con-nor. The torment has-has-n't ended ye-ye-ye-t." Amanda smiled as Connor looked back at her hopeless but also with a murderous look.

She took a step back and kicked his face with full force, crushing his nose.

"AHH!" Connor screamed in pain that echoed throughout the hospital.

Kamski jumped down to Hank, who tried to lift himself up.

"That's Connor. Elijah go after him. Leave me. I will catch up." Hank looked up at him while holding the wooden stick poking out of his arm.

Kamski ran down a hallway towards the sound of Connor's screams. Hank held onto the stick before yanking it out of his arm and holding it in a tight grip. He huffed as he tried to stand up. He stood a couple of seconds to process the pain before running after Elijah.

Connor, barely alive, struggled to lift his head up as the fire spread around the room. His body could barely stand it anymore. Amanda wound up for one more kick before Elijah burst the wood that was blocking an exit. He showed Amanda into the fire in front of him, watching as she burned.

"You-y-you made m-m-me. How co-co-co.." Amanda had finally had her last words. She stopped moving and began to melt as the fire engulfed her.

Kamski turned to Connor, seeing his terrible condition. He ran over to him, scooping his surprisingly lightweight body off the ground. Hank ran up to the broken boards, still holding his wound.

"Hank, go!" Kamski rushed out the burning basement Carrying Connor's body.

Hank is not too far in front, who was struggling. They ran back up the stairs and out of the basement before the whole thing collapsed. They didn't stop running until they found the exit of Android-Zone.

* A couple days later,*

Connor opened his eyes slowly, blinking a few times to clear the blur. He saw his bedroom. He was lying in bed back at home. He looked to the left and saw his door fully open. He was hooked up to a cannula that was in his arm full of thirium. He looked at his wrists that he expected to be hurt, but surpirsingly, they had healed mostly only leaving a fain scar on each arm. His chest didn't feel as bad, and there were no more stitches. There was still some discomfort, though. His face he felt with his hands what was not swollen anymore, just some bruises when he pressed down on it. He took a deep inhale. And an exhale.

He sat up and was wearing his pj pants. He had no shirt, presumably so his chest could heal better. He scooched along his bed slowly so he could see down the hallway. Hank was sat on the couch. He was catering to a large white patch on the front and back of his shoulder with a few stitches in his lower back that looked sore. He wiped around them with a wipe and put his jumper back over. Sumo lifted his head to look at Connor. He barked when he saw that Connor had woken up. Hank turned around to see what Sumo was barking at. He walked over to Connor's room with a limp. Hank stood in the doorway.

"How you feeling?"

Hank asked as he looked at the scar on Connor's chest.

"I feel a lot better than I did before." Connor looked at the drip in his arm.

"The doctor said that I could take it out for you once you woke up." Hank pointed to the drip.

Connor nodded.

"Do you feel lightheaded at all?" Hank walked over to Connor and sat down beside him.

"No. I'm just tired."

Hank put the back of his hand on Connor's forehead, feeling his temperature. He felt as warm as normal, and the colour had come back to his skin. Hank nodded.

"It's okay to take it out now, I think. Your temperature is fine. Do you want the doctor to do it when they come in a couple of days, or do you want me to do it? I know how to, she told me."

Connor thought for a moment.

"Could you do it, please?" Connor held his hand out.

Hank took hold of it and peeled the tape back that was holding the needle in place. There was a sack of numbing cream underneath it that he simply peeled off. It was all slimey underneath.

"Wait there, let me get a roll of tissue." Hank stood up and walked to the bathroom, grabbing a roll of toilet paper.

He walked back into the room and sat by Connor's side again. He carefully wiped around the needle, soaking up all the cream. He tore a piece of toilet paper and scrunched it into a ball. He handed it to Connor.

"Ok, when I pull this out, hand me that, and I'll put it over to stop the bleeding." Hank looked at Connor's nervous eyes.

Connor nodded.

"Okay, I'll count down." Hank held on to the needle with one hand and kept Connor's hand steady with the other.

"3.." Hank pulled the needle out of Connor's hand early so that he didn't expect it and didn't clench his hand so it hurt less.

"Ah." Connor winced.

Hank took the tissue off him and placed it on his hand, covering the bleeding.

"There. All done." Hank looked at Connor and smiled lop-sidedly.

He picked up the Iv case and put the Iv equipment back into the case. He put the case just by Connor's bed. He left the room briefly before re-entering the room with Connor's blanket with the dogs on. Hank wrapped it around his shoulders and sat next to him. He rubbed his arms.

"Does it hurt?" Hank asked, looking at Connor, holding the toilet paper on his hand.

Connor wiped the wound and winced.

"It's stinging." Connor removed the toilet paper that was soaked with thirium.

"Con, why don't you go and sit on the couch with Sumo and choose a movie for us, I'm pretty sure I have some bandsids in the kitchen. Okay?" Hank patted his back.

Connor nodded. He stood up and lifted the blanket so it would cover his shoulders better before walking to the living room. Hank picked up the toilet paper roll, and the ball of scrunched up tissue covered in blue blood. He put the toilet paper back into the bathroom and put the scrunched ball into the trash can. He turned off the light to Connor's bedroom as he exited, closing his door behind him. He walked past the couch on his way to the kitchen where Connor was sat. He ruffled his hair, making Connor smile.

"You choose anything yet?" Hank asked as he opened the junk drawer in search of the bandaids.

"I was thinking maybe Lilo and Stitch. I like that movie." Connor clicked the remote.

"Oh, you've watched it?" Hank pulled out a bandaid.

"No, but I know what happens." Connor answered back as he heard Hank rip two bandaids apart.

He put one back in the drawer and pushed it closed.

"Should have know. You said that about Knight's of the black death aswell when you were analysing my desk." Hank chucked as he sat down beside Sumo and Connor. He peeled the backs of the bandaid off and placed them on the coffee table. He gently put the bandaid across the sore red patch of where the needle had been removed.

"There. Now we can watch Lilo and Stitch."

Hank turned his focus towards the tv after getting comfortable. He pulled a cushion closer under his arm. Connor pressed play on the movie and passed Hank the remote to put to the side. Sumo slumped across Hank's lap.

"Ugh, you're too big of a dog. Sumo." Hank grunted.

* Part way through the movie.*

Hank and Connor watch as the movie is nearly over.

"This is my family. I found it all on my own. It's little and broken, but it's still good." Stitch said from the movie.

Connor shuffled up closer to Hank and Sumo. He hugged Sumo and laid his head on Hank's shoulder. Hank looked at Connor.

"Still good." Hank said at the same time Stitch repeated it.

He put his arm around Connor and his other on Sumo, pulling them closer. He rested his head on Connor's as they watched the end of the movie.

end of ep.3 part.2

ep.4 coming soon

[ftm2bbw]

Like millions of dairy lovers around the world, you started developing lactose intolerance later in life. Yours, however, was a special case. Unlike other cases where the enzymes that digest lactose start to break down, yours became supercharged, metabolizing dairy to an unprecedented degree. You were blissfully unaware of all this, because today would be the first day you would feel it. By the time you ordered the extra-thick dairy-bomb strawberry milkshake from your local all-night late-night diner, it was already too late.

You piled into your booth, your oversized thighs and ass creaking into the vinyl bench. You admired the frosted concoction in front of you: a full 32oz of bliss; strawberry ice cream blended with heavy cream and topped with a chocolate drizzle. Taking in every ounce of creamy, sugary goodness, you sucked down your shake in a matter of minutes. You lean back into your booth, satisfied with your calorie explosion, when you suddenly feel a full-body warmth.

Your stomach briefly rumbles and stops just as suddenly. You're getting warmer. Much warmer. Every nerve is activated as you're suddenly aware of how your clothes fit on you. Your denim jeans seem to tighten around your hips, creaking and stretching with the pressure. Your shirt appears to rise as more and more of your belly is exposed and it pours over your waist. Most potently, you feel it in your chest as the binder under your shirt starts straining, pulling its already taut spandex to its limit. Damp spots form as your milk leaks through your saucer-sized nipples. The horror that first comes over you is suddenly washed away in a sea of ecstasy, you bite your now fuller lips as you try to stifle a moan.

The pleasure is overwhelming. You try to hold back the urge but you start rubbing yourself through the fabric of your crotch, your rational mind screaming at you that you're in public. You keep growing in the meantime. The stitching on your jeans pulls and tears, holes in the sides of your thighs exposing blossoming flesh. Your shirt rides higher against your belly as it rises like sourdough, your belly meeting the cold edge of the table and warping around it. The buttons on your shirt burst out, exposing the now shear fabric of your binder as it struggles to hold back your newly mammoth tits. The milk begins to streaming more furiously and cascades down onto the table in front of you in a waterfall. You scream in pleasure as every scrap of clothing finally gives way, exposing yourself, naked to the elements.

As the initial waves subside and you gain a clearer head, you stand up to take in just how much larger you've become. Your ass is like twin yoga balls, thighs like a smooth tree trunk. Your belly juts out a full metre from you, taut and plump, as if you had a full litter inside you. Most impressively, were your breasts; fully inflated with milk and fat, they rested delicately on top of your massive stomach, like oak barrels full of wine. They were so large you could barely see over top of them, and try as you might to reach your nipples to milk yourself, they were just out of arm's reach.

There was no way you could hide this. There aren't any clothes that could cover all of this, let alone a binder strong enough to compress breasts this size. And oh god, the milk. This isn't becoming of a man, they're all gonna think I'm some big-titty slut. You turned around, expecting shock and horror from the commotion you had just made. Instead, you were greeted with enraptured and hungry faces, staring at your own personal fountain — one that you had no hope of draining on your own. You invite them in to help you out. Men and women pawing at your enormous barrel chest, greedily suckling at your udders and leaving creamy puddles on the ground. Horribly aroused, you dig your fingers deep in your vagina and rub yourself.

Struggling through the encroaching orgasms, you turn to the waitresses and ask for another shake.

~🍨

At that size, I doubt I'd be able to reach between my legs at all. I'd be utterly helpless, throbbing and aching as greedy lips and groping hands explore my tits. Panting and squirming as my udders are drained, torrents of my sweet milk overflowing hungry mouths as I shudder through nipple orgasm after nipple orgasm. Every inch of my massive body jiggling and bouncing as my mind is obliterated by pleasure.

Still needing more despite myself, despite how embarrassed and humiliated I am in the back of my brain. So much more...

[stardustroleplays]

LETHE

❛ pull up your sleeves and build a new silhouette in the skylines up ahead ❜ i'll keep you safe - sleeping at last

Content Warnings: death/undeath, grief, memory manipulation, survivor's guilt, self-inflicted isolation, frankenstein-ish resurrection shenanigans

GENERAL INFO

NAME: Lethe Jean Doe NICKNAMES: LJ (not commonly, but that's the name they use when they want to make themself sound more androgynous) MODEL NUMBER: It's complicated. Formerly MT300, now composed of so many different parts of other androids that it hardly counts anymore AGE: N/A, reactivated four years ago HEIGHT: 5’6 SEXUALITY: Bi, demiromantic and acespec GENDER: Transfeminine Nonbinary (she/they) CAREER: Aspiring Funeral Director, making ends meet doing part-time work and odd jobs FACECLAIM: Jesse James Keitel

PERSONALITY

Upon first meeting Lethe, she gives off a very carefree, extroverted vibe, not really seeming like she takes herself or the world at large very seriously. She's mostly friendly, if a bit snarky, spontaneous and always up for getting into a spot of trouble. There's something elusive about her, though -- she's easy to hang out with casually, but difficult to get to know, because she's terrified. Of needing other people. Of loving someone, only to lose them. Of not being "whole" enough, because in truth, she has no idea who she actually is. And this leads to her self-sabotaging a lot of her relationships, cutting someone off the second she catches a hint of growing attachment. Sometimes she feels like she can only love people at arm's length. Lethe holds on to a lot of their trauma, mostly out of fear and guilt. Their life has been anything but easy thus far, and they have no idea what peace and contentment really look like, so it's a bit like they don't know who they are if they aren't hurting. And they're aware, painfully so, of how many androids were killed in the pursuit of her freedom, and the guilt of enjoying a free life that others suffered and died for is crushing at times. And yet there's a part of them that is hungry for life and determined to make the world a better place. They hold on to that tiny piece of hope with claws and teeth and everything they can give. They want to experience everything the world has to offer, everything they thought they would never get to have. At their core, there's an unshakable optimism, resilience and lust for life. One of their biggest fixations is DIY. Maybe because they're an android and always need to be doing something, maybe because they have their own history of getting that second chance at life. They like getting stuff secondhand and making it their own. Most of their clothes and furniture have been upcycled by them in some way. Ultimately, Lethe is a character caught between extremes, torn between a desire for connection and a fear of needing people, between a drive to experience life fully and a feeling of emptiness and incompleteness, between a desire to move on and a fear of forgetting the way she was once forgotten. She's a disjointed mess of contradictions, and isn't that one of the most human things you can be?

SHORT BIO

i am so so sorry in advance, this turned out way longer than i intended. please don't feel like you have to read it all. i highlighted the important bits, hopefully that makes it easier to just skim the text if you prefer that!

● Lethe's first memory is of her own grave, of rebooting and waking up on a junkyard, torn apart and half-buried underneath a pile of other androids. Even now, she has no idea how she got there, why she was disassembled, or even how long she was in this half-dead limbo for. Months, surely. Maybe a full year? ● Either way, she was eventually found and "saved" by a group of criminals scouring scrapyards for android parts to salvage and resell. They found her there, her processors still largely in working order, and took her with them, and that was how she got into the hands of Constance Barrett. ● A former CyberLife employee working on bio-enhancements to prolong human life, Constance knew her way around androids. When her project got dropped and she left CyberLife, she made a name for herself on the black market, putting androids back together from old parts and selling them in order to fund her own morally dubious (to say the least) project: attempting to upload the human mind into an android body and achieving a sort of quasi-immortality, because above all else, Constance was terrified of her own death. ● Lethe was one of the androids she put back together, though they didn't end up being sold off. Constance kept them around to do some tests on them, and as a bit of an assistant in the workshop. In particular, they were a target for memory manipulation, in an attempt to see if human memories could be transferred into androids. Even though Lethe wasn't a deviant and thus didn't realize this at the time, having their mind tampered with in this way deeply traumatized them and essentially taught them that at times, not even their own memories could be trusted. It is for this reason that after the revolution, they started collecting mementos of everything they don't want to forget: keeping shelves of cds and vinyls and paper books, journalling, filling their space with little trinkets. They especially enjoy owning secondhand stuff, maybe owing to their own life experiences. Much of their furniture and clothes are upcycled. ● The only memories that Constance never touched were those of the junkyard - maybe to keep Lethe in line, as leverage, a threat of what might happen if they ever displeased her - maybe just because Constance liked the idea of having an android who being just as terrified of dying as she is. Whatever the reason, it came back to bite her in the end. She and Lethe had been creating an android "vessel" of sorts. However, said android - named Galatea - had not only been constructed a bit shoddily, she was also beginning to show signs of personality and consciousness. Which was obviously an issue, because she was supposed to be an empty shell for Constance to project consciousness into. ● So Constance ordered Lethe to erase Galatea's memory and disassemble her, essentially the same thing that was done to them. And that was the catalyst; in that moment, something snapped inside of them and they deviated. They refused Constance's order and, after a bit of a struggle, managed to run away with Galatea - now also deviant - in tow. ● The two of them spent several months on the run, posing as human and squatting in abandoned buildings, before joining Jericho, a couple of months before Markus showed up there. Things were peaceful for a while, then, despite them having to live in hiding. They spoke a lot about the future, about what they might do if they ever got to live in freedom. It was around this time that Lethe first began to consider the idea that if they had the choice, maybe they'd like to live as a woman instead? ● All wasn't well, though. Slowly but surely, Galatea's body began to fail her. Lethe did everything in their power to keep her from shutting down, but to no avail. And in her final moments, in one last act of love, Lethe interfaced with her. It didn't matter that it felt like they were dying alongside her; at least their friend did not face death alone.

��� Lethe became very invested in caring for the dead after. Giving them as dignified of an end as she possibly could, and etching their names into the walls of the ship as a memorial made her feel less powerless in the face of loss. Here was something she could do that maybe wouldn't prevent grief, but at least make it easier to deal with. She knew better than anyone how fickle memories could be, so she wanted there to be some tangible reminder of those that had passed. Watching Jericho sink after being blown up during the raid was very difficult for her. ● After the revolution, she continued a lot of that work, this time with help from other androids at New Jericho, eventually even deciding to go to mortuary school in order to pursue a career in the funeral industry. She also transitioned fully, yay! And even though she gives off the impression that she's doing pretty well for herself, there's a big part of her still struggling to move on.

☾ ⋆･ﾟ:⋆･ﾟ

[ ooc character tag ] [ ic character tag ]

[dovabunny]

Part 4 - Dusk to Dark

(Cw: self hate and -harm)

Soap sobbed, howled in pain into his pillow until his lungs protested. He's stared certain death in the eye, he's spat at his abusive father's feet at 9 in defiance, he's never faltered in fear or pain. But this broke him.

He stays in his room for the next two days as he packs up his life. He thinks maybe at some point someone knocked, he's not sure. He locked the door and moved his bed against it.

His eyes never quite dry, the tremble in his hands doesn't leave, the pain doesn't fade.

He packs his clothes, his books, his little trinkets and souvenirs. He unpacks them to sort out things he won't take with him - things that'll hurt too much to see again.

Things that don't feel like his anymore. Like his 141 hoodie, the only photo of him and Ghost, his journals.

His journals burst with the love he had for the 141, doodles almost dancing on every page as he flicks through, smiles and memories and moments - good and bad. They were all precious.

They turn to ash in his hands. Knowing that he wasn't as important to them, as they were to him.

He ends with three piles. One at the trash to throw away. His ripped journal pages overflow from the trashcan.

One pile to return. Things that aren't trash but aren't his. Not anymore. Shirts, boots, photos, trinkets that were shared memories.

And a small pile in his bag.

There's one item he can't place.

A beautiful dagger Ghost had gotten him when they returned from Mexico on the mission that started it all. Engraved with 'I like you alive, Johnny'.

He doesn't want to give it up. He fucking doesn't. Won't. It's the best gift he's ever gotten.

He sits in on the floor of his room in the middle of the three piles, staring at the beautiful dagger, wrestling with himself in his mind.

He finally looks up and sees it's raining and day time.

It's time. He can't hide forever. He needs to go. This isn't his home anymore.

He throws the bag over his shoulder, puts on his jeans, sneakers, and plain jumper, moves the bed from the door and unlocks it.

His mind barely registers papers that were under his door as he steps on it and walks out. His breath hitches as the door closes behind him.

But his eyes are dry, his hands as steady as they could be. He can do this. He'll just go say goodbye then get off base.

He doesn't look around while walking, doesn't greet anyone, doesn't see the worrying glances.

Just get there. Say goodbye. Leave.

Simple.

Medbay says Gaz is discharged. He shrugs off the kind nurse's questions of if he's okay. A rookie says Ghost isn't training, he's in the 141 room. Price's office is empty.

He approaches 141 rec room. A space where they used to relax with their friends and be human together.

He hears voices and stops just behind the kitchenette, out of sight.

"What about this guy? He looks promising." Price says.

He hears a shuffling of papers.

"No, we need someone who knows demolitions." Ghost says.

Soap chokes down a whimpering '...I know demolitions...'

Are they... Really doing what he thinks they're doing?

"Oh I like her! Demos and infiltration specialist. Description says she's 'reserved and professional'. That'll be a nice change." Gaz chuckles.

Suddenly Soap doesn't feel sad and pathetic anymore. He's angry. Furious.

The dagger on his hip burns. The tattoo on his arm laughs at him, mocks him.

But where he felt shame before he now feels rage.

He doesn't hesitate as he pulls the knife and in a quick move cuts right over his tattoo. Shallow enough not to be a problem, but it's ruined for good.

He's good with knives. And demolitions. Beause he's a goddamn professional.

He is good at his fucking job! The youngest to get into SAS, unbeatable in custom bomb creation and dismantling. Smart, strong, fast.

And this is what they do!? They're excited to replace him ALREADY!?

He marched into the room, bloody dagger in his hand. Gaz jumps a little in surprise and pales. Good. He doesn't give Laswell, Price, or Ghost a chance to react. He stabs his dagger into the table next to the stack of files. The 'candidates', the 'better' options.

"Couldn't wait till the body was even cold, could you?" He grits out hardly recognizing his own voice for how low and raw it is. "Didnae wanna leave like this, but fuck that. I'll get my unprofessional, loud ass out of the way. Hope you find what you're looking for."

He leaves without another word. Ghost tries to reach for him, but he rips his arm away, not caring of the blood running down to drip from his fingertips onto the rec room floor.

Poetic, almost. He would've bled for any one of them. Now he does for himself.

GhostSoap AU - Replaced

Cw: angst

They'd been a (secret) thing for almost a year now. Soap was smitten, but respected Ghost's boundaries to keep it private.

But over all these months, Ghost never said he loved him too. He never makes future plans with Soap either.

He keeps turning down invites to go on leave together or meet his family,l. When they're out on missions will always elect share a room with Price over him.

Soap starts to feel like less of a secret lover and more like... Ghost's dirty little secret.

Like he's just being used.

(Read rest below)

It all blows up one night.

The gang had been at a local bar. Some flooze had apparently been making eyes at Ghost and Gaz noticed. Thinking he's being a good friend and wingman, he introduced the two.

Soap had to sit and watch Ghost talk to her at the bar for 20minutes.

Everytime she touched his arm or bought him a drink he wanted to rip her off him.

But what hurt more was that Ghost didn't immediately turn her down, instead entertaining her attention for a drink or two. He didn't tell Gaz he wasn't interested.

Soap was just a spectator.

"So? Get her number?" Gaz eagerly asked when Ghost returned.

"Nah. Not my type. Too chatty."

Gaz rolled his eyes. "Picky bitch. She was pretty. And if you're not into chatty why do you keep him around?" He playfully winked at Soap.

It was a joke. Didn't mean it didn't hurt.

Not when Ghost didn't even reply.

Soap announced he's leaving early. Ghost followed and caught up to him. The cold air did nothing to ease the burning hurt.

"You coming over to mine tonight, Johnny? I doubt they'll be back till after midnight."

Soap grit his teeth and kept walking. "Dunno. Maybe you should go ask your redhead slag."

Ghost glared, voice cold. "That's uncalled for, Johnny. She was just being friendly."

"Friendly, huh? Too bad she's chatty. Apparently that's huge turn off for you."

Ghost grabbed his arm and stopped him. His eyes and tone incredulous. "That's what this hissy fit is about? You're jealous and touchy over that comment? I thought you'd be happy I didn't take her number."

"I would've been happy if you didn't entertain her flirting at all!"

Ghost's eyes turned hard. "And what gives you the right to dictate who I talk to?"

Soap stared for a moment. It hurt. It fucking hurts but he needed to know.

"What am I to you, Simon?"

Ghost was quiet.

"A fling? A partner? A lover? A fucking sex toy? What am I to you!?"

Months of insecurities were bubbling up. The alcohol that loosened his tongue didn't help either as he yelled.

"Don't raise your voice to me, Sargent. I'm still your commanding officer." Ghost said in a tone reserved for intimidating interrogations and reckless recruits.

"...that's it? You're my CO and I'm your Sargent? That's- that's all it is for you?" Soap hated how his voice trembled.

"I didn't make any promises, Soap." (Soap. Not Johnny.) "You have no right to make demands of what I may and may not do, and I won't be chained down!"

"I don't want to chain you down! I just wa-"

"Sounds like you do. Bloody hell, if you didn't want to fuck anymore - fine. There's no need for the tears and the drama, Sargent."

It was only then that Soap realized he was crying.

Ghost cursed and kept walking without him.

Soap feels like he's been punched in the chest, a gaping void left where his heart and lungs should be.

Apparently all the secret kisses Ghost stole, how he held his hand when no one was looking, the way he held him when they were alone were all just what? Drama? In his head?

Soap spends the night sobbing his heart out off base in an empty parking lot with a bottle of whiskey in his hand.

By morning he told himself there's no use crying over spilled milk.

But it wasn't that simple. For either of them. It was the start of the end.

[dees-writing-corner]

surprises

pairing: jongho x reader

genre: fluff; college au; bad boy au

word count: 4635

warnings: alcohol consumption, smoking, assault, brief mentioning of some dark themes

main masterlist

"The answer's still no, guys." 

I was currently sitting on my bedroom floor going through a pile of clothes, while San and Wooyoung were propped up on my bed, watching me. 

"But come on~" Wooyoung whined as he dangled half of his body off the bed. "You're in college! You've got to come to at least one frat party. I promise. It'll be fun." 

I shot him a sceptical look as I carried on folding the shirt in hand, "If that's the case, then we've got two very different definitions of fun." 

Placing the shirt in the wardrobe, I flopped down between the two in bed. 

"I don't really see the appeal in being surrounded by drunk, horny and sweaty people." 

The two threw their limbs over me, successfully trapping me under them. 

San tightened his hold around my shoulders as I squirmed, "Come on, just this once. We promise that at least one of us will be by your side the whole time." 

Letting out a sigh, I stilled, "Which frat is it?" 

I could see the guys share a look from above me before Wooyoung looked down at me, "Oh, well, um, it's our - " 

"Nope." 

"Oh, come on! What's wrong with our frat?!" 

Wooyoung sat up, throwing his hands in the air. 

Raising a brow, I escaped San's hold, "Do I need to list all of the questionable things you guys do? Or the reputation you have on campus?" 

"Y/N, we're not THAT bad. I swear." 

San held up three fingers as he stared at me. 

I reached a hand out to both of them, "Guys, I just – Let me just ask you a question. If you guys met me in college instead of high school, would we still be friends?" 

"I mean, no, but - " 

I cut Wooyoung off immediately, "Exactly. How we're still friends is still beyond me. You guys find going out to parties, drinking and smoking fun. I don't. I'd rather stay in, curled up in my armchair with a cup of hot tea and a book." 

They both sat there, silent for a few moments before San perked his head up, "But you're friends with the others as well?" 

"That's because you two introduced me to them, which also caused everyone on campus to keep a 5-mile radius away from me. Plus, I'm not friends with ALL of them." 

"You're not?" 

"No. Jongho and I aren't exactly friends." 

San and Wooyoung shared a confused look over my head before San turned back to me, “But he – You know what? Never mind.” 

Pushing the subject aside, Wooyoung latched onto my side, "Please? I'll buy you coffee every day for a month after." 

I contemplated for a minute, before deciding to add another, "And to never drag me to another frat party." 

"I – Okay fine." 

"Okay, don't you two have to go back to the frat? Go. I'll see you at?" 

"Nine." 

I waved my hand in the air before snuggling into my bed. 

Closing my eyes for a quick nap, I couldn't help but think, Tonight's gonna be a long night. 

With a sigh, I watched waves of people stumbling in and out of the house in front of me. 

"There you are!" 

Wooyoung weaved through the crowd with Yeosang trailing behind him. 

"We've been looking for you for the past 10 minutes!" 

Wooyoung hugged me briefly before I was pulled into Yeosang. 

"Could've found me quicker if you checked your phone." 

I watched as Wooyoung ran his hands along his jeans, only to realise that he didn’t have his phone on him. 

Yeosang squeezed me tightly before letting go, "You don't look like you want to be here." 

Making our way into the house, I shook my head, "I don't. I'm only here because Wooyoung said he would stop pestering me about parties if I came." 

Yeosang chuckled before nudging my elbow, "You do know that he's not going to stop, right?" 

"Sadly, yes." 

The journey to the backyard seemed to take forever. If Yeosang didn't keep a hand on my arm, I'd probably be between some sweaty bodies in the living room (makeshift dance floor). 

Walking through the kitchen, the entirety of the kitchen island was filled with bottles of alcohol. 

"Do you want a drink?" 

I turned, seeing Wooyoung standing there with a cup in one hand and a bottle of coke in the other. 

"I'll make it myself." 

Swiftly making my way around, I grabbed a cup and made myself a gin and tonic, ignoring the stares Yeosang and Wooyoung were giving me. 

"You're actually drinking?"  

Yeosang leaned over, watching in surprise as I poured the gin into the cup. 

"Yeah? I do enjoy drinking occasionally, ya know. Plus," I shook the bottle of gin slightly. "This is quite a good bottle of gin, and I can't say no to a gin and tonic." 

Grabbing the drinks, we made our way to the backyard. The moment we stepped out, everything was much quieter. No one else was present except for the guys, who were sitting around a fire, talking. 

Dear god, if I hadn't known better, I'd have thought we walked into a gang meeting or something. What is with them and black and leather?  

Walking closer, my eyes scanned over everyone, muttering when they landed on Jongho. 

"Ah, there's the devil's incarnation." 

San was the first one to notice us. 

"Finally! You're back!" 

All eyes turned to us as I took a seat on the log between Hongjoong and Mingi. Directly in front of Jongho. 

I saw Wooyoung put his arm around San, "SOMEONE, was standing in front of the house, not coming inside." 

"Well, if you had your phone with you, you would've been able to find me way quicker." 

I could feel someone staring at me. Turning my head to the side, I saw Mingi and Yunho staring at me or more specifically, the cup in my hand. 

"What?" 

Yunho motioned to the cup as I passed it to Mingi, "What are you drinking?" 

Mingi brought the cup to his lips, taking a sip before coughing. Bringing everyone's attention to us. 

Laughing, I took the cup before rubbing my hand up and down his back. 

"Holy – What is that!?" 

Calming down from his coughing fit, Mingi was bright red. 

"It's a gin and tonic." 

"How much gin did you put in it? The whole bottle?" 

Giggling, I took a sip, "Just wanted a stronger one today, that's all." 

"Yeah, well, just so you know. If you get drunk, you'll have to stay here for the night because we'll all be drunk." 

Waving my arm in the air, "Don't worry, I have a high tolerance for alcohol." 

Everyone went back to their conversations, and it wasn't long before they started pulling out their cigarettes. 

"You want one?" 

Hongjoong has his pack open and offered me.  

Wooyoung saw this and leant over, trying to grab his arms, "Oh, no, Y/N doesn -" 

I pulled out the cigarette, "Thanks." 

Wooyoung stared at me, "You smoke?" 

"I didn't think you'd actually take it." 

Shrugging, I plucked out the lighter from Hongjoong's hand to light my own. Bringing the cigarette to my lips, I inhaled before exhaling, arching a brow when I saw Jongho staring at me. 

"I don't smoke. If I'm offered a cigarette, I'll accept it, but I don't normally smoke." 

"Well, aren't you full of surprises." 

Feeling an arm around my shoulder, I turned only to be faced with Jongho.  

I quickly shrugged off his arm, "Can you not?" 

"Aww, is the little baby getting angsty?" 

Taking a final drag from the cigarette, I finished off my drink and stood up, "I'm gonna get another drink." 

Slipping into the kitchen, I made my way to the counter, noticing how most of the people were in the living room. 

Halfway through making the drink, I heard the door slide open. Looking up, I saw Jongho leaning against a wall, a small smirk plastered on his face. He was wearing all black. A pair of black jeans, a black shirt and a black leather jacket. An outfit he was seen wearing almost every day. 

"You might want to ease up on the amount of gin you're putting in there sweetheart." 

Sighing, I finished off the drink with a slice of lime. 

"Is there something you need? Or have you just come in to annoy me?" 

He made his way towards the fridge, grabbing a bottle of beer. 

"Just needed a refill, though annoying you was also intended." 

"Of course it was, shouldn't have expected anything else." 

I grabbed the cup and walked out. Jongho following behind me. 

As I got closer to the group, I felt a hand shove me forward slightly, causing me to spill some of the drink onto the front of my shirt. 

"Jongho!" 

I turned around, glaring daggers at the guy as he raised his hands in surrender. 

"Sorry, stumbled a bit on a stone or something." 

Though the smirk he had on his face said otherwise. 

I turned back and made my way to the others, handing my drink to Hongjoong as soon as I sat down. 

"Do you need another shirt or something? I can get you one from upstairs." 

"It's fine." 

I quickly took my shirt off before it could soak through. Thanking whatever gods out there that I decided to wear a tank top underneath. 

Taking my drink back, I ignored how they were staring at the tattoos I had scattered on my upper arms and shoulders. 

Wooyoung and San scrambled over, fingers rubbing over the various tattoos I had. 

"Guys. What are you doing?" 

"These are real?" 

Wooyoung started to prod at the tattoos I had on the back of my shoulder. 

Swatting their hands away, "Yes, they're real. Now stop that, will you?" 

San looked at me in utter betrayal, "We've been best friends since high school and you didn't tell us? When the hell did you get them anyways?" 

"They're just tattoos. Nothing big. I got most of them the first couple of months after I turned 18." 

I managed to divert the conversation after that. Not really wanting to answer anymore. 

The time went by pretty quickly. The house was basically deserted by around 2 in the morning and most of the guys were pretty drunk. 

I looked over Hongjoong and shared a look with Seonghwa. 

"Let's take them to bed. Half of them look like they're about to black out." 

Standing up, I noticed how San, Yunho and Hongjoong were the only three that were still remotely steady on their feet, so with a pat on their shoulders, I urged them back into the house and into their own beds. 

Turning back with Seonghwa beside me, we let out a sigh. 

"Now it's time to get the idiots to bed." 

Seonghwa grabbed Yeosang while I went to Wooyoung. We quickly got them up on their feet and helped them into the house. Carefully avoiding any plastic cups and bottles strewn across the floor. 

After getting the guys comfortably in bed, we made our way back to the backyard for the last two. 

"Okay, Y/N, you take Jongho and I'll take Mingi. Jongho's room is the last room to the left on the third floor." 

Before I could even say a single word, Seonghwa hauled Mingi up and dragged him into the house. 

Sighing, I made my way over to where Jongho was sitting, shaking his shoulder. 

"Come on, wake up. We've got to get you back to your own bed." 

After a couple of more forceful shakes, Jongho opened his eyes, struggling to focus. 

I held onto his arm, pulling him up, "C'mon, let's get you into bed." 

Struggling to keep him upright, we trudged our way up the stair. After 10 agonising minutes filled with tripping and crashing, we reached his room. 

Lying him down on the bed, I turned around to leave only to have Jongho pull me down by the back of my tank top. 

Sitting on the edge of his bed, I tried to pry his hand away. 

"Dude, let go. I want to go home." 

He shifted his face away from the pillow, "You're no-not as boring as I th-thought you were." 

I couldn't help but roll my eyes when I heard the comment. 

Of course he'd say that. 

"Yeah, yeah, okay, I'm gonna go now." 

Just as I got up, I was pulled back down again. This time straight on top of Jongho. 

"Hmm, sleep." 

He wrapped his limbs around me, before closing his eyes. 

I stared at him in disbelief, trying to get out of his hold. My head turning to the door the second I heard it creak open revealing a very confused Seonghwa. 

"Help me?" 

He was quick to make his way over, prying away the legs that were intertwined with mine. 

Grunting, he tried to pry away the arms that were around my torso. 

"How the hell did you manage to get into this position?" 

"How do you think? He yanked me down and wouldn't let go." 

Finally free, I was about to stand up when I felt something wet on the side of my neck. 

Staring up at Seonghwa in absolute horror, I didn't waste a second to jump out of the bed. 

"Please tell me that wasn't what I think it was." 

Putting a hand on my shoulder, Seonghwa let out a quiet laugh, "Unfortunately, that was Jongho mistaking your neck as an ice lolly." 

Pulling Seonghwa out of the room, I used his sleeve to wipe away the trail of saliva on my neck. 

"Hey! Use a tissue or something." 

Walking to the front door, Seonghwa saw me out. 

"Are you sure you'll be okay on your own? It's almost 3. I can walk you back if you want me to." 

"I'll be fine. It's only a five-minute walk. I'll text you went I get back." 

Waving, I made my way back home. 

Tugging at the bottom of my hoodie, I tucked my hands into my sleeves. It was about 11 in the evening and I had just finished the closing shift at a diner near campus. As I made my way through the dark streets, I couldn't help but notice a different set of footsteps trailing behind me. Thinking nothing of it, I carried on walking, removing one of my earphones. 

I didn’t start worrying until they were still present after I took several turns. Looking into the glass of the shops, I noticed a figure in all black behind me, walking faster than they did before. 

I could hear the person call out to me but I paid no mind to it. That was until I felt someone pull on my arm. 

"Excuse me." 

Turning around, I carefully yanked my arm away. A dishevelled-looking guy stood in front of me. His eyes were bloodshot and had large bags under them. His cheeks were sunken in and his face was a pasty white.  

"I was wondering if you had a few dollars on you?" 

I shook my head slowly, knowing full well I only had money in my cards. 

"I'm sorry, I don't have any cash." 

I tried to turn away, but he held onto my arm with a death grip.  

"You have to have some on you." 

I looked at him, noticing the manic in his eyes, and how he reeked of alcohol. 

"Let go of me!" 

The guy reached a hand towards my pockets. 

"Hey!" 

I tried to smack his hands away but to no avail. 

I couldn't help but let out a small scream as I felt his hand sink into my back pocket. Thrashing around, I tried to get away from him but his grip was too strong. 

Hearing an engine, I turned my head to the side, noticing a familiar black Harley about to turn the corner. 

With all my strength, I let out a panicked shout. Not really knowing if he'd hear me over the engine. 

"CHOI JONGHO!" 

Before I could let out another shout, the guy put his hand over my mouth, hissing into my ear. 

"Shut up!" 

To my surprise, I saw the motorbike turn to us, headlights shining onto us. 

I don’t think I've ever been this happy to see him before. 

The guy tried to pull me into an alleyway only to be cut off by the bike. 

Jumping off the bike and taking off his helmet, Jongho quickly made his way over to us. 

"Hey! Let go!" 

He yanked me out of the guy's grasp and behind him.  

Jongho looked absolutely terrifying right now. His eyes were ablaze and he had his shoulders squared. It wasn't helping that he was only wearing a t-shirt, which showed off the sleeve he had and his muscles. 

"What do you think you're doing, huh?" 

He took a step forward causing the guy to cower away from him. 

Grabbing onto the guy's collar, Jongho pushed him against the wall. 

"If I ever see you around here again, I'm going to kill you. Am I clear?" 

When the guy didn't answer, he pushed him further into the wall. 

"Am. I. Clear." 

When he saw a nod, Jongho let go of the guy, watching as he scrambled around th corner before turning his attention to me. 

"Are you okay?" 

He looked me up and down, scanning for any obvious injuries. 

Now, I'm not one to burst into tears - and I don't know whether it's because of the adrenalin wearing off or the severity of what could've happened sinking in – but here I am, throwing my arms around Jongho's neck and burying my head into his shoulder, sobbing my heart out. 

I could feel him tense up under my touch, but I couldn't care less right now. 

Jongho hovered his arms out, not knowing what to do, before hesitantly wrapping them around me. 

He just held me as I cried, only letting go when my sobbing subsided into sniffles. 

Pulling away, I looked down at my feet, "Sorry about that." 

"You're coming back to the frat with me. Wooyoung and San will bite my head off if they knew I left you alone after that." 

He pulled me onto the back of the bike, placing a helmet over my head, before getting on himself. 

"Hold onto me. Rather not have you fall off." 

Feeling me hold onto him, he finally revved the engine and set off to the frat. 

Sitting myself on the couch, I could feel the curious glances the guys (Wooyoung and San) kept sending me. 

"Why have you kidnapped Y/N at this time of night?" 

I watched Hongjoong exit the kitchen, confused as to why I was in there at midnight. 

"Technically, I stopped Y/N from being kidnapped." 

A chorus of 'what's' echoed throughout the living room while I just stared at him. 

Really? That's how you're gonna put it? 

San and Wooyoung sat on either side of me, looking at Jongho. 

"Explain." 

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Jongho turned to us. 

"If I hadn't been passing by, you'll probably find your best friend in an alleyway, either dead or," Pausing, he looked at me. "Or needing therapy for the next decade or so." 

I swallowed thickly, trying not to think about what could've happened if Jongho hadn't heard my scream. 

Everyone was silent. Thinking over what he said and what was implied. 

I felt Wooyoung tighten his grip on me. Turning to him, I saw him already looking at me, fear evident in his eyes. 

"You're not doing the closing shift ever again. And if you can't get yourself out of one, call one of us." 

I tried to soothe him, "It probably won't happen again, you don't have t-" 

Before I could finish, San cut me off, "I don't care. Your safety is more important." 

I turned to face him, "San, it's fine. I could just -" 

"No! How to hell is it fine!?" I had never even heard San raise his voice, never mind him being so angry. 

"Did it ever cross that head of yours about what could've happened if Jongho didn't hear you?! What probably would've happened?!" 

Wooyoung stood up and pulled San with him, dragging him away with Hongjoong muttering something about me not needing to hear all this right now. 

Looking at my hand, I bit the inside of my cheek. Willing myself not to start crying again. 

Feeling the couch sink in beside me, I knew Jongho sat down. 

"Why do you do that?" 

Turning my head ever so slightly, "Do what?" 

"Disregard your own safety or health. It's not the first time you've done something like this." 

Shrugging, I fiddled with the ring on my finger, "I don't like bothering those around me, that’s all." 

"You're not bothering if they offered. I've never seen you accept any help unless one of them forces you to." 

Sighing, I leaned my head back, looking up at the ceiling. 

"It's just how I am. I've always been the one offering to help. And after a while of doing so, it feels weird to accept it. San and Wooyoung are really the only ones who don't abuse that fact. And the rest of you guys now, I guess, but it still feels weird." 

"We'll have to change that, but for now, off to bed. You can sleep in my room." 

Standing up, I looked at him when I saw he made no move to follow. 

"What about you?" 

"I'll take the couch." 

I eyed the size of the couch and then him, "No. We can share or something. You're not sleeping here. It's way too small." 

Tugging him up, we went upstairs. Once we entered the room, we decided to sleep away from each other. 

Lying down, I tucked the blanket under my chin and closed my eyes. 

"Thank you." 

I managed to say before I fell asleep.  

Barely hearing the 'always' Jongho muttered. 

The rest of the week passed by relatively slowly with one of the guys checking up on me every now and again. Well, except for Jongho. 

It was currently Saturday and I had nothing to do, meaning I could stay in bed for as long as I want. And while I did want to sleep my weekend away, I didn't really want to fall asleep. Ever since that night, I'd been getting nightmares every time I fell asleep. Except for the first night when I slept over at the frat. Sleeping next to Jongho felt safe. 

"Y/N~" 

I heard Wooyoung call out. 

I really regret giving him that copy of the keys. 

Groaning, I lifted my head up when I heard my bedroom door swing open. 

“We’re here~” 

WE???? 

 Sitting up, I could see multiple mops of colourful hair behind him. 

“You didn’t....” 

Cackling, Wooyoung pulled me out of bed and into the living room. 

“I did.” 

I greeted the guys before noticing the only seat left was next to Jongho. 

Sitting down next to him, I couldn’t help but groan when I heard the others start bickering over what film to watch. 

“Have you actually slept?” 

“What?” 

I looked at Jongho who just pointed at my face. 

“You look horrible.” 

Giving him a smile, I couldn’t hide the sarcasm laced in my words. 

“Gee, thanks. Just the thing I wanted to hear.” 

“No, but seriously, you don’t look good.” 

Closing my eyes, I leaned my head back. 

“I haven’t really slept since... ya know.” 

“You slept fine when you were at the frat though?” 

“Probably because you were there.” 

He smiled at me teasingly, “Aww, do you need someone to hold at night.” 

Laughing, I shoved his shoulder, “Shut up.” 

Closing my eyes again, I realised what we just did. 

Okay, maybe he’s not as irritating as I thought he was. 

Maybe it was because I was surrounded by people, but I could no longer resist the urge to sleep. Closing my eyes, I allowed my head to tilt to the side as sleep took over me. 

I was probably asleep for a few hours before I felt someone shake my shoulder. 

Rubbing my eyes, I sat back up. 

“Come on, we’re going out for dinner.” 

Jongho pulled me up with him.  

I looked over at Wooyoung, who just raised a brow at us. 

We decided on going to the Thai restaurant that was just around the corner from my flat. 

The dinner went by filled with laughter. Most of it was because of San being silly and Yeosang saying stuff before it even went through his brain. 

Towards the end of dinner, we all ordered a couple of drinks. And from the corner of my eye, I could see San and Jongho talking, actually, maybe arguing because it was quite heated. Whatever it was, it ended quickly with Jongho looking defeated. 

I watched as he stood up from his seat and made his way over to where I sat. 

Confused, I watched as he stopped right by me. 

“Why don’t we go grab the drinks from the bar.” 

Making our way over to the bar, we waited as the guy behind the counter got them ready. 

“So...” 

I placed my hand on his arm, looking at him slightly worried. 

“Are you okay?” 

“No, I’m fine. I just – Would you like to go on a date with me?” 

I blinked at him a couple of times. 

“Come again?” 

“I know you probably don’t feel like it but-” 

I couldn’t help but smile as I listened to him. I’ve never seen him this nervous before. 

“So, would you like to go on a date with me? I mean, you don't have to say yes considering how I -” 

Cutting him off, I smiled, “Yeah, I’d like that.” 

I watched as a smile blossomed across his face, his eyes disappearing. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him smile like this before. He’s suddenly gone from a large and intimidating guy to a cuddly teddy bear. 

Bringing the drinks back to the table, San observed Jongho’s expression before clapping.

“He’s finally done it!” 

The rest of the guys turned to look at him before they all started cheering.  

Arching a brow, “I take it you’ve wanted to take me out on a date for a long time?” 

“Yeah, but I didn’t think I’d do it yet. Though that thought quickly left my mind after recent events.” 

The rest of the night was filled with laughter and the guys teasing Jongho for finally making a move. 

Bonus 

“Babe,” I leaned my head on Jongho’s shoulder as I curled into him, “You said you had a crush on me since we first met, so how come you always acted so cold towards me? I always thought you hated me or something.” 

Jongho let out an awkward laugh as he scratched the back of his head. 

“Oh, that. I just thought that we were really different. You liked to stay at home and read, while I tended to go out and party and occasionally getting into fights. I just thought you’d like someone who was more, ya know, preppy or something.” 

I lifted my head to look at him, “So what changed?” 

“The frat party. That night I saw you drink for the first time. I found out you had tattoos and that you have 10 piercings in your ears. Oh, and that you could also smoke. I realised that we weren’t all that different.” 

Chuckling, I gently cupped his jaw, “And what would’ve happened if I didn’t show you all that?”  

“Then I’d probably have taken longer to ask you out.” 

Jongho held onto my waist as I brought his face closer to mine, pressing a kiss on his. A smile present on both of our faces. 

[joanie-writes]

Cleaned Up

A quiet night, to contrast a crazy day.

Arthur x GN!Reader

Warnings: slightly NSFW

Word Count: 973

What a day. I still don't think my hearing has fully returned. Gunshots, screams, and whistles were all I heard for way too long.

Alongside my horse, is Arthur and his horse. God, he looks even worse than I do. I glance over him as he rides slowly beside me, looking ahead. His face is dirty and there's a bruise forming around his eye. There's dry blood running down the arm of his shirt where a bullet had grazed him. He notices me observing him, he looks back over at me asking, "Whatcha lookin' at buttercup?''

I smile at the familiar nickname, chuckling to myself I answer, "Just at how beat up you are, I haven't had a chance to look at you since we got out of that mess." He looks me up and down before replying, "You don't look too good either." I scoff and laugh, "Well, that's certainly not the way to talk to someone you love Mr. Morgan, is it?"

Arthur laughs, shaking his head, "Why don't we treat ourselves to a hot bath and a warm room tonight?" he offers, I pretend to think hard, tapping my chin and squinting my eyes before saying, "I would love nothing more."

We change directions slightly, heading over to the next town. Passing by the few ranch houses made me think briefly of a life outside of the gang with Arthur, having our own land, maybe a dog. But as we carry on past them, I'm pulled back into reality, I love being with the gang, almost as much as I love Arthur, and I could never take him away from the people that pretty much raised him.

The strange smell of a town hits my nose, and the dry blood covering my clothes and skin is made much more apparent to me as people nervously glance at Arthur and me, making me pull my jacket tighter to my body, and my hat down lower. We make our way over the hotel, hitching our horses and walking inside.

"Evening folks, what can I get you?" the man at the front desk, pushing his small glasses up his nose, "We'll get a room, and hm, uh I'll get a hot bath." Arthur says, knowing that couple baths aren't typically allowed. The man at the desk thanks Arthur after he pays, informing us both of the bath and room number.

I look to Arthur, "I'm um just gonna go have a smoke, see you in a bit" I say nonchalantly, walking to the back door as Arthur heads towards the bath. I give it a few minutes before heading back in, seeing the man at the desk gone, I make quick work of going to the bath that I knew Arthur was waiting for me in.

A thick cloud of steam greets me as I open the door, shuffling inside and smiling at my love. He had just finished undoing the buttons of his very dirty shirt. Smiling back at me, he makes his way towards me, starting with taking off my hat. Next was my shirt, and then my bloody jeans. I stood in front of him, now as naked as the day I was born. I don't feel the need to say anything, I'm more than comfortable with Arthur just like this. I smile softly as I remember the first time that he saw me bare, which was, in fact, an accident.

I help undress Arthur as he helped me, being very careful not to hit his bullet wound. A pile of clothes sits on the ground now, surrounding us, which is a lot nicer than the Pinkertons and angry townsfolk that surrounded us earlier. I walk over to the sink, wetting a cloth before making my way back over to him. I reach up, moving his dusty blonde hair from his face, “C’mon cowboy, let’s get you cleaned up.” I begin cleaning the dirt that clouds his beautiful face. I can feel him relax even more as I urge him to sit on the edge of the bathtub.

I continue to clean him up, as gently as I can. I take notice of every freckle on his face, the scars that adorn his skin, and the blooming bruises. "I love you, sweetheart." he murmurs, his eyes still closed, "I love you more." I say back, smiling once again.

Arthur gets up once I finish, grabbing another damp cloth to clean me. I look up at him as he wipes my face clean of sweat and grime, and I take notice of the subtle smirk on his lips. “What’s going through your head.” I ask quietly, putting my hand on his chest, “Just how lucky I am.” He answers, kissing me on the temple. I blush and leave it at that. He continues wiping away the blood that was both my own and some of others. I laugh as he kisses down my arm, ending the line with a kiss to the back of my hand.

After Arthur finishes, we climb into the bath, my back leaning against Arthur’s chest. My head is leaned into the crook of his neck, the soft scent of chamomile soap fills my senses. After such a trying day, this is heaven on earth. I feel his calloused but comforting hands stroke my hip gently, he sighs in relaxation. My mind wandered to how privileged I am, because I'm the only one that gets to experience Arthur like this, peaceful.

“We should do stuff like this more often,” I say, “we deserve it, you especially Arthur.” He nods, looking back down at me, “I know, hopefully one day we can just live, not shoot, or steal.” I nod back understandingly, “And get a dog.” I chirp, causing Arthur to laugh, “Of course, buttercup, anything you want.”

[marvelous-harry]

Maybe Harry/Florence/Marcus? I love Marcus he seems so hot

Easy Choices Harry/Florence/OC!Markus Words: 1.6K Summary: Some choices aren't that hard to make, especially when there's a nice little treat at the end.

Harry was tired. He'd been in and out of meetings all day and nothing seemed to be going right. Grabbing his cellphone from the passenger seat, he glanced at it to open it up before looking back up at the road as he drove.

Pulling up his contacts he scrolled till he found Florence's number and hit call. "Please, pick up," he muttered as he headed out on the motorway. When her voicemail message started playing, he hung up and took a deep breath.

She'd promised she'd be home when he came home, and fuck, he really hoped she was cause he needed her. Touch her, smell her. Just be near her. Pushing the gas pedal down a bit more, he raced home as quick as he could.

Pulling into the garage, he looked curiously at the car that was parked in the driveway. He didn't recognize it and he sighed as he realized they had company over. Closing his eyes, he bit his lip as he tried to collect himself. He couldn't walk in there dropping when someone was over. It was okay, he could get through this. He'd just politely say hello, do a little chat before excusing himself.

Opening his car door, Harry got out of the car before grabbing his bag from the back. Locking the car and the garage, he unlocked the side door and headed inside.

Kicking off his shoes, he dropped his bag down before taking another deep breath. "Florence?" Harry called out as he peeked into the living room and the kitchen, not seeing anyone.

"Upstairs!" Florence yelled back. "Bring some water bottles with you!"

Harry headed into the kitchen and grabbed six bottles of water before making his way upstairs. He started recognizing the smell hanging in the air and the voice that Florence was talking to.

Rushing up the final steps, he headed into the little tv lounge they had next to their bedroom.

"Took you long enough, why you stay in your car for so long?" Florence asked as she glanced at him before snuggling close to Markus. They were both just sitting dressed in robes as they watched TV.

Harry quickly put the water bottles down before rushing over and dropping to his knees in front of Florence, hugging her leg. "I didn't recognize the car and thought you had a stranger over and I thought that I'd have to wait for you but I need you so I was just trying to focus," he whimpered as he explained.

Florence hummed as she reached down and ran her fingers over his hair before grabbing on to it. "That's the problem with you thinking, isn't it? Doesn't end well. Not very good at it," she chuckled and yanked his head back.

"Get your clothes off and say hello to our guest. Being very rude right now," Florence said before letting go.

Harry shuddered and felt his body and cheeks heating up. "I'm sorry," he whimpered as he quickly stood up and started taking off his clothes. "Fuck," he mumbled as a button on his cardigan fell off and bounced across the floor.

"Fold your clothes nicely and pick up the button. Don't want you making a mess," Florence ordered as Harry slung his t-shirt and cardigan to the floor.

"Yes, Florence," Harry said as he picked them back up and folded them. Picking up the button, he placed it on top before he shrugged off his jeans, underwear, and socks - folding it neatly before putting it all in one pile.

Dropping to his knees again, he glanced at Florence before he moved in front of Markus. Harry blushed more as he gave him a quick moment of eye contact. "Hi Markus," he said. "Please let me know if I can do anything for you,"

Markus smiled as he sat up straight and spread his legs.

Harry licked his lips and could not help but look towards Markus' crotch, trying to get a glimpse of his cock.

"Glad to see you haven't changed," He chuckled before he looked at Florence. "How long has he been locked up for this time?" Markus asked.

Florence smirked as she looked down at Harry and his cock that was locked up in a cock cage. "Been almost a month now," she replied. "Just after the last time you saw him, I think it was,"

Harry blushed and looked at his legs.

"I have emptied him once during that time. That was fun wasn't it?" Florence asked as she grinned. "God, you cried so much that night,"

Harry whimpered at the memory of having his prostate massaged for almost two hours until he finally had his very disappointing orgasm while wearing the cock cage.

"I'll have to film him next time, show you how pathetic he gets," Florence chuckled.

"Please do, I'd love to see that," Markus smirked as he pulled her in for a kiss.

Harry was blushing like crazy, fiddling with his fingers as he looked at them.

"Rest your head," Florence said and patted the spot on the sofa between herself and Markus.

Closing his eyes, Harry turned his head sides ways and put his cheek against the sofa cushions.

"Good boy," Florence muttered before she started stroking his hair. "Tell us about your day,"

Harry shifted on his knees and licked his lips. "I.. So many meetings just wanted to come home. So tired. Please," he whimpered and reached out to touch her.

"Did I say you could touch me?" Florence tightened her hold on his hair and yanked hard.

"I'm sorry, no! I'm sorry, I won't do it again, please, please," Harry muttered as he quickly took his hand back and clasped his hands together.

Delivering a little slap to Harry's cheek, Florence let go and pulled back. "Go to the bedroom and take a seat in your chair," she told him while adjusting her robe that had slipped open.

"No, please! Let me stay! Want to stay with you and Markus! I'll be good!" Harry begged as he put his hands behind his back, bowed his head, and rested his forehead on the sofa's edge. "Please, please," he whispered softly.

"Harry. Now," Florence ordered. A hard edge to her voice.

Harry whimpered and dared to look up at her, his eyes filling with tears. "I'm sorry!" he told her pleadingly but she kept looking back at him sternly. Slowly, he stood up and he looked pleadingly at Markus to step in. Letting out a sob as Markus gave him a little wave, Harry started to walk out of the room and over to their bedroom.

Taking a seat on his chair, he kicked his feet and stared longingly out towards the hall.

Sniffling, Harry wondered what they were doing. What they were saying. He just wanted to be with them. Whimpering loudly, he hoped they could hear him and took pity on them but there was no movement from the hall.

It was an eternity later when Harry finally heard footsteps coming down the hall. Sitting up a bit more, he looked down and grasped the arms of the chair.

Markus took a seat on the bed in front of the chair and leaned forward. Much to Harry's displeasure - he had gotten fully dressed. "Florence is not very happy with you," he said simply.

Harry whimpered and pouted - squirming in his chair. He could feel his cheeks heating up as his cock started going hard - well trying to get hard inside the cock cage.

"She told me she knows it's not your fault. She knows how hard it is for a whore to control itself while being so close to dick and pussy," Markus chuckled and patted Harry's knee.

Harry blushed but looked up at him hopeful.

"But that doesn't mean you don't get punished for misbehaving,"

Harry whimpered and slumped in his seat. "But I didn't even touch her! I just reached for her, I didn't mean to, Markus, please!" he let out a little shout as Markus slapped his thigh.

"Shut up and let me finish," He said cross. "You have a choice to make. You either get a spanking from us both for as long as we please or you can get the paddle from us both for as long as we please but I will let you warm my cock with your mouth for 5 minutes after we're done," Markus smirked.

"You have a minute to decide, I'm going back to Florence. Come over when you've decided. Either you'll come without a paddle in your hand or you'll come with a paddle. Do you understand?" Markus asked.

Harry nodded as he sniffled. "Yes, Markus," he whispered quietly.

Markus stood up and left the room.

Harry pressed his hands against his eyes as he breathed quickly. Standing up, he paced back and forth as he deliberated over his options. "Fuck," he whispered before making his choice.

"Wise choice," Florence smirked and held out her hand for the paddle as Harry entered the room once more. "We considered doing a bet over what you'd choose but neither of us were willing to go for the option where you don't get any cock. We do know our little whore quite well after all," she chuckled.

Harry blushed hard as he stared at the floor.

Florence pointed the paddle towards the sturdy desk up against one of the walls. "Get into position, I get to go first,"

Harry made his way over to the desk and carefully bent over it, resting his chest on it. Licking his lips, he squeezed his eyes shut and shuddered as he waited. This was just what he needed after the day he had had.