#the store was a shithole

[lordgroose]

had an incredibly vivid work dream of a previous job that I had, specifically the last management position that broke me out of retail

that is... not a fun way to start my morning

[nemxricultrix]

(my brain has been blinking the red light of low battery for a while and I think today is when that battery light and the rest of the system shut off)

[orcelito]

I always get so angry but then I play video games and I'm no longer so angry

This is a problem when it comes to wanting to leave my shit ass job

[rising-phnx]

sometimes... DID has it's perks. apparently someone completely reorganized and optimized my nightstand yesterday, and I got to experience this as a pleasant surprise

[yellowsubiesdance]

so excited that my least favorite student is not on the schedule today

[theafrochick]

Y'know I'm watching a video on crocodiles in Florida and like humans just invented shit to do. Why are we injecting baby animals with microchips by the hundreds. Do we really not have anything better to do?

[cupcakedieabetes]

Dumpster Baby Part 1

I AM ON A ROLL, I THOUGHT OF THIS AND LOVED WHAT MY HEAD PRODUCED, SO I DECIDED TO WRITE IT OUT IN WORDS SO I DON’T FORGET IT! This is going to be long so sit back and enjoy.

This story is inspired by this, and I love it. Thanks @emacrow for letting me use your story as an inspo!!!!

Tw: mentions of csa/child trafficking, mentions of child death, child abandonment, neglect, etc

Hector blew out his cigarette, bored out of his mind as he's manning the cash register currently.

There was no customers, so nobody was going to complain if he was smoking in the store, right?

Then, the door to his store opened with a bang. He fingered the gun under his counter, looking towards the door, only to find a young man looking harried, half-naked and bloodied. His shirt in a bundle, and seemed to be originating from there.

"B-B-BABY! I found a baby in the dumpster!" The poor kid stuttered, his face full of tears as he stared horrifiedly.

Hector took one glance and realised the kid was telling the truth. He took a puff of his cigarette, inhaling it slowly before he exhaled it exhaustively.

"Kid, you must be new in Gotham. Dumpster babies aren’t all that rare in Gotham. Gotham's a complete shithole. If you can't even feed yourself, how can you feed another?" Hector told the kid harshly. The kid held the baby tightly.

"B-but.."

"It's reality in Gotham. Go put back the baby where you found it. In a place where child trafficking and prostitution and such are common, it's best to let it die. It's the greatest mercy you can give it."

The kid became eerily calm and quiet. Hector noticed that his hiccups from sobbing had just gone entirely silent. Then his form starts to glitch as if whatever made him keep his form was struggling to retain itself.

"Ņ̴͉͖̄͐̊͐͒̽̆͗́̅̾̈́̾ǫ̵͈̠̱̱̯̹̳̜̓́͊̚t̶̢̛̛̤̰̦̜̙̲̪̺̬̉̇̍̃̏͐̽̂͊͋̕̕ ̵̡̑͑̏i̷̡̢̡̨̛̦͚̱̝͓̰͈̞̭͔͚̇̑͊̏͊͜f̷̡͔̫̭͉̳͖̰͈͒̌͒̽̔̈̔͋̋͐́́̎̓̑͆ ̸̨̢̟͕͕̫̬̱͍̙̻͉̈́́̐͜I̷̛͕̟̻͗̒̂͌̔͆̾̑̃͘͜͠͝ ̴̨̼͉̘͚̹̙̥̟̀̈͌̑̎́͑̓̉̈́͑̆̑͘̚c̴̣͙̖͙͙̜̠̩̟͍͉̤̮͚͖͉̒̉̾̽̈́̀̒͆͊͛̽͐̂̚͘͝͝a̶̲̤̼͒̒͒̔̌̈́̇͌͝n̷̡̙̻̈́̂̀̈̓̀̄̊̐͆͘͠ ̵̨͔̼̤̮̍̌h̶̬̝̫͖͚̰̹̲̮̮̬͓̙͔̆̈̓̅̑͊͐̆̍͌͘͜͜ȩ̷̳͖̹͓̞̬̟̥̼͎̰͇̑̅͑̽̔̅͆͂̑̏͝l̶͚̜͔̮̯̼̝̿͜p̷̳̯̦͓͔̩͕̩͔̈́̀̆́́͑̄̈́̕ ̸̦̏̂̍̉͗͂͗̂͂́̉̚͝ȋ̶̛͕̠̟̦̈́̏̾̾͊͑̂͠t̸̡̡̡̛̼̺͚̜͖̫̼̲̪̫̗̜̓̒̿̾͂́̊̃͜͜.̷̡̛͚̱̫̰͕̳͖͙̾̀̓̓̀̈́̓͑́̾̚͠ͅ "

And without a trace, the kid and the baby disappeared, leaving nothing but the memories.

Hector stared at the place where the kid was once was, putting out his cigarette to rub his face tiredly.

What has he just done?

__________________________________________________________

Danny stared at the baby as he flew back into his hotel room. He had only gone to Gotham because he was initially visiting the Capital Crime City to scout out a new place for Jazz, who was planning to move here for residency at Arkham.

He decided to volunteer to scout ahead bc why would he be scared of crime when he's already dead?

But how did he get to this?

The baby girl mewled in his arms, still red and wrinkled, with their umbilical cord still attached. She was wrapped up in his shirt, having been found naked in a trash bag in a dumpster.

While walking past an alleyway, he heard something in the trash. And something else. So he decided to investigate. He was flying invisibly in ghost form, so there was no way anything would injure him.

So he opened the dumpster lid and saw a suspicious trashbag. In it was a newborn baby girl.

He bawled his eyes right out there bc he couldn't fathom why anyone would just abandon a baby in the dumpster. According to Jazz, multiple baby boxes were scattered across the city, a helpline was available for scared mothers/mothers-to-be, and many other options exist to prevent this.

It was cruel to the baby, but it was also cruel to the mother too. He only realised this according to what the man said. Gotham was a shithole. Who knows if your baby will end up being in the worst position ever, and if you don't have the resources, it's best to kill it to give them mercy. It was the only thing one can do when they're powerless. The best and only gift you could give to your child.

He lay on the bed with the baby sleeping on his chest. He was skin-to-skin with the baby as she was so cold to touch that he raised his own temperature despite the discomfort, as he was naturally cold.

And despite the discomfort, his core purred at having fulfilled his Obsession with Protecting.

She wiggled in his arms, and then a dawning thought of horror came to his mind. She wasn't the only baby that was abandoned, was she?

He carefully got up slowly, ensuring the baby wasn't woken up by the movement. She had a big day today; she should get a lot of sleep.

He placed her on the hotel bed and, for the first time, used his power as King to enact an order.

Protect the abandoned children. If nobody wants them, then he'll take them. One man's trash is another man's treasure, and he shall treat them like they deserve to.

Aw, he would have to get a place for them, wouldn't he?

He gave the baby girl a name to start her new life: Portia.

Then, he found another child who was abandoned by his parents. They neglected and beat him, so wouldn't he be considered abandoned? The boy willingly went when Danny offered Bennett, or Benny, to take him away. He was only 5.

Then the two became four when he found twin children all dirty and covered in dirt, sleeping under a cardboard box as they shared a ratty blanket. Blake and Harper were 10.

He got some Ghosts to help, like Lunch Lady, who loved cooking for those old enough to eat solids. She went all out cooking nutritious food for starving children.

He found a good enough warehouse and took it over from a drug den, which he got rid of. He then began renovating to make it a habitable place for the children.

But sometimes, it felt like he didn't have enough hands to hold them all.

But he was moldable. He could shapeshift into anything he can of his own will.

He grew many hands to carry them. He could hold his new children in his arms.

Four became Eight, then Eight became Thirteen. Thirteen became Twenty.

He wasn't big enough, so he grew and grew. They could all ride on his back together so there would be no fighting.

He didn't have enough eyes, so thinking of how to better observe, his mind suddenly thought of the Observants and how they're basically just eyeballs.

With duplication, he only just duplicates his eyes and lets them float around. Then, he could see e̷̩͈̙̘̗̅̽̾̎̑̉̇̈́͋͋̐͘̕͝v̷̤͙͈̓̂̽ë̸̡̠̩̠̠̟͍̭͙͈̫́̈́ͅr̵̢̨̻̩̰̼̝̞̙̜͙̈́̈́̉̌̾̀͊͊̚y̸̢̧̪̯͕̼̘̗̦͚̙̱̳̙̪͓̍͂̂̽̉̋̀̈́̔̓͝t̶̟̱̽̄́̉̈́̿̍͒̑̓͂͠͝ḩ̴̣̲̬̤͇͍̞̺̥͉̔̓̓̐̄̐̋́͘͜ͅì̴̳̳̭͆͗̈́̒̆̀͒̆̄̕͝͝ņ̸̛͍̳̣̦̲͔̼̝̪̲̗̩̤͋̈̾ͅģ̴̛̼̥̫̰̻͑̑̍͋́͂͌̎̎̈́̈́̏͒͆͠͠.

Despite this form, no children had ever been scared of him. His core would always rumble with protection, so they instinctively knew they were safe with him.

Twenty became Twenty-Three, then Twenty-Seven. Then Thirty-Two.

He loved it. He could make a difference. Even the children who weren't his would come running to him for protection. He would feed them and care for them like his own before sending them off to their parents, who actually cared for them.

He couldn't stop those who stayed before going back out. He did offer to take them in as his children, but some had refused, as they've always been independent.

But at least they would always have a place to go to.

Next ->

[seokgyuu]

Running a little witch store in a small town, recently the only exciting thing has been Jake visiting your store every other day. While he doesn’t buy anything, his looks are enough to make your days a little less boring. And when he comes in one day, mixing up his offered tea with a very, very powerful aphrodisiac… it is about to get a lot more than just a little less boring. 

Pairing: Neighbor!Jake x Witch!Reader Genre: Porn with almost no plot, Supernatural (as reader is a witch, duh) Warnings: Jake is a bit of an idiot but hot, reader is very sarcastic… are those even warnings? Reader has female anatomy and is described as a woman, pure filth basically, MINORS DNI!!! Smut tags under the cut Word Count: 6k  A/N: Well hello! Happy Halloween everyone! My little last minute Halloween Project is done! First up, thanks to @aaagustd for the AMAZING banner!!! And my lovely @heechwe for betaing! This  work was very, highly, extremely inspired by a clears throat spicy audio that was uploaded literally last night. Could not stop imagining it to be Jake who this happens to… so here we are. The creator’s name is AugustInTheWinter, check out his Patreon or Reddit, I swear it is SO worth it if you’re into audios!! Anyway, thanks August for this inspo and thank you guys for reading! tagging my beloved @yvnempire because she's so excited about this hehe. Please leave comments and/or reblog, it would mean the absolute world! Wanna support me? Here's my Ko-Fi!

Smut Tags: Big dick!Jake, Jake starts nervous and a bit subby, but turns into a beast, handjob, blowjob, face-fucking, facial, p in v sex, unprotected sex (stay safe kids!!), multiple orgasms, loads of cum (like really… so much), dirty talk, degradation (words used: whore, slut, hole, fucktoy etc.) cumplay, cum eating, tell me if i missed anything!

Everything about this town was boring. 

The scenery was boring. The activities were boring. The people were boring.

Just… everything. 

Your coven had sent you here because of the apparent magical aura you so, as they said, “desperately needed to achieve your full potential”. Bullshit, for all you cared. The magical aura might have been strong, but it was so deeply rooted into the earth, you had trouble reaching it even after hours of channeling your own powers. Of course, you didn’t tell them that. All they knew was that you were having a blast in this shithole of a town and had already made tons of friends. 

So far no one had questioned your answers and so you just lived your life, hoping you would soon succeed in attaining the magical power of this place and go back to your normal life. 

Recently, though, you at least had something a little less boring gracing you every other day. Jake Sim - the neighbor from across the street. He was handsome and a little shy and very obviously did not believe magic existed. Not that you cared much about that, no, you had been exposed to many people who didn’t believe in you and your kind, not to mention all the other supernatural beings walking on the face of earth. 

Jake was a non-believer and wonderful to look at and you were fine with that. Content. More than happy. 

As you were brewing some potions a few of the older women around town had ordered (while they also didn’t exactly believe in magic, they at least believed in your ability to brew things that were extremely efficient in their gardens), you found yourself thinking about the pretty man again. About his laugh and his eyes, about the way his shirt would rise up and show a bit of his happy trail leading down to something you could only wish to see fully exposed one day. 

Truthfully, the last time you got laid had been ages ago. So long that you couldn’t even really remember who it was with and where. It was a curse, this town, and seeing a young attractive man stalking into your store a few weeks back had suddenly brought back the desire you had managed to suppress for who knows how long. 

Just then, as you were deep in thought, cutting up some lavender, the door opened and the little bell above it rang, bringing you back to the present. 

“Hi Y/N!” 

Jake had his puppy smile on, hair blown out of his face and a thick coat hanging off his shoulders. He walked over to the counter and you smiled up at him, catching yourself finding his flushed cheeks extremely endearing.

“Jake, welcome. Anything I can do for you today or are just here for another chat about how magic can’t be real?” You tilted your head and gave him a playful smile that he answered with a little laugh.

“Actually, I did come for something today. Mrs. Bloodstean said you have some great tonics for flowers?”

Ah, yes, Mrs, Bloodstean, the woman three houses down who had trouble with her roses. You had helped her and now her roses bloomed all year round. 

“I do indeed, Mr. Sim. What can I get for you?”

“Well, I’ve been having some troubles with my Mandevillas… they don’t seem to wanna bloom as much as, uh, I would like them to.”

His sheepish grin would have made your knees weak if you’d been standing. You nodded and got up, checking the shelves behind you for the potion he’d need to get his flowers to grow and bloom as much as he liked. Eyes roaming over the different bottles, you soon came to the realization you were out and clicked your tongue.

“Seems like I’ll have to brew one. That’s gonna take a couple minutes, do you want some tea while you wait?”

Jake nodded yes and smiled, turning around to do this usual routine through the rows of shelves in your store. From a safe distance, he began to watch you do your thing, cutting up ingredients and throwing them into a miniature cauldron Jake couldn’t help but be amused by. A witch store in the middle of this small town, run by one of the most attractive women Jake had ever laid his eyes on. 

When he had first stumbled in here, he had mistaken it for an alternative medicine shop. While he wasn’t totally wrong, he also wasn’t fully correct. You did offer some remedies and lotions, some potions and tonics, but you also had crystals and salts and books in your many high rising wooden shelves. The first day, he had spent hours just browsing through the books, not thinking of actually buying anything, but somehow being immersed into this world of magic he was so sure could only exist in fiction. 

He hadn’t even noticed someone working at the front behind the counter until he turned to leave, almost stumbling over his feet when he spotted you. You concentrated on a page in an old looking book, biting down onto your tongue that was slightly sticking out of your mouth. You with the prettiest face he had ever seen, that made it so hard to look away. 

After that, he came back every other day, hoping to talk to you, get to know you and maybe ask you out on a date. Of course, he never did because if Jake was anything it was a coward. It didn’t matter that he somehow happened to be handsome, his charisma was in the trenches. 

It was obvious he didn’t see the effect he had on you, which made it even more fun to have him around in your store. You could sense that this man did not have one indecent thought about you while in the store, even when you wore low cut shirts or skirts with slits almost as high as your hip. No, he was a good boy, a sweet boy. The contrast of the two of you was almost comical - you thinking about what it would be like to feel him, to taste him, to push him against a bookshelf and have your way with him and Jake just wanting to man up to ask you out. 

Circling back to the front, Jake saw you hard at work and decided to fill his tea cup by himself, the steaming blue teapot on the right side of the counter. Smiling, he brought the cup to his lips and took a sip, his eyes widening at the sweet taste. 

God, that’s delicious!

The hotness of the drink seemed to fade into the background as the taste spread on his tongue, so sweet and wonderful his eyes almost rolled back, the liquid making his whole body feel warm and fuzzy, and without even noticing he finished the whole cup in one go. 

“Wow, that tea is amazing! What kind is it? I don’t think I’ve ever had it before.” Jake put the cup back down and beamed at you. 

Blinking, you looked up at the brown-haired man, your mind a little slow at catching up with what Jake said. 

“What do you mean?” You asked, brows furrowing slightly.

“The tea you made me, what kind is it?” He repeated, pointing at the teapot next to him. 

Your eyes widened for a brief moment, then you slowly got up.

“How much did you drink of that?” You asked calmly. 

“A whole cup, it’s like so, so good, how-,”

“A whole cup?!” The volume of your voice surprised both of you and Jake’s eyes widened in surprise, his mouth dropping open a little.

“Was that- was I not supposed to? I- I’m sorry, you seemed busy, so I just helped myself.”

You stayed silent for a few seconds. Watching Jake’s confused face, trying to read his thoughts. He had absolutely no idea what he just drank. But you did. 

A grin found its way onto your lips, a grin so diabolical it made Jake’s stomach turn. 

“That’s not your tea, Jakey,” you said, pointing at the teapot he drank from, “your tea is over here.”

Jake followed where your finger pointed next, a small black teapot standing to your left, all done with a cute little pink cup next to it. He blinked a few times.

“Then- then what is this?” He asked, nervousness beginning to spread through his body. Your grin deepened.

“Oh, that? That’s just the very, very powerful aphrodisiac for Mrs. Brown’s husband. See, he can’t really get it up anymore.”

Silence. Jake felt like the whole world had suddenly gone silent at your words. But then he remembered where he was, who you were and how incredibly unlikely it was that this really worked. So, he snorted.

“Right. An aphrodisiac in the form of tea, I’m sure that’s gonna work wonders with Mr. Brown.”

“Not just him, but you too, you know,” you began to walk around the counter, stopping when you reached the other side, leaning against it with crossed arms, “and you’re only supposed to drink one sip of it. You, dear Jakey, drank a whole fucking cup.”

Honestly, Jake still didn’t believe you. Or at least he thought he didn’t. But something about the way you looked at him almost made him falter. He laughed and shook his head.

“Come on, Y/N, I’m not an idiot. This obviously isn’t going to work, it’s a hoax, we all know it’s a hoax.”

“Is it though, Jake? Is it really a hoax?”

“What? Of course it is! Magic isn’t real, can’t be real, this tea surely won’t help Mr. Brown get an erection and I, my friend, more than anything, will not get aroused by some fake viag-,”

Oh shit. Jake couldn’t help the deep moan escaping his throat when he suddenly felt the hardest wave of pleasure hit his body. He almost dropped to his knees, his cock growing harder by the second, pressing against the seam of his jeans, making them uncomfortably tight. 

“You won’t get aroused, Jake? Yes? Is that right?” You were having the time of your life. This was better than anything you could have ever predicted. By Mystra, how could you have forgotten about the tea for Mrs. Brown? And how lucky were you for Jake to mistake it as his own? You couldn’t believe your luck. 

“What the fuck is going on?” Jake groaned now, his chest heaving and you tilted your head again, watching sweat form on the handsome man’s forehead. His pupils were blown and his face flushed and, fuck, did he look good. 

“I would say the potion is kicking in. How does it feel?” You bit your lip, watching Jake struggle to find words for what was happening inside… and outside of him.

“I- well, oh fuck, it, uhm, it feels… it feels like, like I’ve never- like it’s so.. it’s so h-hard, you know?”

“Hm, I don’t think I do. Perhaps you can show me, just so I can check if it all looks normal?”

Jake’s cock twitched at that. You wanted to see? Check if it looked normal? Another moan made its way through his lips and it sounded so utterly pathetic you felt yourself drip into your panties.

“Wh- what do you mean “normal”? C-Could it look, like, n-not normal?” He was sweating. A part of him really wanted you to see, to check, to maybe even touch him, but another felt shy, didn’t want this to happen before taking you out to a nice dinner, maybe even a movie and- 

Fuck, who was he kidding? 

“I don’t know, that’s why I wanna check. Will you show me, Jakey?” 

“F-fine, b-but only to check!” His cheeks were on fire at this point. His cheeks on fire and his cock hard as a rock, aching and throbbing and probably aggressively red at the tip. 

That last prediction proved to be correct when he pulled down his pants and briefs at once, his cock springing free, standing harder and prouder than he had ever seen it. He whimpered at the sight. 

And you? You almost fell to your knees, itching to touch him, to lick over the tip that was already leaking so, so miserably. Oh good lord. Your teeth sank into your bottom lip again and you swallowed hard, eyes glued to the huge cock Jake had been hiding from you.

“Is it- is it always this big?” You asked, not even looking into Jake’s face anymore.

“Well, n-not when it’s not, uhm, you know… h-hard.”

“So it’s this size even when no potion is involved?” You wanted to know.

“Y-yeah, that didn’t change.”

“Holy fuck,” you mumbled, your hand wanting to grab around him so badly, but you contained yourself. 

“What- what can we do? Like is there an antidote? Can I- can I drink another potion? Or maybe there is, uhm, fuck, a spell or something?”

You chuckled.

“Now you believe in spells, Jakey? Funny timing,” finally, you raised your head to look at him again, “but no, there is no antidote. Like I said, it’s made to help get it up and given in a specific dose. But you, my dear, drank probably thrice as much as necessary.”

“So what does that mean? I- I can’t just go home like this!”

He was right about that. Everyone would see him sporting the largest boner known to mankind. And right now, you decided, this was only for your eyes. 

“I think the best way to deal with it is to, frankly speaking, empty it.”

Stars seemed to dance around Jake’s head when you spoke, the image of you rubbing his cock, sucking on it or even bouncing on it to empty him of all his cum… he twitched aggressively. 

“S-so, wh-what are you sug-suggesting?” His heart was speeding in chest and he was trying his hardest not to jump to conclusions. 

Yet another devilish grin spread on your lips as you raised your hand and snapped your fingers, closing the blinds of the storefront window and locking the door all at once. In any other situation, Jake would have been freaked out, but right now all he could concentrate on was the way you pushed yourself off the counter and looked at him from head to, well, problem.

“I am suggesting, Jake, that it would only be right of me to help you out.”

Jake swallowed hard, glued to where he was standing, his cock still so unbelievably hard, still aching and throbbing and in desperate need of attention. 

As you lowered yourself, knees soon hitting the wooden floor, he couldn’t take his eyes off you.

“Do you want me to help you out?”

“God, yes, please.”

And there it was. All that you needed to finally bring your hand to his cock. He immediately moaned, head falling back as his hips moved forward, thrusting into your grip. You chuckled as you slowly began to move, bringing your thumb to his tip, gathering all of the already leaking precum to use as lubricant. 

It already brought you immense pleasure, jerking him off. Staring up at him, seeing nothing but pure lust and desperation on his face. You were throbbing between your legs, wetness building up more every passing moment. 

“Fuuuuuck, yeah, j-just like that, oh wow.” 

Jake felt like he had never been touched like this before. Every bit of friction against his skin was like the first time. Every inch you touched with your hand was burning, sparkling with something he could only describe as magic. He couldn’t stop the desperate moans even if he tried, couldn’t stop his hips chasing your hand, thrusting into it like a mad man. 

“Faster, please!” He cried out and you obeyed, speeding up your hand. Your eyes were glued to his cockhead then, watching how precum kept leaking, drips landing on your floor or the briefs that were hanging around his ankles with his jeans. 

You worked your hand faster, having trouble closing it around his big shaft and finally adding the second, working him at double speed with his cockhead still peaking out. 

God, how would he feel inside you? 

Two hands around his cock and Jake could sense a first orgasm approaching. He thrusted his hips, fucking both of your hands, eyes rolled back into his skull, the pleasure completely taking over.

“Yeah, yeah, just like that, fuck, fuck, I am fucking your hands so good, shit!” He didn’t know where to put his energy, switching between moaning and whining and saying his incoherent thoughts out loud, feeling himself leak onto your hands. He wondered what you’d do when he came, if you’d just let him come right onto you or if you’d point it elsewhere. 

“Feel good, Jakey? You look so hot, so, so good for me.” You stared up at him, batting your eyelashes and finally Jake looked down at you, his spit catching in his throat. You looked insane with his cock in your hands, your face wild and determined, a small grin on your lips that made his cock twitch once more. The whimper escaping him must have been the single most arousing thing you had ever heard. 

“I’m gonna come, I’m s-so close,” he cried and you nodded, licking over your lips.

“Yeah, come for me, wanna see you come, Jakey.”

When he had said yes to you helping him out, he sure as hell had not expected dirty talk to be involved and, shit, was he happy it was. His mouth fell open wider, eyes glossy and focused on your face. He knew it was going to be a lot, knew he’s going to shoot the biggest load of his life onto you in a few heartbeats.

“C-Coming, oh- shit!” 

When he came, he came. Cum spurted out his cock, and you didn’t even think about letting a drop go to waste. The first load landed on your neck and collarbones, dripped down your cleavage and over your breasts, the second you managed to catch with your tongue slurping it down like a five-star meal. The third landed on your cheeks and chin, some on your neck, joining his already left mark. 

Jake truly couldn’t believe his eyes. You, the woman he had been thinking about asking out for weeks now, covered in and eating his cum. Another little bit of cum dribbled out his cock and you caught it perfectly with the tip of your tongue, causing Jake to groan desperately. 

He was still so fucking hard. Still desperate for more.

“I need more, I’m still so hard, please.” His pleasing eyes and slightly trembling lips made the picture in front of you perfect. Jake, big cock full on display, still hard from the potion he had drank by pure accident, his first orgasm so powerful he had shot three loads onto you, was now begging you for more. 

And you were more than eager to make every wish of his come true. 

“Since you said please…,” you grinned, leaning forward, not giving a damn about the seed currently drying on your skin, and flicking your tongue against his tip, his hand almost immediately moving to grip the back of your head.  “God, yes, yes, please take it into your mouth, fuck, please!”

His wish was your command. 

Your lips closed around his tip, sucking on it just slightly, tongue gliding over his sensitive slit, tasting his bittersweet taste, wondering if maybe the potion had altered something about it. Next, you moved your head forward, taking more of him into your mouth, feeling the veins of his cock press against your tongue. A moan erupted through you, the arousal almost too much to bear at this point. 

“Ohhhh, god, yes, take it, take it deeper, shit.” His hips moved, pushing more of him into your mouth. He seemed to vibrate, seemed to fit perfectly into your wet heat, tip hitting the back of your throat and causing you to gag, spit dripping from his shaft down to the floor. Your hands grabbed the back of his thighs, steading yourself as he began to thrust down your throat. 

“Holy fuck, that’s right, gag on my cock, gag on it, fuck.”

It must have been the potion speaking because he wasn’t usually this vocal. But then again, he had never had anyone take his cock down their throat as well as you were doing right now. Gagging and spitting and tearing up, but nothing in your face showed discomfort. No, you were thriving on this and Jake felt your arousal in the air, felt it mixing with his and he sped up his hips, both hands now holding your head in place as he let out the most beautiful moan you had ever heard. 

He shoved you down his cock completely now, his balls hitting your chin as he fucked your mouth like it was the last thing he’d ever do. Drool mixed with his precum dribbled down your chin, tears began to stream down your face, your eyes rapidly blinking as you watched him lose all of his composure. You wished to keep this memory engraved into your brain for all of your life.

Jake was in a rush, in a complete trance, fucking down your throat, feeling your tongue against his shaft, your throat restricting around him, your gags and chokes turning him on even more. Somehow, with every thrust closer to his release, he felt the tension rise up more. 

What the fuck even was in that potion? 

It hit him then, his second orgasm, thrusts becoming sloppier, quicker, accompanied by desperate moans, whimpers and groans. 

You managed to swallow it all, the load just as huge as during his first orgasm, shot after shot down your throat, your eyes growing wide while you sucked him dry, or at least attempted to.

“Swallow it all, yes, yes, fuck, come on, come on! Take it all, I know you want to, fuck!” 

There was no control left in his body, the potions effect taking over completely. 

He emptied his cock into your mouth and pulled out when he at least thought it was over, only for another wave to hit him and land on your skin again. He felt like an artist painting an already perfect canvas with his own visions. 

“S-sorry, fuck,” He breathed hard, watching you slowly get up, your face wild and stained with his seed as well as your own tears. Your eyes were red, pupils blown and with every gaze you shared, he knew you wanted him as much as he wanted you. He swallowed and looked down, seeing his cock still hard, still throbbing and aching. Would this ever end?

“I need more, need more,” he mumbled, stumbling forward and grabbing your hips roughly. You moaned at his touch, your fingers gliding over your chest to pick up some of his cum and shove it into your mouth, sucking them clean. He swore under his breath.

“Do you want to fuck me, Jakey?” You asked then, voice sweet like honey, but body looking so breathtakingly filthy. 

“Want to, need to, have to,” he replied, moving to lick some of his own cum off your neck. You moaned at that surprising action, pussy throbbing and dripping. Without another thought, you dipped forward, pressing your lips against his. He kissed you back right away, tongue shoving into your mouth and he could taste himself even more on your tongue. His hands ripped open the corset-dress you were wearing, freeing your tits from their prison and immediately moving to grab them.

You hopped onto the counter then, pulling him closer, legs hooking around his waist. He kissed you hungrily, tongue and teeth and spit and hotness all mixed together. You shoved his coat off his shoulders and opened the buttons of his shirt, but he stopped you.

“No time, need to be inside you now.” He basically growled, fingers simultaneously finding your panties and ripping them off of you just like he had your dress. You spread your legs further, ready for him, more ready than you had ever been. 

Jake knew he had reached heaven right then. Grabbing his cock and bringing it to your drenched pussy, pushing into your awaiting entrance and feeling you grip him, pulling him closer. He cried out, whimpered into your ear and continued to suck on your skin, cleaning you off of his seed all while working to bottom out.

And when he was finally buried to the hilt, he only paused for a second to take it all in, before beginning to fuck into you at a brutal pace. Your fingers clawed into his shoulders, mouth dropping open as your head tipped back and high pitched moans crawled out of your throat over and over. 

“So fucking tight, taking me so fucking well, such a dirty fucking slut.” Jake bit your neck and you cried out once more, your whole body shaking with pleasure as he continued to fuck you. There was nothing you could compare to what was happening right now. No one had ever fucked you as good, as hard and as fulfilling as Jake. 

Just when you thought it couldn’t get any better than this, Jake pulled out of you and grabbed your waist, heaving you off the counter only to spin your around and push you down onto it, your ass up in the air.

“Sorry, need to fuck you like this.”

Back in he went - full speed, full force. The counter shook under you and you gasped when he began to thrust. His cock dragged against your walls, split you open so beautifully it felt like you were going to burst. You threw your ass back at him, clawing at the edge of the counter, eyes falling shut as you let yourself enjoy the way he drilled into you.

There was a high chance Jake was going to grow addicted to this feeling. Never had he ever had sex as good as this and perhaps this was courtesy of the potion - or maybe it was just you. You with the perfect pussy, the perfect mouth, the perfect hands. Everything about you seemed to heighten his arousal, seemed to get him closer from the edge all while pushing him even further away from it. 

He could do this for hours, fuck you until he came, spill his seed in you over and over, watch how it spilled out. God, he wanted to see your pussy stuffed with his cum so bad. Watching his cock slip in and out of you, hearing the noises you made, it was almost too much.

“You’re my perfect little hole, aren’t you? Just made to be fucked like this,” he couldn’t help himself, grabbing your hips even rougher and spitting down to make it even wetter. Not that that was really necessary. You were dripping down his cock as well as your own thighs and Jake swore he would never recover. 

“Fuck, Jake!” You cried out, hip trying desperately to move while he held you, eyes opening only to roll back as your orgasm hit you like a brutal wave.

“Shit, are you gonna come on my cock, slut?” Jake saw red as he felt your pussy spasm around him, pulling him even deeper, squeezing him for all he had, wanting to milk him dry of his load. 

And who was he to deny such a request?

“Come inside me, Jake, please, please, please!”

You had sensed his orgasm and he let out a growl, finally filling your pussy with his load just as you hit your second high right after the first. Once again, it didn’t stop, it just kept on coming, his cum landing inside you and already dripping out as he fucked both of you through your orgasms, filthy sounds filling the air next to both of your moans and groans and pleads for more. 

Jake had expected to be done after three, but no, he was still hard, and so he grabbed your wrists and held them behind your back, standing up straighter as he picked up the speed once more.

“Need another one, baby, just one more, fuck, m-maybe two, I just- fuck, I am so hard, I need to fuck you more, wanna fuck you all night, need to fuck your pussy.”

There was nothing left in his brain except for the need to come, for the need to fuck you. He was like an animal during heat, felt like he was going to explode. His cock was so incredibly sensitive, hurting even at this point, but it was addictive, you were addictive. Just the thought of not being inside of you anymore filled him with something close to agony. 

“Y-yes, fu-fuck me Jake, your cock feels so good, s-so big!”

At this point you could have taken the potion yourself judging by how you were feeling and talking. Normally, you were the one in charge, the one on top. But with Jake? You enjoyed being in his hands like this, enjoyed being used by him for his pleasure. You wanted him to fill you up, to split you open, to do with you whatever the hell he wanted. 

“God, yes, like my big cock fucking you open like that? Such a good behaved little whore, isn’t that right?” He found himself slapping your ass, and judging by your reaction that had been the exactly right thing to do. He groaned when he felt you squeeze him again, both hands back to holding your hands in place.

He lost himself in you. Lost himself in the pleasure. And you lost yourself in him and the need to have him fill you up again and again. 

His fourth orgasm made his cock soften a little. He filled you to the brim, watched the majority drip down your legs, forming a little puddle to your feet and he licked his lips, letting go of your hands and pulling out of you, turning you back around and placing you back on top of the counter. 

“Lean back,” he ordered and you did as wanted, eyes wide and pussy throbbing from the last orgasm a few seconds ago. 

You leaned back on your elbows, watching him position himself between your legs. He grabbed his cock and placed it in between your lips - to thrust in between them, cockhead repeatedly hitting your clit. You gasped, body jerking forward.

“Wanna paint your whole body with my cum, stay still.” His big hands grabbed your hips, pinning you to the counter as he began to thrust his cock over your pussy, the friction already enough to almost make him come again. 

“Mhmm, y-yes, f-feels good!” You cried and he grinned, continuing his spiel like a madman. 

“You’re so sexy, so fucking sexy, baby.” He breathed out, his brain slowly but surely coming back to him. And when he heard that little noise you apparently always made before you came (if he could trust the two orgasms from earlier), he felt himself reach the edge as well. 

Your head fell back when you felt the next orgasm hit and your pussy ached for more when his next load landed all over your stomach, even reaching as far as your tits, painting you just like he had wanted. 

The canvas was finished.

But Jake wasn’t.

“Fuck, I’m sorry, so sorry, I need to-,” his head was fuming red, and he moved back a little, just to dip his cock back into your spent pussy and you fell flat onto your back, your head hanging over the counter. 

He fucked you like a ragdoll, like a toy, like he didn’t even really acknowledge you were still there. He pressed down onto your stomach and sped up, tried to fuck you deeper. He imagined he could feel his cock through your skin, imagined he could see himself fucking you just like that. 

“S-so deep!” You cried out and he looked at you, at your body, and nodded, watching now how your tits jumped at every thrust. They were stained with his cum as well and he hoped he would never forget this image. 

“One more, promise, just one more, my perfect little fucktoy, yeah?”

His words were so filthy, so desperate and full of need, they made your pussy spasm again, made you grip him hard over and over again. 

“That’s it, fuck! Gonna come, gonna come, shit, sh-shit! Take my cum, take it, yes, yes!” He was in a spiral downwards, then back up and back down - his last orgasm hitting him like a fucking brick, yet another load landing inside your pussy - one, two, three. His cock twitched and twitched and finally began to soften. 

When he pulled out, he fell backwards, landing on the floor, his eyes wide and his ass hurting. 

The potion slowly lost its grip on him, his normal, coherent thoughts coming back all while he was getting down from his many, many highs. 

You pulled yourself up in exhaustion, your chest heaving. When you sat up straight again, you couldn’t help but chuckle at Jake on the floor. 

“Need a hand?” You asked, carefully jumping off the counter and finding that your legs were nothing but mere jelly. Quickly, you grabbed onto the edges of the surface and found your balance again.

“I- I-,” Jake began to stutter, his eyes probably the size of saucers by now. You grinned.

“You?” You raised a brow. Jake’s face turned crimson.

“I- I’m sorry, I-,”

“You’re apologizing? For what? The best sex I’ve ever had?” You snorted, “No, Jakey, no need to apologize.” 

Jake bit the inside of his cheeks. Best sex you’ve ever had? While he wanted to feel proud, he wasn’t so sure if that really had been him having sex with you or if the potion had a mind of its own. 

“Don’t worry your pretty little head,” you moved forward now, stretching your hand out for Jake to take, “the potion only strengthens what’s already there. It doesn’t change your personality, it just makes you give less fucks.”

Had you read his mind? Jake cleared his throat and nodded slowly, before taking your hand and letting you help him up. 

Only then, when he was standing so close to you again, did he realize you were still covered in his seed. He turned even redder.

“Oh, right.” You giggled, closing your eyes and once again snapping your fingers. 

Immediately, you were clean of his cum and back in your dress - which had also magically repaired itself. Jake also found himself back in his briefs and jeans, his coat safely hanging over the counter. His mouth dropped.

“You-,”

“Are an actual witch, correct, Sherlock.” You winked at him and walked back to the other side of the counter, “Now, do you still need that potion?”

Jake stared at you for a second.

“Y-yes,” he mumbled, watching as you quickly finished the preparations. He didn’t dare say anything, his heart beating at triple speed and his brain working overtime. He had just fucked you. For like… a good while. And he didn’t even have your phone number.

“There you go,” you smiled and carefully shoved the bottle with the potion over the counter, “just pour a few drops over your flowers tonight. You should already see some results in the morning.”

“Th-thanks. How much do I owe you?”

“Oh, Jakey. You already paid me enough.” You said cheekily and Jake found himself choking on his own spit.

When he walked out he regretted not asking you for your number. Or if you wanted to go on a date. 

But that night, when he got ready to put the potion to its use, he saw a little note stuck to the label he hadn’t seen before.

Tomorrow, 8 o’clock at your place. I promise I’ll bring wine that won’t make you wanna fuck me for hours. It’s a date! Also here’s my number: xxx-xxx-xxx. See you tomorrow, loverboy!

Jake found himself laughing out loud. 

And while he did his work in the garden, he thought that just because the wine wouldn’t be the reason, he sure as hell would not mind fucking you for hours at least twice every day for the rest of his life.

[dandelionsresilience]

whether the internet becomes an intolerable surveillance state, ubiquitous subscription model, or unusably ad- or AI-ridden shithole, I think we need to remember

how to do things offline

either on your personal hard drive (just because it’s an app doesn’t mean the information is stored in your device) or on paper. I’m not saying the collapse of the internet is imminent, and I’m not suggesting we do everything completely without technology, or even stop using it until we have to. (to be clear, I also don’t think the internet will just blink out of existence, suddenly stop being a thing at all; rather I think it might continue to lose its usefulness to the point where it’s impossible to get anything done. anyway) but some people may have forgotten how we got by before the internet (I almost have!), and the younger generation might not have experienced it at all.

I figure most people probably use the internet mainly for communication with friends and family, entertainment and creation (eg. writing), and looking up how to do things, so here’s how to do those things offline:

First and most importantly, download everything important to you onto at least one hard drive and at least one flashdrive! files can get corrupted and hardware can get damaged or lost, but as long as you keep backup copies, you have much-closer-to-guaranteed access versus hoping a business doesn’t decide to paywall, purge, or otherwise revoke your access. I would recommend getting irreplaceable photos printed as well

download and/or print/write down:

anything important to you - photos/videos, journals, certificates, college transcripts

contact info - phone numbers and/or addresses of friends/family (know how to contact them if you can’t use your favourite messaging app), doctors (open hours would be good too), veterinarians if you have pets, and work

how-to’s - recipes (one, two), emergency preparedness (what do I do if… eg. I smell gas)

other things you might google: cleaning chemicals to NOT mix, what laundry tag symbols mean, people food dogs and cats can and can’t eat, plant toxicity to pets

and know offline ways to find things out - local radio station, newspaper, a nearby highway rest area might have a region map, public libraries usually have a bunch of resources

also, those of you who get periods should strongly consider not using period tracking apps! here’s how to track your period manually

free printable period tracker templates (no printer? public libraries usually charge a few cents per page, or you can recreate it by hand)

moving on to entertainment, you can still get most media for free! it’s completely legal to download your favourite movies to your own personal hard drive, you just can’t sell or distribute copies (not legal advice)

movies: wcostream.tv (right click the player) - the url changes every once in a while but usually redirects; I recently noticed that it’s hiding a lot of movies behind “premium,” so it may or may not work anymore | download youtube videos

music: how to get music without streaming it | legal free downloads

games: steamunlocked.net - doesn’t have every game and can be slow to update, but very reliable

books: free online libraries | legal free downloads

otherwise passing time:

active outdoor games

for road trips (social verbal games)

for when power’s out

for sheltering in place (not all offline, but good ideas)

board games (often found at thrift stores)

ad-free customisable games collection (mobile)

read, write, draw, or whatever your craft is, sing, dance, clean, reorganise, take a bath

go outside - excuses include napping (if safe), eating, reading, finding cool plants/animals/rocks, playing with the dog

places to go include:

zoos and museums can be surprisingly cheap

parks and nature preserves

library, mall, or game shop

and a few miscellaneous things for good measure:

time budgeting | household management

how to use a planner | I’ve had success with visually blocked-out schedules like these

please add on if you have any other offline alternatives to common uses of the internet!

[marril96]

Just In Time

Pairing: Agatha Harkness x reader

Summary: Following a trip, Agatha gets sick. It's up to you to look after her.

Editor: @fruityhahn

The weather was miserable, and so were you.

When the forecast had announced a snowstorm would hit your area the day after, you'd hurried to go on a supply run. Just in case the storm happened to overstay its welcome. If your centuries on this Earth had taught you anything, it was that it was good to be prepared.

Wind had started picking up not long after noon. By the time you'd arrived home, it was snowing like it hadn't been in years. The ride which usually took around twenty minutes had taken over an hour; you could barely see the road ahead.

Living in the middle of nowhere usually had its perks, the most important ones being privacy and freedom from nosy neighbors, but it sucked ass during times like this.

Especially when you were alone.

A couple days back, Agatha had gone on another one of her con jobs. She'd found a coven of witches she'd claimed were powerful and wanted to stock up for a rainy day — or a snowy day, as she'd said. Awfully fitting.

Usually, you'd accompanied her, more for your peace of mind than hers, but this time you weren't in the mood for travel. It was cold outside. The place she'd tracked that coven to was amidst the largest snowstorm in the country. You couldn't bring yourself to leave the warmth of your house to do a con job that would be over in half an hour, once the witches' trust was earned.

Agatha had assured you that she could handle it. She had, after all, been doing this for centuries, long before she'd ever met you. She would be okay. She'd travel to that shithole town, and she would be on the first flight or bus or train back, whichever was available, as soon as the storm had passed.

And here you were now, alone in an empty house, soon to be trapped inside for the unforeseeable future.

As you were grabbing all the bags, hoping against hope they wouldn't rip and spill your stuff all over the windy yard, you made a mental note to call Agatha and let her know that you were okay.

She had done the same after she'd landed at her destination and started working on the witches. This morning she'd sent a quick text to tell you the job was done, and she was taking the first means of transport that was available home.

You hoped coming home to a full fridge and a stocked up potions ingredients cupboard would cheer her up after a long day of travel — from one snowstorm to another.

As you were about to stick the key into the lock, you noticed the door was a jar. Your heckles rose like a porcupine's quills, prickling at the back of your neck. You were sure you'd closed the door on your way out. You were sure you'd locked it.

Tentatively, slowly, you walked inside. Lowering the bags to the floor (and making sure to make as little noise as possible), you summoned your magic. Sparks as bright as daylight engulfed the tips of your fingers. Whoever the mystery intruder was, they were messing with the wrong witch.

The house was dark and cold, exactly as you'd left it this morning. There was no point in lighting the fire when you would be out for almost half a day; you knew that, by the time you'd gone through all the grocery stores, as well as the couple witch shops just out of town, it would be dark out. The fire would have been long dead.

"Hello?" you called out cautiously, wiggling your fingers, the magic coiling between them crackling like freshly lit fire.

A small, weak noise sounded in response, strangely alike to a moan.

Your brows furrowed in confusion, but you didn't let your guard down. Whoever or whatever was in your house could still pose a threat to your life. A wild animal was no less dangerous than a human — or an unfriendly witch.

As you lingered by the entrance to the living room, your power lighting up the dark space, your eyes fell upon a form spread across the floor.

"Hello?" you repeated, instinctively stiffening and clenching both fists.

Why would someone break into a house, only to fall asleep on the floor? How were they able to step inside in the first place? You and Agatha had made sure to put up protective runes. Nobody, human or witch or anything else resembling a person, should have been able to get in.

Nobody except…

You stepped closer to get a better look at the fallen person. Their jacket was purple, a rich, dark shade that you would recognize anywhere. They wore jeans, and on their feet was a pair of black boots. A halo of thick, dark brown curls spilled around their head.

Blood ran cold in your veins as the realization sat in.

"Agatha!" Dissolving your summoned magic, you instantly ran over to her and kneeled by her side. "Sweetheart?"

She responded with a moan, as small and fragile as the first one. "Y-Y/N…"

Your heart raced, concern spilling over you like a bucket of cold water. "What happened?"

"I-I'm not… feeling well…"

That much you could tell. "Did someone hurt you?"

"No."

You pressed your palm to her forehead, and almost pulled your hand back as if stung. "You're burning up."

You couldn't help releasing a relieved sigh. A fever, you could deal with. Whatever illness she'd picked up, be it the flu or COVID or any other respiratory ailment, would be a walk in the park in comparison to a hex.

"I'm sick," Agatha said, weak, drained.

"I can see that," you replied softly. "Why didn't you call me?"

She took in a breath, two, three. "I did. You didn't pick up."

"What?" You instinctively reached for your pocket, only to find it empty. Fuck. You were in a rush this morning, eager to head out as soon as possible, hoping against hope the storm wouldn't hit early. Shit. "I left my phone at home. I'm so sorry, sweetheart."

"You should be," Agatha said halfheartedly, just to be snarky. Just to show that she was still herself, despite the predicament she was in.

You rolled your eyes, but decided to give her a pass. Bitchiness was one of the things you loved about her. As annoying as you found it from time to time, it was part of what made her her. You wouldn't change it for the world.

"I had to take a cab," she whined. "The bastard robbed me blind."

"Why didn't you mind control him?"

"Think I didn't try? My purple is… malfunctioning."

Because she was sick.

It was a miracle she'd managed to drag herself inside the house before collapsing.

Your heart swelled with sympathy, with compassion for the woman you loved. It had been ages since you'd last seen her so much as cough. Whatever she'd caught had to be nasty; there were few things that managed to bring down the powerful Agatha Harkness, and a feeble illness wasn't one of them.

It shouldn't have been, at least.

"Can you walk?" you asked, gently hoisting her up to her feet.

Her legs instantly gave way, answering your question; you wrapped your arms around her, holding her against you, hoping against hope that your body could handle the weight of hers pressing against it.

"I got you. It's okay. I got you, sweetie."

It broke your heart to see her so weak, so fragile. As if one wrong look could break her.

As if she was already breaking, one little piece at a time.

It felt like a dream, a nightmare you couldn't wake up from.

Your Agatha was strong. Powerful. She did what she wanted and demolished everyone and everything that stood in her way.

This pitiful creature wasn't her.

It couldn't be her.

"I'm tired," Agatha murmured.

"I know you are," you said, caressing her hair. Her head lowered to your shoulder, and she relaxed, breathing softly. Safe and secure in your arms. Cozy as a baby bird, even in this awkward position. "Can you try to take a few steps to help me out here?"

"Do I have to?"

God, she was such a brat.

A part of you found it endearing.

"You'll be more comfortable on the couch than on the floor."

She couldn't argue with that. "Mmm."

Her left foot pushed itself forward. Then the right one. You guided her, slow and careful; the last thing you wanted was to cause her more pain than she was already in.

You could tell it took a lot out of her, but she forced her legs to move along with you, to follow your lead.

As soon as you reached the couch, Agatha, with a large, tired sigh, slumped forwards. You removed her jacket and shoes, then helped her lie down

"This is undignifying," she whined.

A small smile bloomed on your mouth. "It's fine. You're sick."

"I'm pathetic."

If there was anyone who was allowed to see her in that condition, it was you. "I won't tell anyone if you don't."

You made a quick run upstairs to grab the pillow and blanket off your bed, and then wrapped her up nice and tight. Swaddled her like a baby in need of utmost care.

Not that she was far from that description.

As you were adjusting the pillow under her head, your eyes fell upon a phone on the coffee table — your phone, the one you'd discarded this morning in your rush to outrun the incoming storm. A light was blinking at the top, alerting you of missed calls. Countless, you assumed. Agatha would not have given up after a couple.

A pang of regret pierced your heart. You should have been there. You should have driven her home and tucked her into bed afterwards. She shouldn't have spent hours on a cold, hard floor.

"Don't leave me," Agatha suddenly said, shaking you from your thoughts. Her lip trembled, eyes filled with tears she was trying her hardest to hold back. "Please."

There it was again, that insecurity of hers. That fear that she would be betrayed, abandoned for that was all she'd ever known. People — witches — in her life tended to turn their backs on her when she needed them the most. The coven she'd been born into, her mother, hell, even her ex, from the stories she'd told you. Nobody cared enough to stay. Nobody cared enough to put her first.

You did.

Nothing she could ever say or do would make you leave her behind.

"I won't," you assured her, grabbing her hand. Her fingers weakly wrapped around yours. "I'll be right here."

You pressed a kiss to her burning forehead, sealing the promise. You would stay with her. You would look after her. You would make sure she got better.

Agatha muttered something you couldn't exactly make out, that sounded almost like, "Thank you," and then she said in her tiniest voice, "I'm cold."

"Let me get you something for your fever, and then I'll light the fire, okay?"

As soon as she gave a nod, you rushed to the medicine cabinet upstairs, grabbed what you needed, then ran back down to the kitchen. The medication dissolved in water in seconds; you stirred it with a spoon to speed it up, cursing yourself for still, centuries into your life on this Earth, not having gotten a hang of potions.

Magic would speed up Agatha's recovery significantly. Magic that you weren't capable of.

You hated yourself for it. Hated that you couldn't help the woman you loved. Hated that the simplest of magic was out of your grasp. Hated that you could kill a person with ease, but when it came to healing you were useless.

Agatha readily drank the medicine. Without uttering a word, she let you hold the plastic cup to her mouth, too weak to attempt it herself, and drained it in two big gulps.

"This is horrible," she complained, face scrunching in disgust.

The sheer cuteness of her reaction forced your mouth to curl into a smile. "It will help."

"It better."

A part of you wanted to tease her with, "Or what?" but you decided against it. She needed to conserve her strength. There would be time for playful banter later, once her fever was down and she could make more than two steps without falling on her face.

You laid a kiss to her knuckles, adjusting the blanket, making sure that she was covered from head to toe.

As Agatha's eyes fell closed and she burrowed her face under the blanket, you set to lighting the fire. The fireplace was big, fancy in comparison to the rest of the house. It reminded you of the olden days, of mansions and villas you and Agatha would scam your way into to take advantage of the hosts. Sometimes it would be for money, other times for magic; rich witches were no less gullible than poor ones — in fact, some were even more so, their greed for the imaginary Road the perfect fodder for Agatha's cannon.

Not much had changed in that regard. Witches were just as greedy, just as gluttonous as they were back then.

People would always be people. Nature had made it so.

The first crackle of fire elicited a satisfied "Mmm" from Agatha from under the covers.

You had to smile, even though she couldn't see you.

She was going to be okay.

A seasonal respiratory illness couldn't bring down the great and powerful Agatha Harkness.

Not for long.

***

It was almost dinnertime by the time Agatha stirred awake. A groan you knew by heart prompted you to rush to her side, to ensure that you would be the first thing her eyes fell upon after blinking open.

You needed her to know that you'd made good on your promise.

You'd stayed.

You were here.

You didn't abandon her.

"Y/N?" Agatha said, rubbing her tired eyes.

"It's me," you said with a grin. "Hi."

She rolled her eyes, not in the mood for your shenanigans — not yet, anyway.

You blew her a raspberry in response, which, in turn, elicited a frustrated groan from her.

Your girl was back.

"How are you feeling?" you asked.

"Like I just woke up from hibernation."

She looked it, too. Some color had returned to her cheeks, but she was still pale as a ghost.

You laid a hand over her forehead. Her skin was its regular warmth, pleasant instead of scorching. "No fever. That's a good sign."

You'd made sure to check on her while she was asleep, palming her head every half an hour or so, just to be safe.

She'd taken well to the medicine.

"Are you sure?" she asked, for no reason other than to be a brat. Her usual tactic, used just to rile you up, to annoy you for Agatha Harkness was nothing if not a troll.

Fine. If that was how she wanted to play it. "I could always stick a thermometer up your ass to double check."

Two could play this game.

Agatha made a sour face.

"Thought so," you said with a shrug.

She responded with a pout, one of her most lethal weapons. You melted like ice greeting the sun, unable to put up a fight, to resist her blatant manipulation.

This woman had an insane amount of power over you, and the worst part of it was that you let her have it. You didn't mind it.

You gave it to her. Willingly so.

If given a choice, you would do it again in a heartbeat.

As carefully as if any sudden movement would set her ablaze, Agatha propped herself up into a sitting position. One of her hands shot out in your direction, reaching for you, beckoning for you to come to her.

You instantly obliged, moving to sit beside her. As gently as you could, you cupped her cheeks, soft and warm, flushing with more and more color with each passing minute. She leaned into your touch, into you, comfortable, trusting. She knew you would never hurt her. That you would make all the bad go away to the best of your ability. That you would love her and cherish her and protect her when she wasn't able to do it on her own.

She trusted you with herself at her most vulnerable.

You swore on your life to never do anything to make her regret it.

You pressed a soft kiss to her forehead, and then pecked her on the lips. "How'd it go with the witches?"

Agatha grunted, displeased. "They're the ones who got me sick."

"They hex you?"

She made a disgusted face. "Worse. They sneezed and coughed in my face. The entire damn coven was one step removed from meeting my ex."

"You really stepped in it, huh?" Understatement of the century.

Agatha scoffed. "Two of them couldn't even blast me. I had to kill them the old fashioned way." She shook her head in disappointment. "Waste of good magic."

"At least you drained the rest," you said in an attempt to make her feel better.

It didn't work.

"Yeah, but at what cost?"

"Hey, hey." You tilted her head to get her eyes to meet yours, your thumbs rubbing tender circles across her cheeks. "This is just a bug. You'll be fine. You're already doing much better."

Compared to how you'd found her mere hours ago, weak and barely conscious on the floor, unable to walk even with assistance, this was a major improvement.

"Well, I am exceptional," she said with exaggerated arrogance, a smirk coating her puckered mouth.

"Yes, you are."

Agatha preened at the praise like a peacock, eyelashes batting, lips puckering into that adorable pout that always made you melt. Unable to resist, you laid a quick kiss to them, then pecked the tip of her nose.

Witches with body counts that would make the most notorious serial killers blush had no right to be that cute.

"What was that potion you gave me?" she inquired.

"Two water-soluble Tylenol." You gave a chuckle. "Extra strength."

"Of course."

"Hey, it worked."

It was a well known fact that you and potions got along like water and oil. Agatha had tried to teach you some, many times, each having resulted in a disaster, until she'd finally given up and took on the task of preparing them herself.

As the saying went, if you wanted something done right, you had to do it yourself.

She knew better than to entrust that particular task to you.

That didn't make teasing you any less fun.

"If you want a potion, make it yourself," you said. "Until then, you're stuck with Tylenol."

"Whatever would you do without me?" Agatha quipped with a sigh.

"Not get sick, for one," you pointed out.

She responded with a new pout, this one hurt, sad to the core.

As tempting as it was, you didn't fall for it. "Cuteness doesn't give you the right to be a bitch to the person taking care of you."

"Doesn't it?"

"Nope."

She shrugged. "It was worth a try." Then, face turning serious, she said, "Thank you for staying."

You had, after all, promised that you would.

As mean as she could be, you knew Agatha appreciated everything you did for her. She showed it with every kiss, every cuddle, every little caress and pat. Every look in her eyes. Every breakfast she brought you to bed and coffee she made alongside it. Every new spell she boasted about learning, eager to teach you its ways.

She wasn't perfect, far from it, but you knew she loved you. Her actions spoke louder than words.

You smiled. "Always, sweetheart. You're kinda stuck with me."

Agatha retorted with a kiss, long and hungry. Yet another wordless declaration of love, louder and prouder than any yell.

The growl in her stomach prompted you to pull away. "You should get something to eat."

She contemplated it for a moment, then, knowing resistance was futile, conceded, "I could use a corn dog or something."

Or something, it was. "How does canned soup sound?"

"Like I don't have much of a choice."

"You have plenty of choices."

You'd made sure to stock up on pretty much everything. It had taken you hours; shelves at every store were almost bare, raided by people eager to prepare for the storm.

A few fights had broken out, each over random shit that, honestly, wasn't even worth fighting for. Desperation bred tension, you supposed. And tension bred conflict.

Not my circus, not my monkeys, you'd told yourself, carefully avoiding each and every brawl. You watched from a safe distance, reminded of Black Friday fight compilations Agatha liked to watch. It was bizarre to see it happen in front of your very eyes. A perfect reminder that humans, after all, really were animals.

"If you're feeling up to cooking," you added.

Agatha wasn't just the potion maker in your relationship — she was also the chef. With damn good reason.

Forcing her mouth into a tight smile, she said, "Canned soup sounds fantastic."

You thought so.

"It'll be good for you," you said. "Soup helps with the flu."

Agatha narrowed her eyes, skeptical. "I'm pretty sure that's an old wives tale."

It might have been. Not that you cared. "It's a fluid. You need fluids."

"Fine," she relented. "You win."

Her tone made it clear that she was far from happy about it.

Tough luck.

You gifted her another kiss, a little peace offering. Agatha happily accepted, melting into you, devouring the small token of affection. Begging for more, more, more like the greedy little fiend that she was.

You happily indulged her. After all, it took one to know one.

"Is your purple still malfunctioning?" you asked in-between the shower of kisses.

Agatha raised a hand up to your face. The tip of her forefinger, adorned with a long, perfectly manicured nail, lit up in rich violet. She laid it against your nose in a gentle tap. The sparks of magic cracked against your skin, tickling you, teasing you.

A grin broke out across your face. "I'm gonna take that as a no."

"When has anything held me down for long?"

"Right, you're exceptional," you echoed her words back to her, eliciting a wide smile.

"Exactly."

Leaning forwards, you rubbed your nose against hers. Agatha scrunched her face adorably.

"Stop that," she said half-heartedly, cheeks flushing with more color.

"Or what?" you challenged.

"I'll drain you."

A hearty laugh erupted from your mouth.

She pouted, feigning offense. "I mean it. There's a reason they call me witch killer."

Indeed, there was. She — happily, gleefully — killed witches.

Other witches.

Witches that weren't you.

There had been a few close calls in the past, of you being careless and almost blasting her. She'd broken into tears each time and had lectured you about safety and precaution until her throat was raw and it hurt to talk, and you'd had to wrap your arms around her and promise it wouldn't happen again.

She didn't want to hurt you.

She didn't want to take your life.

"Somehow I doubt it," you said.

Agatha shrugged. "It's your funeral. I'm formidable."

"Yes, you are." Briefly kissing the tip of her nose, which prompted another impossibly cute face scrunch, you leaned your forehead against hers. "I love you so much."

"Right back at you, honey," she said. "Thank you for being here."

"I wish I'd come home sooner."

She shook her head. "You were just in time."

You supposed you were.

It was worth it.

*****

Tags: @werewolfbarbie @miss-moon-guardian @hermslore @uniquelesbianidiot @natashamaximoff1 @alsoknownasmel @swan-queen-is-magic @tardisesandtitans @ahintofchaos @fruityhahn @midnight-lestrange @lift-heavy-be-gay @katieswain123 @riovidalharkness

[gobbluthbutagirl]

i don’t know if this is going to be a positive thing to hear or what but i am obsessed with your worlds worst target odyssey and i hope you continue sharing its all insane and incredible. have a good day and stuff

well see the thing is i quit like 4 months ago. so there’s not really anything new to share and there won’t be until i move back to california and pay that beast a visit to see if it’s still standing. but it’s all tagged with “#my job wrapped” if you’re feeling so inclined to take a horrible journey

[bogleech]

I remember when I said bakeries with fresh bread aren't a normal thing in America and people in other countries found that impossible to wrap their heads around. Well these are all the "bakeries" in an entire huge area next to us, a whole densely populated county:

"Tany's Bakery" is the ONLY one resembling what you're thinking of, in that they make fresh baked hot bageuttes you can go pick up. And that's considered such a novelty, people come from neighboring counties because they don't have such a place. All the rest are cafe's or restaurants that happen to offer pies, a couple doughnut places, cake makers, and big grocery stores with a bakery department. And yeah, the grocery store bakery departments make big french loafs and everything, but it's not the same as a business that is strictly just "a bakery." I'm told in other countries you just have fresh brand new bread in walking distance wherever the hell you are. I can't picture that. America simply does not believe in that because it is a putrid rotten shithole is what it is.

[ravenslvt]

Hi! I saw that you're taking requests, so is it okay if I ask for a spoiled city girl! Reader x country boy! Leon?

Reader's father sent reader to spend the rest of the year at her grandparents because he's had enough tolerating her. Eversince she arrived, yeah, the whole town hated her alright. Her grandparents made her do errands and shit and she'd complain and do it lazily.

Leon on the other hand- who's been hearing rumors about this girl, didn't think that she was that bad until he encountered her himself. And hell, she was way worse that bad.

Possible virgin, kinda innocent (only when it comes to ykyk) reader and brat tamer Leon?

Ignore if you're not comfortable with the idea.

🎀 cowboy!leon s kennedy x f!innocent reader 🎀

cw: smut, implied virgin reader, brat taming, sort of hate sex, p in v, oral m! recieving, v fingering, degrating, edging, light spanking

of course there was no cell service in this shithole. you groaned, falling back onto the white sheets of the squeaky bed of the guest bedroom in your grandparents house.

you had taken a gap year off of college, wanting a break and hoping to ‘find yourself’, but you just got unmotivated. your father asked you for months to find a job in the city, but you’d talk your way out of it everytime. of course, enough was enough and when the time came, he had talked to his own parents and decided to send you over to a small little farm town where they retired to, hoping to shape you up a bit. they owned a quaint farm with chickens, sheep, pigs, all a cute little older couple could ask for.

but it was your own personal hell. having to feed, clean, and even pick up after the smelly animals. at least some of them were cute. no technology to ease your mind. it didn’t help your grandparents made you drive their shitty little red truck into town once a week to get supplies, since you were so ‘nimble’ compared to them. to say the least, the whole town was not fond of a bratty city girl storming irritatingly around. refusing to do work, and even when you did, you just half assed it to get it over with.

the local townies and shop workers alike always stared when you’d walk through town with your cute little purse and skirt that rode up your thighs. it was a hot town, what else were you supposed to wear? older women having to slap their husbands when they oogled for too long at the young woman walking into the supply store. that was until you’d start an argument with another customer. they’d either be judging you or too scared to say a word. sometimes both.

in one instance, there was only one stack of bird feed left, and you’d be damned if you weren’t gonna be the one taking it back to the farm. that was until a prudish older lady grabbed it at the same time as you. your eyes met, challenging each-other. she put on a fake smile. “oh sorry sweetie! need this food for my little chickies at home.” her high pitched voice irritated your head. “oh that’s unfortunate, i need it for the same reason. so if you could take your wrinkley little fingers off of it that would be great.” you yanked it from her hands before she gasped.

“what a disrespectful young lady…” she mumbled, turning around to the door of the door, looking down at her hands as she left. you mumbled a quick curse at her before walking up to the register to pay. the store clerk looked a little nervous, so he rang you up in silence in fear of you lashing out at him.

this was just one of the many incidents since you got sent here.

at least you’d found new hobbies. you started going to the small library whenever you were sent into town. there wasn’t many choices, but that along with a few of your grandma’s books from her collection, you were somewhat less bored. that and you took up sketching. sure this place was boring as fuck, but you couldn’t deny that the scenery was pretty beautiful.

it’s been almost a month since you’ve been here. you silently lounged in the room you’d been staying in, reading some god awful romance novel. you heard your grandma call your name from downstairs. you sigh before getting up. “what?” you yell back, annoyed you got interrupted reading your newly picked up book. she didn’t respond, another tindge of annoyance reaching your skull.

as you walk down the creaky wooden steps, noticing the front door open to find the older woman on the front porch. you heard a deep voice chuckling from outside. walking out, you were greeted with a handsome young man. he only looked two or three years older than you, but he was tall and had a good frame. seems like doing work on a farm for years really builds up muscle. the wrinkled woman calls your name, snapping you out of your trance.

“um, what can i help you with?” you reply, crossing your arms over your chest. the man gives you a smile before holding out his hand for you to shake, lowering his dark grey hat to reveal some of his dirty blonde hair underneath. “i’ve heard a lot about you miss, names leon.” his large hand extends towards you. you just eye it and roll your eyes. “hi? can i go now, nana?” you plead to the woman. she just sighs and puts a hand on your shoulder. “pop and i gotta go into town for a couple days for this chicken auction he’s been wantin’ to go to. our friendly neighbor here offered to help show you around the farm a bit. teach you a few things” she eyes you sternly.

“teach me things? i’m not twelve. i can handle myself” you retort, glaring at the tall man. he just chuckles. he had heard from around town you were feisty, but it was even better to see in person. he rests his hands firmly on his hips.

“promise i won’t get in your way, darlin’. we’re doin’ some renovations on my own house a few miles down the road. your kind grandmother here offered to let me stay in the guest house while they’re gone.” he smiles assuringly. you were annoyed. you had already spent the last thirty seconds planning on sunbathing or sitting in your room, free of any work on the farm.

“i just don’t think this is very necessary. surely you can afford a hotel?” you retort back. your grandma gives you a light smack on the back of your head. “sorry ‘bout her. not from here” she smiles kindly at the young man. you just pout. “yeah, thank god” you mumble, causing you to get another light smack.

“oh it’s no trouble at all. got myself a little cousin back home that’s a bit of a brat too.” he comments, his eyes never leaving yours. your face flushes. “excuse me? a brat? fuck off dude-“ you start. “language!” she scolds you. you mumble a small apology to her while still glaring daggers at leon.

leon just stands there, entertained by your little outbursts. he could tell you really did not enjoy being here, but he was ready to fix that. his gaze shifts down to your attire, you clearly didn't pack for working on a farm. always in cute little outfits that you'd always wear back in the city.

your grandma changed the subject, asking leon a few questions about his family and his own farm. you were lost in your own thoughts. at least you'd be stuck with a hot farmer instead of some old creep. maybe you could just fake flirt with him to get him to do all your chores for you. that should work, right?

after a few treacherous minutes of standing on the badly painted white porch, you said your goodbyes. leon gives your grandmother another respectful handshake and he just tips his hat at you while you just stare, giving a tiny wave before storming back inside.

about two days later you said your goodbyes to your grandparents, they gave you some hugs and kept repeating the list of chores they'd tasked you with. feed the chickens, take out the eggs, you really just blocked out their words from entering your head. you just smiled and nodded, waving at them as they drove off the property.

you gave a sigh of relief, leon wouldn't be here for another few hours so you thought you'd have some 'me' time. taking a long hot bath (your grandparents always got mad when you used up too much hot water), reading your romance novel while relaxing in the warm water. your cheeks flushed at a certain scene in the book. you didn't expect the library to carry a literal smut book. the main male character in the novel was going down on the pretty girl, the writing made your stomach churn in arousal. you'd never read anything so... descriptive before.

right before you could turn to the next page when things were getting more hot and heavy, there was a heavy knock on the door. you jerk up from your laying down position in the bath and sigh, leon was early. you lay your book upside down so you wouldn't loose your place, wrapping a small towel around your figure before fully stepping out, draining the bath. another knock and a familiar voice calling your name. "you home?" he calls. "yeah, hold on!" you scurry around, cursing yourself for not laying out clothes beforehand.

you carefully step downstairs and opening the front door, peeking out. leon had a duffel bag with him with his things in it. "um, yeah?" you say, trying to hide your toweled figure behind the door. he smiles. "just need the key to the guest house, darlin." oh right. you nod, grabbing the key hanging near the door and hand it to him, your fingers brushing slightly, making your cheeks heat up. before he could open his mouth to speak, you shut the door on him unremorsefully. "thanks." he chuckles out, turning to make the walk to the guest house about a hundred feet away from the main house. and of course you were the one who had to clean it up before he got here.

after putting on your favorite outfit and boots, you make your way back downstairs for some water. sipping from the clear glass cup, you notice leon outside the window. he was already getting familiar with the animals. he looked good in his light blue button up shirt, it really brought out his eyes. the way he had rolled up his sleeves so his veiny arms were on display. he was squatted down next to the new baby sheep and was petting her. you pouted, she didn’t even let you pet her. you sigh, placing your glass down before making your way outside.

leon’s head perks up as he notices you walking twords him. he gives you a charming smile, standing up from the baby sheep. you speak first. “she lets you pet her? everytime i come near she yells at me.” you cross your arms at the man. he looks back down at the small animal who gave you an angry look, running off somewhere. “you gotta' know how to approach em’. plus they sense your vibes” he adds, his eyes back on you.

“my vibes, huh? what’s that supposed to mean, mister?” your eyes squint at him, a hint of irritation in your eye. he doesn’t feed into your attitude. “leon” he corrects you.

“leon” you repeat. the way his name sounded rolling off your tounge made his lips quirk up in a small smile.

“now-“ he starts, grabbing a nearby bag and handing it to you. “- better start on those chores, hmm?”. you glare at him, scoffing. “you’re joking.” you retort. he just shakes his head.

“i’m here for a reason, darlin’. best get to work so you can get it over with faster.” he shoves the bag in your arms and you give him your best puppy dog eyes. “c’mon leon. you’re so big and strong, i’m sure you’d get it done a lot faster than me.” you bat your eyelashes at him. he seemed gullible enough to seduce. he just chuckles. “nice try, you’re cute” he says, walking off to leave you to your chores. you groan. “fine…” you mumble, walking off to to collect the chicken eggs.

over an hour later, you lie in the green patch of grass, playing with your nails. pouting that cleaning the coop made you chip one. you’d finished majority of your chores, hoping it was enough to get leon off your back. whenever you’d start to walk away from a task, he’d appear to show you what you did wrong and how to improve. you wanted to punch his pretty face.

you were snapped out of your thoughts as you heard a deep voice approach you. “takin’ a break?” he says, standing over you. you sigh, not even bothering to look up at him. “i finished for today. i’ll do the rest tomorrow or something.” you continue playing with your nails, still annoyed.

he crosses his arms over his strong chest. “you’re quite the lazy girl, y'know that?” you just scoff. “whatever, asshole” you spit back.

“you got a bit of a mouth on you, don’t ya’?” he squats down so he’s level with you. you finally turn to him, glaring. you angrily stand up, dusting yourself off before gasping. “fuck!” you yell, looking down. your favorite skirt had stains of grass and dirt on them. you didn’t realize the grass was wet before you sat down on it. “are you serious?! this is so gross!” you try wiping the stains off, but only making it worse by spreading them around. you notice leon laughing at you. you turn to glare daggers at the now standing man.

“what the hell is so funny?” your face has annoyance all over it.

“c’mon, let me help you get those stains out, sweetheart. wouldn’t want such a pretty skirt to be ruined” he starts to walk twords the guest house.

“i’m not your-“

“you want that skirt clean or not?” he sighs. you silently nod, following behind him. he opens the door to the clean little house, holding it open for you and shutting it once you were both inside. it was surely nicer than the place you were staying in. a big bed against the wall and a little kitchen table. you remembered staying in here with your father when you visited as a kid. you loved it here back then.

he sets his hat on the counter, finally giving you a full view of his parted hair. he was even more handsome without the hat. he caught you staring and you quickly look away.

“gotta' take the skirt off so i can run it in the wash for you before the stains seep in.” he says, leaning against the counter with his large arms crossed over his broad chest. your eyebrow quirks. “um, i’m not doing that”. he gives you a questioning look. “i’m not wearing anything under…” you add. you only wore your panties under, not wanting to ruin the outfit with ugly shorts. he sighs. a thought flickers in his mind of you taking your skirt off, your pretty ass on display for him.

“fine. you can borrow some of my sweats.” he walks over to his bag of clothes, rummaging through until he pulls out a pair of plaid blue pajama pants. you scoff. “these are ugly as fuck, this is gonna ruin my outfit.” you hold up the pants. they were way too big for you. but they smelled like him. woodsy and a hint of pine. he steps a little closer to you. “if you’d rather let that pretty little skirt get ruined, then be my guest.” he says. you have to crane your neck to look up at him. you sigh, taking your shoes off. “you could just change in the bathroom, you know.” he comments.

“well you could also just look away, pervert.” you say, carefully setting your boots on the floor. he puts his hands up in defense, turning and walks somewhere across the room. “y’know, some day that mouth of yours is gonna get you in trouble.” his voice is lower now, more serious than before. you roll your eyes, shimmying yourself out of your little skirt. “fuck off. you’re not my father.” you bite back, pulling the loose pants over your hips. “these are too big…” you say, holding the pants up or else they’d fall to the ground. he turns and walks up to you, inches away. he grabs the drawstrings, tightening them so hard that you let out a barely audible gasp.

your eye’s focus on his hands. the way they tied the strings perfectly, patting your hip once he finished. “better now?” he asks, looking down at you. you didn’t say a word, just nodding. he smiles. “no words for me from the mouthy girl?” he says. you huff.

“you don’t know anything about me, leon.”

“i know enough. i know you’re an entitled little brat who needs to be put in her place.” he whispered, leaning into your ear. his hot breath left chills down your neck. you could feel your nipples harden against your top. his arms trapped you against the counter.

your eyes finally pull to his, almost magnetically. “what’s your story then, pretty? refusing to work so your daddy kicked you out?” he guesses. you stay silent. he was right.

“what happened to that little mouth of yours? got nothin’ to say now?” he teases, leaning twords your face. fuck, he knew how to shut you up.

“you- i-“ you stutter, unable to respond. he just smirks. his hand slipping to your waist. “you talk all this shit, but can’t handle it comin’ back to you, can you?” god it was almost like he was getting off on seeing your flustered face.

“fuck you-“

“watch your fucking mouth, princess” he practically growls. his grip on your waist only tightens, making you almost whine. his demeanor completely changing from his lighthearted charming self. you felt yourself getting wet from his words alone.

“or what?” you spit back.

“you wanna find out?”

that’s how you ended up with your shaky knees, pressed against the hardwood floor, leon’s big veiny cock sitting right in front of your eyes. his hand was in your hair as your hands nervously reach out to stroke him. he could tell you were inexperienced.

“what’s wrong, baby?” he coos, looking down at you as your small hand wraps around the base of his large cock.

“i don’t- i’ve never-“

“never had a cock in your mouth?” he asks. you just shake your head nervously. he pulsed at the thought of being the first man to be inside of you.

“ever even kissed someone?” he tilts his head.

“just once…” you pout. you were getting tired of his teasing. he just gives your hair a light tug, making you whine. he uses his other hand to bring his thumb to your bottom, dragging it down. you respond, opening your mouth to suck on his thumb. he presses it into your tongue, you swirl your wet muscle around his finger. “good job, see? you got it” he encourages. he removes his thumb, a trail of spit between your lips and his finger.

“now just open your pretty lips…” his hand cups your jaw, you open your mouth. he slides the tip into your hot mouth before hissing. “no teeth, darlin’.” he warns. you nod, taking him deeper. only halfway in and you’re choking around him. he groans at the way your throat contracts around him.

“fuck, you’re a natural slut, aren’t ya?” he grips your hair, moving you up and down his cock. you whine around him, the vibrations sending more pleasure straight to his dick. he abuses your throat and mouth, watching you as tears well up in your eyes. “look at you. your mouth is so much better around my cock.” he lets out another groan when you suck your cheeks in, sucking him off completely.

“think you can swallow all my cum? or are you too good for that, princess?” his voice was horse and low. you just nod, a tear falling from how deep you were taking him. he curses as his tip hits the back of your throat, thrusting his hips to meet with your head. your nose burried in the base of his pelvis. you shut your eyes tight as you feel his warm release down your throat. after a few more thrusts, he pulls out a bit of a mix of cum and spit falling from your mouth. he cups your face. “swallow it.” you gulp, licking your lips and swallowing everything he gave you. you open your mouth to show him.

“such a good little slut, yeah?” he soothes your hair, wiping the remaining tears from your eyes. your cunt was throbbing with need. you look up at him through wet lashes, your mascara was probably running down your face by now. he grabs your arm to help you stand up. your legs were wobbly and hard to stand on. your panties were probably soaked at this point.

your eyes go to his lips and his smug gorgeous face. “you want a kiss?” he asks, you nod. he just chuckles. “too bad” he says, making you whine.

“leonn” you grab onto his shirt, pleading. he just shakes his head. “you need to learn how to be patient, gorgeous.” he warns, grabbing your wrists. “you and that fucking attitude. gotta do somethin’ about that.” his eyes grow darker.

he had a strong grip on your wrists, firm but gentle enough not to break you. it made you shiver knowing how easily he could. fuck it was hot. “i’m gonna fuck it right out of you. got that?” his head lowers to suck marks into your neck and collar bones, making you groan. he bit down in a particularly sensitive spot, making you cry out his name. he pulls away dragging you to the bed. “lay down on your stomach” he commands. your eyes grow wide, about to object until his brows furrow. you lie down on your stomach, your feet dangling off the edge.

you turn to look at leon over your shoulder, yelping when he drags you so your legs hung off the edge of the bed. he quickly pulls the string of your his pants before ripping them down your legs. you gasp at the cold air hitting your bare legs, your panty clad ass on display for him. he gives it a good smack, making you give another yelp into the sheets.

“you’re fuckin’ soaked through your panties. i’ve barely even touched you” he gives a small laugh before pulling your white panties off. his large skilled fingers run through your folds, making you squirm.

smack

“stop moving”

he admired the large hand print he left on your ass, feeling his dick harden again. he started with pumping one finger into your tight little hole, making you gasp. it hurt for the first few seconds, but eventually faded into throbbing pleasure. you let out mewls of enjoyment, crying out into the sheets below you as he jackhammered his finger into your sopping cunt, adding another finger to stretch you out.

“ohmygod leon!” you cry, muffled by the blanket. you’d never felt absolute overwhelming pleasure like this before. it was fucking addicting.

his fingers curled inside of you, hitting a spot that made your belly fill with a hot pleasure. you were so close, so fucking close. right when you were about to cum, he pulls his fingers out.

“leon!” you yell, looking back at him.

“told you i was gonna teach you how to be patient, didn’t i?” you wanted to wipe that smug ass smirk off his face.

you were practically drooling onto the sheets. tears falling down your face as leon edged you for the fifth, sixth time? you’d lost count after the third. “fuck leon! please please please let me cum, m’so close please!” you cry into the bed, resorting to begging. your attitude thrown out the window whenever he curls his fingers inside of you.

“since you asked so nicely…” his thrusts his fingers at a delicious speed, fucking you until you cried out his name. you clenched around his fingers, gripping onto the sheets as your vision blurs. his fingers fuck into you as you cum, coating the sheets and his hand.

“look at you. fuckin' dripping down my wrist.” he groans. he flips you so you’re on your back. you were panting, mascara completely running down your cheeks and a fucked out look on your face. he brings his fingers to your mouth and you immediately open them for him, licking yourself clean off his hand.

“that’s my girl” he praises, making you tingle. you were still coming down from your high, staring at him blissfully. his fingers leave your mouth with a pop. you watch his expression through your lashes.

“you’re so much prettier with your mouth filled.” he smiles, leaning over you. “i think you deserve that kiss now, don’t ya think so?” he asks. you nod. “yes please”

his mouth meets yours in a hot feverish kiss. his hand coming to grip your hair. he bites your lip hard enough to make you gasp. your pussy throbs with need of being filled by him. “leon, please” you beg through the kiss. he pulls away, looking at you.

“what is it, sweetheart?” he kisses down your jaw.

“i-i need you inside, please!” you beg, looking down at your bare cunt.

“aww, you just want my cock so bad, hmm? who am i to deny such a slutty girl what she wants.” he sits up, dragging his long cock up and down your wet folds. when his head caught on your clit, it made you shiver. he teases you, catching his tip on your hole before rubbing up and down again. you whine. he gives you a stern look.

“m’sorry” you pout. he chuckles, slowly dipping his thick head into your tight hole. he eased himself in, making your jaw slack open. once he was fully seated into you, your brows furrowed at the stretch. “hurts, s’too big!” you cry out. he tsks.

“you wanted this, didn’t you?” he pulls out just to push himself back into you with a powerful thrust. “fuck, you’re sucking me in, baby. must be so worked up. is this why you’re such a bitch all the time? never gotten dicked down properly?” he teases as he thrusts in and out of your abused pussy.

you mewl when his cock hits a deep spot inside of you, but it wasn’t enough. he sensed your need, grabbing your legs and putting them over his shoulders to thrust even deeper into you. the angle made you scream out. your fingers grip into the sheets again. one of his hands find your clit, pinching it.

“y’feel so fucking perfect. like you were made for me.” he groans, loosing his composure. his thrusts got more intense, faster, and sloppier. but still felt heavenly. the mix of his cock hitting your soft spot along with him playing with your clit, you squeeze around his cock, about to cum. drool fell from the corner of your mouth as your tits bounced in your shirt as you came closer and closer to the edge.

“gonna-gonna cum!” you scream. he only goes faster.

“gonna cum with you, baby. bein’ so fucking good for me.” he gets more vocal when he’s closer to cuming. he didn’t know what felt better, your hot mouth or your hot tight pussy. there was sweat dripping down his neck. you wanted nothing more than to lick it up, but didn’t dare move in fear of him not letting you cum. he was in full control. with a few final thrusts, you finish around him with a loud moan. he follows suit, his hot seed filling you to the brim.

you are both panting at this point, but he’s still half hard inside of you. you look at him with heavy, confused eyes when he doesn't make a move to pull out.

“oh, we’re not done until you’re begging me to stop, pretty girl.”

“wow! this place looks amazing! you guys did a great job around the farm!” your grandma smiles at the handsome young man. he gives her his classic innocent charming smile.

“can’t take all the credit, m’aam. your granddaughter did most of the work.” his strong hands rested at his hips.

“how in the world did you get her to do that!?”

you watch from the porch, wearing a sweater to cover all the marks leon had given you. everytime you’d complain about a task, he’d bend you over and fuck you until you were crying for him to stop at the overstimulation.

the older woman called you over to have you help with leon’s bag. you sigh, walking over as she walked away to talk to her husband.

“you still never gave me my panties back…” you lean against his truck, looking up at him. he chuckles, running a hand down your arm.

“think of it as your parting gift to me, darlin’” he says, giving your arm a squeeze before shouting a goodbye to your grandparents and giving you one last wink and a tilt of his hat before stepping into his truck.

maybe this town isn’t too bad….

masterlist

a/n: i got a little carried away with this i just loveddd this prompt. tysm for this request!!!

[sickeninglyshoujo]

a/n: continually obsessed w/ cod dads, here's price

part 1: simon here

part 3: soap here

part 4: gaz here

masterlist here

warnings: pregnancy

word count: 1.7k

buy me a ko-fi

Price was afraid to have babies with you because of the age difference and you rolled your eyes every time he talked about being an old man and how a pretty young thing like you shouldn’t be dating him much less trying to get knocked up by someone his age. As if he’d let you even entertain the thought of leaving him for a young buck who couldn’t spoil you like you deserved.

Throughout your pregnancy he treated you like fine China, afraid he’d say the wrong thing and make you cry. He’s heard about women’s hormones during pregnancy even as you remained rock solid, rolling your eyes when he’d ‘yes dear’ you.

You tried to kick him out of the bathroom when morning sickness hit and he refused. Instead sitting on the tub next to you, petting your back as you leaned into the toilet and tried to soothe you, telling you how strong you were and how beautiful you were carrying his baby even with sick bubbling up your throat at the slightest movement “I thought morning sickness was only supposed to be in the morning,” you moaned with your forehead pressed against the cool floor tile. “It’’s a misnomer, love,” John said, removing himself from his perch on the tub to wet a cool washcloth and wipe down your face.

He wishes this phase was over, hates seeing you in pain like this.

That changes once the baby’s born then he’s ready to do it all over again. He didn’t know how attached he’s gotten to helping you do the things you couldn’t because of your belly  like putting on your shoes (looking up at your belly reverently the entire time before planting a kiss on it) for you and helping you pick things off the floor that your clumsy fingers dropped. He grew a particular affection for helping you rub shea butter and vitamin E oil over your rapidly appearing stretch marks.

Price insists on building the nursery furniture without reading the directions, “Know what I’m doin’ woman,” and to your chagrin he was right. Managed everything without a set of directions perched on his knee and instead chucked them to the side with the box.

The first thing he built was the fancy rocking chair he bought for you, insisting you don’t help him with anything “At least let me hold the screws John, I feel stupid just sitting here!”

To him, peace is this. This is what so many long nights holed up in some shithole on a mission have led to. Him sitting on the floor at your feet, building a life together while oldies play on the record player in the next room. He’s so overwhelmed in the moment he can’t help but pull your hand to his lips and kiss it and laughs at you when you ask him what’s wrong

“It’s all right, is the thing, love.”

When you get the first ultrasound, he stops at the store on the way home and purchased a picture frame (insisting you stay in the car and not overexert yourself, he’ll just be a moment, love). The next day he’s on base it now proudly sits facing him next to the photo of him and you vacationing in London with your faces squeezed together in the frame, selfie-style.

Tells anyone who enters his office about you and how far along you are, whether they ask or not, comparing the baby to different sized fruits, which parts were developing that week.

“She’s the size of a lime now, tiny little thing.”

“Can you imagine that she’s growing fingernails in my bird’s belly!”

Absolutely rubbed your swollen ankles in the evenings when he got home from work, peppering gentle kisses on them when he switched feet

Loved your pregnancy brain fog and would kiss your nose any time he got to remind you about something. He became the keeper of your calendar, scheduling your appointments and taking you to them.

When you go into labor, he’s on base in a meeting with some high-brass in a meeting on a highly classified matter. He’s not even allowed to bring his phone into the room. Instead having to turn it off and lock it in a safe prior to entering even with a baby on the way. He was aware this might happen and had instructed you on the line of succession.

“If you can’t get ahold of me, leave me a message lovie, then go down the line. Simon’s second-in–command-”

“Then Kyle, then Johnny, I know, John, you’ve drilled it into my head,” You soothe him, petting the creases he’s worn between his eyebrows, “It’ll be just fine, women have been doing it for thousands of years.”

“I’ll be there, I promise lovie,” He kisses your palm

You leave the message on John’s voicemail, a curt, “It’s time John, once I hang-up I’m dialing Simon, just like we practiced.”

Simon answers on the third ring, “Missus?” His rumbly voice cuts across the line.

“It’s time Simon and John’s still in the meeting since his phone is turned off.”

“Copy.”

The line goes dead leaving you blinking at the Call Ended screen.

You decide that Simon is aware of the drastic nature of the matter and instead busy yourself, you lug the baby bag and your purse to the floor next to the door and go through the checklist John had created in the front pocket: Stove off, windows shut and locked, televisions off…It wasn’t until Simon was letting himself into your front door that the list was likely a distraction from your husband to stop you from leaving on your own until Simon arrived.

Simon collects you with the cool confidence of a Lieutenant in the special forces.

No, don’t worry about the bags or the door, he’s got it, just get yourself into the car.

You try John’s number over and over on the way to the hospital, narrating Simon’s driving, “John, I’m going to have words with you when this is over, I cannot believe you let your pregnant wife in a car with what has to be the worst driver in all of Manchester!”

Before you know it, you’re being rushed into the hospital with Ghost snapping at the nurse at the desk for a wheelchair, NOW! He barks out orders in true military fashion leaving your head buried in your hands as you’re being escorted to the maternity ward.

“Now don’t worry, Sir, your wife is in excellent hands,” one of the nurses addresses Simon, all muscle pushing you in the wheelchair, unblinking and matching their pace.

“He’s not-” You try and interject.

“She better be,” Simon cuts you off, “And the labor will be handled with the utmost care or someone will have to answer to me personally.”

The contractions have started coming back to back and you’re pacing the hospital room, sucking on ice chips fed to you by a patient Simon.

Kyle and Johnny have also arrived and join him in his vigil, somehow maneuvering their way through the “Father and family only” policy the hospital has.

“She was adopted,” You later find out Kyle deadpanned at the security trying to stop him from entering the room, “Can’t you see the family resemblance?”

True to his word, John is there.

He’s rushed into the room, frazzled and running his hand over his beard, eyes darting until he finds you, “Hey sweet girl, I’m here, I’m here,” pointedly ignoring the nurse trying to count out the men in the room

(“Who are these men to you again miss?”)

(“I’m the father,” Gaz informs, flipping through a magazine to pass the time between bursts of activity with contractions.)

You moan out John’s name slapping at his chest weekly when he gathers you up into his arms and hugs you, “I’m mad at you John!”

“Don’t be mad, love, I made it just like I promised,” He tries to soothe you, smoothing his hands over your disheveled hair. “Not about being late, about getting me pregnant!” “It’s a bit late for that now, love,” He does his best to hide the smile twitching into place under his mustache. 

The boys remain in the room for the entire labor, John holding one hand and the other men trading off when your grip became too strong (“Dinnae know the lass could break my bones with just one hand,” Johnny moans shaking out his aching appendage.)

When the baby finally arrives, the doctor again looks around at the men in the room, “Would…Dad like to hold her?”

John finally extracts himself from your bruising grip to hold your daughter, eyes twinkling with joy at seeing the bundle covered in blood and viscera. Such a difference from every other time he’d been covered in the blood, these are stains he’ll gladly wear.

#1 baby wearer captain price

“I hardly get to hug you anymore because she’s always strapped to you!”

Price’s eyebrows go up at that, “Are you jealous, love?

 “Not jealous, but I miss my husband's arms around me!” When you say that with a slight pout in your voice, Price is quick to arrange Uncle Soap and Gaz so he can wine and dine you like old times. 

You make sure to wag your finger enough at the boys and remind them they’re there to babysit, not throw a rager and rile up the baby, even though you know your warnings are falling onto deaf ears. You wholeheartedly expect to return home to a cranky and overtired baby and two military men.

“Can’t neglect either of my girls” he’d mutter into your hair after pulling you close after dinner, holding you to his chest tightly in the middle of the sidewalk 

“You never do, John, you’re the best man I could’ve hoped for,” You muttered into his chest, “Never did I think I’d get someone so in love with me and our child.”

Will regularly fall asleep with the baby curled on his chest, boonie hat pulled down over his eyes, with your daughter also lulled to sleep by his steady breaths. You can’t help but take a photo every time it happens, so smitten with how your husband enjoys his quiet days on leave.

You can’t help but send the photo to the boys, having the group chat with them immediately blown up with emojis sent by Soap, laughing at the Captain’s prone form.

As a joke the photo ends up framed on Price’s desk, next to the ultrasound. Price actually enjoys having it to remind him of the peace he has waiting at home and the joke is ruined when the photo remains in it’s place of honor.

[sadhours]

the diner - part one

billy hargrove x fem!reader

cw: 18+ minors dni, stalking, murder, toxic relationship, trauma, hallucinations, flayed!billy, peeping Tom, masturbation briefly mentioned, horror

He survived. Somehow— someway. Billy survived. Took care of what he should have so long ago. But that monster lingers, still alive within him.

You’re an innocent girl who works next door to him and he can’t help himself. Could you help him or is he too sick?

read on ao3

part two

Rain slips down, leaving clean streaks across the scum splattered front window of the shop. It’s deep into the evening, town’s asleep except for the truck stop directly next door. Bright lights illuminating the gas pumps, convenience store and the 50’s style diner. The one you work at.

And in the darkness of Route One Garage, Billy stands at the window. Watching. Eyes following as your hair bobs up and down with your steps as you run around the diner. Taking orders, filling coffee cups, carrying hot plates of greasy food made on grills cleaned less often than the health department wants. He’s eaten there, knows you can taste the filth in the food. But it’s the only place to get food this late for miles. The place is full of truckers, different faces but they might as well be the same copy of a person. In and out all day long. Billy’s seen the way they talk to you, been witness to it and just sat there with his blood boiling. Didn’t do anything about it because he’s a pussy and also, because you don’t know him. Sure, he comes in semi-regularly but he doesn’t really talk to you. He can’t for some reason. But before he moved to this teeny, shithole of a place, Billy wasn’t like this. He could talk to any woman. You didn’t look at him like most women did, though.

He watches you like this almost every night. Every night you’re there. Fantasizes about the things he wants to do to you. Sometimes those things are questionable, violent even but sometimes they’re just fantasies of talking to you— making you fall in love.

But he did something that woke up these dark demons deep in him. Well, two things.

Billy still has visions of the shape shifting monster. Haunts his dreams. Recalls each time he led an innocent person to the monster. Regretted not leading his father to the monster. So when he crawled out of the slimy, pulsing portal. He found his dad. Did what he’d always been too weak to do. Billy wonders if that monster still possesses him. If there’s still some of those black, gunky slugs in his stomach. Puked them up for weeks, it felt like.

But he’s thousands of miles from Hawkins. Though it feels like part of him is still contaminated. Made him reclusive, awkward, scarred up. Maybe that’s why he’s scared to talk to you. He knows he doesn’t look like he used to. His hair’s longer, his eyes are darker, his body has starfish shaped scars patterned all over. That charm has been evacuated. He’s not as suave.

Obsessive. That’s how he is now and he knows it but he can’t stop himself.

Billy knows where you work, he knows what you drive and he knows where you live. He has the name of your boss, your parents and your ex boyfriend. He’s followed you to the dive bar in town, walked around the general store and kept his eye on you and the things you buy. He’s full blown stalking you. It’s not his fault, though. That monster gave him this sickness and this town gave him loneliness. A recipe for disaster.

And you’re just so fucking pretty. The way your face lights up when you smile stains his eyes when he closes them. If he focuses hard enough he can hear your voice. Same script over and over.

“Hey, how’s it going?”

“Shop busy, today?”

“Usual tonight?”

“Coffee, eggs over easy, hash browns , extra bacon and sausage, right?”

“Want some more coffee?”

“Anything else tonight? Maybe some apple pie?”

“Ya sure? It’s really good apple pie, I promise.”

“I’ll just get your check, then.”

Sometimes Billy can finish when he’s thinking about those words. Which is sick and he knows that but he feels like he can’t help himself. Wonders what you think of him. You’re not a bitch or anything but you don’t ever look at him like girls used to look at him. Nothing like the moms laid out by the pool. Not like you think he’s good looking but like he’s any other face you see. Which infuriates him but makes him sad about himself more than anything. Occasionally he looks at himself in the mirror until he feels sick. Until he sees his dad. Tells himself he needs a haircut, needs to shave the mustache. Sleep more so he can lose the bags under his eyes. Maybe you’d look at him differently.

The lights flicker, buzz loud enough he can hear it in the shop. He leaves. Locks up the place and his boots take him to the diner. To the same booth he always sits in. Lights up a smoke and meets your eyes from across the place. You don’t flush the way girls used to. In fact, Billy can’t register any kind of reaction on your face. So he flicks his ash on the floor because you’ll have to sweep it up and it feels like he won. Won what? He doesn’t really know, but he wants you to clean up his mess. Gives him some kind of satisfaction.

The script starts when you walk up. A variation of it.

“Late tonight,” you say, filling up his coffee cup without asking. “Must be busy.”

“Sure,” he says. Always keeps it short because you don’t meet his eyes and he can’t meet yours. Instead he stares at your hands, pretty fingers wrapped around the carafe’s handle.

You walk away. To put the coffee away he guesses. Stares at the mug, wraps his own fingers around it and takes a careful sip. His eyes find you behind the counter, giving a look of disdain to your coworker who said something and then you grin. Laugh at whatever she said to you. Then you’re back at his booth and his eyes fall to the table as the script resumes.

“Usual?”

“Yeah.”

“Eggs over easy, hash browns, extra bacon and sausage,” you recite from memory and Billy gets a bit of satisfaction from it. Proud of you for some reason.

“You remember,” he says, low and steady.

You scoff and chuckle, the sound makes his thighs tighten and you say, “Kind of hard to forget it. You’ve never changed it.”

Bold for some reason, he replies, “Maybe I should.”

“We do have a whole six pages on that menu. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you open it, though,” you offer and this is new. It’s off script. Both you and him.

Billy smirks, flips open the menu and peers down at the first page. It’s greasy, a stain of sticky jam at the top left corner and he immediately catches a typo. He purses his lips and continues to flick through it. You pull the notepad from your apron but he’s too nervous to look up at your face. He flips another page and then, finally, looks up at your face.

“What do you like?”

You look shocked. He likes that.

“Uh,” you laugh, a soft little sound and Billy’s skin is hot. “Our patty melt is pretty damn good.”

He closes the menu, slides to the end of the table as he replies, “I’ll have that then.”

“Wow, you’re full of surprises tonight,” you quip, “Fries or potato salad.”

“Why don’t you give me a surprise,” Billy says and then looks away because you’re too fucking gorgeous and he’s on a roll. Kind of feels like his old self right now and looking at you would fuck that up.

You pick up the menu and laugh again, “Sure thing.”

You walk away and he takes a hit of his neglected cigarette, ash falling to the table as he does so. Another mess of his for you to clean. Makes his whole body tingle at the thought. You don’t check on him before his food is done. But Billy keeps checking on you, eyes bouncing up to follow you as you work. Finishes his cigarette and coffee. Takes in the uniform you’re in. The big, bold name on the pin clasped into your blouse.

When you bring his food, you ask, “Got anymore surprises for me tonight?” and his mind runs wild. Sick fantasies. Ideas that make him feel guilty and the charm he’d felt after years slips far, far away.

“No.”

But you say, “Good. Don’t wanna overwhelm me too much.”

You fill his coffee again and walk away. Then he eats and the script resumes as normal. He pays. Sits in his car until all the lights in the diner shut off. Watches you walk to your car, waits a beat after you drive off before he starts his car and follows you. To your house. Keeps waiting until you go inside to park behind your car on the street and watch the numerous lights flick on and off. Aiding in him as he imagines exactly how your night plays out. He thinks you go into the kitchen first. Maybe you get a drink, perhaps a beer. When he’s followed you to the bar, he’s seen you drink beer. Then that lights flicks off and the TV turns on. Can see the variety of brightness and colors through the window. He thinks of what you might watch. Imagines sitting on the couch with you, cuddled up. His thoughts get perverted quickly and before he knows it, he’s staring at your window with his dick in his hand with the fantasy of your mouth on him.

After he finishes, he’s still watching. Until the changing lights of the TV go black and a different light turns on. Bathroom. That window is small. You brush your teeth, maybe wash your face. He takes this time to get out of his car, walk to the window on the side of the house, crouch down and peer through the broken blinds. Your bedroom. You turn the light on, back to the bathroom to turn that light off and return. Close your door and undress. You sleep nude but you keep a robe next to your bed. You flick off the light. Sink into bed and Billy stays for a while. Until he knows you’re asleep. He thinks about sneaking inside but he hasn’t gathered the gusto to do so yet. The whole watching you through the window is new enough. But he’ll escalate soon. Won’t be able to help himself.

Then Billy goes home. Back to his shady little apartment. Falls asleep on the couch with infomercials playing on the TV. He’ll wake up and do the same thing again tomorrow.

—

Dark tendrils wrap around his wrists and ankles. Pull him in opposite directions. His eyes are wide open but his body feels paralyzed. He tries to scream but it’s gargled and there’s a monster limb attaching to his mouth, pulsing down his throat. Fills his belly with baby slugs. The sticky limb retreats him and the constraints on his ankles and wrists unravel and he’s shaking. Thrashing. Screaming. Crying. Pleading.

Then Billy’s awake, sits up straight and pants. Looks around his room and there’s nothing there. Just him and the mess of his belongings. He cries. Then he showers. Makes himself vomit and he sees no slugs. No sludge. Just the dinner and foamy beers he had. Billy showers, water so hot it burns— turns his skin patchy red and tingly. He vomits again. Watches the sick circle the drain. Cries some more. Feels the loneliest he’s ever been. Wonders why he can’t kill himself. Why he doesn’t have the strength to do that.

He’s up too early. Doesn’t work for another three hours. Billy paces his apartment. Chain smokes and pounds coffee. He briefly thinks of Maxine. Stalks over to his freezer and reaches in it for the bottle of vodka he keeps in there and guzzles some of it down. Drowns out Max. Maybe he should make sure you get to work safe. He has to do something. Anything.

The drive to your house is routine, but he doesn’t often do it in daylight. Can’t risk you seeing him, so Billy parks a couple houses down. Chain smokes while he waits and soon enough, you’re walking to your car.

[moonbaby26]

Title: Before the Storm

(Chapter 17 of Doflamingo’s Marine Series)

*Crossposted to AO3 Here*

Chapter Pairings: Doflamingo x Reader

Chapter Warnings: language, binge drinking, vaginal sex, toxic relationship, dubious consent, depression

Chapter Synopsis: The very night of your official engagement to Doflamingo, you are also made to sign your life away to Dressrosa’s king.

You spiral, punishing yourself as he plans to change your past even further. While others still move as distant pieces in the even larger game. 

Author’s Notes: For those that do follow this story and read as soon as it updates, I’m so sorry you had to wait 5,000 years this time! I wish there was more here as a reward for that patience. I’m sure there are still typos too. Please proceed with caution! It just needed to be out of my drafts. I’ll proofread after I sleep again. Maybe. 😅

Chapters: 1,  2,  3,  4,  5, 6,  7,  8,  9,  10,  11,  12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18

——————————

—————————— 

Something was going wrong with the submarine again. Nothing catastrophic, but it could always progress to that if they didn’t take the time to investigate and repair as they went. Pieces became worn and overtaxed easily. Noises that weren’t even there yesterday would suddenly manifest, anxiety inducing, so many fathoms deep in the darkness.

Law was sure there was a metaphor for their lives in there somewhere too. Just like he and his crew. How much this craft could really endure, until one day it just wouldn’t anymore.

He’d still felt that mental weight on himself as well. Fresh and nagging ever since Doflamingo’s name had been put back to the forefront of his mind with those first reports from Scylla just days ago.

Ghosts of his past had churned up enough that Law was almost glad when that bearing in the engine room had started making a newer, awful whining sound.

It was excuse enough to breach the surface and focus on anything else as they’d headed for another island to both look for parts and avoid the heavier than normal marine patrols in this region of the North Blue.

There’d been a pirate attack on a nearby island called Orlinde. At least that’s what Law had heard. Some shithole port town there, with no real wealth or industry of its own had been burned to the ground. And it hadn’t made much sense as to why. Seemingly foolish to risk the ire of the navy when there’d be no treasure or significant beri to even be had in a place like that.

But whatever the reasoning for those other pirates, their actions there had the marines now swarming. To the point that it funneled anyone actively trying to avoid arrest or other harassment further east.

To an unaffiliated island chain that Law had ordered his crew to then disembark at. All save for Bepo anyway, as strolling through the center of town with an overly nervous ball of white fluff wouldn’t have helped much in their bid to keep a low profile.

They had intended to be here just long enough to find what they needed and to make repairs. But every other outlaw in the area had much the same idea. Crew after crew camping out here as an easy stopover while waiting for the larger marine presence to die down nearby.

And this many egos all right on top of each other became a perfect powder keg for disaster really.

Shachi and Penguin were now on either side of their captain, trying to look as unbothered as he seemed while all three boys stuck tightly together.

They walked past the crowded stores and food stalls. With drunken cursing, and all other sounds of debauchery already going on this soon after sunset.

An old man at the harbor had said there was a store in this direction that sold supplies for ship building. It was worth a try to start there first.

But that unsettled feeling was still in Law’s mind. He was too inexperienced to fully understand it yet. The unnamed intuition which had more to do with what would be happening rather than just what could.

“Hey, Spots!”

And there, a male voice had called out loudly. The first inkling of trouble just this soon.

Law’s eyes had flitted up to an open doorway of one of the bars farther up the street. But the teen kept walking, silent to show his crew he expected much the same from them.

Yet the stranger’s second try to get their attention was even louder than the first, as the owner of that voice stepped into the muddy street in front of them. “Hey, I’m talking to you, you prick!”

And Law did stop reluctantly then, not in fear, but in annoyance. He knew an immediate waste of his time when he saw one.

The man that’d been yelling was about his own age though. Young and snide with a grinning girl under one arm. The man’s other hand held a large blade that now pointed towards Law and his crew.

“Are you hard of hearing? I mean that’s what’s on your hat, right? Black spots? You all look damn stupid I think. But my girl likes your hat. So how much do you want for it, kid?”

The stranger sounded a bit drunk actually. And the girl ribbed him in her reaction. “Fur is in fashion, Sarquiss! So don’t be so stingy. Make them an offer! You know Joker’s gonna pay us good this time regardless.“

Sarquiss? Joker? Those were just two more names that Law had never heard before. They meant nothing to him as the idiots continued to talk.

“This kid’s pretty skinny though. What if he freezes, baby? It’s awful cold out here.” The man smirked down at her, flirting abruptly in return as if he hadn’t just been the one that’d started this whole confrontation.

What kind of fool ever looked away while in the middle of threatening someone though? 

These dolts would have been eaten alive in the ways Law had originally been taught. Because seeing the first opening only meant that the first move was his.

It would have been the first kill too if Law had still been that literal to those old teachings. But he left his own sword sheathed against his shoulder.

As it was now, he had no interest in making a scene. Law had planned to initiate a room and simply swap the blade that man held for some of the fresh horse shit he’d already noticed piled up along the street’s edge.

The resulting shock and disgust would have caused plenty of distraction for him, Shachi, and Penguin to quickly be on their way.

But that heavy feeling within Law had somehow remained, even as his hand and lips had begun to move with that whisper of a room.

A dread in him that was not explained until the moment that stranger’s coat had opened further with his playful movements against the girl.

And Law’s eyes had widened as he finally saw the distinct tattoo across that man’s chest. That feeling clicking in him as he knew the absolute mistake he was about to make even before it happened.

No.

He could not stop himself.

He didn’t want to.

“Takt.”

Shachi and Penguin’s surprised gasps were drowned out as the girl’s resulting scream met Law’s ears. 

Her boyfriend’s body had been ripped away from her without warning. And flung like a ragdoll, straight through the bar’s long window and all those wooden slats which supported it. 

It was a terribly loud crash, so many eyes then looking to Law and his friends from both sides of the street.

The Heart Pirates didn’t hesitate either.

“Go!” Law yelled. 

And all three of them had doubled back, beginning to sprint for the harbor.

——————————

Sarquiss had landed hard, stunned and sprawled on that barroom floor to the brief silence of so many other pirates inside. His own crew was chief among them.

The circular tattoo on his chest now smiled to the ceiling. Its left eye struck through, and its wide grin becoming accented with fresh red as blood began to seep from so many cuts dealt from that broken window.

“I don’t…I don’t know what happened.” Sarquiss stammered, bewildered and in pain as another pirate’s boots came to stand near his head. 

“Somebody got a cheap shot in while you were buzzed on this shit liquor. That’s all.” The owner of those boots scoffed indignantly. “They’re trying to ruin our party.” But Bellamy still grinned in a practiced copy of that now scratched up jolly roger on his first mate’s chest.

He motioned for his other crew to help Sarquiss up off of the floor while he strode for the door. “It’s fine. I was getting bored of this place anyway. Gladius said we only had to lay low for a day or so after Orlinde before we could put our flags back up.”

Bellamy stood in the doorway then, just seeing the backs of those other young pirates disappearing behind a building further down the street as they ran.

“So meet me back at the ship.” His legs were already coiling as he readied to jump and start clearing right over those buildings to catch up with them. “I’ll get us some fresh meat, and we’ll have a little fun while we wait on Joker’s next instructions.”

——————————

The return to the palace had come soon enough. And you were drinking whiskey straight by that point, no ice, no mixer. Right out of a fancy cabinet of top shelf bottles that likely weren’t meant for anyone but the king himself. 

You were still in uniform, but long off duty in your own mind. With one of your legs crossed over the other, and an arm over the back of Doflamingo’s couch in his office. 

Whatever anger remained in you for your lack of choice in all of this, was enough to keep even the three executives away. That danger must have been exuding in your body language still. Though you felt their eyes on you intermittently regardless.

They were here to witness your defeat, and to congratulate their master on his success in spinning this into exactly what he wanted it to be. 

But you were staring at nothing while they talked. Your gaze on an empty corner currently, and miles from this well appointed room as you drank yourself away just as you’d wanted to do on that dark beach earlier this evening.

You were quietly furious for this treatment. But you also believed you were every bit as responsible for how quickly this relationship had escalated.

No one had picked up or dialed your phone for you the night you’d first called Doflamingo and asked him to meet you in Scylla.

No one had actually put a gun to your head and drug you into that beautiful church to wait for him alone.

No one had told you to fall for him.

Regardless of any blackmail he’d used to this point, you could have been less willing to let it work. You could have told the truth from the beginning and hid behind your betters. Tsuru, Aokiji, or likely even so many others who would have at least tried to help you.

The truth would set you free.

Wasn’t that the old saying? What an optimistic mismatch of words.

More like the truth would cut your heart out and feed it to you with a smile.

“(Y/N).” And his voice did easily rise through that other chatter.

He was the only one here that still would make you pay attention as you looked back to Doflamingo’s desk. Where he now sat, binding you to him for life with each additional swipe of his pen.

“Answer the magistrate’s final questions. It’s required.” The warlord ordered you then, yet with a veil of patience not yet fully undone.

Besides yourself and Doflamingo, the only others in this room were the executives and the government official that had arrived with all those stacks of paperwork and questions.

Questions for you too that you’d mostly ignored, especially once you’d been several glasses into the whiskey.

While peasants may just do a quick hop over to the local justice of the peace and call it a night, anyone becoming property and consort to a world government endorsed king seemingly had far more to worry about.

And when your gaze did go back to that thin little government busybody, he reminded you only of a small rat. Fussing with his hands in such a nervous way as the papers shuffled through them. Like wringing little paws, frightened and stuck between all the monsters now in this room.

“Why can’t you answer everything for me?” You exhaled back to Doflamingo though, the accumulating burn of the whiskey making your body feel so warm at least as you finally responded to the pirate.

“Because that’s not how this works.” Doflamingo replied, still tolerating you even then somehow. 

Your eyebrows raised. “Yeah? Since when? Because that’s all I’ve ever seen here.” You answered. He always spoke for you. He chose for you. He was the perfectionist. He was the control freak.

And you were the idiot.

A depressed woman who’d attempted to bury all her problems with a devil, just to be as surprised as anyone when she’d inevitably woken up in hell for her efforts.

“What’s the next question?” Doflamingo just asked the official directly then, all while looking back down to the papers he was still signing.

That warlord didn’t explode, he didn’t even raise his voice that time.

And you didn’t dwell on it as you went back to drinking, having gotten what you wanted if even for a moment in being left alone.

It was only the executives that seemed to take notice, subtly surprised as Doflamingo allowed that little pushback.

“Ah, well…” The official still stammered. “Sire, the next section was about the verification of her birth status. She was born on the island of Orlinde, correct? Within the North Blue?”

“Yes. That’s already in her marine record.” Doflamingo’s tone was notably shorter with the official too, further confirming the clear difference in treatment you had just received.

“Well, there’s a slight discrepancy…a clerical error I’m sure.” That small man produced the weakest chuckle you’d ever heard. “I just needed her to say it was indeed an error.”

And Doflamingo did look back up at that, those facial muscles of his tightening in a way which never meant anything good. “What error?”

“The more discerning background check required for unions of this, um, level. It…it noted her name on the registry for Orlinde as being born to a…well, to a slave woman, sire.”

You felt the room change.

The official became even shakier too, horrified really as an inhuman growl came from that desk before the magistrate could say anything more.

“She was never born of a slave. So your first assumption of that being bad data was the correct one. Is that understood?”

And you were just watching. Observing these further lies as Doflamingo told them.

His lips were pulled back from his teeth in an expression you fully recognized too.

Note anything different and I’ll gut you where you goddamn stand. 

That’s what that energy so clearly said. 

“Of course, your highness! I’m fixing it now! I’ll correct it all immediately!”

You knew how fucked up it was for you just to be an observer to such bullying of the weak. You were supposed to protect others, even when they sniveled and whined like this man now was.

But you didn’t feel that guilty either as you uncrossed your legs and shifted on the couch.

And Doflamingo’s head turned the moment you had moved even that much again. 

You knew he had to do that, to properly see you at this angle. But something about that instant attention made you look at him even longer in return.

Because what did he think you were going to do?

What did he want you to do?

“King Doflamingo and Ms. (Y/N), that only leaves the oath itself…” The official’s fully uneasy voice interrupted those additional odd thoughts.

“Then go ahead.” The warlord commanded him just as quickly. “Read it to her.”

The official nodded, with a pen clutched in one of his sweating hands. And the final pages of all of that paperwork in the other as he looked down to read it.

“Ms. (Y/N)…do you hereby agree to loyalty until your death to King Donquixote Doflamingo of Dressrosa? Do you also understand the legal bindings of this union? And the consequences of non compliance, up to and including charges of treason against this aforementioned monarch and our World Government via his status as a sanctioned vessel beholden to our Holy Land of Mariejois?”

You really were too far gone for this shit.

So what? If you got into another fight and decked him when he deserved it, that’d now be the same as rebellion against the Red Line itself? Just because he was a government backed dictator?

Was arguing with him treason too? What about ever leaving this island? Was that desertion and dereliction of your soon to be wifely duties? 

Even signing your marine recruitment papers hadn’t felt this restrictive. And that’d been you literally agreeing to march to your own death if your commanding officers simply said to.

“Yeah…what else am I supposed to say?” You knew you weren’t going to be let out of this room otherwise. And you did want out as you stretched your legs away from you, still seated on that couch. 

Things were starting to feel too much for you again, like everything was closing in once more. “Fuck it…yes. I guess I do.” You forced another couple of breaths as you brought the whiskey glass to your lips again.

Or at least you’d tried to.

The strings that then looped around your wrist had jerked your hand hard enough to splash that liquid down the front of your shirt instead. Right before you were being pulled up and onto your feet.

“I already said yes, you-” You started to bitch at him immediately. It was hard enough to catch your balance when this inebriated without Doflamingo also pulling you so roughly to his desk.

“And I accept your agreement.” He laughed abruptly, cutting both you and the official off before any other response could be given.

It hurt you as your hips hit his desk. And with him already seated, he didn’t have to lean as far down to reach your mouth across that desk either.

Doflamingo got to taste the full brunt of that alcohol you were now hiding behind as he kissed you.

While you got to taste his still enduring desperation for any piece of you that was left for the taking.

It was going to be a very long night.

——————————

The paperwork was done and sent. Clothes were scattered across the floor, and Doflamingo was already back over the top of you in his massive bed.

A large glass of his best cava was in his hand as his hips pumped against you slowly while he drank. He was savoring the drawn out pressure of you around him, mixed into that chilled feeling of the sparkling wine now flooding down his throat.

He swallowed again, then moaning as his mouth came back off of the glass.

“You fucking lush…you’re such a bad influence.” He laughed a little after, running his thumb firmly over your parted mouth while his cock continued to move in and out between your legs at that languid pace.

He could nearly get off on just the sound of his own voice by now though. He was so stimulated. Everything felt good. Everything felt right.

Because he’d done it.

You were his in every legal way that mattered. 

And you were still somewhat conscious this time. The alcohol metabolizing enough by now to mostly take your voice. But you were watching him as he fucked you. His every action slow and deliberate as he fully enjoyed himself and this renewed lack of your resistance.

You even gave a few little moans and gasps as he rewarded you again by angling himself just right.

“Good girl…such a good girl for me. It feels amazing, doesn’t it?” He panted a bit anyway, his lust driving up his body temperature regardless of the careful pace. He reached briefly to set his now empty glass back onto the nightstand.

“I want this all the time…all the damn time. You know that right? I can’t stop…not when it’s you.” He just kept on, using that steady, long lasting rhythm.

He did try to keep his full weight off of your wounded thigh at least. Mindful of where he moved your leg as he took you. But this was still a celebration after all. He also wanted to feel you under him in all the right ways.

“Doffy…” You did grimace a little as the tip of him kissed against your cervix again.

He smiled at the plea of his name from your lips though. You were so pretty like this. And all of it was for him.

Maybe tomorrow your brain would be back to functioning well enough for him to explain your other wedding gifts as well.

Ever since the two of you had first sailed from Scylla together, he’d gotten busy with moving his chess pieces all over the board for you.

The nearest loyal mongrels Gladius could assign for him to your home island of Orlinde, had already razed that brothel you’d been born in to ash in a much needed cleansing of your pedigree.

While another official on Doflamingo’s payroll had just as recently planted forged documents of your revised parentage for Big News Morgans to find instead. 

Doflamingo had already teased you with the idea of gifting that Scyllian villa to you. The villa that became the first nest the two of you had ever slept side by side in, would of course now be important to him as well. It was not leaving your and his new family no matter what now.

But that was still not enough.

With the machinations he had going, your bloodline was going to be from Scylla.

Any children you could give him would then have both Dressrosa and Scylla to their credit.

Which, that was now another thing he needed to follow up on starting tomorrow. Caesar had had well enough time to deliver.

Doflamingo smiled again though as you shuddered quietly beneath him. 

“Still with me?” He hummed, seeing your eyes close then as he rubbed his hand down your side and you stilled again. “Or have you forgotten your own name, dear, while that poor liver of yours cries out from abuse?”

The moonlight highlighted his entertained expression as his lips pulled back from his teeth again. His hand had moved up to your throat as he gripped it in his continued pleasure.

He watched as your breasts rose and fell a little harder with those deeper breaths your body was then forced to take as he gradually restricted your airway.

It made his cock twitch so well inside of you.

“Forget your name anyway.” Doflamingo growled as he felt himself nearing that edge of climax when you finally coughed beneath his ever tightening hand. He was beginning to choke you, and it only made him want more of that feeling. “Because you’re a Donquixote now.”

Or at least the property of one as he felt your own hand then move to close on his larger wrist weakly.

Your body was too drunk to stop him, but that reflex of self preservation still flickered up in you all the same.

Doflamingo moaned loudly too as he saw your eyes reopen, half lidded to look at him in that new, pitiful way.

That helpless look is what did send him over the edge. As you tried and failed to breathe in his grip, he only bucked his hips that much harder as he spilled himself out into you yet again.

This is what it meant to truly own you.

——————————— 

“She hasn’t called?” Aokiji asked as he’d entered the other admiral’s office without warning.

But Kizaru looked unbothered as usual even at the surprise visit, just glancing up from a report that Sentomaru had sent in.

“Well…hello to you too. You’ve been off base quite a while.” He did comment though, watching Aokiji through those amber tinted glasses. “We were starting to think you may have gone rogue actually.”

It was said so calmly, but with just that hint of a smirk. “Sengoku wouldn’t have liked that.”

“I went patrolling on my own for a few days. That’s nothing new.” Aokiji frowned, and not taking a seat as he continued to stand. “But did Captain (Y/N) call today? Akainu’s got the Fleet Admiral in a meeting, and no one else seems to know.”

Kizaru shrugged. “I haven’t talked to her.” He looked back to his paperwork, but with noticeable disinterest in it now. “Why don’t you just call her yourself if it’s really become that distracting to you?”

But the resulting silence did make Kizaru finally look up again. That slight amusement was clearer on his face now. “Oh? Are you afraid to call her?”

Aokiji’s arms were crossed, his whole demeanor looking incredibly stern. “This isn’t about me. So get that stupid look off of your face.”

Wasn’t this his normal face? Kizaru thought to himself. Regardless, he didn’t seem insulted. “Hmm. Think you might say something unprofessional if you did call?” He mused to only add to this instead. “I guess that could be embarrassing for someone of our rank.”

And a cold palm did slam down onto the desk then. Aokiji could hold back much longer usually. But that cool composure was seemingly less and less lately. Especially when it came to the subject of you.

“Enough. I’ve told you so many times…” The ice admiral still warned.

Yet Kizaru barely reacted to that flare of temper, just glancing to the now frost covered hand and then back up into the frustrated eyes of its owner.

“Yeah? …You think you’ll just endanger her if you make any obvious fuss, don’t you? Doflamingo is quite an unstable man. But how many years have we known each other now? I’d say you’ve already made your move if I was to bet.” Kizaru nearly smirked again. “Where have you really been these past few days?”

“You’re no help at all. As usual.” Aokiji grumbled, just stepping back from the desk at the accusation.

He didn’t deny this either.

But Kizaru simply watched him, rather expressionless once more. “Did you ask for my help? I don’t recall that happening.”

Aokiji’s eyes narrowed as he looked back at him. “You’d be in Akainu’s ear in a heartbeat if I did.”

“And so what? We’re all comrades in arms…aren’t we?” Finally there was that minuscule trace of a frown on Kizaru’s lips. 

They were supposed to work together.

But that look of disappointment was just for a moment before he set his pen down and grabbed the receiver from off of the large transponder snail on his desk.

Aokiji’s eyes widened slightly at this movement, surprised and untrusting as Kizaru leaned back in his chair while the operator connected.

“Yes, admiral?” HQ’s switchboard girl answered kindly.

“Hello, Miss,” He said with a new, slight smile. “I need you to ring someone for me.”

“Of course, admiral. Who do you want me to connect you to?”

“Pull the warlord numbers if you please. I want Donquixote Doflamingo’s most direct line.”

There was just the briefest pause there too. Her voice changing a little. “The Fleet Admiral has put a restriction on that line, sir. No non-emergency calls. Is this considered an emergency?”

“Sure.” Kizaru was patient as anything, almost relaxing in his chair. “Let’s say it’s an emergency.”

“Yes, sir. Then I’m connecting you now.” Her nervousness gave way to dutiful obedience quickly enough as there was a click followed by momentary silence.

“The hell are you doing!?” Aokiji snapped at him in that brief delay before the line began to trill in new ringing. 

Kizaru looked back up at him, unfazed.

The phone continued to ring.

“It’d be pretty late in Dressrosa right now wouldn’t it?” Kizaru just thought out loud instead of giving a proper answer, glancing at the multiple clocks across his wall which denoted the different times across  the seas.

But Aokiji was not amused at all, starting to reach to hang up that transponder snail himself before a loud click had both admirals pause.

“This better be good.” Came the noticeably sleep hazed voice. A sharpness to it already though, with that transponder snail scowling up at them now.

“Oh…did I interrupt your beauty rest, pirate?” Kizaru responded, watching that snail as Aokiji went fully silent. “This is Kizaru.” He then identified himself simply.

There was a moment of hesitation and maybe even a bit of surprise on the other end of the line as the snail paused. But the warlord’s acceptance didn’t take long. Because there weren’t many men that would have been so casual as this with him. And those that would, didn’t sound like that.

“Heh. To what do I owe this pleasure then?” Doflamingo did recover quickly, dark voice sounding more interested now.

“I’m calling from HQ.” Kizaru drawled. “Seems our captain that you appointed to your island recently hasn’t reported in to us today. And you wouldn’t have had anything to do with that little lapse in her communication, now would you?”

The implied threat didn’t even have to be overt. It was well enough for any of the three navy admirals to take a personal interest in anything like this of course.

And this would now be the second admiral to do so in your name if the rumors of Aokiji’s previous visit to Doflamingo’s house in Sabaody were to be believed.

And Kizaru did believe it.

What he was surprised by was that it hadn’t been enough. 

A pirate that didn’t have the sense to back down for even an admiral.

It was a problem.

And the snail had quieted for another moment, its serious expression seeming to consider the weight of this new questioning from the admiral.

But Kizaru was exactly correct. Doflamingo understood the threat.

Doflamingo chose not to heed it.

Because the snail smiled then, wide and cruel as the warlord’s decision was made.

“Well…it is late. But if you insist, then why don’t you ask her yourself, admiral? It really has nothing to do with me.” Doflamingo replied with an all new goading.

And there was a sound of a bed creaking. 

The warlord’s voice became slightly quieter as he’d moved away from the receiver.

“Captain…hey.” It almost sounded gentle. But that snail was still grinning, Doflamingo’s dark voice still close enough for his real expression to be picked up. That smug pride radiating even as the intentional softness continued. “No…you need to wake up. You’ve got a colleague on the line…come here.”

The two admirals stared at that snail.

“…what?” A confused female voice finally protested.

“The phone, darling. It’s your work. Already not respecting your off duty hours at all it seems…”

The temperature now plummeted in Kizaru’s office at that vulnerable sound of you, as well as the full implications of what this truly meant.

But Kizaru cut in before Aokiji could. Even as both admirals’ breaths were then coming in trails of vapor within the room.

“Captain.” Kizaru said louder and firmer than he ever normally would to you.

And you heard it. Also recognizing his voice that you’d heard far more times than any warlord ever would.

There was more noise of the snail moving then. Like you were now picking it up from off of the bed. “…Admiral?” You asked in delayed surprise.

But there was more to it than that. You didn’t sound right, even in just these couple of words.

“Yes. Checking in, Captain. You didn’t give your status to anyone today.” Kizaru answered.

“I…” You tried. “There was…” Yes, they could fully tell now. You were trying so hard, but slurring every brief word none the less.

You were fully drunk. 

And you finally gave up, starting to actually plead in that humiliation of being ambushed in this way. “I…I’m fine. But I can’t…debrief right now. Sir…I’m…I’m sorry…”

The snail trembled, its eyes heartbreakingly defeated.

It was worse than any of them had ever thought then.

This was not the woman they knew.

Aokiji was about to snap. And Kizaru considered transmitting himself towards Sengoku’s office here and now.

But their shared enemy still most running this show wasn’t ceding his spotlight yet either.

“Admiral.” Doflamingo’s voice came back, shamelessly calm in contrast to your now evident emotions. “The Captain can speak with you later. I’m sure you’d agree that there’s nothing wrong with a little over indulgence when off the clock…we’ve all been there.” 

And he even made a noise as if he was comforting you beside him. Hushing you with a mimicry of affection before he spoke again. “…I’ll try to have her touch base with you tomorrow if we have time. Once she’s sobered up of course.”

Yet that snail also showed its teeth again before it was done. The harsher expression forming which didn’t match that measured tone at all.

“But tomorrow we’ll be very busy as well. Some news will be coming out, and her work for Dressrosa will be taking priority. The mission always comes first, correct? And she is one of your most dedicated.”

The snail’s tongue moved across those teeth. One final jab then added like a garnish on the heap of bullshit already being presented.

“This king is certainly glad to have her services at least.”

And Kizaru was forced to make a choice. 

He disappeared in a flash of yellow light, taking the snail with him as Aokiji had reached for it to speak.

No one could match Kizaru’s speed. And Aokiji had then turned, the purest rage within those dark eyes as Kizaru now stood all the way out in the hallway, holding that snail.

It was already back asleep as Kizaru had disconnected the call even before he’d moved.

“I’ll kill him.” Aokiji breathed, ice having already overtaken half of his face.

Kizaru was initially silent. His eyes had narrowed as well behind his glasses.

But then he spoke to his peer, blunt and sure. “They’d order me and Sakazuki to erase you for treason, brother. And that wouldn’t help anybody. Now would it?”

Aokiji gave him a look of disgust. Words seemed pointless by now. They both knew how wrong this was.

Yet Kizaru did begin walking back to him. A show of continued trust really. Because they were not enemies.

“Whatever you already did…” Kizaru started. “Is that going to help her?”

Aokiji’s shoulders sank ever so slightly, but his ice did not recede.

“Temporarily…but I came back here to do the rest of it. I am going to get her off of Dressrosa. No matter what that takes.”

——————————

Borsalino had actually hung up on him. The least passionate of all three admirals, and Doflamingo was certain he’d still gotten under that man’s skin.

Were you really that important to all of them then? Doflamingo’s own ego was happy to believe that you were.

Because it made you feel even more hard won if so. His marine treasure, stolen straight from the top and now further slipping through the hands of even the world’s greatest soldiers.

And how interesting that they didn’t seem to know about your public betrothal yet. Kizaru was a hard one to judge though. He hadn’t mentioned it at least.

Hopefully this really did mean that there were no marine spies left on Dressrosa to call and tattle to HQ. None outside of the toys working in his underground port anyway.

And he’d taken your own phone away immediately after the incident with Crocodile. You’d only been allowed to make calls right in front of him now.

Morgans’ reporters were likely playing things close to the vest too, to not share anything until those newspapers went to press. They wanted the first and only scoop for tomorrow’s worldwide release.

But there was nothing Sengoku could possibly do to reverse this either once he would find out. You were still a marine, just as Doflamingo had promised he’d let you remain. But you were also now his wife, with all of the added immunity that provided for you.

You couldn’t be fired, or even demoted. Not unless Doflamingo wanted you to be.

The five old men on the Red Line had reluctantly agreed to this in his stipulations. No doubt just humoring the traitorous brat that they still thought he was.

If they believed he was distracted, it made their lives easier. Less trouble he could cause for them.

Perhaps you’d actually thank him some day though. He was a generous master after all. Pulling his strings all the way from heaven to hell in this whirlwind of a love affair with you.

But tonight you were still too upset. Still too close to it all to realize how lucky you actually were to have his attention this deeply.

Your head was on his chest once more as he rubbed your back idly in the dark.

He could feel that dampness against his bare skin. Your silent tears as you surely thought your career was now dead and gone.

You were crying yourself back to sleep like the pitiful, broken thing you still were.

But he didn’t mind. 

Doflamingo kissed the top of your head as that new whim overcame him.

You were his responsibility now.

His prize and his companion to defend. 

Dawn would come again tomorrow, and with it the world’s reactions to what he’d done to you. But he welcomed that challenge and whatever new enemies it would bring him.

Because he’d bury them all like the good mate he was. He would protect you. This was his nest and his woman. 

He nuzzled his face back down against your hair. Hiding his scarred eye as the other eye watched the room for a bit longer before also drifting closed.

Your arms were tight around him. It felt right. But even in all his intense possessiveness that this inspired, there was something else so wholly new as well.

He felt safe.

He felt needed.

Until death do you part indeed. As that would be the only possible way for anyone to ever carve you from him now.

———————————

    T⨂  BE 

CONTINUED

———————————

Thanks for reading!