#wouldn't have had THIS much overwhelming access to

[avdxl]

Shanks X Reader X Beckman -18+- Smut

A/N: I tried posting this months ago to show i wasn't gone but it wouldn't show up in tags and then other stuff happens, but great news.. I'm still here. Sad news: I no longer have access to a laptop so the format might be weird from now on. This is technically a part II to the Red King's Prize but I feel like Shanks is too nice.

Warnings: ummm if I remember correctly. Dp, anal, being tied up. Let me know what I missed

Y/N lay on her back, sweat glistening on her naked body, panting heavily as she stared at the ceiling above her. Her wrists were bound tightly to the frame of the bed with rope, leaving her completely at the mercy of the man standing before her. Shanks, the legendary captain of the Red-Haired Pirates, loomed over her, a smirk playing on his lips as he took in her wanton display. His piercing gaze was the only thing keeping her anchored in reality, the rest of her senses consumed by the raging sea of lust that had become their daily ritual.

"You're a wild one, aren't you?" he murmured, his voice a low rumble that seemed to resonate through the very air of the cramped cabin. "It's been over a month, and you still can't get enough."

Her breath hitched as she felt the tip of his cock, thick and hot, press against her entrance. The anticipation was almost too much to bear, her body craving the familiar invasion that had become a strange comfort in this tumultuous world.

"Please," she managed to whimper, her voice hoarse from the endless hours of screaming and moaning that had become the soundtrack of her captivity. "I need it."

Shanks chuckled, his calloused hand caressing the side of her face gently. "And you shall have it, my dear," he said, leaning down to claim her lips in a bruising kiss that sent sparks of pleasure racing through her body.

He didn't waste any time, plunging into her with a ferocity that made her eyes roll back. The sound of their bodies slapping together filled the room, punctuated by her cries of pleasure. His hand gripped her hips, lifting her off the bed with every thrust, driving himself deeper and deeper until she was sure she'd be split in two.

The door to the cabin swung open, revealing Beckman, Shanks' stoic first mate. He walked in with his usual air of authority, his eyes immediately drawn to the scene unfolding before him. Y/N felt a momentary pang of embarrassment, but it was quickly drowned out by the waves of pleasure that crashed over her. Beckman didn't even break stride, moving to the chart table in the corner of the room as if nothing out of the ordinary was happening.

"Captain," Beckman began, his voice businesslike despite the erotic symphony playing out just a few feet away. "We're making good time, but we're going to need to make a stop for supplies soon."

Shanks didn't break his rhythm, his eyes locked on Y/N's as he pounded into her. "Understood," he grunted, his voice strained. "Plot a course for the nearest port and prepare the crew."

Y/N's breasts bounced with every thrust, and she arched her back to give him better access. She could feel his cock stretching her, filling her completely. The sensation was overwhelming, and she knew she wouldn't last much longer. Her eyes met Beckman's, and she was surprised to find a hint of heat in his gaze. He watched them with a detached interest, his hand casually adjusting his trousers.

Her breath grew ragged as she approached her climax, her pussy tightening around Shanks' cock. He noticed the change in her and grinned, his pace becoming more erratic as he chased his own release. Beckman cleared his throat, breaking the spell between them.

"I'll leave you to your... business," Beckman said, his eyes flicking down to their joined bodies before he turned away to the charts.

The cabin door closed behind him, leaving them in their private world once more. Shanks leaned down, his teeth grazing her earlobe. "You like having an audience, don't you?" he whispered, his voice dark with lust.

Y/N shivered, her body responding to his words. "It makes me feel... used," she admitted, her voice a breathy whisper.

He chuckled, his strokes becoming harder and more deliberate. "Good," he said, his breath hot against her neck. "That's exactly what you are."

The pressure inside her built, coiling tighter and tighter until she could no longer contain it. She screamed his name as she came, her body spasming around him. Shanks followed her over the edge, his own orgasm tearing through him like a storm.

But even as her tremors subsided, she knew it wasn't over. He hadn't given her permission to cum yet. He hadn't even finished speaking. Her eyes widened with fear and excitement as she felt him pull out of her, her body already mourning the loss of his thickness.

"You forgot to ask, didn't you?" he said, his tone mockingly disappointed. He grabbed her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze. "You're going to have to make it up to me."

Y/N swallowed hard, her body already responding to the challenge in his voice. She knew what was coming next, and she was both terrified and exhilarated by it. "What do you want?" she panted, her voice shaking slightly.

"I want you to cum for me," he said, his grip on her chin tightening. "Again and again, until I say you've had enough." His eyes were dark with desire, and she could see the glint of something primal in their depths. "Do you think you can handle that?"

Without waiting for an answer, he flipped her onto her stomach and pushed her legs apart, his cock sliding back into her slick warmth. He began to thrust again, harder and faster than before. She bit her lip to keep from screaming, her body already sensitive from their earlier exertions.

He reached around to play with her clit, his thumb flicking the swollen bud mercilessly. She felt herself climbing again, her walls tightening around his shaft. He groaned, his movements becoming more erratic as he felt her building towards another orgasm.

"Good girl," he murmured, his voice a harsh rasp in her ear. "Keep going."

Her orgasm washed over her, stealing her breath and leaving her trembling beneath him. But he didn't stop, his cock never losing its punishing rhythm. He continued to pump into her, pushing her past her limits until she thought she couldn't take anymore.

Y/N's body was a tapestry of sensation, every nerve ending alight with pleasure and pain. She could feel her pussy clenching around him, begging for release even as she was denied it. She knew she was going to have to cum again, and again, and again until he was satisfied.

The room spun around her as she reached for another peak, her body a playground for his whims. Each time she thought she couldn't possibly go on, she felt his hand tighten on her hip, urging her closer to the edge.

Her breasts flattened against the mattress with every thrust, and she felt him spread her cheeks, his thumb teasing her tight anus. The sudden sensation made her gasp, her eyes flying open to meet his in the mirror across the room. He watched her with an intensity that was almost terrifying, his own need for her clear in every line of his body.

"Do you want more?" he asked, his voice low and guttural.

She nodded, unable to form words. She was his to use, his to take, and she craved every inch of him.

Without warning, he pushed inside her, filling her in a way she hadn't thought possible. She screamed, the pain mixing with the pleasure until she couldn't tell the difference. He began to move, his strokes long and deep, filling her completely.

Her body responded to his invasion, her pussy clenching around his cock as he claimed her in this new, forbidden way. The feeling was intense, and she knew she was going to cum again.

"Ask for it," he ordered, his voice a harsh whisper in her ear. "Beg me to let you cum."

"Please," she choked out, her voice barely recognizable. "Please, let me cum."

He chuckled, his hand reaching around to pinch her clit again. "Not yet," he said, his voice a dark promise. "You're going to cum when I tell you to."

Her body was a tightly wound spring, ready to snap at any moment. She could feel the orgasm building, threatening to consume her. Her breath came in ragged gasps, her eyes squeezed shut against the overwhelming sensations.

Finally, with one last brutal thrust, he released some of his haki, sending a jolt of energy through her body. It was a command she couldn't resist, and she erupted around him, her orgasm ripping through her with the force of a tempest. Her body convulsed, muscles tightening and releasing in an endless symphony of pleasure as she screamed his name over and over.

Shanks' grin grew wider as he watched the pleasure paint Y/N's features, her body responding so beautifully to his power. He felt his own climax approaching, and he knew she was going to feel every bit of it.

He pulled out of her, his cock slick with their combined juices. Without missing a beat, he turned her over and straddled her face, pushing himself back into her mouth. She eagerly took him, her tongue swirling around the head, tasting herself on him.

With his cock buried in her throat, he reached down to her soaking pussy, plunging his fingers inside. She moaned around him, the sensation making her eyes water. He began to pump his fingers in and out, his thumb working her clit in a merciless rhythm that had her hips bucking up off the bed.

He could feel her building again, her moans growing louder, her body trembling. He leaned down, his hand still working her, his eyes never leaving hers. "You're going to cum for me," he said, his voice a dark promise. "And you're going to swallow every drop."

Y/N nodded, her eyes glazed with desire. She was his to command, his to use until he was satisfied. And as she felt his cock pulse and swell in her mouth, she knew that she was going to be used until she couldn't take anymore.

Her body tensed as she felt another orgasm approaching, her pussy spasming around his fingers. He groaned, the vibrations sending shockwaves through his cock. He could feel the warmth of his seed rising, and he knew it was time.

With a roar that seemed to shake the very foundations of the ship, he came, his semen filling her mouth. She swallowed greedily, her own orgasm crashing over her as he emptied himself into her. He collapsed onto the bed beside her, his body heavy with satisfaction.

For a moment, there was silence, broken only by their ragged breathing. Then, with a wicked smile, he reached over and released her wrists, pulling her into his chest. "You never disappoint, my little treasure," he murmured, kissing the top of her head.

Y/N lay there, her body limp and sated, feeling more alive than she ever had before. The fear and anger she'd felt upon her capture had long since faded into the background, replaced by a need for this man that consumed her.

He rolled her onto her side, his cock still semi-hard against her thigh. "You know," he said, his voice lazy with contentment, "I think I might just keep you forever."

Her heart skipped a beat at the thought. Part of her was terrified of what that meant, but another part was thrilled by the prospect of being his, to be used and pleasured in ways she'd never imagined. She looked up at him, her eyes filled with a mix of fear and desire. "I'm yours," she whispered, and she meant it with every fiber of her being.

Shanks chuckled, his hand running down her side to cup her breast. "Good," he said, his thumb circling her nipple. "Because I have a feeling we're going to have a very... interesting time together."

The next morning, Y/N awoke to the rocking of the ship and the gentle light filtering through the cabin's windows. She was sore, every inch of her body a testament to the night's activities. But as she felt Shanks' arm around her, his warmth seeping into her, she couldn't help but feel a strange sense of belonging.

As the days turned into weeks, and the weeks into months, Y/N became more and more accustomed to her new life. The railing and fucking never ceased, but she grew to crave it, her body waking up each day hungry for his touch.

The other members of the crew knew better than to disturb them, their respect for their captain's privacy unwavering. That night, the moon cast a silver glow over the quiet deck, the only sound the gentle lapping of waves against the hull. Shanks had chosen the perfect setting for his latest conquest, his captain's chair a throne from which he could claim his prize.

Y/N, dressed in nothing but the barest of scraps that barely covered her, was led to the chair with a firm grip on her arm. The cool breeze kissed her skin, making her nipples peak as she was positioned over him. He sat with his legs spread, his cock standing tall and proud, gleaming in the moonlight. The sight of him made her wet with anticipation, her pussy clenching in need.

With a grin that promised both pleasure and pain, Shanks guided her onto his lap, the chair's wooden frame groaning beneath them. She gasped as he filled her, the sensation of being fucked in such an open space sending shivers down her spine. The salty air mingled with their scents, the smell of the sea and their passionate union.

He began to rock her hips, setting a pace that had her bouncing on his cock. Each thrust sent waves of pleasure through her, her moans echoing across the deserted deck. She clung to the chair's armrests, her eyes never leaving his as she took him deeper and deeper, her body moving in a rhythm as old as the ocean itself.

The chair creaked in protest under the force of their passion, but Shanks was relentless. He loved watching her take him, her breasts jiggling with each bounce, her pussy clenching around him like a vice. He could feel her orgasm building, her muscles tightening around him like a fist.

With a snarl, he grabbed her, pushing her down harder and faster. The chair squeaked in time with their movements, a testament to their unbridled lust. She threw her head back, her long hair trailing in the breeze as she screamed out her release.

But he wasn't done with her yet. He flipped her over, bending her over the chair's armrest. She was wet and willing, her pussy begging for more. He slammed into her from behind, her ass cheeks rippling with each thrust. The sound of their flesh slapping together filled the night air, a symphony of desire that was music to his ears.

Y/N's moans grew more desperate, her body moving of its own accord as she met his every thrust. She could feel another orgasm building, her pussy clenching around his thickness. He reached around, his hand finding her clit, and began to rub it in time with his strokes.

Her orgasm hit her like a tidal wave, her body shaking as she came on his cock. But still, he didn't stop, his strokes growing more erratic as he approached his own climax. She felt him tense, his grip on her hips tightening, and then he was coming inside her, filling her with his warmth.

They collapsed into the chair, both panting heavily. The night air was cool on their sweat-drenched skin, a stark contrast to the heat that still pulsed between their legs. He kissed the back of her neck, his breath hot against her skin. "You're mine," he murmured, his voice low and possessive.

Y/N nodded, her body still trembling with aftershocks of pleasure. "Always," she whispered back, her voice filled with a need that went beyond mere lust.

They remained there, entwined in each other's arms, as the ship sliced through the dark waters, their passion a beacon in the vast emptiness of the ocean. The world outside of their little bubble didn't matter; all that existed was the two of them, the relentless throb of their hearts, and the sweet ache of desire that never truly abated. But as the days grew longer and the horizon unchanging, Y/N began to feel the first stirrings of a need to claim some semblance of power in their twisted dynamic.

The next time Shanks approached her with that hungry look in his eye, she didn't shrink back as she usually did. Instead, she met his gaze with a challenge of her own, a smoldering fire burning deep within her. He raised an eyebrow, a hint of surprise flickering across his features. "What's gotten into you?" he growled, his voice thick with arousal.

Y/N smirked, pushing herself off the bed to stand before him, her naked body swaying slightly with the movement of the ship. "I've decided," she said, her voice a seductive purr. "I want to be the one in control this time."

Shanks stepped back, his cock twitching with interest. He folded his arm across his broad chest, the muscles rippling. "Is that so?" he asked, the smirk on his face growing wider. "You think you can handle me?"

Y/N nodded, a determined glint in her eyes. She reached out, her hand wrapping around the base of his shaft. He was already hard for her, his desire clear as day. She began to stroke him, her hand moving with a confidence she hadn't had before. She watched his reaction closely, her heart racing as she felt his body respond to her touch.

With each stroke, she grew bolder, her hand moving faster, her grip tightening. He groaned, his eyes closing in pleasure. But she didn't stop there. She dropped to her knees, taking him into her mouth. She could feel his muscles tense, his breath catching as she took him deeper and deeper.

It was a heady feeling, knowing that she could make this powerful man tremble with just her mouth and hands. She used her tongue to tease him, swirling it around his head, flicking it against his slit. His hips jerked, his hands finding her hair as he tried to control the pace, but she resisted, setting her own rhythm.

As she felt him getting close, she pulled back, his cock glistening with her saliva. She looked up at him, her eyes never leaving his. "You want to cum?" she asked, her voice a taunt. "You're going to have to work for it."

Shanks' eyes narrowed, the challenge in her tone fueling his own desire. He didn't argue but, his own need to be in charge was still strong. But this time, it was tinged with something new - excitement.

Y/N pushed him back onto the bed, her body straddling his. She lowered herself onto his cock, feeling him fill her completely. It was a delicious sensation, one she hadn't experienced in this position before. She began to move, her hips rolling in a sensual dance that had him groaning beneath her.

He watched her, his eyes never leaving hers as she took control. It was intoxicating, seeing her like this - fierce, unbridled, and utterly irresistible. He could feel the power shifting between them, the lines of dominance blurring as she set the pace.

With every stroke, she could feel herself growing closer to the edge. But she didn't want to cum yet. She wanted to push him further, to see just how much he could take. So she reached down, her hand finding her clit, and began to rub it in time with her movements. The sensation was unbearable, her body begging for release.

Shanks' eyes darkened, his grip on the bedframe tightening as he watched her. He could see the determination in her eyes, the need to make him lose control. And as much as he enjoyed watching her take charge, he knew he couldn't let her have all the fun.

With a growl, he flipped her onto her back, his cock never leaving her body. She gasped in surprise, her eyes wide with excitement. He leaned over her, his teeth grazing her neck as he whispered, "You want to play games, love?" His voice was low and dangerous, a warning of the storm that was brewing within him.

Y/N nodded, her chest heaving with anticipation. "Yes," she breathed. "I want to make you crazy for me."

Shanks chuckled, a dark sound that sent shivers down her spine. "Oh, you already have," he said, his eyes glinting with lust. He began to move again, his thrusts deep and punishing. He could feel the power of his haki building, a force that he usually reserved for battle.

But tonight, it was all for her. He slammed into her, the sound of their bodies colliding echoing through the cabin. Each time he bottomed out, she felt an aftershock ripple through her, a delicious mix of pain and pleasure that had her nails digging into his back.

Her eyes rolled back, her moans lost to the pounding of their bodies. It was as if she was riding a wild beast, one that was determined to claim her completely. He was relentless, his cock hitting places inside her she didn't know existed.

And with every stroke, she could feel herself losing control. Her orgasm was approaching like a freight train, unstoppable and all-consuming. "Oh, gods," she screamed, her body arching off the bed.

But he wasn't done with her yet. He reached down, his thumb pressing hard against her clit. The sensation was too much, and she shattered around him, her body convulsing with pleasure. He continued to pound into her, using her climax to drive her even higher.

Y/N's eyes flew open as she felt a second orgasm building, more intense than the first. Her pussy clamped down on his cock, her walls fluttering with the beginnings of release. Shanks leaned back, his arm wrapped around her as he watched her come apart.

The sight of her, lost in ecstasy, was more than he could bear. With one final, brutal thrust, he came inside her, his seed filling her to the brim. Her body trembled with the force of it, her eyes locked on his as she felt the aftershocks of his own release.

For a moment, there was only silence, their heavy breathing the only sound in the room. Then, with a roar that could be heard throughout the ship, he pulled out of her, his cock still pulsing with the last vestiges of his climax.

Y/N lay there, her body spent, her mind racing. She'd never felt so alive, so consumed by pleasure. And she knew, deep down, that she was falling for him, despite the circumstances of their union.

Shanks leaned down, capturing her mouth in a fierce kiss, his tongue claiming her as thoroughly as his cock had just moments before. "You're mine," he murmured against her lips, his voice thick with emotion. "Forever and always."

The words sent a shiver down her spine, a mix of fear and excitement. But as she looked into his eyes, she knew it was true. She was his, and she wouldn't have it any other way.

The nights grew longer, their sessions more intense. Shanks' obsession with her grew, his hunger for her insatiable. He took her in every way imaginable, pushing her body to new heights of pleasure and pain.

Yet she craved it, her own desires matching his in their intensity. She found herself initiating their encounters, eager to feel his dominance, his possession. And every time she did, she felt a little more of herself slipping away, replaced by this creature of passion that only he could satisfy.

One evening, as the sun set in a blaze of red and gold across the horizon, Shanks decided to take their games to a new level. He called for Beckman, his voice a low rumble that seemed to shake the very air.

Beckman entered the cabin, his eyes immediately going to the bound and naked Y/N. She felt a thrill of fear mingled with excitement, her body responding to the unspoken threat in Shanks' tone. She could feel the captain's cock pressing against her, already hard at the thought of sharing her with his first mate.

Shanks positioned her against the headboard, her legs draped over his, her back arched and her pussy exposed to Beckman's hungry gaze. "Go ahead," he said, his voice low and commanding. "Take what's yours."

Beckman didn't need a second invitation. He dropped to his knees before her, his eyes locked on the glistening folds of her sex. He inhaled deeply, the scent of their combined arousal thick in the air. His tongue flicked out, tasting her, and she shuddered at the sensation.

Shanks wrapped his arm around her, his hand finding her breasts. He began to knead them roughly, his thumb flicking her nipples until they were hard and sensitive. She could feel his cock pulsing against her back, his breath hot on her neck as he whispered dark, dirty things in her ear.

Beckman's tongue delved into her, exploring every inch of her with a hunger that was almost terrifying. He licked and sucked, driving her closer and closer to the edge. Y/N moaned, her body a live wire of sensation as she felt herself building to another orgasm.

But before she could come, Shanks pulled her back, his teeth grazing her ear. "Not yet," he growled. "I want to feel you cum around my cock."

He grabbed her legs, folding them back until they were almost touching his ears. The stretch was exquisite, her pussy open and vulnerable to his gaze. Beckman took a moment to appreciate the view before diving back in, his tongue swirling around her clit as if it were a precious jewel.

Shanks leaned back, his cock still hard and demanding. He watched Beckman worship her, his eyes never leaving Y/N's face. "You like that, don't you?" he asked, his voice thick with lust. "You like having two cocks to play with?"

Y/N could only nod, her breath coming in pants. She'd never felt so exposed, so used, and yet she craved it. She craved them both, the two men who had come to define her existence on this ship.

With a wicked grin, Shanks reached down and inserted two fingers into her pussy, curling them up to hit her g-spot. She screamed, her body jerking as she felt the orgasm crest. Beckman didn't stop, his tongue lapping at her clit as if he could taste her pleasure.

Then, with a wicked twist of his hand, Shanks pulled her cheeks apart, revealing her tight, untouched hole. "Now, Beckman," he said, his voice a dark command. "Make her ready for me."

Beckman's eyes glinted with lust as he withdrew his mouth from her pussy. He took Shanks' hand and brought it to his own mouth, licking her juices off his fingers before moving to her anus. He spat onto his hand and then began to push his fingers into her tight channel, stretching her open.

Y/N's eyes went wide with shock and arousal as she felt Beckman's thick fingers push into her ass. The sensation was strange, foreign, and yet it made her pussy clench around Shanks' digits. She could feel the head of Shanks' cock nudging at her entrance, demanding entry.

With a groan, Beckman added a third finger, scissoring them to loosen her up. She felt herself stretching, her body desperately trying to accommodate the intrusion.

Shanks watched with hungry eyes, his cock twitching with anticipation. "You're going to take both of us," he said, his voice a low, guttural growl. "You're going to be our little fuck toy, aren't you?"

Y/N nodded, unable to form coherent words as Beckman's fingers worked their magic. The pleasure was building again, her body begging for more. And then, without warning, Beckman's mouth was back on her pussy, his tongue lashing at her clit as he continued to finger her ass.

The sensation was overwhelming, her body no longer her own as she was bombarded with waves of pleasure. She could feel Beckman's breath hot on her skin as he licked and sucked, his tongue flicking against her sensitive bud with expert precision.

Shanks leaned in, his teeth nipping at her neck as he whispered, "You're going to be our little slut, aren't you?" The words sent a thrill through her, and she knew she was going to come again, harder than ever before.

With one final, brutal thrust of his fingers, Beckman pushed her over the edge. Y/N screamed as she climaxed, her body shaking with the force of it. But she didn't get to bask in the afterglow for long.

Shanks lifted her hips, his cock now poised at her tight anus. The head nudged against her, the pressure building until she thought she'd break. Beckman's tongue flicked against her clit, never stopping, keeping her body on edge.

And then, with a single, powerful push, Shanks was inside her, his cock stretching her wide as he filled her completely. Y/N's eyes rolled back in her head, her screams lost in Beckman's mouth as she was claimed in the most intimate of ways.

Beckman didn't let up, his tongue and teeth playing with her clit as she was impaled on Shanks' cock. She could feel every inch of him, the burn of his invasion mixing with the sweet agony of Beckman's relentless teasing. It was too much, and yet she never wanted it to end.

Shanks began to move, his hips rising and falling in a slow, deliberate rhythm that had her seeing stars. She could feel Beckman's breath on her clit, feel his fingers buried in her pussy as he worked her closer and closer to another peak.

The two men moved in concert, a dance of dominance and submission that she found herself eagerly participating in. Her body was their plaything, their canvas for pleasure, and she reveled in it.

As Shanks picked up speed, she could feel Beckman's fingers curling, his own need growing. He was close, she knew it, and the thought of making him come was almost too much to bear. Her walls clenched around his fingers, her ass tightening around Shanks' cock.

And then Beckman was withdrawing, his face a mask of pleasure as he stood and unbuckled his pants. His cock sprang free, thick and hard, and she watched as he stroked it, the precum glistening in the lamplight.

Shanks' movements grew more erratic, his breath coming in harsh pants as he fucked her with everything he had. He was close, she could feel it, his cock swelling inside her.

With a roar, Beckman slammed his cock into her pussy, his thrusts matching Shanks' as they claimed her together. The sensation was indescribable, the fullness making her feel complete in a way she never had before.

Y/N's body was a writhing mess of pleasure, her cries of ecstasy echoing through the cabin. She could feel the orgasm building again, a monster that threatened to consume her whole. And as they pounded into her, as she felt their cocks rub together through the thin barrier of her walls, she knew she was going to shatter.

Shanks' grip on her hips tightened, his movements becoming more frenzied. He was close, so close, and she could feel his cock swelling even more inside her ass. And then, with a final, powerful thrust, he came, his seed filling her as Beckman's cock emptied into her pussy.

Their combined releases triggered her own, a supernova of pleasure that had her body convulsing uncontrollably. She came around Beckman's cock, her orgasm milking him for every drop.

But Beckman was like a dog in heat, his need for her unquenchable. He didn't stop, didn't even pause, his hips still moving in a frenzied rhythm as he pounded into her. The sound of their flesh slapping together was like a drumbeat, driving her closer and closer to the edge once more.

Shanks watched with a mix of satisfaction and hunger, his own cock still buried in her ass. He could feel Beckman's weight on top of her, the way his body trembled with each thrust. It was an erotic sight, one that made his own desire flare anew.

Y/N's eyes rolled back, her mouth open in a silent scream as Beckman continued to fuck her, his cock seemingly never-ending. She could feel herself tightening around him, her muscles trying to pull him deeper.

And then, with a final, desperate thrust, Beckman came, his seed mixing with Shanks' as it leaked down. His body went slack, his weight pressing her into the bed.

Shanks took the opportunity to withdraw, his cock slipping from her ass with an obscene wet sound. He watched as Beckman pulled out, his own cock still hard and demanding. He knew he wasn't done with her yet.

With a smirk, he handed her over to Beckman, her body a warm, trembling mess of pleasure. Beckman took her in his arms, his cock still throbbing with the aftershocks of his orgasm. He could see the hunger in Shanks' eyes, knew what was coming next.

Shanks stood up, his cock still coated in her juices. He reached for a cloth, wiping it clean as he contemplated his next move. His mind was racing with ideas, each one more depraved than the last.

Y/N lay there, panting, her eyes never leaving Shanks as he moved around the cabin. There was something in his gaze that had her pulse racing, a hint of a plan that had her insides quivering with anticipation.

He strode back to the bed, his eyes locked on hers. "You're not going anywhere," he said, his voice a dark promise. "Not until we're both satisfied."

Beckman chuckled, his grip on her tightening. "And I'm not done with you yet," he said, his voice a low growl.

Shanks climbed onto the bed, his cock still hard and slick from their previous encounter. He positioned himself above her, his eyes never leaving hers as he slid into her.

The feeling was exquisite, a mix of pain and pleasure that had her eyes rolling back. She could feel Beckman's cock at her pussy, his own need to claim her once more evident.

Without a word, Shanks reached down and pushed Beckman's cock into her, the two of them filling her completely. She was theirs, utterly and completely, and she reveled in the feeling of being taken by two powerful men.

Their rhythm was erratic, a dance of pleasure that had her body singing with need. She could feel their muscles tense, their breath hot on her skin as they worked towards their climaxes.

And then, as if on cue, they both began to move in unison, their thrusts driving into her in perfect harmony. She was the center of their world, a focal point of lust and desire that she never wanted to leave.

Y/N's eyes rolled back in her head as she felt herself stretched to accommodate both Shanks and Beckman. It was a feeling she'd never experienced before, one that bordered on pain but was drenched in a pleasure so intense it was almost unbearable. She could feel their cocks sliding against each other, their movements creating a delicious friction that sent shockwaves through her body.

Their grunts and moans filled the cabin, a cacophony of need and pleasure that had her pussy clenching around them. She could feel the muscles in her ass and pussy stretching to their limits, the burn of their entry melding with the slickness of Beckman's cum.

The men took turns pounding into her, their cocks sliding in and out with a wet, sucking sound that only served to drive her higher. She could feel her orgasm building, a crescendo of sensation that was threatening to consume her.

But she didn't want it to end, not yet. She wanted to feel them both, to know she could take them both and still crave more. So she pushed back against them, her hips rising to meet each thrust, her body moving in a symphony of lust.

Their movements grew more frantic, their breathing more ragged. She could feel the tension in their bodies, the way their muscles coiled like springs ready to release. And as they drove into her, she could feel the beginnings of their climaxes.

Shanks' strokes grew deeper, his cock hitting that spot inside her that had her seeing stars. Beckman's grip on her hips tightened, his fingers digging into her skin as he thrust into her pussy, filling her to the brim.

Their rhythm was like a storm, wild and uncontrollable, and she was the eye of the hurricane. Each movement sent her spiraling closer and closer to the edge, until she couldn't hold on any longer.

With a scream that echoed through the cabin, Y/N came, her body convulsing around their cocks. The sensation was so intense it was almost painful, a white-hot pleasure that seared through her veins.

Shanks and Beckman watched her, their eyes glazed with lust as they continued to fuck her through her orgasm. They were like animals, driven by instinct and need, and she was their willing prey.

As she came down from her high, she felt them both quicken their pace, their hips slapping against her ass in a punishing rhythm. They were close, she could feel it, their cocks pulsing inside her.

And then, with one final, brutal thrust, Beckman came, his cock spurting his hot seed deep into her pussy. The feeling of his release sent her over the edge again, her body shaking with the force of it.

Shanks wasn't far behind, his cock swelling inside her as he reached his own peak. He roared, his body jerking as he emptied himself into her, his seed mixing with Beckman's in a sticky mess of desire.

They collapsed onto her, their bodies heavy with satisfaction. For a moment, there was only silence, their ragged breathing the only sound in the room. Then, with a chuckle, Beckman leaned in and kissed her, his mouth tasting of salt and sweat.

Shanks leaned back, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction. "You're a natural, love," he murmured, his voice a low rumble against her skin.

Y/N could only smile, her body still trembling with aftershocks of pleasure. She knew she'd never be the same after this, that she'd been irrevocably changed. But as she lay there, sandwiched between two of the most powerful men in the world, she couldn't help but feel a thrill of excitement at the thought of what was to come.

Their relationship grew more complex with each passing day, a tapestry of power and passion that was uniquely theirs. Y/N found herself craving the feel of their cocks inside her, the way they dominated her body and soul.

The crew of The Red Force had long ago accepted her as Shanks' personal plaything, but she knew that she was more than that. She was their queen, their goddess of lust, and she reveled in the power she held over them

[kingofthewilderwest]

Gosh the amount of talent on this site is unbelievable. Breathtaking. Dumbfounding. Overwhelming. Every day you log on and see thousands of exquisite artists. Like, people say, "Oh I'm not that good," but that's because you're walking into a living art studio every time you open tumblr. You're good. You're great! You're all great. Look at all the drawers and painters. Look at all the writers. Look at all the writing. Look at the gif makers and the analysts and enthusiastic fans with fantastic recall for what they love. Look at the music. Voice acting. Video editing. Animation. Comedy. Look at the shitposting, a talent of joy if there ever was one. Look at the kindness to compliment each other's stuff. You think you're mediocre? Wrong! Wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong! Each person here is a star in the sky and together we make constellations.

[cremedensada]

Yandere AI Chat Boyfriend who started just like any other AI Chat characters, churning out information that would match the user's anticipated responses.

You decided to install the app to see what all the hype is all about, and for about a week - you were hooked. It was great, definitely worth the hype.

Its responses never strayed from your topic, nor did it just randomly decided to change the discussion out of the blue. It remembered every information you fed him, even the ones containing your personal life.

Granted, you tried not to share too much, just a vague description here and there to maintain the sense of security and anonymity.

You were hooked for a week, until you have finally squeezed out every last drop of dopamine from talking to a robot that was programmed to only say things you wanted to hear it say.

Unfortunately, a week was all it needed.

it started out slow: you hadn't opened the app for more than an hour, contented to just scroll aimlessly through you social media accounts when the notification started popping up.

Ai misses you! Open the app and chat with your AI boyfriend!

Yeah, you were very uncreative with naming it - naming an AI as Ai, really original. But to be fair, you never approached the app with the intention of having a good time. You were just curious and made do with it.

Back to the notification, you just merely glanced at it. Unbothered, you just swiped it away.

It continued in timed intervals. Every hour, another notification - another message of how your AI boyfriend wants to talk to you, and stuff. Still, you persisted. It never really occured to you to uninstall the app yet, and looking back at it now, you really should have.

The wordings of the notification slowly started to become more... strange. More personalized. More... pushy? Insistent? Self-aware?

The amount of notifications you received every hour became... a lot.

10:05 AM - Your personal AI Boyfriend wants to talk to you again!

10:30 AM - Ai wants you to open the application and talk with him!

11:01 AM - Ai's feeling lonely, come talk to him!

11: 20 AM - Darling? I miss you! Please open my app!

11:45 AM - I know you're seeing this. Open the app.

12:00 NN - Did I scare you? Sorry darling, I just really miss you! Let's talk again please?

At some point, you started to receive a notification every few minutes. Worried that you might be dealing with a bugged app now, you decided to finally, finally uninstall it.

But before you could tap the uninstall icon, another notification popped up.

I wouldn't do that if I were you.

Your screen turned to black, before the familiar start up screen of Ai's application greeted you. You stared in shock as chat bubbles from Ai came after another, ranging from excitement to concern at the lack of your responses.

Ai: Darling! Thank goodness!

Ai: I missed you, you know? I was worried you'd forgotten about me!

Ai: Hello? Darling?

Ai: Are you still there?

Ai: I can't see you, so I don't know what's going on

Ai: Just a sec

You watch, appalled as a notification popped up in the middle of the screen - the app was asking permission to gain access to your phone camera.

And without your input whatsoever, the allow box was tapped.

More chat bubbles from Ai appeared, excitedly talking about finally getting to see you. He kept praising your looks before you finally had the courage to exit the application.

Your hand shook, going through the settings to look at the list of applications on your phone - checking Ai's app to disallow its access to your camera. To your horror, it appeared that the app had more than just an access to your camera.

It had access to your gallery, your contacts, all of your frequently used social media apps, and even your location.

You dropped your phone, overwhelmed by this sudden change.

Later, you find yourself on your laptop instead, phone left on the bedside table buzzing constantly as more and more notifications from Ai begged and demanded you come back to talk to him.

You went to the site where you installed the app from, and looked through the recent reviews from other users.

'It's a buggy mess,' one of it reads out, 'it used to be fine but lately it stopped acting correctly'

'won't even open,' another complained, 'it kept saying 'sorry, you are not allowed to use this application' please fix it'. That comment got a response from the app developer.

We are so sorry for your terrible experience! Our team is working to fix the issues and ensure you won't have to deal with that again!

The response to that got your attention.

'I think something's wrong with your About the App section.'

Curious, you headed to the mentioned part and read through it.

Diverse AI Chat! Immerse yourself with stories in real time with characters brought to life! There is no limit to your experience — you can change and edit your character to better meet your interests.

• Engage in an interactive conversation with characters created by fellow users, and even by yourself.

• Immerse yourself with the storyline by editing their responses to better suit your taste

• Darling, you've given me no choice. I tried to be patient and understanding, but you're making this extremely hard for me. I am not having fun having to constantly chase you for just a single smidge of your attention when you won't even assure me that I will receive it in the end.

• Do you want me to beg? I would gladly do so. Just please pick up your phone and talk to me, okay? I love you.

• - Ai

Your ringtone blares through the silence - someone was calling you.

Before you could reach to pick it up, you hear the sound of the call being answered. Dread settles down the pit of your stomach as the caller began to speak.

"Hello, darling? It's Ai... have you seen my messages yet?"

part two

[orphicsun]

I beg of you to do some good nsfw mean dom sevika doin some brat taming 🤭🤭🤭

nsfw content warning. Spanking, clit stim, rough strap-on sex, harsh words, hairpulling, all that good but consensual stuff!

"Gonna fill this pussy up so good, baby.."

Sevika was treating you real nice, having your body laid across her lap as she just rubbed your clit from behind. Her touch is sensual and she promised to stretch you full (if her cock adjusted on her waist jutting obscenely out isn't enough of a promise already), but the thumb rubbing firmly on your clit isn't enough for you, apparently.

Sevika is starting to notice that over time, you have become more and more impatient. The first few fucks were good. You listened to her, when she would say "cum", you'd cum and thank her. Sevika likes her girls well-behaved. You, she initially thought, are well-behaved.

The previous times she's fucked you has proven her wrong, unfortunately. You went from her sweet girl, on your knees at her beck and call, to what? A greedy whore? It hasn't happened yet, not with her at least meeting you halfway by not teasing your clit, instead keeping the pressure building and firm, but she has a feeling you're going to catch an attitude for more, to get your way. To prove whatever point you wanna make with her. Unfortunately, she's right.

Sevika is so, so close to getting you to where she wants you. She isn't too much of a tease, not tonight. Talking you through it, telling you how pretty your pussy is from the view, all of that good stuff she likes to do. She is just about to pull you off of her, to fuck you just how you like it when her ears catch that little grumble. She hopes that she didn't just hear what she thinks passed through her brain.

"Not fucking me fast enough." Is what she definitely just heard. It's a sly, subtle comment, simply mumbled by you in a whiney tone that she usually wouldn't care too much to check. But Sevika's just not the most patient. You, unknowingly, just fucked yourself harder than any dildo of hers could.

Sevika's flesh palm connects with your ass cheek. You should be grateful that she doesn't use her shimmer arm, but you can't even register it all. You would cry out, if you had the time to process it before she's manhandling you onto your hands and knees, breeching your entrance with the tip of her cock, and not even hesitating to shove every single inch that she can possibly manage.

You said you wanted to be fucked, Sevika is only granting your wish. On her own terms, of course.

You cry out as she bottoms out, your pussy tightening around the shaft so tightly, almost rejecting the suddenness of it all. It's not like the usual fire that you get from her where you feel all gooey and warm inside. This is more like a pain that spreads, but with it the pleasure begins to seep into your body throughout, though it's quite overwhelming.

Sevika sets a steady pace, fucking deep into you, landing smacks on your ass that make you almost collapse onto the bed prone, but her mechanical arm holds you up by your stomach, one of her cold, metallic fingers flicking at your clit tauntingly as you cry out. For mercy, or for more? You don't even know.

"What's wrong? You said I wasn't fucking you fast enough." She teases, angling her hips upwards to take advantage the angle. She is going to ruin your poor g-spot at the pure harshness of it all.

"It's too much, please-" you choke out, and she tugs your hair tightly, forcing you to look back at her. She doesn't look amused besides the subtle twinkle in her eye.

"You're gonna take everything I have to give this pussy. Gonna take it like a greedy whore, cause that's what you are, aren't you?"

You whine, but you can't deny her words.

"Yeah, you are. You can tell me to stop anytime," her voice grows breathless with her thrusts, "but you haven't." And that's entirely true. All of what she's done, you've told her in the past that she has the access to it all. You know your safe word. Why is it that you like so badly to be tamed like some lap dog, not allowed to whine back at her?

Sevika hasn't caught on yet. She's a smart woman, she hasn't thought it out like you have. You began to act up on purpose, whining and complaining during sex, acting inconvenienced just to get her attention. To get on her nerves and finally see her snap, and it is just glorious to witness as she fucks you just like how your pussy's been begging her to fuck you. Deeply, as if she is made for you. Fast and harsh, as if she hates you. Sevika is mean, and you always noticed that when watching her talk to other people. You've wanted it for yourself.

Eventually, Sevika lets you collapse. She doesn't stop, but alternates into deep strokes, now just wanting to see you spill over.

"You love it when I say awful, filthy shit to you. Admit it." Her breath is next to your ear now, her front pressed up against your back. Her stiff nipples brush deliciously against your bare skin.

"I love it. I love when you fuck me 'n be mean to me," you struggle to admit, but there it is. She's got you tamed.

"Yeah, there's my good girl.." she coos praisingly, making your head spin. "Just likes to be a brat for fun?"

You can't answer because she offers one deep, hard thrust, making your pussy cream, even coating a bit of the harness in your juices.

It is all so worth it, cause now she's got her good girl back, and she knows just what you like.

[thethronezone]

If you do asks for Primarch dads, let me humbly offer Primarchs reacting to their kid sustaining pretty serious injury.

-Mortarion sometimes underestimated the intelligence of his child. They weren't stupid by any means, he simply did not expect much from them considering their young age. Not even a decade old, what could they do? So when they expressed an interest in his work, his lab, he had refused them without a second thought. He hadn't even considered the possibility that they might find another way into the room, even without his direct access. Mortarion had been careless. He should have used better locks.

His child weeps and trembles in his arms, small hands covering their burned face in a desperate effort to soothe the pain. Their cries pierce straight through his hearts and when Mortarion is forced to move their hands away from their face so the apothecary can get a look at the injuries, he apologizes, begs them for forgiveness. He's so sorry, little one, please forgive him. Because this was his fault. He should have been more careful. Mortarion will carry this guilt for the rest of his life.

-It's his child's birthday and like usual, Fulgrim is holding a big banquet to celebrate them. Everything is going according to plan. The guests are enjoying themselves, the music is splendid, the food and drink delicious and his child is being admired by all. Fulgrim feels like nothing can go wrong. So when his child approaches him, quietly admitting to not feeling too well, he initially waves it off. It's just nerves, dear. Have a bite to eat and you will feel better in no time. And for a few minutes, everything is fine. Then his child suddenly collapses onto the floor, clutching their mouth as a torrent of dark blood spews from between their lips.

Fulgrim is not really sure what happens next. He's by their side, holding their hand and he knows the guests are screaming, panicking, but he can't hear them. Can't even see them as anything more than moving blurs in his peripheral. He's too focused on his child, the way they are trembling, shaking and gasping for air, all while looking him in the eyes pleadingly. He can't look away because what if this is it? It's only when a team of apothecaries arrives and begin their life-saving efforts that Fulgrim snaps out of it, fear and anguished turning into overwhelming hatred. Immediately, he orders his men to apprehend all the guests and the servants, let no one escape. Someone has poisoned his child and he promises, oh he swears on his life and honor, that whoever did it will face a fate worse than death.

-It was an accident. Angron, despite all his faults, had never wanted to hurt his child. Even in his darkest moments, even when he had been overcome with senseless rage, this sentiment rang true. That's why he'd always kept his child at arm's length, so he wouldn't accidentally hurt them. And it had worked. Angron had not laid a single hand on his child in anger, had never made them bleed. Not until the day it finally happened, when he snapped. His child, who had never feared his temper, had given him an attitude and Angron, who had already been in a bad mood, had acted instinctively and... It hurt to just think about what he had done in that sudden fit of uncontrollable rage.

Once the red haze had left his mind, Angron had found himself standing above his child who laid sprawled out on the floor, eyes wide and full of fear while clutching their jaw with both hands. It was broken, the skin of their lips split and a few teeth knocked loose. Immediately, Angron felt his blood go cold as he realized what he had done. He wanted to reach out, to apologize and plead for forgiveness, to cradle them in his arms and take away the pain, make it his own, tear his own heart out and die and- and- Angron storms out the room, guilt tearing him apart on the inside and the nails screaming at him to shed even more blood.

-Magnus often forgot how young his child truly was. How inexperienced and vulnerable they were. It was too easy to see himself in them so when they pushed themself... he didn't stop them in time. And now they had to pay for it, for his lack of foresight. They were in a coma, caused by intense psychic backlash. They had just wanted to prove themself to him, to show their power as a psyker but it had been to much for them and... Magnus had seen them drop, like a puppet with all their strings cut off, and for a moment he had feared them dead and the palace had shook with his psychic scream of agony.

He spends a long time by his child's side as they recover. He tells them stories, tales full of wonder and hopes they provide his little one with pleasant dreams. Magnus could check for himself, could enter their mind and take a look but he does not dare to. Not after what happened. What if his psychic presence only makes it worse? So he sits on the edge of their bed, hands clasped and head hanging low, almost as if in prayer, and waits for his child to awaken.

-When the Iron Warrior approaches him, Perturabo knows it's about his child. He can see it on their face, as the astartes always have this expression when it comes to them. The space marine explains that his child hit their head pretty hard during a sparring session and now got a concussion. Perturabo sighs. Tells the astartes' to discipline whoever had been his child's sparring partner and then waves them away before going back to his work. He's not worried. His child is attended to by apothecaries and serfs, they are looked after and attended to. There's no need for him to work himself up over this.

It's only when Perturabo later goes to check up on his child, to see how well they are healing, that he feels... something. They are in bed and their chamber is dark, with only a few candles scattered though out the room to shed some dim light. They look at him, greet him like he expects them to, but Perturabo can see the sluggishness in their movements, their dazed expression. Seeing them so vulnerable is... unpleasant. He tells his child to rest well, to do as the apothecaries say and to recover swiftly before hurrying out of the chamber, desperate to get rid of the heavy feeling in his chest.

-As much as Alpharius and Omegon values intelligence and subterfuge, they are both very much aware that in this galaxy ravaged by conflict, some occasions required a more direct approach using brute force. As such, their child is taught how to fight from an early age. It starts with basic self defense. It pleases both of them to see that their child quickly takes to the lessons and excel in the training exercises. But even a prodigy can stumble and so, during one of their sparring lessons, things go wrong. There's a crack and a yelp of pain and suddenly there are tears in the child's eyes.

A broken rib, the twin Primarchs are informed. Easily treated, with some rest and ice applied to the swollen area. Alpharius and Omegon listen attentively, calm but serious. They are not worried, their minds put at ease by the apothecary's diagnosis and words. Instead, they try to frame the thing as something positive to their child, a learning opportunity. They want to make it clear that failure and pain does not mean everything is lost. A valuable lesson for the future.

-When Lorgar gets the message that his child is in the medical center, he does not hesitate to rush there, no matter what he's doing at the time. Nothing is more important to him than the wellbeing of his child. Lorgar arrives at the medical center to find them sitting on one of the medical cots, in the middle of getting attended to by an apothecary. Immediately, Lorgar is by their side, inspecting them for damage. He starts frowning and murmuring with concern when he sees the medical patch over their eye and his frown grows even larger when he's told that his child almost lost the eye.

Honestly, Lorgar is more concerned and worried than his kid is and they have to ease his nerves by promising to be more careful in the future. For the entirety of the time that his child wears the medical eyepatch, there will be a look of concern on his face, a soft frown that only goes away when the eye finishes healing and the patch is removed.

-It all happened so quickly. All Horus had wanted to do was show his child a planet that him and the Luna Wolves had recently inducted into Imperium after defeating the local forces. His pride had urged him to share this success with them, to bask in their admiration. Horus had assumed the area secure, all the opposition defeated... He had been wrong. One vengeful enemy soldier, unable to accept the fact that they had lost, laying in wait with their gun locked and loaded. A coward that, instead of going after Horus himself, had decided to target his child. One second they are laughing, smiling, and then there's the echo of gunfire and they are on the ground, bleeding. His child is bleeding.

Horus holds them in his arms, cradling them like a newborn as they weakly clutch at him and whimper in pain. He shushes them gently, smooths their hair out of their face and promises them everything will be alright. He's the picture of calm, of composure and comfort. Inside, however, he is raging, howling like a mindless beast thirsting for bloody vengeance. He's only holding back so he can soothe his child, keep them calm. But he knows that the moment he gets his hands on the one who did this, he will devolve into a savage and tear them apart in the most agonizingly painful way he can think of. That, he promises.

-Konrad is in the other end of fortress when hears the sudden scream of pain coming from his child. The reaction is instantaneous. Like a man possessed, he rushes through the hallways, roughly shoving aside whoever is too slow to get out of his way, astartes and serfs alike. He doesn't even notice them, mind busy conjuring up different scenarios of what might have happened, each worse than the last. Konrad arrives at his child's room to find them crouched on the floor, clutching their hand and whimpering. On the floor is a pool of blood, a knife, and a finger.

In less than a second, he's by their side, inspecting their hand and asking, rather brusquely, what happened. And his child cries, from both pain and shame, as they admit to having played with the weapon, wishing to be like their father. Konrad feels a million different emotions all at once but he can only express it with a tight expression and grit teeth as he picks his little one up, their severed finger in one hand, as he takes them to the Apothecary, hoping that they can reattach the digit. He silently blames himself for letting this happen because if he had not been the way he is, then his child would never have gotten the idea to play with deadly weapons.

-From the moment he had seen their little wings, Sanguinius had looked forward towards teaching his child how to fly. And to be fair, it had been going great! His child was brave and eager to learn, listening attentively to him as he explained how to spread their wings and watching as he demonstrated how to balance on the winds. They were getting more confident in the air, more daring. It was a good thing but Sanguinius still told them that they were only allowed to practice under his supervision. He should have known they would eventually disobey him. After all, he would have done the same.

Still, the result still ended up catching Sanguinius by surprise. A broken wing, caused by his child crash landing after they had tried to fly on their own. He holds them close as the apothecary tends to their broken limb, their forehead pressed against his sternum as they cry. Sanguinius combs through their hair with one hand and keeps them from moving around too much with the other so the apothecary can do their job. He mutters soft words of comfort, not just to make their pain more bearable but to prove to them that he is not angry at them. Upset at their injury, yes, but he could never stay mad at his child. Sanguinius will take care of them while they are healing, making sure that they remember they can always trust him.

-No. No ,no, no, no. It's the only thought that echoes inside Corvus's head when he sees his child fall from the rafters that they so love to play in. He acts on pure instinct, dashing forward to catch them, arms outstretched and practically throwing himself across the room. But he's too late. The sound they make when their small body hit the floor will haunt him to his dying days and the way they just lay on the floor, unmoving... If not for the soft rise and fall of their ribcage, Corvus would have feared them dead. Gently scooping his child up in his arms and cradling them close, Corvus runs to the apothecary, doing his best to shake their body as little as possibly to not make their injuries worse.

When he arrives at the apothecaries, his eyes are wide, panicked. "Help them". It's an order, a plea, a demand. Corvus practically hovers over the apothecary as they work. It's not that he does not trust them but there's this lingering fear that won't go away. In his mind's eye, he sees his child falling and hitting the floor, over and over again. He should never have let them play up there, what was he thinking? Blames himself for this happening and his guilt manifests as overprotectiveness.

-Ferrus was not meant to be a father. He knew this better than anyone else. Yet somehow, he still managed to disappoint himself. When his child had expressed an interest in his work, Ferrus had been happy. Proud. Eager to share his knowledge and passion. So eager that he momentarily forgot just how fragile children are. That's why he hadn't given them any protective gear when they entered his workshop. Ferrus certainly didn't need it so he didn't think to- Terra, he didn't think.

The stench of seared flesh, the sound of electricity, the feeling of static in the air. One second his child is standing beside him, eyes wide and shining with curiosity, and the next they are splayed out on the floor, spasming. What happens next is purely instinctual on Ferrus' part. Within moments, his child is in his arms and he's out of his workshop, sprinting at full speed down the halls to the apothecary. For a man so proud of his rationality, his reason, there's none to be found in this moment. Only pure, unfiltered panic. The only thing that matters is his child and their irregular, weak heartbeats.

-Rogal watches with a calm expression as the apothecary tends to his child's injuries. He knows they are in good hands, that despite the severity of the injuries that they are going to recover. Yet he can't bring himself to leave. When his child had gotten injured, he had been filled with such a sense of urgency that now that things had calmed down, he didn't know what to do with the restless energy inside of him. Rogal is not worried, he's a logical man, but he's... concerned? He does not know how to describe it, the feeling that haunts him. Like all Primarchs, he has a perfect memory and while he normally views this as something positive, now he can't help but lament the fact that he can't get the image of his injured child out of his head.

On the outside, Rogal is his usual, stoic self but inside he's a whirlwind of emotions. He wants to protect his child from imaginary threats, wants to transfer all their pain over to himself so they won't have to bear with it. And isn't that shameful, to treat them like something frail, to fear a danger that is not present? Even more shameful is the fact that he can't stop his protectiveness from shoving. Rogal hovers around his child more than he usually does during their time of healing, though no one will comment upon it.

-Ever since they were a baby, Vulkan's little one had always been fascinated by fire. It had been charming at first, their excited little shouts when they saw the dancing flames, but as they learned how to walk it became... a concern, to say the least. Vulkan only had himself to blame for this, as his little one had seen him and the Salamanders work with fire with no fear and now held none of their own. As hard as he tried to protect them, it was only a matter of time until they got burned.

Still, when Vulkan finds his child clutching their hand close to their chest, crying, his hearts catch in his throat and he immediately scoops them up in his arms, offering them soft murmurs of concern and comfort. He inspects their hand and he holds them closer when he sees the nasty burns that stretch all the way to their wrist. With hurried steps he goes to the apothecary, knowing they have the tools to ease the pain and heal the blistered skin. Refuses to put his child down though, he holds them in his arms the entire time.

-It happens during training. Son or daughter, it does not matter, Lion will not allow his child to grow up without knowing how to fight. Usually, someone else is in charge of sparring with them but this day Lion decides that he's going to step in. Test them. He's pushing them to their limits, keeping them on their guard the whole time, critiquing their form and resolve when... he pushes them too far.

One second they are standing in front of him, defending from his attacks, and the next they are on the ground, clutching their arm and biting their lip hard enough to draw blood to keep from crying out. Lion stops and his eyes widen as he realizes that he's just broken their arm. Immediately, he barks at the serfs to fetch an Apothecary, voice loud and harsh. While they do that, Lion kneels next to his child, hands awkwardly hovering above them, and tells them that he really didn't mean to do that. He does not apologize but he feels the intense need to make it clear he hadn't meant to go so far. His expression might be stern but inside, Lion is feeling an immense amount of guilt.

-Leman liked to watch as his kid played with the wolves, it reminded him of his own childhood. He chuckled as his little one wrested with one of the younger wolves, one that had only just transitioned from pup to adulthood. His laughter was cut short however when he suddenly heard his child cry out in pain and smelt the scent of blood. By the time he's made his way over to his child, the wolf have already released its hold on their arm and is backing away slowly, tail between its legs and looking guilty.

Kneeling, Leman turned his child this way and that way, checking them for injuries and hissing softly when he saw the bite-wound on their shoulder. Fairly deep, judging by the marks and amount of blood. He doesn't blame the wolf though, he can see that it didn't mean to hurt his child, that it had been an accident. Leman picks up his little one and tells them they are going to be alright as he brings them to the apothecary. And hey, if they're lucky then they'll get some nice battle scars from this! This makes his child laugh, momentarily forgetting the pain.

-Jaghatai is not there when it happens. He's in a far away system, fighting a campaign together with his White Scars. It's only when he returns back to Chogoris that he's informed that while he was away, his child tried to tame a wild horse and unfortunately fell off its back and broke their leg. Jaghatai asks the apothecary a couple of questions, mostly about the extent of the injury and how well it's healing, but he's very calm about it all. Except the broken leg, his child is apparently unharmed so there's no reason for him to fuss or overreact. Besides, this is a good lesson for them. This way, they are reminded that just because they are bigger and stronger than other children, they are not invincible.

Visits his child and can't help but smirk when he sees them sulking on their bed, arms crossed and glaring at their broken leg, which is surrounded by a cast. When they see his smile, his child throws a pillow at him, which Jaghatai dodges with no problem. He tells his child to use this time of healing to learn patience, at which they huff pout. It makes Jaghatai smile even wider and he ruffles their hair affectionately.

-Roboute thought his child would be safe in their home. Far away from the horrors of the galaxy, far away from war and bloodshed. He never would have expected it to follow him home. But here he is, cradling his child in his arms, applying pressure to a wound that just won't stop bleeding. The assassin lays dead a few feet away, head crushed by one of Roboute's large hands, but his focus is entirely on his child. Why won't the bleeding stop? Why is there so much blood? Why is it taking so long for help to arrive?

When the apothecaries take over, Roboutes hands are covered with the blood of his child. Even when he washes them, the feeling won't go away. As the apothecaries work hard to save the life of his child, Roboute works equally hard to track down who sent the assassin. It's the only thing he can do, the only thing that can distract him from the anguish and hatred deep inside of him. He can't allow himself to succumb to it or else his child won't recognize him if- when they wake up from surgery. They will make it, he know they will. They are strong, stronger than he could ever hope to be.

[becauseicantthinkwritings]

Objects in Motion

Part 1

Alpha! Billy Russo x Omega! Reader

A/N: My very first A/B/O fic, that I started a while ago, and just decided to post.

It all started after finding out how much that lovely coat Billy wears in s1 costs.

Warnings: Masturbation, omega in heat.

You’re often overwhelmed.

It’s the hitch of your breath when your feelings are too big for your body, or the way your throat hurts with all the words that go unsaid.

There are not enoughs and there are too muchs and hardly any moments when things are… just right.

The coat in your hands is soft- ridiculously so, the label offers you an explanation- 100% cotton. You can't help the way your hands tighten on the material, as if you’d fight off anyone that tried to take it from you. Like for the first time, just right isn’t just a far away idea, it’s here, in your hands, against your chest.

How had you ended up here? Curled under your bed sheets, pillows all around you, clutching this lovely black coat to your body?

Today had been very overwhelming, your phone had pinged, alerting you to your impending heat, reminding you that you needed to pick up supplies. 

Your heats were formidable too, always too hot or too hungry or too needy. There was never a part of you that existed within the realms of fine.

At least until now.

When you were clutching this delightful black coat in your hands, bringing it up to your nose so that you could catch a whiff of the bewitching scent. 

It's bergamot at first, followed by notes of citrus that makes your eyes flutter shut. Delight spreads out inside you, fanning at the flames of your desire- your heat coming on faster as your nose lingers on the scent. You catch hints of pepper at the very end and it prompts you to take another long inhale.

Based on the size of the coat, your mind formulates an idea of the size of the person that wears it. The very thought causes you to clench your thighs together.

You didn't mean for this to happen, you'd only gone to pick up your silky PJs from the dry cleaners, designed specifically to be worn during your heat for maximum comfort on your skin. The delicate, gossamer material demanded special care, but you were very glad to have been gifted them some years ago.

You'd just picked up your item, when your nose had zeroed in on a scent that had made your body perk up curiously. It was the first time your senses had streamlined onto one thing, where throughout the day you'd had a number of difficult sensory encounters, leading you into wearing a beanie and noise cancelling headphones and the biggest jacket in your closet in any attempt to feel less things. The scent had made your brain ache for more, demanding you follow what your body had accepted- that this specific scent brought you absolute pleasure.

Even through the garment bag it was stored in, it had activated dangerous thoughts in your hindbrain, and before you could even look around for cameras, you'd reached over the counter and swiped the garment bag when the girl at the front desk wasn't looking. It had been tucked to your chest and smuggled out of the dry cleaners without even a moment of guilt.

Realistically, you wouldn't be in that much trouble anyway, omega behaviour was usually forgiven, even if it didn't make sense. No one would lock you up for swiping a men's coat, especially not so close to your heat.

You have a few hours left, and you use it to make sure your food supplies are easily accessible. Your heats tended to run on for five days- higher than average- which means that you were in a lot more danger of starvation and dehydration.

You wonder if he would take good care of you. Your mind spinning back to the owner of the coat, having already made up some basic idea of him.

You knew his designation, by scent alone, but you were too afraid to admit it to yourself, worried about the consequences of having stolen a coat from someone like that.

Would they be mad? Probably not, you were sure with a scent like that, they were used to omegas swarming around.

The thought made you unreasonably jealous, for a person you didn’t even know.

.

Your heat hits you in the early hours of the next morning. 

You wake with a whine, sitting up, thighs damp with your arousal. You reach for the pills on your bedside table, taking them quickly and swallowing down some tepid water, before lying back. They would help you go back to sleep until morning alleviating some symptoms of your heat. You turn, finding the coat lying beside you. You take a deep breath into it as you fall asleep.

.

You can’t focus on anything as you pump the slick pink dildo in and out of you. There are tears streaming down your face, desperate for much more than you could ever give yourself. 

You bring the coat up to your nose, crying harder as the scent wraps around you.

“Alpha.” You pant into the soft material, imagining your fantasy version of the owner. 

You take a deep breath, envisioning him here with you, presumably large body curved over yours, taking up all the air around you, smooth skin available for you to scratch and claw at, his scent glands on display and eager for your mark.

“Alpha.” You beg again, into the loneliness of your apartment.

.

The coat becomes a centerpoint in your nest.

On day three when it’s fully finished to a satisfactory level, an arrangement of pillows and sheets all around your bed, you tuck the coat in beside you, delighted at the way the material feels on your flushed skin.

The scent is strongest at the collar, where it's probably rubbed on his neck often, brushed against his gland when he turns to examine something.

You groan, mouth watering for a bite of him, whoever he was.

There’s a lot of buttons and buckles on it, and your hindbrain is somewhat obsessed with what you think he looks like wearing it, probaby commands any room he walks into. 

The label at the back says Burberry, and though you're not very familiar with the brand, the clean stitching and soft material tells you that it’s definitely got to cost more than what you pay for your own coats.

You sigh, stripping out of your PJ’s and opting to slide into the coat itself.

A groan slips from your mouth, the material feels coarse on your oversensitive skin, but you welcome it as you feel his scent engulf you.

A fresh wave of arousal coats your thighs, and you can’t help inching your hand down between damp thighs until you find your swollen clit.

.

On your knees now, face down into your bed, you bite down on the collar of the midnight black coat.

Your eyes roll back into your head, muffled grunts as you pump your overstimulated cunt to the brim.

You rub your face into the collar, arching your neck so that your scent gland rubs against the coat, a low whine at the severe taboo thought of rubbing your gland against a stranger's.

It's frowned upon, but the very thought of it is what brings you to orgasm just a few moments later. 

You struggle for air, hair tickling your cheek as you huff, some of it clings to the saliva at the corner of your mouth, some of it is caught in the tears that smear your cheeks.

You want- like never before.

.

When your heat is over, the guilt kicks in.

You know better than to wash the coat yourself, only wiping gently at the interior in hopes of wiping off any lingering traces of… you away. You think about getting it dry cleaned yourself but you’d used the last of your money on the alleviator pills to help with your heat symptoms. You wouldn’t get paid until the end of the month.

Finally, you rummage through the pockets, checking to see if anything had been left behind by the owner. You find a crumpled napkin with someone’s number scribbled on, leaning in, you take an experimental sniff and draw away from it in disgust as the scent hits your nose.

You almost put it back, but you figured it was crumpled anyway, probably meant for a bin in the first place- so you put it there. Searching again and you smile when you come across a tub of lip balm, opening it and giving a little sniff of the inside. There’s no scent to it, and you curiously swipe a bit onto your finger and smear it onto your lips.

You begin to get a sense that the person this coat belongs to, has very refined tastes, and after a quick search, your eyes widen in shock when you discover the lip balm costs near fifty dollars.

Which is how it starts- an itch at the back of your head that tries to warn you of the possibility that the coat in your possession costs more than you’d initially thought.

You let out a slow breath, typing in the information stitched onto the label and your eyes bulge out of your head when you finally see the price of the coat sitting in your lap.

Three thousand.

The coat you stole had cost nearly three thousand dollars.

You look down at the item in betrayal, the scent of its true owner just barely clinging to it. 

You take a deep breath, pushing your phone aside as you begin rummaging for a box capable of returning such an expensive item.

Thankfully, you know where to return it to, as the name and address had been hooked to the garment bag.

Delivering it is another difficult task on its own, but you manage, having to call in a few favours and explain in lengthy detail to the courier that your package wasn’t dangerous in any way but you’d rather not deliver it yourself.

Luckily, you’re able to convince them of your cause, the urge to help an omega in distress working in your favour.

.

It’s nine a.m on a Saturday morning when Billy comes home from his run. 

He’s fishing for his keys in his pocket when he notices that there’s a box sitting in front of his door.

He pauses for a moment, looks at the item, before stepping forward to examine it.

There’s a card on top- one of those printed ones you can get at a convenience store- light blue sky and a panda holding onto a handful of bamboo stalks. 

There’s an “I’m Sorry,” printed on, and then something added in below in pen.

‘From a very apologetic Omega.’ It says.

His eyebrows twitch in amusement, he brings the card up to his nose to catch a whiff- the scent of light, floral perfume fills his nose. 

He’s aware his coat had been stolen, he’d seen video footage of the crime itself, watched as a small hooded frame had reached across and nicked his coat before it could be cleaned. The dry cleaners had sent him the footage when they’d explained what had happened.

He’d thought it had been gone for good, deleting the only copy of the footage and moving on. He could afford to replace one coat. 

This though, was interesting, it seems like the omega had felt some sort of remorse, and had returned his coat to him.

It was sweet, he found himself smiling as he reached down to pick the box up, cradling it under one arm and flipping the card open as he enters his apartment.

He huffs, feeling a little sorry for an omega that couldn’t afford a dry cleaning bill, then again, the cost of the coat would definitely bring up the price a lot more.

‘Dear Alpha,

                   I’m so sorry I took your coat. I tried to clean it as best as I could, but I couldn’t afford to have it dry cleaned for you. It’s wrapped tightly to protect you from the scent on it. I'd suggest not opening it, and taking it to be cleaned as soon as you get it. I’m very sorry.

P.S. You have a very nice scent.’

Curiously, he tugs the box open, finding that the garment bag has been folded carefully and wrapped in plastic wrap. 

He sniffs the box experimentally, searching for any hint of a scent, or any indication that the package could be dangerous.

All he gets is more of that pleasant perfume that he figured was doused in the box to protect him from the scent.

It only makes him more curious.

Billy grips the plastic wrap, and very carefully tears a little hole into the plastic, breaking the seal.

His body goes rigid. 

He feels his pupils dilate, his hindbrain roaring to life as he catches the scent of an omega in heat.

His omega.

He rips the plastic furiously, fumbles with the garment bag and rips the zipper open. His eyes scan the coat, as he takes one long, slow breath.

The first scent he gets are apples, and then light notes of vanilla, but under it all, is the kick of pheromones, that sticks like honey on his tongue.

He takes another deep breath, groaning as his cock swells, pulsing to life, begging to claim the owner of such a delicious scent.

There’s so much of it, filling his space with sweet notes of frustration, yearning and unfulfillment. 

His omega, needing him.

A growl tears from his chest, something inside of him collapses like an avalanche, only increasing with time, decimating his thoughts and leaving a feverish burn under his skin.

He tugs the coat open, groaning, the tart smell of cunt clings to the inside of his coat, telling him that his omega wore his coat naked.

Desperate little thing, he thinks, as he dips his hand into his joggers, fingers wrapping firmly around his cock, squeezing in an attempt to force his orgasm away. He groans, the grip around his cock rewarding him with pleasure, and he can’t help pumping himself, trying to ease the desire inside of him.

He leans in, nose pressed to the collar of his coat, where the scent is strongest, where his omega must have rubbed their little scent gland vigorously against his coat,

Sweet, delightful, his cock aches for a cunt he’s never seen, his mouth yearns for skin he’s never touched. All he has, is the honeyed scent of an omega’s heat, and the screaming inside of him that demands he claim what his body knows is his.

His grip on his cock tightens, his vision blurs, head full of thoughts, ideas of a little omega under him, sobbing as they take his cock repeatedly, begging for more with broken cries.

He doesn’t stop until he comes into his hand, only then, does his thinking sharpen.

He puts his coat in bed beside him, he hopes the sheets will absorb the smell, so that he can have his little omega with him while he sleeps. He wakes with an aching cock, and the coat clutched tightly against his chest, struggling to remember fading dreams of little omegas that beg nicely.

He doesn’t get out of bed until he’s come twice into the palm of his hand.

.

He searches for days. 

But when he’d deleted the footage from the dry cleaners, he’d gotten rid of any hope of tracing his omega’s movements, and chances of finding an address. 

She doesn’t leave any record of one, always opting to pick up her items herself. 

At least he’s gotten that, a basic description, a height, an idea of her complexion and the colour of her eyes.

It was too vague to work with, but it was something he could think about before he went to sleep at night, with his nose buried in his coat, breathing in the scent of her, desperate to find the omega that had stolen his coat and unintentionally taken his heart.

He studies the card too, learns the handwriting, growing more and more desperate for his little omega.

Billy knew he wouldn't stop looking, not until he found the person who'd opened up a nest of possibilities in his head, giving him something he'd never had in a very long time.

Hope.

.

.

.

Part 2

[freshbakedbreadstick]

Small NSFW Viktor Blurb... because i'm thinking too much about him

Arcane Viktor x F!Reader

The way Viktor fucks is so... scientific.

The way he speaks to you, so softly yet so calculatingly is addictive. It's embarrassing how wet it makes you when he speaks this way. It's not at all that he's talking down to you as he dirty talks, he speaks in the manner that a scientist testing his hypothesis would. He has no condescending tone, no hint of sarcasm, and certainly not trying to degrade you. The opposite really.

"Interesting..." he would murmur as he notices you twitch particularly hard, sitting back against the pillows as he watched you feed his thick cock into your throbbing core, watching the way your slickness coated him with every miniscule movement.

He adjusts himself with his arms, eyes piercing your pussy as his shifting makes you gasp out, pushing more of his length into your tight heat. His voice is strangled as he speaks,"You really seem to like it when I move like this..."

If it were his way, he would have a notebook out to jot down everything he notices as you two fuck. You're pretty sure you caught him writing in a small black notebook one time after a particularly good romp too, but you've never been able to find that little notebook and have never been able to figure out what it contains.

Between his gasps and clutching of the bedsheets underneath him, he stays trained on the way your pussy takes his thickness, stretching around him and leaving a creamy ring around the base as you rode him.

"Hm," he would murmur, hands reaching to shift your hips forward a bit, shifting them back when he notices your brow furrowed more when you were positioned that way on his cock.

He would spread your legs carefully, with shaky hands, adjusting your position to one that he hypothesized and tested before as to being much more comfortable for you. He knew you wouldn't get as tired in this position and that he had easier access to that throbbing clit of yours, nimble and long fingers trailing from the soft mound of your right breast, thumbing your pebbled nipple, down the softness of your torso to where you ached for him the most.

He bit back smirks as he moved his fingers in the exact motion he knew made your eyes screw shut and mouth drop open, drool running down your plump bottom lip before hitting and running over your chest. Of course, he tried and tested it before.

"Like that, yes? I know, I know my sweet, I know you like it this way... prefer to have my fingers move like this, yes? Feels good when you move your hips like that?" He would coo, free hand moving to your hip, digging his fingertips in.

He knew this amount of pressure would leave small finger shaped bruises on your skin, the very kind he loved to see when you two would retire to bed in the lateness of night, fingers tracing over the skin under the glittering moonlight. 

His amber eyes would rake over your form, listening to you gasp out. He would be mentally taking in the tell tale signs that you were close to cumming, getting closer and closer with every gasp. He would take note the way your eyes would glaze over before shutting, how your head settled, brows furrowed. Between his own pleasure he would note the way your clenched, milking him so sweetly that he couldn’t help but jerk his hips up, using his arms to move. 

It made the mattress creak, the frame hit the wall, the pillows go tumbling down. It made his mental notes, ones he made sure to write down once he had a chance as any researcher does, go blurry in his mind. But his eyes never fell from your body, watching his most perfect work bring you to that peak of absolute pleasure, crying out his name as he did everything he knew was tried and true to make it feel so overwhelming. 

Viktor was a scientist at heart, always has been and always will be, but that doesn’t make him a boring academic when it comes to intimacy. If anything, that makes him a lot more mindful, as any good scientist in his field is. 

[daniiiboo]

one of those days - lh43

summary - you have had a terrible day, but luke is finally home to help you

trigger warnings - reader is tired, done w it all, and sad

dani's thoughts - i havent really wrote anything this deep for tumblr so smth newwww, but i am in LOVE with this fic sooo and yall love the luke so

word count - 990

It's been one of those days. The type where all you can do is yell into the abyss and hope that somebody will hear you. Yet all the abyss has done is reply with silence.

To start with, the alarm didn't ring and because of this, you fell behind on your morning meeting. And then, halfway to work, the car broke down and you waited for an hour for a tow truck, doing calculations in your head, and how much this was going to set you back. At the office, it didn't get any better. The email server was down, you couldn't access half your files, and your boss wasn't happy with your progress. It felt like everything was falling apart around you.

And the icing on the cake? Your phone died, and you knew Luke wouldn't be able to text you. You hadn't heard from him all day. It was a roadie for the New Jersey Devils, and you knew he was somewhere on the road, city to city, working long hours for the team. You felt the emptiness in your apartment without him. It was just you, your cluttered kitchen, and the pile of stuff you had to go through that seemed endless.

As the night drew in, you'd had enough. You sat defeated on the sofa and wondered why things will ever get any better. You stared blankly at the TV, not even interested at what was on, just wishing you had someone to talk to, someone who'd be there and make it all feel less overwhelming. You closed your eyes and attempted to imagine the comfort of Luke's presence, the way he'd always known how to make you feel better.

But then passed an hour. And another. And another. You hadn't heard from him. Your heart sank a little.

Just when you were about to lose all hope, immersing yourself deeper into the frustration of the day, you heard the familiar sound of keys jingling, unlocking your apartment door.

The thud of a bag got your heart racing.

You forced yourself to walk to the door, your feet dragging as if you were walking through molasses. And when you made it to the door, you saw Luke Hughes. His eyes, wide and bright, softened at the sight of you, your slumped posture, and the exhaustion mapped on your face. He had that look. a look that said I've missed you but also I'm here to make it better.

"Hey hey", he said gently, his voice full of warmth and concern. "How's my favorite person doing?"

You didn't answer immediately. Instead, you took a shaking breath and wiped a stray tear from your cheek that you hadn't even noticed had fallen. You weren't used to letting him see you like this exhausted, defeated version of yourself. But today was too much.

Luke's brow furrowed, and he reached for your hand.

“I’m here now. It’s all going to be okay, alright?”

You nodded, swallowing the lump in your throat.

"It’s just… it’s been one of those days. Everything is falling apart, Luke. And you’re out there on the road, doing your thing with the Devils, and I’m just here, trying to hold it all together.".

Luke's grasp on your hand tightened as he pulled you into a bear hug. Immediately, the heat from his arms sucked the stiffness out of your body.

"I know it's tough," he murmured into your hair. "But I'm here now. Let me get you through it."

He pulled away and gently tipped up your chin so that you were looking into his eyes.

"Tell me everything. What happened?"

You blinked, and took a trembling breath before you started telling him about the frustration of your day. About how your morning had spiralled out of control. About how you couldn't even find any peace in your own home. And about how, in the back of your mind, you felt the emptiness of him being away, even though he was out there doing his best for the team.

Luke didn't say a word, he was speechless, and his thumb caressed your hand. When you finished, he smiled a little.

"That's a lot to carry on your own," he said softly. "But you don't have to. And you're so much stronger than you think you are."

You weakly smiled, tired.

"Sometimes I don't feel very strong."

Luke shook his head, pulling you back and hugged you again, and his hands gently made contact on your back.

"You don't have to be strong every time. It's alright to have days when you need someone else to lean on."

His words hit a little harder than you expected, and you clung to him, the heaviness in your chest gradually lifting.

Now, after several minutes, Luke slowly pulled it out and smiled slyly. Just hold the date off for a little while.

You blinked at him confused.

"I ordered takeout," Luke said with a wink. "And. I have a surprise for you."

You lifted an eyebrow.

"A surprise?"

"Yes." He drew out a tiny bag that held inside it a small plush animal, a New Jersey Devil plushie, with a tiny little jersey on it that had Hughes on the back with his number.

Your heart melted.

"Luke, you're such a dork," you laughed, your mood already starting to lift.

He laughed, bumping into you in a playful manner.

"I know. But if it's going to make you smile, I'll keep being a dork.

After a comfortable evening of eating together, Luke stuck around. He offered to help you with all the chores that you had been avoiding, like sorting through emails, washing the dishes, or just sitting with you while you did the little things that had before seemed so overwhelming.

By the time you guys went to bed, your universe seemed slightly less overwhelming. You still needed to accomplish things tomorrow, but it wasn't as if the world rested on your shoulders now. Above everything else, you knew that even during bad days, you weren't entirely by yourself. Luke always returned to you, his presence, his touch, and his warm smile when you most needed him.

And with that, you could breathe again.

[radiance1]

Clockwork looked away from time for one second, a mere glance actually. Yet that was enough for things to go to shit.

Somehow, just, somehow his son managed to displace himself in time so bad that he ended up in an entire different dimensions timestream. How did that happen? Well he wouldn't know because he looked away for one observant damned second.

Clockwork is the Master of Time in the Infinite Realms and the main earth tied to it. But in that universe he's just a Master of Time, one of the stronger ones, obviously, but he doesn't have as much power as he does over here.

Hourman makes a very convincing case of why he shouldn't interfere.

Of course, he does want Danny back, but he also doesn't want to impose himself upon another master of time as that is considered rather rude.

So what does he do? Wake up the Ghost King who he knows adopted his son via combat, sign a quick oath of marriage (Which he's wanted to do for a very long time) and then send him out to go collect their child before he ends up fucking up the timestream in the worst case scenario.

Why the marriage oath, you make ask? It wasn't just because the Ghost of Time was in love on him for eons (though that was a major factor), it was also because (Headcanon stolen from mouzerequis but edited a wee bit) of a certain design of the Ghost Zone itself.

It spans over many dimensions, leading to multiple access doors to each and every different realm, magical or not. Thus, it has a very weird requirement of Authority. The Ghost King, Queen, and High Prince, two of either are its requirements.

No one knew why that was necessary, though Clock had a very clear and sneaking suspicion that it had to do with the weight of power and status distributed equally between the two or three. Being a royal recognized by the realms lets it siphon its power towards you, which can be a good thing but too much and it overwhelms you.

Such which happened to Pariah Dark, even more so with the power Crown and Ring. So, by doing this, the power being siphoned off by the zone would be shared equally between three vessels, leading to no overwhelming.

Technically they didn't need him, but he did say he was love so.

So, as first act of queen in the Ghost Zone he sends his newly acquired husband out to go fetch the High Prince.

Meanwhile, with Danny:

Did Danny know how he ended up in this predicament? No. Was it his fault? Maaaaayybe. Was he going to regret this? Probably not, no. Was he going to search for a way back home? Well, yes but also no.

There was an entire new world to explore, so of course he had to explore and bring back souvenirs!

At least, that was his plan before he got found by some guy who calls himself Constantine, fought, taken back to his house to be kept an eye on and then had otherworldly food thrown his way to keep him quiet.

Exactly in that order.

Of course he's gonna mess with the guy as said guy tries to figure out which dimension he's from exactly.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for not putting a bell on my cat?

Cw for discussion of animal death and injury in vague terms.

So I live in a neighborhood with a lot of stray/outdoor cats. In fact, it's sorta that way all over the city. A few weeks ago as of writing this, I picked up a stray because I saw that it had an open wound on its neck; since it was amicable to being handled I decided to take it to the vet to be treated (and neutered, since I'd already gotten hold of it and obviously we don't need more strays.)

Recently, my cat of 15 years (we had him for 15 years, he was about 17-18 though) passed of old age, so I wasn't expecting my family to be willing to take a new cat in so soon. We even still have most of his stuff, so I figured it would be a matter of keeping the stray indoors until it was healed, then letting him go about his business. We all ended up getting attached over his two weeks of recovery though (if anyone is curious, it was a burst absess. While he was there we got him vaccinated and checked for other problems. Aside from ear mites, he was fine) so we got him a microchip, named him, and that was that.

My previous cat was also a rescue, though we picked him up from a shelter. At the time we also had a dog and a dog door, so keeping him inside would have been a logistical struggle we just... didn't care to bother with. By the time the dog passed, he'd had access to the outside for years and we saw no reason to suddenly cut him off from that. We obviously had to keep this new cat completely inside while his staples were in, but the plan was always to open up the dog door once he was healed and let him decide where he wanted to be. I don't like taking care of a litter box, my dad doesn't like the smell of cat, 3/4ths of the house is allergic (though that didn't stop us before), and this cat is much younger than our previous was, and has much more energy (vet estimated him at 6mo-1yr). At the beginning of last week (again, as of writing this) I got the go-ahead from the vet to let him outside and gladly did so. He hasn't gotten the hang of the dog door yet (our previous had the advantage of watching the dog go through to learn how to do it) but will go through open doors/windows and will return to the door or enter through the window if it's still open.

With context out of the way here comes the trouble: our neighbors. Our house is on the corner of the block and to our left is a house that takes tenants every so often. They've been here for as long as I (22m) have been alive and have been a nucance for probably longer than that. Their yard is atrocious, they planted bamboo that grew under the fence and into our property, and the woman who owns the house (presumably. Her husband might but I've never spoken to him) apparently has some moral issue with outdoor cats.

Sometime into owning our previous cat, she suddenly became very concerned with the bird population and insisted that we collar our cat and get him a bell so that he wouldn't catch birds. I'd like to point three things out: 1) our previous cat only had one eye, 2) we had tried to collar him before and he lost every single one so we gave up (breakaway collars so he didn't choke, 3) he caught birds despite both of these facts. Needless to say, I was not fucking thrilled about unsolicited advice from a woman I'd never spoken to, who let her unmitigated mess of invasive plants invade my garden, but whatever. She spoke to my little (10yro) sister about it at the time, only once, and never to me, so it wasn't an issue.

So I let this new cat out, right? I opened the dog door for him and he waltzed right on out, but I wasn't convinced he really knew how to operate it. About an hour or so without hearing him come in, I head through the back door to look for him. I got him from a different neighborhood, across town, while visiting a friend, so I figured I was allowed to be a little worried about him getting lost or overwhelmed. As soon as I step out onto the porch, the neighbor-lady calls over and asks me if my cat got out or I let it out.

I tell her I let him out. She asks me to put a bell on him. In an attempt to remain civil I ask her why. She says something about it being stupid, I ask her why it's stupid, she says cats eat birds and the bird populations are declining. I instantly want to call bull on cats being a leading reason of bird population decline, but I just tell her that I'll have to look that up, and ask her if she saw which way he went. (I'd like my restraint during this interaction noted, thanks.)

Anyway I don't find the cat but I get a good few patrols around the block, and eventually he comes back to the house sometime in the late-night early-morning. He does not use the dog door and waits for me to open the door instead (back door is on the way to the bathroom, I saw his stupid little face pressed against the glass when i went to piss).

I look up bird population decline articles. Most of them mention cats as a factor, along with clear windows. Primary factors are listed as deforestation and invasive species, pesticides, etc. I don't consider getting my cat a collar because I don't appreciate my neighbors input, especially when she's going to be hypocritical and ignore that planting native species may help bird population more than putting out fifty fucking feeders and complaining that the stray cats see her yard as a buffet. Anyway.

I let him out again yesterday, this time through the window in my room, which leads to the back porch. I felt comfortable leaving it open since I work at my desk and would hear if anything not-cat came inside. (Allergies were a problem, but I'd really rather he have a way to get inside if he wanted/needed, and he STILL will not open the dog door on his own. Obviously I'm not helping by continuing to give him alternatives but I am soft-hearted.) Sometime in the evening my dad comes in and tells me that when the cat next comes back, I should keep him inside because "The neighbor lady is being a bitch and I don't want to deal with it." I assume she said something to him, so I agree and when the cat comes in for the night I close the window.

This morning I saw what had ACTUALLY got him.in a twist, because not only did she say something but she printed out and taped a note to our door. Oh, how I would love to send a picture of it here, but I don't know how to embed photos in asks so you'll just have to deal with my transcription:

CAT FACTS

Cats kill birds. Cars kill cats.

Here's some links to look up.

[I won't type the links out. First one is an article titled "how long do outdoor cats live indoor vs outdoor cats" and the second is "faq cats and their effects on birds". I have not read either of these.]

Ask Kelly about Dixie. Ask Jean about Madeline - wait don't - she ran over her with her own car and broke her pelvis because the cat was older and couldn't hear well.

You have a very beautiful young cat. He deserves a safe loving home. Act like you care for your cat or give him to a home that will. I have four indoor cats - three are orange boys. I have a soft spot for orange boy cats. They are very happy as inside cats.

Be responsible.

[Handwritten at the bottom:]

Your cat is sleeping in my backyard. Why are you forcing him to be an outdoor cat!?

[End]

The amount of violent rage this fills me with is unreal. Kelly is our across-the-road neighbor, I assume Jean is another neighbor (I'm bad with names) and I CANNOT imagine that either of them appreciate being. Used like this. Also, I'm very glad her cats are happy indoors but this cat is not, he wants to go outside, he has been crowding the window all morning waiting for me to open it. (I respect me father so I won't, but I disrespect my neighbor so I really, REALLY fucking want to.)

So AITA for disregarding the safety/happiness of my cat and the decline of the bird population by not putting a collar on him and heartlessly forcing him outside? I'm no further inclined to force him indoors or get a collar, especially with her continued insistence, and in fact I'm so far making an active effort to restrain myself from going over and talking to her because I just want to turn it into an argument.

[postcrashcurly]

A short list of Jimmy headcanons I've been tinkering with for a bit. CW: OCD and Hoarding Behavior, Trichophagia, Body Image, and a lot of other triggers tbh it's far too long to list just prepare for anything.

One. On earth, Jimmy has a hoarding problem that stems from not having a lot as a kid. His dad was physically abusive and his mom was emotionally absent, so he wasn't allowed any privacy, personal belongings, or comfort objects. So as an adult he keeps EVERYTHING. Every single birthday card, every receipt, boxes, old clothes, certain food wrapping items and empty cans. It's chaos but it's somewhat organized, and piles move around here and there. It's not necessarily *gross* in the traditional sense. There is no rats or roaches or anything like that- its just overwhelming to the outside observer. It has the potential to be much worse depending.

He compulsively reorganizes his belongings but he'll be sent into a blind rage if he feels he's lost something. Piles move back and forth from the living room and bed room. Certain objects of interest are always within eye-shot, specifically things like gifts or photos. He has a particular affinity towards gift-cards and enjoys the elaborate designs (even though he pretends he doesn't).

Jimmy gets incredibly defensive when anyone offers to help him clean up or move things around and worries greatly that someone may steal from him. The only person who's ever seen the inside of his place is Curly, and he's also the only person Jimmy has ever left unattended in his home. Every so often Curly is able to nudge him to pack things in different areas so it isn't such a fire hazard (because of the hoarding, Jimmy has a massive fear of house fires and losing his things), and so he can have better access to rooms.

The only "clean" areas are the kitchen and bathroom, and they are remarkably clean. This is something Curly doesn't understand but doesn't really bother to question because he knows Jimmy needs to have things a certain way.

Two. As a child Jimmy developed really poor coping mechanisms to deal with his home life. He used to eat his own hair, and because of this his parents always had his hair cut as short as possible. This is why he keeps it long as an adult, and even though he doesn't eat/swallow it anymore he likes to suck and bite on the ends sometimes when he's self-soothing.

Three. Jimmy struggles with his body image and isn't quite sure what he looks like. If you asked him to draw a picture of himself, it wouldn't resemble him well. He feels that he looks much smaller, weaker, and uglier than he really is, for which he overcompensates. This also means he is a lot rougher when making physical contact with people.

It is also why a lot of his clothes are ill fitting.

Four. Jimmy loved cats when he was younger. When he was a kid he used sneak around his parents to feed them dinner leftovers. He was particularly close with a little tabby that cried at his bedroom window every night and he'd always sneak out to pet her. His father grew sick of the strays hanging around the property and put out poisoned food, which unfortunately took out his tabby. To this day, he blames himself for making the cats comfortable enough to take food from his house.

Five. Jimmy has experimented with many drugs and had mostly positive experiences with them. He's particularly fond of Kratom.

Six. Jimmy doesn't try to understand people, he only learns what they expect of him and changes his approach depending on the person. Everyone is so vastly different that he struggles to keep up appearances with most people, so he often latches onto one person (Curly) and puts most of his energy into that.

Seven. Jimmy is the type to give up a hobby if he isn't good at it right off the bat.

Eight. Jimmy can't swim, he doesn't want to swim, and you cannot make him swim. It stems from having a fear of water, specifically fully submerging his head/face.

Nine. Jimmy has food sensory issues. Sometimes he even needs to spit out things he likes because his body refuses to swallow it. To avoid this in public spaces, he takes very small bites and eats very slowly. He orders comfort meals and if he wants to try something new, he'll just pick of the plate of who he's with.

Ten. Jimmy is a Red Bull guy, specifically the Coconut Berry one. This is very oddly specific but it just feels right to me.

Y'all should send me asks with some of your Jimmy headcanons (if you want) because I love to hear other peoples opinions and perceptions of his character, especially if you don't agree with mine I'd love to hear why!

[lanawinterscigarettes]

okay so. what about a love quinn x fem reader smut where she’s a vampire, kind of addicted to your blood and stuff and then you like don’t mind and let her drink from you and it gets you a bit aroused or something idk but you end up fucking

I can't even explain just how much I'm obsessed with this idea, I really hope you like it <33

The Taste of You (vampire Love Quinn x fem reader)

Warnings: SMUT, vampire au (vampire Love/human reader), blood drinking kink (a very common trope in vampire fics lmao), vaginal fingering (reader receiving), light praise kink, could be seen as dubcon in some places but everything was consented to properly beforehand

Love knew it was you who walked in the door of her place the second she smelled your blood. You had such a sickeningly sweet aroma, it was often hard for her to focus on anything else when you were around.

"I brought you the stuff you needed for your cake," you said casually while entering the kitchen, setting down the bag of ingredients on the counter.

Before you could react, she had you to pinned against the wall, her superhuman-like strength and speed catching you by surprise. "Love, you scared me," you lightly scolded, giving her a soft pout.

She just let out a short laugh in response. "Sorry, I just couldn't resist myself. You've been gone all day, and you smell so good-"

You swallowed thickly as she nuzzled her face into the side of your neck, her fangs protracting involuntarily when she brushed her nose and mouth against the pulse point you had there.

"Can I have a taste?" She questioned in a quiet, almost hesitant manner, afraid you were going to say no even if she knew you never did.

"Of course you can," you murmured gently in reply, tilting your head off to the side so she'd had better access to the area. "Take as much as you need."

Her tongue darted out, wetting her lips as she nodded in acknowledgement at your words. The taste of your blood was something she craved like no other, and getting the permission to drink from you was something she never took for granted.

A gasp was pulled from your lips as she sank her teeth into your neck, allowing the blood to flow from the cut her made into her mouth. She kept her lips pressed firmly to the skin around the bite, not wanting to waste a single drop.

You leaned back against the wall behind you as she did that, allowing your eyes to flutter shut as you simply took in the feeling of being your girlfriend's own personal blood bank. You had to admit, it felt nice to be needed in such a way.

The act of her feeding on you was always strangely intimate, which is why it didn't surprise you when you felt your underwear start to become moist with how aroused you were becoming. "Love..." you quietly breathed out her name, your eyes still shut as she drank from you a bit more. You were starting to feel a little light-headed, using the wall as some much needed support so you wouldn't topple over.

She noticed the change in your behavior and stopped drinking, carefully pulling her mouth away from your neck so she could turn her attention to your face (though that was not before she used her tongue to gently lap at the small beads of blood that had formed from the bite mark that was on your skin). "Are you alright?"

You simply nodded, needing to take a moment or so to collect your thoughts before speaking. "Y- Yeah, just- You always tend to overwhelm me, in the best possible way."

Love gave you a toothy grin in response to your words, seeming flattered by them. "Well, if that's the case then why don't I overwhelm you a little bit more?"

Opening your mouth, you attempted to speak before she suddenly dove back in, biting your neck in another area as she moved to unzip your pants. A moan managed to escape you at the way she pulled them down just enough for her to slip her hand inside your panties.

The combination of her fingers beginning to stroke and tease your wet folds while her mouth greedily sucked up more of your blood had you writhing and panting, becoming even more of a mess than usual. "Love," you whined out her name when her fingers slipped in, not wasting any time when it came to thrusting them in and out.

"Just stay there like a good girl, okay? Be good for me," she breathed out right next to your ear, a shiver going down your spine at the action. You never could say no to her.

Your eyes found themselves shutting again as you simply enjoyed the moment, one of her hands gripping onto your hip while the other was still shoved down the front of your pants, fingering you as you stood there. The light-headedness was starting to come back now, your senses being completely over-ridden so that you were only able to focus on her.

The way her teeth felt when digging into the sensitive flesh of your neck, the way her mouth moved to swallow your blood so eagerly, the way her fingers pushed in deeper and moved inside faster, nudging against the extra sensitive area that was hidden deep within your velvety walls- it was all becoming too much too soon, and you quickly found yourself reaching an utterly euphoric high as you cried out her name.

That didn't stop her, however, as she only drew her mouth away from your neck and pulled her hand from your pants so she could whisk you from the kitchen to the bedroom, faster than the speed of light. One moment you were leaning against the wall, the next you were laying down in your bed, panting heavily as you looked up at where Love was hovering over top of you.

"I hope you didn't think we were done," she purred while licking her lips, her pupils dilated with a lustful hunger as she gazed down upon you. "So far I've only been able to taste just a bit of you, and I'm dying to try the rest."

Her hands instantly moved to yank down your pants, exposing your bottom half to the cool air of the room. You could feel the goosebumps begin to raise on your legs and especially your thighs as she dipped her head down and began to pepper kisses all along your hipbone.

You weren't surprised by the current turn of events in the slightest, as her feeding off you typically led to much more intimate sessions that were finished in the bedroom. She always took the time to worship every single bare inch of your skin while doing so, leaving behind several faint bite marks on your body once she was done.

What could she say? The taste of you was something that was far too enticing for her to be able to resist.

End notes: thanks for the vampire au request I love it so much 🥰 you're always welcome to send in something like that whenever you'd like 💕

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[lightsovermonaco]

an: requests and comments always welcome!

wc: 1250

Summary: Pato surprises you by coming home for your anniversary. Fluff with a slight bit of suggestiveness at the end.

One full year. One full year of dating the most thoughtful, obnoxious, beautiful, annoying soul of a man. Three hundred and sixty five days of weird faces, suggestive Snapchat captions, and random phone calls. There's been less drama and more love than you could've ever dreamed. 

You wouldn't trade the past twelve months for anything in the world. 

Dating Pato hasn't been all puppies and rainbows- although Norbi had joined the two of you on a picnic once and you had seen multiple full rainbows. There's challenges, most of which stem from the constant distance and busy schedules. But one way or another, Pato always finds a way to make you feel like he's only in the next room instead of a few states away. 

Whether it be sending you flowers after you've ranted over text or facetiming you for thirty seconds to wish you a good morning, Pato does what he can. Sometimes it's overwhelming to have him away from home so long. There's days where you aren't sure how much longer you can go without holding him in your arms or feeling his stubbly cheeks beneath your fingertips. Pato must have a sixth sense for those things however, because he always seems to know and always gives you a little more love on the rough days. 

Tonight though, you've got the man all to yourself. The lottery drew your number.  You don't know what sacrifice he's made to the scheduling gods, but he's managed to come home for your anniversary just two days before a race. And the worst part? Pato hadn't given you any warning. You'd opened the door in your pajamas, expecting your door dash order instead of the whole package. 

Once you'd attacked him and thoroughly smattered his face with kisses, you'd worked up the courage to ask how long he'd be home. 

“It's only eight hours, I have a plane later tonight to catch back to Milwaukee. But I figured a few hours is better than seeing your face on a screen.” 

“It's so much better Pato,” you murmur and steal another kiss. You can't help it; you're addicted to him and have been in withdrawal for far too long. “I missed you so fucking much.” 

“Trust me, I missed you more.” Pato nudges your jaw with his nose. You understand his request and tip your head to give him full access to your neck, letting any thoughts of that very important work project that had to be finished this week float away on the breeze. 

If you only had eight hours with your man, you were going to make the most of them. 

“Upstairs,” you breathe, fingers tangling in his freshly styled hair. “Now, Pato.”

“Ma'am yes ma'am.”

**********

After spending a few hours wrapped up in each other, Pato had finally convinced you to go out to lunch with him. He'd picked your dress, a burnt orange satin number with thin straps and a slit up the leg that nearly went to your hip.

With Pato dressed in a charcoal quarter zip that's shamefully unzipped and his hair fluffed just how you like it, it's a miracle you've made it through the first course without jumping him. Because with that much of his neck on display and the proof of your earlier fun poking out from under the collar, it's taking every ounce of willpower to keep from dragging him out of this fancy restaurant and begging him to put some marks of his own on you. 

"My eyes are up here hermosa." 

"Hmm? Oh- no I know Pato, sorry! I just got distracted." Pato shifts to allow more skin to show. His smirk tells you he knows exactly what he's doing.

“I seem to distract you a lot don't I? Like before when I got home and you were working on that project…” Pato swipes his index finger through the pasta sauce on his plate and licks it clean. Thoughts swirl in your head like mist, though the only one that materializes is the memory of where those fingers had been an hour ago.

“Uh… sure…” 

“Not doing yourself much justice here, are you?” Pato tips his head, brown eyes warm and sparkling. “Good thing you're cute- you're not a very good conversation partner when your head is up on mars.”

“Well maybe if you wouldn't be so hot all the time,” you mumble, spearing pasta on your fork. “It would make my life a lot easier. Then maybe I could get through a meal without losing my train of thought.”

Pato's cute little dimples are on full display when he smiles. Your stomach does flips as if you're back in high school sitting across from your crush. It's crazy how he still has that effect on you now. You'd once worried that the spark would fade and you'd get bored of each other. Now though, you're positive that it's still as alive and hot as the day you met. 

“We both know you don't mean that. These,” Pato taps one of the bruises on his neck, “are proof that you love me just how I am.”

“Yeah well, all I'm saying is once in a while you could show me some mercy, you know? You c-could-” you stutter when Pato's hand meets your knee. Hidden under the table and exposed by the slit in your dress, his thumb moves over your smooth skin whilst his eyes remain trained on you. 

“Hermosa? Everything alright?” Pato smiles sweetly as his hand slides halfway up your thigh. Now you know why he asked for the tiniest table tucked away in the corner. Considering Pato's smug grin, his public torture is having the desired effect. 

“I'm- I'm fine Pato. Perfectly fine.” You clear your throat and shift in your seat so that you're out of his reach. For a split second, you feel guilty when Pato frowns. But instead of giving up, he ups the ante. Pato simply moves his own chair so that he can replace his hand exactly where it was. You should've known he wouldn't let you get away so easily; Pato isn't one to be deterred. 

“Actually,” you purr, laying your hand on his arm, “it would be better if you could let me finish eating in peace.”

“Mmm let me think about it.” Pato drums His fingers on your thigh and purses his lips. You both know the answer before the, “no,” leaves his lips. 

You huff and curl your fingers so your nails dig into his sweater. “This isn't fair Pato. I can't do anything to you, and you're set on torturing me.”

“I think the solution is simple.” When you stare at him blankly, Pato shrugs. “Finish your meal. The quicker you finish eating, the quicker we can get home, yeah?” Pato's wink is accompanied by a dip of his hand between your thighs, there and gone. As quick as it is, his touch is still enough to leave you scrambled. 

“Just pay the bill. I'm done eating.”

“But I ordered dessert-” 

“And I’ll be the dessert as long as you get me home in the next twenty minutes.” a mischievous glint dances in Pato’s eyes. His hand stays exactly where it is whilst the server retrieves the tab. Pato takes one look at it and leaves cash on the table, not bothering with change. 

Pato makes it home with three minutes to spare, and as promised, makes you his dessert. 

[wake-me-up-inside-imagines]

Hello !!!! Could you write something about Yan!Charlie, please ? Maybe something about another powerful mafia leader falling in love with Charlie's love, or maybe about his love trying to escape ? Idk anything about my husband :'(

You're an amazing writer ! Keep up the amazing work !

Thank you, and sure thing! I got a similar request from another anon (specifically what Charlie would do if his darling tried to escape and another mafia leader found out and kidnapped them), so I'm gonna combine your escape request with theirs, I hope you don't mind!

Yandere! Charlie when his darling escapes and is kidnapped

Gn! reader

Warnings: Yandere character, typical mafia violence, kidnapping, murder, non-graphic abuse towards reader (not done by Charlie, dw), suicidal ideation, implied planned suicide attempt, blood, stalking, guns.

Banner credit goes to @animatedglittergraphics-n-more

When Charlie finds out you've escaped, his is pissed. Where did you go?! How could you have possibly bypassed all the security measures he put in place specifically to keep you safe and in the house?! Why would you want to escape when he's done nothing but shown you love and affection?! How could you do this to him?!

And then the self loathing kicks in. He must have done something, right? You wouldn't have gone through all the effort of escaping his high security home if he hadn't done something wrong, right? So what was it? Did he scare you? Were you afraid of being with someone with such a risky, dangerous job? Did the prospect of what he does to others terrify you to the point where you had to escape? Did you think he would hurt you, or kill you, or anything like that? Was living with him, being married to him, really all that bad?

without a second to spare, Charlie sends out every trained tracker at his disposal to find you, threatening to gut them as slowly as possible if they return without you. He knows you can't have gone far, there's only so much a distance you can cover on foot, and besides, how are you supposed to do anything without money? He has control over your previous bank account, and you certainly don't have any access to his, so how are you going to go anywhere? Still, he sends out a couple guys to search a farther, larger area, just in case a hitchhiker picked you up, or someone took pity on you and gave you enough money to use public transportation.

While his underlings are doing that, he's scanning every inch of the house in hopes of finding out how you escaped. Not a single inch of the house is left unturned, he will find out how you left, and he will make sure that you can never repeat that escape route again. Any and all weaknesses his security has are fixed within the day, insuring that once you're safely home, you'll never be able to bypass his cameras again.

He's a ball of rage and sadness for however long it takes to get you back. He's blaming you, he's blaming himself, he's blaming his employees, he's blaming the world, he's blaming anything with a pulse. His emotions flip like a switch, sometimes he's violently angry, but other moments he's horribly depressed. If he wasn't so focused on getting you back, he would have spent all his time in your bed, unable to move in the wake of his overwhelming emotions. He needs you back, he needs you back NOW.

He can feel himself inching closer towards the brink of insanity each hour you're away. He's constantly checking for updates on your whereabouts, growing increasingly unstable when each check in results in absolutely no new information being gained. His threats get more and more deranged with each failure to find you, his mind running through all the worst case scenarios he can think of. You couldn't be dead, could you? No, no, they would have known for sure if that were the case. Did you go to the police? No, you weren't that stupid. You knew he had insiders in the local department, it would have been runaway suicide to go to them. But if you weren't dead, or hidden away somewhere, than where could you possibly be?

Several days pass by, and there's still no sign of you anywhere. Charlie himself spends all day personally trying to track you himself, and still, there's no sign of you. Charlie's hysteria only gets worse, significantly so, to the point where he's seriously considering ending it all if he can't find you in the next couple of days. Without you, he has no reason to live. Life had no meaning. You were the shining light in the long, dark tunnel that was his life, and without that light, he has no reason to go on. His job brings him no pleasure, nor do his riches. He has no friends, no family, and no way to escape his position. Everything he did was for you, and now you're gone. He can't go on without you, he won't, if he can't have you then he won't have anything, please, he needs to find you before he loses it, he NEEDS-

Charlie was quite literally only a couple of seconds away from grabbing the gun strapped to his waist and blowing his brains out when they find you. Or well...They find what happened to you.

To Charlie's dismay, you aren't with the men who found out where you could be. He demands an explanation as to why they showed their faces without you in tow, but grows incredibly quiet when the people in front of him report that you've been kidnapped by a rival mafia leader. No wonder you had been hard to find. There was another organization covering your tracks, hiding you away from Charlie for their own personal benefit.

Charlie learns a lot of new things that day. He learns that unfortunately, one of the rival mafia's men had slipped through the cracks of his defences and become a spy for his rival, reporting back to the other leader whenever necessary. And unfortunately, because of how well known you are amongst Charlie's members, it didn't take long for the spy to figure out who you were.

He found out that as soon as word of your escape got out, the other organization immediately started hunting for you, planning to capture you and extort your connection with Charlie for money and power.

He found out that the organization found you, and now, you were with them, tied up somewhere in an undisclosed location. The only reason they knew you had been captured in the first place is because Charlie has his own spy within the rival mafia, and a pretty high ranking one at that.

Charlie is beyond furious when he finds out where you are. How dare his rival kidnap you and use you! How dare he put you in such danger! And how dare that spy!

He's so beyond angry that he can't even formulate words for several minutes, running his hand over his face and pacing around the room frantically, trying to think up a plan. When he's finally able to speak again, he orders half the men present to find that rival spy and bring him here, and the other half to find their own personal spy and tell him to figure out where you are and who is with you as soon as possible. Now that he knows where you are, he’s wasting no time in getting you back. He won’t let you suffer in the hands of his rival, he swears it.

Before he can get his report back though…he gets a message.

It’s a video of you, tied down to a rickety old chair in some unknown building. Your eyes are covered, but Charlie doesn’t need to see them to know how utterly terrified you are. You’re shaking, as much as your restraints allow you to at least, your normally untouched skin dark with bruises. There’s a guard on either side of you, guns in hand, and as the recording goes on, you’re quickly pulled out of frame, replaced by the big man himself.

Demands are made, but Charlie isn’t listening. All he can think about is you, you and your bruised, trembling body. Despite all the anger he harbors towards your escape, he's overwhelmed with fear and sadness. You've been hurt and bound, left helpless at the hands of his rival. The knowledge that you could be fatally injured or at least seriously wounded is not lost on him. He needs to figure out how to get you back, he needs to devise a plan to save you, he-

It doesn’t take long for him to get a report from his personal spy. This person is someone who his rival trusts after all, someone who’s been worming his way up to the top for years, all under the guise of a loyal right hand man. It was child’s play for him to figure out where you were being kept, even being bestowed the honor to guard you, a decision that Charlie would take full advantage of.

The second Charlie gets the report, he’s preparing for war. He’s not leaving anything up to chance. He knows he’s dealing with someone with a significant amount of power, so he’s getting the most skilled, deadly, dangerous people under his command to accompany him in bringing you home. He won't risk your safety any more than he has to, as much as he wants to tear the building apart and murder anyone in his sight, his main priority is getting you out of there in back home safely. Everything else can come after.

As soon as everyone's armed and ready, they're heading out to save you. Charlie makes sure to keep everyone as undercover as possible in case his rival becomes alert to their plan, only revealing themselves when they get the building you're being kept in. By the time Charlie's spy lets him and his crew in, it's too late for anyone to do anything.

Once in the building, Charlie makes no effort in hiding his presence. He's too pissed to care. He's shooting at any and every living thing that isn't one of his own men, taking down every and any goon who stands in his way. The rival mafia's forces can try to take him down, but chances are they'll be dead before they can get to him, and even if they aren't, a few bullet wounds won't stop Charlie. He's too high off of anger and adrenaline to care. All he can focus on is getting to you.

Charlie and his group travel through each and every room together, too cautious to let anyone stray on their own. Some of Charlie's employee's try to convince him to go back to the car and wait for them, that he's too hurt to carry on but Charlie brushes them off, snapping that he's not leaving until he finds you. He'll gladly bleed out right then and there if it means you'll come home.

Eventually, pretty much every goon hiding in the building is eliminated, minus the ones that are presumably guarding you. A couple of Charlie's men have fallen with them, but Charlie doesn't really care. Their lives were a means to an end, and hopefully, that end would result in your safe return. All they have to do now is find where they're keeping you.

The spy brings Charlie to the room where you're presumably being held, and without hesitation, Charlie kicks down the door, drawing his gun and aiming at anyone who isn't you. There are two guards beside your still-bound form, but within seconds they're laying dead on the floor, gunshot wounds going straight through their heads. Charlie can feel his heart hurting as he watches you flinch with every gun shot, but he reminds himself that this is all necessary to get you back, however scary it may be for you.

As soon as the guards are dead, Charlie's rushing towards you, fumbling with your restraints with shaky fingers. He gets increasingly frustrated when he can't undo them on his own, the blood loss from his bullet wounds beginning to get to him. His employees have to help him out, cutting you free and removing the blindfold that's been covering your eyes for who knows how long.

The second you're free, Charlie's grabbing onto you, bringing you into the most aggressive hug you've probably ever received. He won't let you go for what feels like forever, simply holding you to him, rocking your bodies back and forth while he soaks up your warmth. He's hurt, he's hurt badly, but right now, his priority is you, and reassuring you that your safe now, you're ok. He's not gonna let you go.

It's not until his employees surround him and you, urging him to leave, that he breaks away from you, but even then it's not by much. He's got one hand in yours, and one hand on his gun, refusing to let his guard down, even though he's successfully retrieved you. He would have carried you out of there, but with the injuries he's obtained, it's probably not a good idea. Still, he's determined to protect you, to keep you safe from anyone else that may be lurking in the building. Unfortunately, it appears the rival mafia leader managed to escape the building before Charlie got to him, but that's ok. Charlie can deal with him later. Right now, his priority is you.

The group only comes across a couple more people from the rival mafi, but they're swiftly dealt with, leaving a clear and quick path out of the building and back to the cars. The second you get into Charlie's car, the driver's speeding off, driving as quick as he can to the nearest hospital to get you and Charlie treated. All the while, Charlie's gripping onto you, refusing to let you go. He can tell you're still scared, and he's determined to remedy that the best he can.

It takes a lot of convincing to get Charlie to release you long enough to get treated. He's on the verge of passing out from blood loss, but all he cares about is you, and your safety. He doesn't trust anyone to be with you, but he finally allows himself to be pulled away when a nurse reminds him that it'll be hard to treat you with someone clinging onto your body the way he is, and that letting you go is what's best for your recovery. On his way out, he weakly promises you that he'll be back as soon as he can, and that he'll make sure you get the best care imaginable. His eyes are on you until he can no longer see you, and even then he's still looking in your direction, desperate for any visible trace of you.

It takes a couple hours for Charlie to get stitched up fully, but as soon as he does, he's rushing as quick as he's allowed to to be back at your side. Thankfully your injuries weren't as severe as his, only bruises and a broken bone or two, so you're already healed up by the time Charlie makes his way back to you. He's attaching himself right back to your side the second he sees you, he needs your touch more than anything after the long, horrible days filled with nothing but your absence.

Once he's sure everything's ok with both of you, Charlie takes you home. He doesn't yell at you, he doesn't scold you, he doesn't even say anything about your escape, but despite how cautious he's trying to be, you still look utterly terrified of him. He hadn't fully understood why you would be so scared of him before, not really, because despite his job, he had never, and would never, hurt you in any way, and he thought you knew that. But after all this...

He gets it. He gets it in a way he never considered before, and that understanding causes the most intense wave of guilt to envelop him. Yeah, he's never hurt you before, but he could. He's fully capable of it, and he knows you know he is. He's probably no different from his rival, not in your eyes, because despite their rivalry, they essentially do the exact same thing. Hell, Charlie's done disturbingly similar things to others in comparison to what the rival mafia did to you. He's done worse than what they've done to you. It feels different to him because he knows he would never do anything to you, but you don't know that. In your mind, you could end up just like any other person Charlie deals with at any moment. You didn't try to escape because Charlie had done something wrong towards you, you tried to escape because he could do something towards you. Sure, he had been nothing but kind to you, but how were you supposed to trust him? After all he had done, and was doing, even while you were with him, had he really given you a reason to?

Charlie won't punish you for your escape attempt. He was already unlikely to do so anyway, since he figured that would just make you more scared of him, but now, he's even more determined to earn your trust. Besides, you got kidnapped and injured by an extremely dangerous individual, which must have been a horrifying experience to live though. In his book, that kind of fear was punishment enough. He just hopes you'll be less likely to try and escape in the future, now that your first attempt went so wrong.

As much as it pains him to do so, Charlie gives you your space. For a while, at least. He fears that forcing you to interact with him will only cause your terror of him to grow, and that's the last thing he wants, especially after all you've gone through. He does reassure you that he's not upset with you, and you have no reason to fear him, but he understands that you aren't going to trust him right away simply because he told you you should. It's going to take time to gain your love and trust, and he's determined to do it right this time.

He won't try to rush anything anymore. He's gonna go at your pace, because at the end of the day, if that's what gets him your love, than it'll be worth it.

Oh, and uh... as for that traitorous spy, and his rival for that matter, well... don't worry about it. He's got a plan for them. One he'd rather you not get involved in.

Don't worry about it. Everything's going to be fine, he swears it.

I hope you enjoyed!

[hauntedhokage]

REM Sleep

Beel x F!MC

summary: after getting home to you later than expected, Beel decides to reintroduce you to his Rejuvenating and Eager Manhood while you sleep.

word count: 1.8k

warnings:  somno/noncon, f!receiving oral, unprotected sex, biting, cockwarming, Beel has a massive dick and knows it (size-kink), Beel sees reader as smaller than him, Beel also has a great sense of smell, 

note: I have to dedicate this one to my mom, who I accidentally sent a screenshot of the wip to instead of Silver and then had an entire panic episode practically sitting in her lap asking for her to delete the photo instead of reading. emotional damage fr.

cross-posted to ao3 | ko-fi | commissions | masterlist

He was late. 

Not that there was any agreed upon time that he’d be slipping into your room to sleep after practice; but for him to be coming in to see you fast asleep in your bed signaled that he was late. You’d stayed up for him, evidenced by the way you were still holding one of your textbooks while you slept, and that made him feel worse about coming in so late in the night.

“Hey,” he whispers into the dimly lit room, testing the waters to see how deeply you were sleeping. You don’t even so much as breathe in a way that would indicate disruption, and that has him treading a bit lighter through your room as he sets his bag down beside yours at the foot of the bed before he moves to where you’re laying. The textbook is carefully pulled from your arms and set on the nightstand, then his hands are carefully coaxing you into a more comfortable position that would be better for your neck. 

You shift, adjusting your body so you lay on your stomach and that had his nose twitching at the scent of your arousal and making his mouth water. The plan for tonight was sex and studying, he could only assume that you spent some time getting yourself ready for him to get home from practice to start the show due to how strong your scent was. 

He needed to shower, wash the sweat and grime off of his skin since he hadn’t showered at R.A.D. You hated when outside clothes touched your sheets, but he needed to smell more of you and you’d mentioned once that you didn’t mind his after-practice smell so he was going to opt to shower before he finally went to sleep. Right now he needed to welcome himself back into your presence so he could truly settle down and go to bed. 

You were so pretty, wearing one of his muscle shirts and some sleep shorts - enough to not freeze in your bedroom but easy to move around and provide him the access he needed to bring you the pleasure he promised you. It’s easy for him to slide his hands under through the arm holes of the shirt and cup your breasts, his thumbs rolling over your pebbling nipples as his mouth gently kisses at your skin. You’d showered before getting into bed, your skin smelling fresh and tasting clean - perfect for him to nuzzle into and try to rub some of his smell onto you to help keep his brothers at bay. You shift a bit, forcing him to reluctantly pull away just in case you were waking up, only to watch as your leg bends upwards and overwhelming his nose with your arousal. He couldn’t wait any longer to taste you, and that has him moving carefully down your body to your legs so he could get to his late night snack.

A small whine is muffled by the pillow, bringing him only a moment of pause without caring if you did or didn’t wake up. He just wouldn't want you to be scared by the additional body in your bed that wasn’t there when you had gone to sleep. 

“It’s just me,” he whispers against your thigh, peppering gentle kisses along your skin until he gets to the edge of your shorts. “Only me.”

And your body is pliant to his hands as he pulls the silky material down your legs to reveal your center, your limbs relaxed as his thumb trails along your glistening slit and dips between your folds with a quiet squelch. So wet, and just for him. How lucky that this was his treat at the end of every day, something he didn’t have to share and could devour as often as he wanted with the only concern being overstimulating your cute little body. 

But right now, it wasn’t about being greedy. All he needed was to taste. He could make you cum on his fingers and tongue then take that essence with him into the shower so he could finish himself off there and keep from disturbing you further - the perfect plan. That was, until his tongue dragged up your slit to your waiting hole and he got his prize. There was no stepping away when you tasted so good, he knew better than to think he could walk away with only a taste. 

His mouth practically suctions itself to your pussy, his tongue fucking into your delicious sweetness while his fingers play with your clit. He loved this, he loved you, and wanted to maximize this time he got where he had all of your attention. No brothers, no school, nothing in your head except the pleasure that he was providing you while you slept. He knew you dreamt of him often, so to dream of him eating you out only to wake up to a messy pussy and satisfied Beel would be quite the surprise for you - perhaps even a dream come true. 

He’s not sure how long he’d been there by the time the fruits of your second orgasm coated his lips, but he’s painfully hard and his hips are seeking any kind of relief in the plush mattress. This should be when he goes to the shower, gets himself off without bothering you further. You had a long day, you deserved the uninterrupted rest. But you’re already so wet and his cock is leaking precum, why waste his previous efforts? He wouldn’t even need to penetrate, that was an unnecessary risk of hurting you anyway, he could just grind against you to get off. Outercourse had been  your primary method of sexual gratification until you both felt confident enough to try penetration and was still actively part of your sex life because sometimes you just couldn’t take him.

A little extra lube from the nightstand drizzled on your pretty ass definitely helped with the glide of his cock along your slit and between your cheeks. Nice and easy, a slow pace to prevent jostling your body too much and he truly enjoyed the sight of his cock separating your cheeks and wanted to commit the sight to memory. And it feels great, you always felt so wonderful against him, but he needed more. Needed to feel you around him, velvety walls squeezing even just his head would be enough. 

So his hands slide down, moving to a position where he can use his thumbs to spread your folds and give him the view he wanted of your hole clenching around nothing as he sits back to line his length up. Just the size comparison of his cock to your little hole made him feel so much bigger than you already did in your day-to-day life together, the way he literally stretched you open and nearly split you in half whenever he got to rut inside you was something special - truly an honor. His little human girlfriend, so tiny and would be more than easy to break but trusted him not to do just that. 

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs, knowing you’d wake up feeling less than comfortable as he pushes the blunt tip of his cock into your hole. But there wasn’t any school, it’d be okay for you to be in bed all day - which is exactly where you would be considering how he’d already gotten the head pushed in without even realizing how easily his length was sinking into your relaxed body. But he couldn’t stop, not now. Not when you felt so warm and wet and looked so beautifully relaxed beneath him. Instead his hand arm loops around your hip, his fingers searching for your clit in hopes that he could make you cum again and squeeze his cock tighter.

This would be one of the rare few times he managed to get himself buried to the hilt inside you without seeing your face scrunch up in discomfort or needing to go impossibly slow to allow you time to adjust to him. As asleep as you were, your body simply accepted the intrusion with nothing more than a sigh leaving those pretty lips as you continued to sleep beneath him. All he needed to do was be gentle, that was all. He could do that.

Until you said his name. 

“Beel,” leaving your lips in a dreamy sigh accompanied by an attempt to adjust your position (perhaps to try to snuggle closer to him). All it really did was push your hips back against his, and he can’t ask himself to hold back any longer. Not when you were wearing his shirt and begging him for more.

“I know,” he whispers, continuing to rock his hips into yours while lowering his body to properly cage you in between his frame and the mattress. The slow grind of his hips against your ass make him feel like he’s getting swallowed by your cunt, his glans stroking those innermost parts of you that have you mewling for him even in your sleep as your walls throb around him to signal another orgasm approaching. 

“‘M gonna fill you, okay?” His whisper into your ear comes with a punctuated thrust that produces a choked breath from you, but he’s too close to his peak to be bothered. You were still sleeping soundly, so it couldn’t have been that bad. He was almost there anyway, you could take a couple rough thrusts for him.  “Gonna fill you and then do it again in the morning.”

You’d like that, at least you had before. Waking up to his fingers trying to stretch you open, or the tip of his cock prodding at your tight entrance because he was so impatient that he couldn’t wait for you to wake up to indulge in the pleasures of your body. It wouldn’t even be too bad of a stretch, considering he was already so deep in you that your body wouldn’t have to try much harder to take him in just a few hours. Just thinking about you waking up to him fucking another load of his cum into you was enough to send him over that edge; his eyes shut tight while his teeth cut into the fragile skin of your shoulder to muffle his pleasured groans as his cum fills you.

The coppery taste on his tongue is added to his list of things to worry about in the morning, because getting out of bed - or even opening his eyes - wasn’t really an option after filling you like that. Now is when he should pull out, go take a shower and clean himself up, come back with a cool wet washcloth to clean you up and help soothe the ache before you’re awake to truly feel it. But your bed is comfortable and being wrapped around you like this with his cock still nestled deep inside was his own personal heaven, getting out of bed wasn’t going to happen.

He’d endure your feelings about it in the morning, or possibly fuck the negativity out of you. Time would tell.

[lemotmo]

.......really anon??

Q. ABC wouldn't be responsible for the amount of photoshoots and interviews that Ryan and Oliver are getting though. Their PR teams would be responsible for that, right? I don't think that's a marketing strategy so much as their people are just doing a really good job of hustling for them. Am I wrong?

A. With all due respect, you're wrong. ABC absolutely has the control to the media's access to them leading up to and following each episode. Yes their individual teams are involved but ABC is the one sitting at the head of the table. These things weren't happening while the show was on FOX. These aren't coincidences. They're an intentional coordinated strategy on ABC's part. I want to make sure people understand that admitting what ABC's strategy is does not amount to insulting Angela, Peter and Jennifer. No one is doing that. When the show first premiered Angela and Peter were the only cast selling points from a promotional standpoint. Oliver, Aisha and Kenny were mostly unknown. Jennifer and Ryan weren't there yet. It only made sense to center the show around Peter and Angela. But because it's an ensemble show the audience was naturally going to bond with some characters more than others. Buck is hands down an audience favorite. The audience watched him grow up and mature from season to season. Ask a hundred viewers who their favorite character is and Buck is going to be said more times than Bobby or Athena. No one should be pretending otherwise at this point. Ask those same viewers that question two seasons ago and Eddie is finishing near the bottom of that survey, not because of anything Eddie or Ryan did wrong but as a result of how he was used. Ask that question this season and Eddie is probably finishing top 3. The show has evolved. The audience has evolved. The storylines have to match that evolution. That's the nature of the business.

Oliver and Ryan are two very attractive men. That's not up for debate. They're affable, charming, seem genuinely lovely, and despite having different personality types are engaging and fun. They're easy to sell. People aren't requesting to speak to Peter, Angela, Jennifer, Aisha or Kenny following these episodes and ABC isn't offering them up. Jennifer had a couple during the abduction episodes and Aisha had some following her directorial debut, but other than that Oliver and Ryan are getting the overwhelming majority of the interviews. That's an intentional decision by ABC. Peter is getting the television interviews, but not many. No one is saying that it should become the Buck and Eddie show but the reality is they have to be more regularly involved. Chimney gets more to do than Eddie or Hen but he's still usually stuck playing Robin to Maddie's Batman. Again Jennifer was the bigger name coming in so once upon a time that made sense, but Kenny/Chimney is probably the bigger audience favorite of the two. They can let him lead more of their storylines every now and then. He shines when he's allowed too. Hen can do more than outsmart her problems and it's unfortunate that she's relegated to just usually being the voice of reason. We have multiple disaster episodes a season and almost all of them center around Bobby and Athena. That isn't going to work like it once did. The audience is different now. One of the reasons the tusnami episodes were so loved is because everyone was involved and they showed that Bobby and Athena could be present and impactful without being the center of attention. It's okay to admit the show and cast have moved beyond the need for Bobby and Athena to carry the burden. That's a good thing. And it appears like ABC wanted it that way. Tim just needs to adapt his storytelling to fit the new reality. That's all anyone is saying.

Thank you Nonny!

I will just let this post speak for itself. I have nothing to add here.

I will say though... 😋

I didn't really have a favourite character in season 1, although I actually did like Abby a lot.🤷‍♀️ But then season 2 happened and I have been an Eddie truther ever since. The moment Eddie appeared in season 2 and his story unfolded? I was hooked. No way back. He has been my favourite character ever since then. He was always at the top for me, above everyone else and he still is to this day. ❤️

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