#barely hangin on boss

[miyuhpapayuh]

Twelve

Her new commute to work being cut down by ten minutes gives her plenty of time to sit on her new balcony and gear herself up for the day.

“Hey,” a voice calls, making her turn back towards the sliding door. A half-dressed Leon comes into view with a plate in his hand.

“Don't forget your breakfast.”

Sitting it on the table by her, he presses a kiss to her forehead. She smiles down at the french toast, bacon and eggs and then smiles up at him.

“Aw, you tried something new on me!”

He chuckles, leaning down to kiss her lips.

“Yeah, I had to! Couldn't have you thinking I only make waffles and pancakes for the woman that makes my toes curl.”

She giggles, crossing her legs under the table. He saw it, too, his low laughter falling in line with hers.

“Ah, what a man!”

“I know,” he nods enthusiastically, “you deserve waffles, French toast, cinnamon bagels with extra cream cheese, biscuits and gravy,..” he continued rattling things off in between wet kisses against her face.

“I'm holding you to the biscuits and gravy, cause that's one of my favorites.”

“Noted. Now try it and tell me how you like it.” He says, resting his hands on the chair as she cuts into the french toast, taking a bite.

“Delicious, like I definitely expected! Mm, so buttery!”

He smiles, actually patting himself on the back and making her laugh.

“So glad you like ‘em, sweet stuff. I gotta head out or ima be late, but I'll call you on my break, okay?”

“Okay. I gotta head out soon, myself.” She says, going back for another bite of her food, before standing up to hug Leon.

“We hangin’ out tonight?” He asks, wrapping his arms around her shoulders.

“I was thinkin’ we could all meet up at my job, after work. You round up your friends, I'll bring my sisters. Sounds cool?”

“Yeah, that sounds real cool,” he smiles, “look at you, gettin’ everybody together!”

She playfully rolls her eyes, “go to work, Leon Avery.”

“Aw, ‘kay, Zora-Jean. I'm out the door now.” He replies, placing plenty more kisses to her lips.

“Mmkay, I'll seriously see you later.” She laughs at their, still entwined, fingers.

“Okay, okay. I love you.” One more kiss.

“I love you, too.”

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Sitting at work, looking pretty with nobody to bother her was the absolute best!

It had been almost a month since Cory was fired, and Zora got Linda to agree with her, that him being gone really did her business some good.

They'd had a full house, every night, like she'd been dreaming about, which is why she ran it by Leon to finally bring his friends by.

They'd finally been able to open up their entire floor for customers and use that dusty old jukebox in the far corner.

“Hell, we might be able to get some people in here to sing and things! You know how restaurants do events?? We could do that!”

“We could!” Zora smiles at her beaming boss. “I hope you're ready to host it up, tonight! Told Leon and his friends all about you!”

“Oh, I've been waiting for this! Friends of yours are friends of mine, you know that, dear!” Linda says to Zora.

“The hungrier, the better?” She asks, as they both fall out in laughter.

“Absolutely! I cannot wait to meet ‘em.”

As another busy day came to a close, she got a text from Leon, he was going home to change and wondered if she wanted to ride back with him.

She replied in agreement, mentally preparing for the hour she'd given herself, to pull herself together as she rushed home.

Thanking god for closet space again, she sifts through her dresses— unable to bare another pair of pants sticking to her— and lands on an orange and white sundress, immediately pulling it out and hopping in the shower.

While brushing her teeth and drying her body, she mulls over which sandals to pair with the dress, already hearing Nique telling her to go with black! Everything goes with black!

She's not wrong, but Nique would never hear that… again.

Pulling the outfit on, she stands in front of the mirror and squints, tilting her head to one side.

“No.”

She pulls everything off and puts it back in its place, rummaging around for a totally different look in mind.

Stepping back in front of the mirror, she's rocking a white graphic t-shirt, tied in the back to show off the little bit of belly she wasn't self conscious about, a black skirt that hit mid-thigh and hugged her very well and red sandal-heels, showcasing her pretty brown legs in ways that are gonna make a certain somebody salivate.

“That's more like it.”

Dousing herself in a sandalwood and vanilla cloud, she fluffs her hair and grabs her phone, snapping a few pictures before heading back down the hallway.

Answering the door a beat after he knocks, she smirks at the way his jaw drops at her appearance.

“Don't go droolin’ on my new floor,” she quips, before grabbing the single white rose from his hand, putting it up to her nose.

“I ain't sorry. You look so damn good, baby.” He compliments, making her blush and pull him in for a kiss, which turns into a couple more.

“Thank you, it took me a minute to pull it together.”

“Yeah, me too. How I'm lookin’?” He asks, stepping back from her and spinning around for her. His all green ensemble was very on brand.

She fondly shakes her head. “You always look so good, boy. I'll be stealing this shirt next.”

“Ima start hiding my clothes from you,” he laughs.

“Oh, please! Don't act like I leave you bare.”

“Just about!” He jokes. “But, you ready to go, sweet stuff?”

“Yeah, I gotta head across the hall and see if Nique is ready.” She nods, as they head out of her apartment and across the way, where she knocks on Nique’s door.

Answering by poking her head out, she makes the couple snicker at her wide-eyed expression. Her hair was still in rollers.

"Hey friends!"

“Why are you not ready, yet?” Zora asks.

“Because you cannot rush perfection, Zora-Jean. You look scrumptious, by the way!”

“That's what I told her.” Leon smiles, earning a high-five from Nique.

“I'm almost done,” she turns her focus back to her friend. “Come inside and relax a little.”

Letting them in, Leon makes himself comfy on her couch while Zora follows Nique into her room to help her with an outfit.

“Okay, so are these grown, hard working men?”

“Yes, girl. First time I've seen a group of ‘em, up close.”

“Ooh, are they fine?? Be honest.”

“Yes, Nique. You think I'd be dragging all three of y'all down there if they weren't?”

“Listen, I just have to clarify. I know Leon is pretty, but his friends coulda been mud ducks and I've already had my share of them.”

“Trust me, you'll be pleased.”

“Okay, alright. Is this a plunging neck situation? Or is that too much?”

“Hm, considering it being a first meeting, yeah, let's save that for next time.”

“Okay, okay. How about this top?” She asks, pulling out a tan, long-sleeved crop top. “It accentuates my tatas.” She cheeses, making Zora laugh.

“Yeah, friend! This is actually cute, and now you can wear those khaki pants that I bought you!”

“Ooh, they make my ass look fantastic, too!”

“Hey Leon!”, the two hear from the living room, making Zora look at Nique, who shrugs.

“You don't know your own sisters’ voices or something?”

“I didn't ask you who it was, did I?” She quips with a raised brow.

“Nope, but you look clueless. They wanted to meet us here. I think Neoma bought—”

“D’ussé!” She shouts, making them laugh and hurry to get Nique fully ready, before they step out of her room and join Neoma, Lovita and Leon in the kitchen.

“Hey, baby sisters!” Lovita greets, handing Zora and Nique a shot glass. “Y'all look good!”

“Thanks, y'all do too! Lord, we pre-gamin’?”

“I feel like I'm back in college.” Leon snorts, making them laugh.

“I know! What are you tryna do to us, girl?”

“Oh, come on! It's just one shot! Start the night off right, right?”

“Right, yeah,” Zora nods, as do the others.

“Alright, then! To a good night!” She raises her shot and they follow suit, repeating her cheer and clinking their glasses to one another's.

“To a good night!”

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And a good night, it was.

After everyone got acquainted, Linda started them off with a round of cheesy potato bites, which Leon and Zora were super excited about.

“Don't be mad if these disappear while we're talking,” Darnell chuckles, plucking another one from the large plate.

“There's like sixty of them on the plate,” Neoma laughs, “if you inhale all of these, ima be concerned.”

“Right! You ate today, right?” Leon joins in on the taunting.

“Lay up off me, man. Yeah, I ate. And I'm gonna eat again.” He quips, making Nique and Neoma laugh, while Leon holds his hands up.

Lovita was too busy flirting with Clyde, and he was hanging on every word that left her glossed lips.

“Tell me your middle name ain't Alize,” he jokes, making her giggle a little too much for her liking.

“No, no. I love Lovita Alize Jenkins, though!”

“Who doesn't??” Zora says from across the table, catching her sister’s playful glare.

“She's right. Her and Cedric were my go-to. Too funny.”

“You remember they had those shirts with their faces on ‘em? I thought that was so cheesy and cute!”

“What? That's one of my favorite episodes!”

“Don't let them bother you. I love a man with an appetite.” Nique says to Darnell, grabbing another one of the bites for herself. He raises an eyebrow at her, to which she winks.

“Good to know,” he smirks, looking over at Craig, who's twirling one of Neoma’s twists around his finger.

“You are so pretty,” he says for the thousandth time, making her blush profusely.

“So are you,” she replies, feeling her insides burn as he flashes her a smile, those gold-capped canines peeking at her.

Everybody had matched off, making the head couple secretly high-five underneath the table and snicker to each other.

Several appetizers and heavily poured drinks later, the couples sit along the bar and listen to the live band that Linda found.

It consists of three super sweet guys. The lead singer can blow down anybody's favorite singer, the drummer can beat down the best of drums in the most incredible ways and the guitarist definitely lets his talent speak for itself.

“They sound really good, don't they?” Linda asks the group, getting a gaggle of yes’s back.

“I'm glad you could finally expand, cause it's jumpin’ in here!” Nique comments.

“Me too! Get out there and have a dance for me, all of ya.” She nudges her, slyly pushing her against Darnell.

“Ima get Zora on you!” Nique jokes, before looking to her left, finding him already honed in on her.

“You know this song?” She asks.

“Nah, but we can learn it.” He says, holding his hand out for her to grab as they find a spot on the floor.

“Oop, looks like Nique got ‘em!” Leon points to the two, quickly getting swatted by Zora.

“That ain't take long,” Lovita giggles, her and Zora’s jaws dropping as Neoma pulls Craig away from the bar.

“Don't wait up, chicken!” She teases her older sister.

“C'mon, don't let her show you up like that.” Clyde says, placing his hand over hers.

Zora was cheesing so hard, Leon had to pull her away before she bursted and ruined their moment.

“You wanna dance with me, huh?”

“Badly.” He leans closer to her, giving her another opportunity to inhale the godly scent that was coming off him.

 “Wow, you smell good.” She blurts, unable to help herself.

“I was just about to say that about you, beautiful.”

“Let's go dance, handsome.”

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“Tonight was so fun!”

“Yeah, it really was. We made off like real matchmakers.” Leon says, making them both laugh.

“We are real matchmakers! All we did was introduce them to each other and bam! Three new relationships, just like that!” She exclaims, plopping down on her bed and kicking off her sandals.

“Those hurt my feet,” she frowns, getting ready to contort her leg all types of crazy, til she's stopped by him pulling it up to his level, massaging it for her.

“Did you forget I was standing here or sumn?” He asks, chuckling after, at her harmless glare.

“No, you lank. I didn't think to ask.”

“You ain't gotta ask, baby. Put them purty feet on me, I'll get the hint.”

She giggles as he leans down and presses kisses to her feet. Her skirt began to ride up, as she quickly pulled it back down.

“All that ass in that skirt was a mystery to begin with!” He cracks, getting a harmless kick to the stomach.

“Shut up, it lasted the whole night!”

“You right.”

“I know. Gimme my feet back,” she laughs, tryna pull her legs from his grasp.

“Why? I was havin’ fun!”

“Sit down, at least. You're making me dizzy.” She says, patting the spot beside her.

He took a seat on her, now, deep navy blue sheets and pulled her legs into his lap, going back to rubbing her feet.

“Them drinks made you dizzy, don't do me.”

“Don't do— never mind,” she starts laughing, covering her face. He squints and laughs at her, even though he's not sure what's so funny. Her laugh was too damn infectious.

“What?”

“Nothing,” she drags out, still laughing at herself.

“Zora,” he laughs, pulling her hand away from her face, “you gotta share it cause it's got you in stitches.”

“It's not even funny, that's what's so funny!” She gets out between giggles.

“You're so damn goofy, Jean.” He fondly comments.

“Aw, Avery!” She squeals, reaching up to pinch his cheek, making him laugh and swat her hand away.

“Pinchin’ my cheeks like my mama, girl. What's got you so giggly?” He asks again, leaning down to her level.

“I was gonna make a joke about doing you, but I couldn't get it out.” She softly laughs, trying to suppress it.

But the expression on his face made it come back to full giggles. Her back found her mess of pillows as she covered her face once again.

With another shake of his head, he watches his liquored-up girlfriend giggle her life away.

She was precious.

“Oh man, that's an ab workout for ya,” she says after she's calmed down, leaning up on her elbows to meet his gaze.

“You done, now?” He asks.

“Yeah,” she smiles, “I'm done, now.”

“Good. You know what I wanna do?”

“What?”

“You.”

Ch. 13

@thegifstories @blackerthings @sheabuttahwrites @ghostfacekill-monger @nahimjustfeelingit-writes @cecereads209 @abeautifulmindexposed @twistedcharismaaa @essaysbyciara @nayaxwrites

#mochaff #miyuhpapayuh #poc writers #blackwriters #black romance #yahya abdul mateen ii #zora x leon #yahya abdul mateen ii imagine #yahya abdul mateen ii fan fiction #yahya abdul mateen ii fanfiction #yahya fanfiction #black ocs #thick brown oc

[da-awesom-one]

This Is The Thanks I Get?! (Jack Frost Version) - Chris Pine

*DISCLAIMER: These lyrics are fan-made lyrics of a song created and owned by Disney for a character that is owned by Dreamworks. No money is being made off of this. This was solely written for recreational purposes.*

sing = siiing

-

Jack shook his head in disbelief, and then shook it towards the moon. "That's it. I've had it! I've had it with your silence, and I've had it with everybody and their mother giving me the cold shoulder!" He ran a hand through his hair, scoffing again. "I mean, what's it gonna take?!"

Frost began to count off from his free left hand. "I've started snowball fights, not that they ever let me in on them considering I'm invisible! I've even frosted some windows over to write them messages, and lemme tell ya, those were not the reactions I was hopin' for!"

"I mean, what do I gotta do, huh?!" he groaned, throwing his arms up into the air. "Do I actually have to spell it out for them, o-or sing it out loud to get them to hear me?!"

He was grimacing when he said this. But as the words registered in his head, his expression became pensive as he considered his remark.

In truth... he hadn't tried that.

Jack rubbed his chin in thought as he pondered this new development, his eyes darting left and right like clockwork. Was he really that desperate? Would he really stoop so low? Debase himself in such a way?

...It turned out that yes. Jack was that desperate.

"...Oh, what the heck."

(VERSE 1)

I can’t help it… if no one can look my way.

It’s a curse, I tell ya! 

Can’t stop it no matter what I do or say!

Peep the name, son! It’s Jack Frost!

I’m THE rebel without a cause!

I’m free-spirited! My own kind of boss!

HOW COME EVERYONE WANTS ME TO GET LOST?!

“Ahem! Lemme explain…”

I’d give the cloak off my own bare back,

If you really needed that.

I’d be the first one to volunteer myself!

If your igloo were to crumble, or if you were in trouble.

(PRE-CHORUS)

I’d cancel all your school days.

Be the friend that suggests fun stuff.

Take blame for all your messes,

And I’d be there for you when things get rough!

I’d give, and give, and give, and give!

You’d think it’d be more than enough…

And all I really want is to get in on the fun.

(CHORUS)

But this is the thanks I get! (Da-da, da-da, da-da, da-da, da-da, da)

This is the thanks I get! (Da-da, da-da, da-da, da-da, da-da, da)

For wanting to be seen by them! (Da-da, da-da, da-da, da-da, da-da, da)

Looks like I’ll get ignored again. (Da-da, da-da, da-da, da-da, da-da, da)

Since this is the thanks I get!

(VERSE 2)

It’s so stupid.

But that’s the least I could say.

There are more words that are well-suited.

Like "cruel," and "wrong," and "unfair," and "lame!”

The gifts you gave me? I’ve shown them off!

And you still won’t talk? Are you blowing me off?!

Um, do you think I won’t come up there?

‘Cause I won’t hesitate to drag your butt down here!

(PRE-CHORUS)

UGH! I made a hundred snow days last year!

C’mon! That’s a high percent!

And still you won’t let me be seen?

The disrespect I just underwent!

You get my hopes up, and tear them down.

But, really, what do I expect?

It’s been like this every year ever since we met…

(CHORUS)

So this is the thanks I get! (Da-da, da-da, da-da, da-da, da-da, da)

This is the thanks I get! (Da-da, da-da, da-da, da-da, da-da, da)

For expecting you to really listen! (Da-da, da-da, da-da, da-da, da-da, da)

Did I just get run over by Sven?! (Da-da, da-da, da-da, da-da, da-da, da)

RRRRGH, THIS IS THE THANKS I GET?!

(BRIDGE)

I didn’t wanna do this.

I SWORE I’d never sing this!

But I’m really runnin’ outta options here,

‘Cause I refuse to be unseen for another year!

A ballad, a jingle, a melody, a glee?!

ANYTHING to finally be seen!

To this low I’d really rather not stoop to,

But a man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do!...

*Cough* “Where was I? Oh yeah, right…”

(PRE-CHORUS)

Been at this for a century now,

So don’t think I’ll be going away!

C’mon, now. Say something, man!

Gonna leave me hangin’ here without a say?

Well, whenever you wanna chat-

Yeah, that’ll be the day.

Honestly? Something tells me I’m gonna be there, either way…

(CHORUS)

‘Cause this is the thanks I get! (Da-da, da-da, da-da, da-da, da-da, da)

This is the thanks I get! (Da-da, da-da, da-da, da-da, da-da, da)

For thinking today’d be different! (Da-da, da-da, da-da, da-da, da-da, da)

I guess it’s the thanks I get? (Da-da, da-da, da-da, da-da, da-da, da)

*Sigh.* This is the thanks I get!

“So thanks! Thanks for nothing…”

-

Been mulling over this ever since Disney released the song weeks ago. Figured I'd try my hand at a Jack Frost version, and I definitely love how it turned out. Might even add it to my fic, hence why I added some passages of it before the song.

Also added to the chorus, putting in extra lines. This was inspired by the Booth To Screen video of This Is The Thanks I Get?! where it ends with Chris Pine singing the whole first chorus before ending with how he harmonizes in the third line of the 2nd and last choruses. So in this version there is a bit of a pause between verses. Look it up on YouTube, and you guys will see what I mean.

Keep in mind, Jack's mentality here is "This Is The Thanks I Get for thinking today's gonna be any different than yesterday." This is set during his 300 years of isolation, so again, he's trying all sorts of things to get seen. The spectrum is far more different then the villainous version depicted by King Magnifico. There are points in the song, especially the middle where Jack loses his cool. Though not shown in these lyrics, I’m the story setting, he’s gonna try to calm himself down, which is mostly what he’s struggling with in during the Bridge. Whereas Magnifico doesn’t, gets himself continuously worked up before he does something he can’t take back.

Another example of the difference between the two is at the end when, instead of screaming in rage like the king, Jack just reins it in, and just sings the last verse.

Long story short: both characters allow themselves to go insane here. Difference here is Jack remembered to make sure he came back. Magnifico didn’t.

Either way, the song's extremely catchy, and I can find myself singing to either version. Hope you guys enjoyed reading or singing it in your head.

PS: for those wondering, the Sven Jack mentioned in the song is Sven the Reindeer from Frozen. 😉

#this is the thanks i get #chris pine #wish #disney wish #jack frost #the guardians of childhood #rise of the guardians #jackson overland frost #jackson overland #disney #king magnifico #dreamworks #dreamworks animation #writing #songs #lyrics #fan lyrics #jelsa #jelsa fanfiction #jack x elsa #snowtp #snowtpnetwork #jelsa haven

[silvers-d-me]

Where has my Underwear Gone? OP Edition

Shenanigans on the Red Force. Bad Shanks! Wicked Bad Naughty Shanks!

Notes: Nicknames are used, Sunshine, Darling, etc. Probably smut. Yeah smut. AFAB reader so female parts are mentioned as well as that dick tho. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. Crossposted on AO3

You searched through your chests of clothing with increasing frustration. Shirts, pants, sashes, skirts. Things to sleep in, things to sunbathe in, things to swim in. Shirts stolen from the love of your life and captain, Shanks. Stupid capes you didn't want to admit you actually liked. Stockings, hats, what Shanks lovingly referred to as 'ho wear,' that fancy coat you stole from Beckman. Not a thread, scrap, lace, or remnant of your underpants.

Your expensive, made to order, finely woven, unbleached cotton underpants. Cut to your specifications to protect your delicate bits from chafing in your preferred leather trousers, underpants. Only made by two tailors at the far ends of Emperor Shanks' wide territory, underpants. Completely missing from every chest, trunk, and drawer dedicated to clothing in the wide cabin you shared with your captain.

The captain you suspected was behind this Mystery of the Missing Underwear.

"SHANKS!" You bellowed your sweetie's name as you hit the main deck of the Red Force. Around the ship your crewmates froze, shoulders hunching against the strident tone of your voice. "Where are you, you sneaky thieving greedy pirate!" Sweeping your gaze across the deck, not a set of eyes met yours. Everyone was suddenly Extremely Busy fiddling with ropes, retying sashes, peering out into the distance with exaggerated concentration.

"Uh huh. Well GOSH I guess the Boss is GONE what a SHOCKING SURPRISE!" Once again you eyed your crewmates. Bonk Punch was ostentatious tuning his worn guitar, brows (or where he should have had brows) furrowed in peering concentration. Limejuice, Hongo, Yasopp, and Rockstar were huddled around a broad barrel playing Liar's Dice, drinks to hand and Definitely Not Noticing You. You turned in place, hands resting on your hips and quite close to the hilts of the twin long knives that always rode there. Lucky Roux was in the galley, cooking or hiding.. Gab and Building Snake were on maintenance..  one of the young apprentices was busily scouring stains out of the main deck, another was sitting in the shade of a sail practicing knots.. No Shanks, and oddly no Monster. Hmm.

Bootheels tapping you made your way to stand by the boy. You could actually hear him gulp when you slid a glance his way. Big wide eyes under a floppy bucket hat met yours. "Kid. Everyone sure is busy today. How are those knots coming?" You knelt on one knee, reaching out to inspect his work. Under your breath a mutter of "a hundred beri if you tell me where to find Boss" was met with a startled glance at you then up towards the back of the quarter deck. "Fine work, Kiddo, keep it up."  You stretched, squinted up at the warm sun, ran your fingers through your hair, the very essence of Nonchalant Pirate. Who you? You were just hangin' out, nothing suspicious here. Quietly you worked free from your boots and set them down as soundlessly as you could manage, then climbed carefully up a stack of crates -- you were pretty sure it was all booze --  to slip over the polished handrail and onto the quarterdeck.

Yep, there was your one true love, Redhair Shanks, Chief of the Redhair Pirates, a man with a bounty of over a billion beri, the man who could cause entire crews of bloodthirsty violent men to faint from his simple presence. Shanks, famed for his generosity and charm, and for the way he treated those under his care. Shanks, on the way to becoming an Emperor of the Sea, ruthless in his intentions and implacable when moved to fury. Shanks, two out of three sheets to the wind and it was barely past noon. He sat in an honest to gods chaise lounge. That's what the man who had given it up as tribute called it, anyway. It was oversized which was fortunate, a pretty red-toned wood making up the sweeps and lines of the piece, the cushions a plush deep amber with gleaming bronze hardware holding it together. Pity Benn had nailed it to the deck but such was the way of furnishings on the everchanging and temperamental seas of the Grand Line. A spare sail had been rigged up to form a pleasant shelter while still affording the lounge's occupant truly breath taking sea views. Not so much of area directly behind Shanks' luxurious perch which was exactly where you landed, crouched on almost entirely silent feet to seize your lover in a surprise grip. Who were you trying to kid? This was Shanks. He'd probably known what you were going to do before you decided to do it.

"There's my Sunshine!" Shanks had set down his sake cup to slide his big hand around the back of your neck, planting a warm but somewhat uncoordinated kiss to the side of your face as he 'helped' you over the lounge to sprawl on his lap. You glared up at him, huffing at the hair than now slid over your face in your less than graceful position. Shanks literally beamed at you, his eyes almost closed with the sincerity of his flashing smile. This was one of the best sides to Shanks, all warmth and affection and goodwill. He called you Sunshine but you called this particular mode Sunny Bunny Shanks. Not today however. "I thought I heard you calling for me," said Mr. Innocent as if you hadn't been shouting his name loud enough to be heard over a gale. "What can I do for you, my darling? Moon of my night, flower of my heart?" He brought your face to his and kissed you gently between each compliment, sweet from the melon-flavored sake he preferred, a trace of salt from the sea air, and the taste that was uniquely Shanks. No! No distractions! Bad shanks!

"It's no use trying to distract me, Shanks. Bad Shanks!" This as you batted away his hand from the tie that held your Honestly Truly a Pirate Shirt closed, saying the words from your internal dialogue. "You don't deserve titties!" That brought an actual gasp of horror as his hand stopped momentarily, ruddy eyes widening as much as possible at such a terrible thought. You struggled to sit up and get up out of his lap but appalled as the no titties comment had made him, he hung on to your waist and really.. it was surprising what he could manage with that half an arm. "You are a greedy bad stealing greedy bad man. Where are all of my underpants? The real ones not the thongs or those strings you and Benn thought counted as actual panties. Where are my panties Shanks??" 

Oh yeah, floated through the pirate captain's buzzy brain. She did find out, who figured that? Oh Benn had. Pfft, stupid Benn. Shanks started mouthing at the soft skin of your throat both to distract you and because he just loved the taste and feel of you.  The press and soft suck of his lips and the scratch of his stubble had you stuttering, he super loved that so much. Now his mouth wandered up your chin to latch to your lips, maybe he -was- greedy with the way he suckled at your plush lower lip until your mouth parted in a gasp and he could slip his tongue inside. Mmmmm so much better, and who needs panties? Not us. He listened to your protests as your shirt was undone and somehow, without you registering it, slipped off and tossed away, giving him access to your breasts. Shanks took advantage of that opportunity gladly, deftly sliding you under him into the firm cushions, their smooth satiny texture adding to the sensations causing your skin to shiver. Warm mouth to one breast, tongue teasing gently then pulling hard to make you cry out and arch against his sculpted chest; the other breast in his large capable hand, the callouses of sword play and hauling rope just rough enough to make you wriggle against the two contrasting pleasures. You both still had pants on, for the love of loot, and you were no longer in control of this conversation that wasn't actually happening.

Shanks was a force of nature. Whatever he turned his considerable mind and implacable will to received his full attention, and like most of the world, you were simply pulled into his aura and clung on for dear life. He loved you, he truly did, he cherished and valued you, he respected you. All of those strong emotions communicated to you not just in his murmurs of adoration but in the way he touched and teased you. Shanks was a romantic and while he had every intention of bringing you to undone pleasure and ruin beneath him, it wasn't to conquer and pillage. You were his pirate queen and his greatest treasure and he loved little more than bringing these cries of pleasure and shock from your panting mouth, as he was now.

"Sh-shanks!" You hands on his shoulders didn't actually do anything to his large frame or the wonderfully solid press of his weight against you. "I'm not.. I'm not done fussing at you!" Your protest was a weak pro form at this point as his lips moved to plant firm kisses down your stomach. Ding dong you are wrong, suddenly you were laughing and the blush staining your face wasn't just from lust as Shanks blew a loud raspberry against your twitching skin. That was one of the best things about sex with Shanks: he never lost his sense of joy. Of course he never stopped being a cunning pirate either since the raspberries were a distraction for him to strip you of your trousers, slick as anything. His shoulders were simply too large for your thighs to do anything but spread wide for him, and he absolutely did that on purpose, scooting down the lounge to smile fondly at your exposed pussy like it was his best friend. (It sort of was.) You twisted your fingers into his profoundly red silky hair and pulled hard to make him look up at you. "Shanks for real! I need those underthings. They keep me from getting chafed and sore when we're running around fighting. I don't want sore skin there!" It was your last chance to put any kind of sane reason into his airy head.  Those slanted eyes, their light red hue that always entranced you, caught on yours for a moment and you saw that thread of clarity run through the sake and sex haze that was piloting 99% of his brain.

"Oh no, we can't have that," the pirate agreed far too easily. He nudged your thighs even wider apart and bent to brush the softest of kissed against the skin in question, soft and stubbly caresses to the tender skin where the line of said panties would sit. "Poor Sunshine, we have to take good care of you." He hoisted your leg over his shoulder and bent to his task. A lingering swipe of his hot tongue against your folds had your grip shifting from demanding to simply finding something to cling to, skillful strokes of that wicked tongue leading into gentle nips at the your hooded pearl. Shanks had spent the last dozen years manwhoring up and down the Grand Line and he was very pleased to put the talents he'd gained to good use. Alternating between swirling his tongue around your swollen clit and biting into it tenderly, he had you straining against his face as your first orgasm rolled right on through and over you, holding you to him as your body tensed and shook. So beautiful. He used that moment to shuck out of his pink-with-pineapple-print-breeches off and kick them away. Then he slid his fingers along your thigh and over the clipped curls of your mound, parting the wet pink folds as he placed a kiss on your other thigh. He couldn't help suddenly sucking a span of your flesh into his mouth with hard pull, biting onto it to leave mark to match the ones littering your throat and chest like a leopard's rosettes. Your cry of surprise and enjoyment choked off when he slid two thick fingers into, savoring the way your tight muscles gave just a little as his digits stretched and pressed into your cunt.

"I'm so sorry for any offenses I've committed against this pretty pussy, Sunshine." He timed the strokes of his fingers to his words, sounding so sincere that only when your opened your eyes to glance at his face did you see the lust and power glowing there. "How will I ever make it up to you?" As if the steady stroking and the curl of his fingertips wasn't apology enough. Your hips twisted against his body, hands both pushing at his shoulders and pulling them closer as he worked your tensing frame up towards another giddy peak, the sheer gravity of the man pinning you under him. "What can I ever do to make it up to you?"

"Just fuck me already!" Quite a bit of exasperation and fondness both from you as you dragged at Shanks, pulling his face up towards yours. His laughter was loud and bright, vibrating through your chest as he settled atop you. One thing about this damned fancy couch: he could lean his quarter arm comfortably and prop over you with no accidental acrobatics. His mouth grazed against your panting one, tastes of sake and yourself in the long tender kiss you shared. "Anything for my pirate queen." You felt the thick tight head of his cock nestle against the flutter of your eager hole then sink in, bit by bit, the familiar ache and stretch just delicious and making that heated juncture the absolute center of both your attention. Shanks held his breath, eyes closing as he buried himself in the welcome sear of your cunt. It was nearly communion, the way you locked into each other, muscles shivering and nerves fizzling with delight, skin sliding against skin as once again you and your lover tried your best to become one being.

Then he started to move, hips thrusting smooth and sinuous, one hand gripping your thigh to pull you into the exact perfect angle to grind against that one spot perfectly. Every time his dick wedged solidly against the end of your silken tunnel the little cry you gave made him swear and move a little faster, the glide of thick hard flesh into hot slick flesh becoming a wet slap as your pussy flexed around him, your arousal just adding to the sensations of Shanks pulling you towards climax, Shanks' mouth at your throat and lip and ear,hoarse voice muttering curses amid the string of praise and your name falling with love into the heated scant space between you. Your hands were all over him, tangling in his sweaty hair, smoothing down his neck, gripping his shoulders, nails dragging down his gleaming skin, hands kissing down his straining back to clasp his hips hard and urge him to more, more.. when your greedy hands clapped his ass loud enough to be heard over the pants and cries he muffled a laugh in your hair and moved faster, stronger, fucking you into the lounge like he meant to drive you through to the deck. One particularly sweet thrust spilled you right over into an intense peak, Shanks holding on for dear life as your body writhed and tensed in its bliss. Shanks shuddered above you then in you, hard pumps of hot seed flooding you as you pulled Shanks into orgasm as well, joined bodies straining to pull tighter and shove away. One climax slid into another as overstimulated nerves were pushed past endurance with the rocking of your locked forms, waves of sparking joy all-consuming.

Several moments of your hearts racing together, pace gradually returning to normal as your breathing eased, sweat-stained skin cooling in salty ocean breeze. This was when Shanks was unfailing sweet and tender, no matter how high the alcohol content of his bloodstream, kisses all over and strokes down your cheek, holding your jaw so he could murmur endearments into the corner of your lips. His weight was so good pressing you down, your legs tangled with his heavier ones, just feeling everything as your bodies relaxed from the incredible high you'd just shared. "Mmm. Shanks." Your soft voice in his ear made him shiver, hand fondling one of your breasts like his favorite sake cup. "Amazing as that was, and it was amazing, I still need my clothes back." The pirate sighed against your throat.

"Do you just hafta have underpants?" His words were muffled and just a bit plaintive, almost whiny. You laughed and hugged him, kissing his temple and gently pulling at the silky red that gave your crew its name. "Fraid so, lovey. Time to man up and give me the panties." Shanks lifted up to pout down at you, somehow still boyish for all his power and the fact he was bare-ass naked and still buried in your cunt.

"All right all right. I'll get Monster to fetch them from where he's got them hidden in the shrouds."

Your voice rang out again, this time filling the air not with passionate cries of love but one word in that gale-shattering tone.

"MONSTER!"

#One Piece #Fanfic #Smut #One Piece Smut #akagami no shanks #Red Haired Shanks

[damistrolls]

mkayyy ill bite :) care to share about your most risky gig?

"Well, I'd be remiss not to mention the one where I lost my hand... It shouldn't have been my riskiest at all, it was a pretty cut and dry deal with someone who didn't even have their hands in anythin' too shady. But it ended up being a bit of a nightmare for me.

The short version is this. I found out the guy I was sellin' to had actually broken a rule, so I cancelled our transaction halfway through. He didn't take kindly to me pullin' out of the deal, despite the fact that I clearly outlined the terms of the deal when we spoke on the phone, and took out a gun on me.

My boys grabbed him, of course, but unfortunately, he was still able to pull the trigger on me. His aim was way off, but he still caught me in the hand. Blew all four fingers off, and my thumb was barely hangin' on too. I didn't even feel it at first, but when the pain came, it hit like a truck.

Anyways, I got him back tenfold, so it was alright in the end. But boy... it really felt like hell. After that, I stopped sellin' to folks who were unaffiliated. I just can't trust them. Better when someone's got a boss, so there's someone they gotta be accountable to, y'know?"

#kazuko

[r0b0-writes]

scc headcanons coming right up fresh off the grill

Sweet is a huge nerd about technology and engineering and utterly adores their partners body types (they find cap’n’s really interesting)

He’d never admit it but Cap’n’s a cuddlebug… loves being held. Loves being cuddled. He just needs affection

K_K is actually a really good baker! She loves making pastries, especially sugary things, and also knows exactly how to make the wheat gods happy so that a bread doesn’t turn into an exploding pile of mush

Sweet will ramble for hours upon hours about something they love. Cap’n can say a few quick things and appreciate the aesthetics of something for a while. K_K never knows how to describe stuff and instead describes the emotions they evoke in her, like “fluffy” and “like sunshine!” and “a rain cloud, but it’s not pouring rain, just making everything a little dull.”

continuing on that, i tend to call them certain things. Sweet’s the wordy, the descriptive one, the snappy, the productive. Cap’n’s the suave, the one who takes it as it is, the sound-prominent, the focus. K_K’s the emotion, the light, the laughter, the safety.

love these three. endlessly

DFGHJKJHGF

These are perfect!!

Sweet is definitely a huge nerd! Especially about tech, it's just super fascinating to figure out how things work, ya know? Same for their partner's bodies, definitely likes the aesthetics, but also the 'how' behind their builds. Just a bit of body appreciation! This bot can ramble for daysss!! [In Musical Nerds they adore Star Wars, sci-fi, space stuff. They have probably talked Cap'n's audio processors off at night. Just talking about 'what do you think is out there? aliens? space-monsters? space-monster aliens?' and Cap's just like,, 'idk man, but ik that in this room its sleep. sleep is in this room. goodnight, love you.']

YESS!!! I love a Cap who's a bit more physical. It's like you said, he'd never actually admit it, though! He saves those moments just for the people he cares for and loves. And it usually has to be under circumstances, right? He's not one to always go searching for cuddles, even if he wants them. He'll try to hide it, make it seem like K_K or Sweet was the one who wanted it to begin with. [C: "You're the one who came over here!" | S: "You're the one who took all the blankets! What else was I supposed to do?!"]

K_K,, oh, K_K my beloved. I love... K_K so much. I want to hold its hands.

Baker K_K makes the best brownies. Personal headcanon. Go-to is lemon brownies. Somehow they work a lemon into everything they make. Me and K_K shaking hands at using other things to explain our feelings. I told my boss that I felt like a goat on a mountain today, but not the type that stands normally. no. the type just barely hangin' on by their hooves. the response was silence.

n e ways! these are all excellent!! IFHJFLOUY!!

---

I love talking about this stuff and sharing ideas and headcanons. I don't have much energy to do this often, so this is making me really happy!

If anyone has more, keep sending! (You can submit stuff twice if you want as well. Not like I'm keeping a tally sheet lmao).

#long post #[r0b0.rqst]

[blackenchanting]

Welcome to ravens borough episode 6

Somewhere in the unheard of town of Raven's Borough…

The contents of this story are nsfw therefore not for children

The alley way outside the heart of steel was damp as it rained dripping down the stairs. As the faint sound of a neon sign buzzing was heard as a pair of red shoes walked towards the staircase.

She turns to the flickering sign that says Hearts of Steel as someone hidden by a red hood walks down the stairs into the main bar area. The person looked around the room before sitting quietly at the bar. The music booms and the lights flash as she watches the strippers. She's startled abit as a metal prosthetic arm smacks against the counter "Welcome to the hearts of steel, how tough are you?" Ameila asks them and slides a menu with food and alcohol on it towards them.

“Tough enough to survive a killer.” The girl replied as she adjusted her hood.

"Hah, been there before sweet cheeks. I'll be taking that you want something strong then" Ameila said.

“Yes please… but at the same time I would like something with a sweet fruity taste. Is that possible?” The girl replied.

"Absolutely." Ameila said, sliding over a small but tall glass.

"One point five oz. CÎROC Passion. she said pouring some in one oz. Pineapple juice… hmm point seventy five oz Hibiscus syrup seventy five oz Lemon juice. And topped off with champagne." Ameila said, finishing her drink and sliding it towards her.

"One Jailbirds nuisance." Ameila replied.

“I hope it tastes as good as it looks.” The girl said as she picked the glass up.

"I mean it ain't my favorite.. then again I usually just drink jack and coke… so what do I know hehe." Ameila said with a giggle.

“Heh, considering you know so much about making drinks like this, I reckon you know a lot.” The girl replied.

"Aw shucks, one day you’re a deadbeat barely getting by. Next thing you find a bar in a secret place in town owned by a former mob boss selling for a hundred and fifty million and you're suddenly a professional." Ameila said.

“I know what you mean to an extent, I thought my life had been ruined before I was even an adult but… I’ve done good enough for myself.” The girl replied as she moved her hood down. Ameila smiled as her smile soon turned neutral as her eyes winded looking at her former collage mate Ruby as visions flashed in her head voices and screaming lines moved around her.

“You… look like you’ve seen a ghost.” Ruby said with a sad smile, the scars from the events of the past still on her face.

"You uhhmm… just reminded me of someone I used to know back in the day... that's all." Ameila said snapping out of it. As her metal fingers tapped against the counter to the rhythm of the music.

“I do? Well… judging by your expression they’re not good memories so I’m sorry for reminding you.” Ruby replied.

"Ahh don't stress it, it's my fault. It happened eight years ago and I should be over it by now. It’s just the red fade in your hair, the short stature and the love for the color red. Just kinda caught me off guard that's all." Ameila explained with a few gestures of her prosthetic hand.

“Eight years ago? Wow, I was like… only fifteen at that time, makes me feel like an old woman, hehe.” Ruby said with a slight laugh.

"Heh I was gonna say the same thing." Ameila said.

"How's it hangin player?" Robin said, walking by her in a white dress.

“Is this a friend of yours?” Ruby asked Ameila before taking a sip of her drink.

"His name's Robin, he's a usual here along with the prom queen which you'll know when you'll see her." Ameila explained.

“I see. And should I be nervous or excited to be meeting them?” Ruby asked.

"Well I mean you don't have to meet them you will run into them however if you choose to, hold on." Ameila said handing someone a trash can as they vomited pink liquid into it.

"Anyway you don't have to meet them right away. You will still run into them however if you become a regular here

“I’ll consider it. The atmosphere is a little lewd for my usual tastes but the drinks here are the best I’ve had in a short while and it’s nice to have a familiar face here on day one.” Ruby said.

"Well when you run an underground hole in the wall bar for criminals. Not naming names but things tend to get very naughty naughty." Ameila said in a funny voice while ignoring Ruby’s last comment.

“I can only imagine the kinda things you’ve seen working here considering the strippers and people who get drunk… Heh, my Uncle would feel right at home here.” Ruby said.

"Possibly." Ameila said, recalibrating her prosthetic arm.

"Dammit Ava." she said undoing whatever this Ava person did to her arm.

"So you got family, kid?" Ameila asked, bringing her attention back to Ruby.

“I do… kinda, the only ones still alive are my Sister, Uncle and Dad.” Ruby answered sadly.

"That's good. At least you have someone and you're not alone like I am." Ameila said, tapping her metal fingers to the rhythm of the music.

“I only just noticed! You have a metal arm! That's so cool!” Ruby exclaimed.

"I think it's a pain in the ass. However I can still do this so it's not a complete loss I suppose." Ameila said, flipping off the counter.

“Hehe, look on the bright side though, you’re… still alive.” Ruby said as Ameila looked up as she could visualize herself walking through the hallway of her apartment complex at Silver Oak University.

“Besides, you aren’t alone… I mean, you have friends here, right?” Ruby said reassuringly.

"I talk to the prom queen sometimes. Think about the ole copulation. Sometimes Robin strolls over. But hardly, I spend all my time here and hardly ever talk to them, the last time I actually talked to them was probably a week ago when they discovered this place existed." Ameila said.

“I guess that kinda counts, and you still have me if you’d like.” Ruby replied with a smile as a rotary phone started ringing.

"Hold on, I'll be back." Ameila said, walking over to it as she picked it up.

"Thank you for calling the hearts of steel your one stop shop for all the paranormal and unexplainable shenanigans. This is Ameila speaking." She said into the phone

"Just checking in, reminding you that we're here if you ever just need to talk, we care about you." Eva's voice came through the phone.

"Mate you either have the ears of a damn hawk or you're hiding somewhere down here." Ameila said.

"What? No. We would have stopped by earlier but we ended up getting a call about a guy, unimportant and not the point. We just wanted to make sure you know we care about you and all that. Why? Were you just talking about us?" Eva said.

"Yeah yeah... hold on how did you get this number? I don't give it out to anyone." Ameila asked.

"We have ways." Rob's voice came through the phone.

"Ava gave it to us." Eva said.

"Ah… this is revenge for earlier when I turned her on and decided to do nothing about it isn't it?" Ameila asked

"She did mutter something about payback, yes." Eva said.

"Typical." Ameila replied.

"I'm sure you'll be fine. Oh! She gave us a message to give you." Eva said

"And I'm hanging up now." Ameila said, attempting to hang up.

"Your day of reckoning has come, Miss Madison. Expect to be uhhh broken soon." Eva said as if reading from a sheet of paper.

"You made that last part up, didn't you?" Ameila asked.

"Nope. She literally just gave me a piece of paper, it was kinda hard to read that last bit. Handwriting and all." Eva said.

"She'll never understand that I am the dominant one." Ameila said, writing Ava's message down and sticking it on the wall behind her.

"Anyway that's about everything. Have fun and try not to get hurt!" Eva said.

"And bye." Ameila said, hanging up.

"Drex, set me a reminder to change the phone lines." she said, walking back over to where ruby was.

Meanwhile ruby was wandering around the moderately sized hole in the wall bar filled with patrons loud music and flashing lights. As she came to a sign on the wall that said 'are you hiding from your wife?' buy a phone rate sign that read 'one dollar 'nope not here' two dollars 'just missed him' three dollars 'just had one drink and left' Four dollars 'Hasn't been In all day' five dollars 'never heard of him' please see the bartender upon arrival.

“That’s one way to do it… I’m half doubting the efficiency of it though.” Ruby said as she read the sign in her head. She continued on from the sign walking past a few tables and chairs. As someone threw pink liquid in a trashcan and wiped their mouth. "Ready player one!" an arcade machine called out. She stood by it as she turned to see a blue haired woman in a stripper outfit and a cigarette in her mouth leaning against it.

"You look like a cut of fuckable meat. Are you?" Katelyn asked, sending smoke out of her mouth.

“I’m… not too sure what you mean by that.” Ruby answered while moving along as she heard the phone ring

"is it them again….." Ameila said picking up the phone

"Thank you for calling the hearts of steel your one stop shop for all the paranormal and unexplainable shenanigans. This is Ameila speaking." She said into the phone placing it between her shoulder and ear hearing nothing but static

"Hello..?" Ameila said

"Interesting arm.." her former collage buddy said through it though she knew this was impossible because he was dead.. she dropped the phone as she looked up and across the bar as a knife stabbed into the table she began to breathe heavily as her vision began to swirl and fade as everything went black

[arrowflier]

Prompt is anything about Mickey acknowledging that Ian’s past of sexual abuse still affects him, maybe during the 13% debacle when Mickey’s being mad and tells the family at breakfast, Ian gets sad and quiet instead of defensive cause he knows he misspoke but he doesn’t know how to explain the feeling of like not being whole and Tami schools Mickey private bc she knows a little bit how Ian feels?

Content warning: references to child abuse/ sexual abuse of a minor

"Guess who I ran into on the L yesterday?" Ian asked as he made for the coffee machine.

"Dunno man," Mickey answered from behind him, skating a hand over his hip as he moved to take a seat at the table. "Why were you on the fuckin' L anyway, where'd you go when I was hangin' with Sandy?"

He sat down between Carl and Tami--it was a full house this morning--and stole a piece of bacon off Carl's plate even as he hunched over it protectively.

"Oh you know," Ian said, "just headed over to that weekly gay orgy at the rec center."

Mickey flipped him off, but Tami chortled next to him. She handed him another slice of bacon in apology--off Carl's plate, not her own--and went back to feeding Fred.

"Alright, funny man," Mickey said as he chewed, "so who'd you see there then?"

"Linda," Ian answered, unphased. He didn't seem to notice the way Mickey's chewing slowed, or the way Carl abruptly straightened and pushed back from the table.

"Yeah," Ian continued, "she was back for some kind of hearing? Apparently Kash's new boyfriend called the cops on him or something."

Ian took a long sip of coffee, then frowned as he lowered the mug.

"He, uh," Ian started, then stopped to take another drink. "Linda said he found some pictures?”

Mickey stilled.

“What kind of pictures?” he asked suspiciously.  Carl took that as his cue to abandon ship, shoving the rest of his breakfast over toward Mickey as he hightailed it out of the room.  Tami stayed, stuck with a babbling Fred in his high chair and completely lost as to why the room was suddenly so tense.

“Of me, I think,” Ian answered quietly, not meeting Mickey’s eyes.  “Or some other boyfriend maybe?  I don’t know.”

“Another boyfriend,” Mickey parroted, and Ian shrugged.

“Yeah,” he said.  “I mean, I guess.”  He set his mug on the counter, braced himself against the edge with both hands.  “I kinda feel bad for him, you know?” he added.  “It’s not like he asked for stuff like that, I just sent it.”

Mickey’s hand hit the table hard enough to shake the cutlery.

"The fuck did you say?" he asked flatly.

Ian didn't react, but Tami froze next to him with a fork halfway to Fred’s mouth. Mickey ignored her stare.

"You really just tell me you feel bad for that fucker?" Mickey continued, voice rising. "The guy that fuckin' molested you? The guy that shot me cause you dared to fuck someone your own fucking age?"

Ian was quiet. Too quiet, and it hurt to see the way he bit his lip and looked away, like he couldn't face it. Couldn't face the truth--couldn’t face Mickey, either.

"Mickey," Tami murmured, slowly lowering her fork to her plate with a muffled click, "maybe you shouldn't--"

"No," Mickey said firmly, cutting her off. "What I should do is track that fucker down and cut off his fucking dick, so he can’t touch another teenage kid for the rest of his goddamned life.”

“That’s what I should do,” he went on, ignoring the way Tami waved at him frantically under the table.  “But Ian here,” he said, “wouldn’t want that, would he?  Cause Ian thinks Kash loved him, and he won’t fuckin’ admit his first boyfriend was a disgusting-ass pedophilic bastard.”

Ian shoved himself back from the counter, and stormed from the kitchen.  A second later, the front door slammed, and Mickey collapsed back into his chair in resgination.

Before he could feel too sorry for himself, Tami intervened.

"Dude," Tami hissed next to him. Mickey looked over to see her scrunched face, her lip curled. "Are you really shaming him for that right now?"

“The fuck you know about it?” he muttered.  Even Fred seemed to be judging him, that chubby little face pouting, and Mickey didn’t like it one bit.

“I know enough,” Tami said, then sighed.

“Look,” she started slowly.  “I don’t know anything about this Kash guy or whatever, alright?  But it sounds like Ian was just a kid when they got involved.”

“Barely even old enough to do anything, probably,” Mickey groused.  “Bastard picked him up as soon as he fuckin’ saw him.”

“And it went on for a while?” Tami guessed, and raised her hands when Mickey looked at her suspiciously.

“Hey, I’m just getting my facts straight,” she defended.  “But if you ask me, Ian’s got more on his mind with this than whether or not his old boss is a good guy.”

“How the fuck would you know?” Mickey asked.  “He’s had plenty of fuckin’ time to think about this shit, he ought to hate that guy’s guts by now.”

Tami bit her lip, but persevered.

“I know,” she said softly, “because it took me even longer, okay?”

At Mickey’s curious glance, she expanded.

“There was this teacher,” she told him, not meeting his eyes.  “And he made me think I was special.”

Tami laughed, a short, sharp sound, and shook her head.

“He paid attention to me, is more like it,” she admitted.  “And I ate that shit right up, because God knows my dad didn’t back then.  And it never even occurred to me that what we had was wrong.”

She finally looked up.

“Then he brought his new girlfriend by,” she said.  “His new, teenage girlfriend.  And he said all the same things, and she ate it up, too.”

Mickey just watched her.

“So yeah, I get it,” she finished, tracing a scratch on the table with one finger.  “And what Ian needs right now?  Is not your fucking judgement.”

She stood abruptly, her chair screeching as it scraped back, and scooped Fred out of his seat.

"You should think about what he's going through right now," she said as she settled Fred on her hip. "Instead of how it makes you feel."

She moved toward the back door, opened it, then paused.

"Because being confronted with the truth isn't easy," she added. "And he might be a victim, but he doesn't want to be."

Then she was gone, the kitchen silent, just Mickey sitting there at the table with two rapidly cooling plates of eggs and bacon that weren't even his.

"Well, fuck," he said to himself. Then he levered himself up, and made for the front door

---

As it turned out, Ian hadn't gone far. As soon as Mickey opened the door, there he was: hunched over right there on the steps, head in his hands.

Mickey sat next to him without speaking. Ian shifted over to make room, but otherwise didn't acknowledge him.

"Hey," Mickey started hesitantly. Then he swallowed, wiped sweaty hands on his thighs, and tried again.

"I'm sorry."

Ian didn't bother to lift his head.

"For what?" he asked tiredly. "I mean, you were right."

"I was?" Mickey responded, then cleared his throat. "I was," he repeated more confidently, then, " but I still shouldn't have fucking said it."

Ian sighed, and straightened. "It's okay," he said, smiling weakly. "Kash was an asshole, I know he was. And I know it was wrong, now, but I just..."

Ian stopped, shook his head.

"Never mind," he muttered. "You wouldn't get it."

Mickey inched closer. He raised an arm to wrap around Ian's shoulders, and thought about the bright-eyed kid he fell for all those years ago, ignored by his family and utterly devoted to a man that should have known better.

"No, I wouldn't," he agreed softly, squeezing Ian's shoulders and stroking that hand down his arm in a gentle caress.

"But tell me anyway."

#daily speedwrite #gallavich #mickey milkovich #ian gallagher #fanfic #tami tamietti #tw: child abuse #i wish i could spend more time on this serious topic #but its late so maybe another time

[keelywolfe]

FIC: Fool Me Once 1/1 (spicyhoney, standalone)

Summary:  Stretch was the one who ended things, what gives him the right to be upset over a chance meeting?

Tags: Spicyhoney, Established Relationship, Post-Break Up, Emotional Baggage, Hurt/Comfort, Idiots in Love

Read it on AO3

or

Read it here!

~~*~~

“Why are we here again?” Edge sighed as he followed his brother past the bouncer checking IDs. Amusing that he’d waved Edge through and checked Red, considering their age difference, but his brother barely grumbled as he held out his wallet.

“’cause it’s good for moral, that’s why.” Red led the way through the unknown people milling around. Humans and Monsters both stood in clumps, gatherings of twos and threes around the dancefloor who held drinks as they watched the dancers writhe to some wretched technopop nightmare. “people like it when the boss ‘s down to earth enough to go out for a drink. hangin’ with the team shows solidarity, so do me a solid, and keep your bitchin’ to yourself.”

“One drink,” Edge warned. “That was the agreement.”

“yeah, yeah, i didn’t fuckin’ forget in five minutes. want me to write it in blood?”

“Yours or someone else’s?”

He let Red get the drink in question, keeping back rather than trying to force his way through the gathered bodies to the bar. Generally speaking, crowds parted for him as easily as they did Red with little more than a glare, but it didn’t exactly endear him to the bartender. How it was that his brother always managed to eel his way in and get them both a drink in mere minutes, he did not know, but it was a skill he was more than happy to take advantage of.

Edge spent the time he was waiting scanning the club. As crowded as it was, it took him a moment to spot their group crammed together at one of the tables on the other side of the main room. The royal guard was reduced to meagre embassy security these days and as much as he disliked the diminished title, Edge found his fellow guards to be decent enough people.

Although he wasn’t sure how he was supposed to return to a normal working relationship with Undyne after seeing her in that shirt, or rather, the lack of one. There was hardly enough fabric for it to actually count as a garment, but given the expression on Alphys’s face, it was much appreciated by some, at least.

Blue was sitting at the table as well with Sans, both of their expressions caught in an unheard laugh, but Papyrus was nowhere in sight. Edge looked out on the dancefloor for the other skeleton, scanning through flailing limbs to see…

Oh.

Edge turned away abruptly as his brother came up next to him carrying two glasses of indeterminant liquid.

“You didn’t tell me he’d be here!” Edge hissed out. Red didn’t even ask, only shrugged as he thrust one of the glasses at Edge.

“didn’t know he was,” Red said, unperturbed. “blue must’ve brought him along. don’t know why you’re so surprised by it.”

“Because I thought you might have enough tact to realize I wouldn’t have come if I’d known!”

“bro,” Red’s eye lights took on an irritated cast, their crimson glare cutting through the dimness of the club, “if you’re gonna avoid every place in town ‘cause he might be there, you ain’t gonna have much of a travel list. like to think you both can be grownups enough to be in the same bar without throwin’ a hissy fit. could be wrong.”

A hissy fit was the least of Edge’s concerns. In fact, he was quite sure Stretch wouldn’t say a word to him, harsh or otherwise. He’d certainly been calm enough a month ago when he’d ended their relationship, handing over what few things Edge had left in his bedroom without explanation or excuse, nothing more than a calm, “yeah, this isn’t working out. sorry.”

Edge was the one who’d been left standing alone, unable to understand. Spent the next week wracking his mind, trying to think of what he’d done wrong. What had changed, what did he do, what didn’t he do, what, what, what. No answer came and Stretch didn’t reply to any texts, didn’t answer any calls. In the end, Edge could only accept what little he’d been given, which was nothing.

He turned back around, barely noticing his drink sloshing over his fingers as he tried to watch again, surreptitiously this time. Stretch looked good and, pathetic as it was, Edge couldn’t help drinking in the sight. Dressed not in his normal baggie sweatshirt and pants, but a dark shirt made of something silky and clinging, his tight black trousers exposing the upper curves of his iliac crests the same way Edge’s old uniform used to, though the way he was moving them was nothing like Edge ever managed in his old trousers. Grinding and writhing as he shifted from partner to partner, and when one of them dropped a hand obscenely low, more of a grope than a grip, Stretch only laughed and slipped easily away to another, utterly ignorant to the hot flare in Edge’s soul.

Seeing him now, laughing out on the crowded dance floor, Edge wondered again what it was about him that Stretch didn’t want anymore. The thought was a tired one, worn through from constant use, and he pushed it aside. It didn’t matter; it simply was, and he’d have to accept it.

He saw the moment Stretch noticed him. His easy smile faltered, his sockets going wider before he abruptly turned away, molding himself against another person in a way that was less a dance and more a clothed sexual act, almost a taunt. The other dancer was only briefly surprised, then eager, and they ground against each other lewdly despite being visible to anyone in the bar who cared to watch.

Edge turned away and took a furious sip of his drink, barely tasting the burn of alcohol as ice cubes clacking against his teeth. As if Stretch wasn’t the one who ended things, what right did he have to be upset over meeting in passing?

His brother had already left him, Edge realized suddenly. He pushed through the crowd as he headed towards the table where the rest of the group was sat. One drink, he’d promised, and then he’d leave.

“Hey, boss, didn’t think you’d show up!” Undyne’s needle-sharp grin was genuinely welcoming. Red was right, he really did need to spend more time with his team if he wanted them to reach the potential he knew was there.

“And miss a chance to see you at your worst?” Edge said, loudly to be heard over the music. “My brother isn’t the only one who collects blackmail.” Undyne cawed a laugh and clinked her glass against his, slopping liquor over both their hands. She licked hers away and with a mental grimace Edge did the same, even though whatever Undyne was drinking tasted like it might be better used to clean away rust. He’d rather deal with a sticky hand than see the bathroom in this place.

The conversation, loud as it was, turned out to be better than expected. Mostly it was laughing about work and Edge knew all these incidents, but a dry report would never measure up to Red lamenting, “…and seriously, i woulda left ‘em there, but how was i gonna explain to asgore that i let the kid out of my sight for one mo’ and they’d managed to fly the coop? if i’d known they wanted to see the damn critters that bad, i woulda paid for the petting zoo ticket, they didn’t need to go over the wall. kid’s been underground, overground, and halfway around the world and still takes off to pet a buncha damn nanny goats.”

“sounds like the goats were the only nanny there.” Sans’s pale eye lights were bright with mirth and alcohol.

“supposed to be a bodyguard, not a babysitter,” Red grumbled. “gonna need a pay raise if i’m doin’ double duty.”

“Only if you submit the proper paperwork,” Edge interjected. He didn’t know why the entire table broke into laughter at that, he only joined in and ordered another drink.

One drink became two, then three. He’d managed to nearly forget Stretch until he came back to the table for his own drink, wiping sweat ineffectively from his forehead with a bony hand. It wasn’t the only part of him that was sweaty, and Edge kept his gaze carefully low and on his own drink, ignoring the enticing gleam of perspiration on glossy bone until he left again. The grown-up way of handling things, per his brother, and if the others thought anything of it, they didn’t say, no indication that they knew of the tension between them aside from Blue’s quietly sympathetic look.

Edge waited until Stretch was gone, surely back to the dance floor for more gyrations, before he stood, saying, “Well, I should get going.”

The expected protests were mild and Edge barely heard them over the music. The pounding thrum of it was starting to echo inside his skull, unable to be ignored, and he couldn’t stand it anymore. The very air seemed thick and claustrophobic, choking him. He left the others at the table, bumping his way past the other bar patrons, the bouncer, and out the door into the cool night.

Edge stood off to the side for a long moment, sucking in great gasps of cold air, letting it chill his inner heat. The door opened a few more times, more laughing people spilling out or pouring back in. None of them paid him any mind and when he could breathe again, Edge started walking, the click of his boots crisp on the sidewalk. His car was parked two streets over, beneath the dubious safety of a streetlight. His brother had ridden with him, but Edge wasn’t worried about that. Red could find his own way home better than Edge ever could.

The streets weren’t entirely empty. Other people were walking along to and from one bar to another, paying him no mind as they stumbled down the sidewalk. He was walking past an alley when Edge heard something suspiciously like his name. He knew he shouldn’t stop; even for him the Surface world could be a dangerous place for a Monster. But Edge was startled and three drinks in, and he turned to look and saw a tall figure standing in the shadows, revealed only by the glowing tip of a cigarette.

“couldn’t resist coming out, could you?” A familiar voice, the words loose and slurred. The tiny cherry-red ember blazed brighter with a long drag followed by a slow exhale that briefly swallowed it in a haze.

“My brother invited me,” Edge said shortly. “I wasn’t even aware you’d be here.”

“uh huh.”

The exaggerated doubt in that voice burned humiliatingly. “Look, I haven’t tried to hunt you down. I haven't gone to your house or your work, I haven’t done anything past a few texts and a single phone call, so you can stop acting like I've been following you around like some kind of stalker!”

“no, you didn’t.” The agreement took Edge aback and from the darkness came an unexpectedly miserable hitched breath, clotted and thick. “you were really…you were good about it. weren’t an asshole at all.”

The cigarette fell suddenly to the ground, that tiny fragment of brightness rolling across to asphalt before extinguishing in a puddle. There was so little light, the pool from the streetlamp overhead didn’t reach into the alley and Edge could barely see Stretch sliding down the brickwork to sit on the filthy alley ground.

Edge shifted uncertainly, the sound of his boots startlingly loud sidewalk. He should go. Stretch could easily make his own way home and he was the injured party, thank you, he was the one who’d been cast aside without explanation.

He should, should, but if he could turn his emotions off and on so easily, he never would have allowed himself to fall in love to begin with.

Two steps into the alley and Edge crouched next to him, wordlessly settling a cautious hand on his shoulder. Beneath his touch, Stretch was shaking, the muffled clatter of bones barely hidden by his rumpled clothes. Gone was the seducer on the dancefloor; this close there were visible shadows beneath Stretch's sockets, his cheekbones hollow and his eye lights dim while too-slim bones trembled under a cautious touch.

“Love—” Edge began, unthinkingly, and Stretch cringed. He fumbled to cover his face with his hands, his fingerless black gloves concealing more than his slim, bony fingers could.

“i’m sorry, i fucked up,” Stretch said. Almost coughed out, the words strangled and low. “fucked up like i always do. i didn’t mean to.”

“All right.” Part of Edge was howling with indignation; how dare he try for sympathy now. A much larger part, the part of him that still cared for this fool, only wanted to hold him closer, soothe the choked tears and sobs.

He did nothing, said nothing. He only crouched there as Stretch wept, more words tearing loose amidst the choked sobs, low and raw. “you deserve someone so much better than me.”

Was that what this was about? Stretch trying to be noble? He could see that so easily, a clear picture of him deliberately pushing Edge aside in a sloppy attempt at keeping him safe. The pain of separation would fade, he’d probably told himself, and would be worth it if it kept Edge away from him.

If.

It still could.

He could walk away right now. Spare himself this hurt when it happened again and it might, it could. Ghost whispers haunted the back of Stretch’s thoughts, Edge knew, telling him he wasn’t good enough, smart enough, didn’t care enough. He would ignore them as long as he could but eventually, they’d finally break through and get him to listen. He’d run again and hurt Edge along the way. Unless he stood up now. Unless he walked away.

Edge looked at Stretch where he was curled up on the ground, surrounded by crumbling gravel and fast-food trash and cigarette butts. Looked at the quiver of his shoulders, the pale tears that seeped from under the barrier of his gloved hands to gather at his chin, softening the point in blurry wetness before a swollen droplet slowly fell free, and the banked love that hadn’t had time yet for the ashes to go gray flared up again into an aching fire.

The wall was rough, bricks scraping and catching at Edge’s jacket as he settled to lean against it. One hand he kept loose and open on his knee, still wary of catching the dubious interest any passersby. The other he looped around Stretch’s narrow shoulders, hauling him in against his side. He flailed briefly, his resistance mostly surprise, and then he sagged against Edge, as boneless as a skeleton Monster could ever hope to be.

“i’m sorry,” he choked out again.

“Hush,” Edge said gruffly. “I heard you the first time.” Not quite accepting it, that would come later. He laid his cheekbone against the top of Stretch’s skull, his sockets falling half-closed as he held him close, shamefully basking in the feel of Stretch in his arms again as he waited for the tears to slow, fading from sobs into hoarse hiccoughs. Soon enough he’d coax Stretch to his feet and take him home, their home, not the trashy room he kept at his brother’s house. Back where Edge wanted so desperately for him to belong, for as long as he would stay. However long that was.

Edge was a fool, and he knew it, but that was all right. He was far from the only one.

They stayed there together in the alley, bone touching bone, for a long time.

-finis-

#spicyhoney #papcest #keelywolfe #underfell #underswap #underfell papyrus #underswap papyrus #standalone

[beelsnack]

Bad Influence - Beelsnack's 666 Follower Special!!

(Technically I'm over 666 - shoutout to the porn bots)

But seriously, holy shit, there's a lot of you. Thank you all so much for liking my stuff, and for interacting with me and sending me good vibes and all of that. I hope I can keep giving you guys quality work!!

And yes, I am a nerd and I consider 666 a milestone for a blog for a bunch of demons. No, I'm not sorry.

-----

Lucifer: He couldn’t help but wonder when the change had set in.

When the human first arrived in the Devildom, they had been humble and meek. If anyone complimented them, they deflected it with the mastery and resignation of someone who had been doing it for far longer than they should have. And if someone thanked them? You would think their entire world was dissolving around them.

But now?

He extended a gloved hand towards them as they descended the stairs. Tonight was one of the rare nights where they had the opportunity to be alone without one of his brothers tagging along, and they had been planning this date for nearly a week now. They slipped their hand in his without any of the hesitation they would have shown at first. They knew they deserved his reverence.

“You look radiant as always, my dear,” he curled his fingers around theirs as they reached the bottom step, bringing the backs of their knuckles to his lips. “Surely there is no star in the sky that could outshine you.”

They laughed - his theatrics always did amuse them. “You do have amazing taste, after all.”

He chuckled as well, guiding the two of them to the front door. “Of course. Do you think the Avatar of Pride would associate with anyone less than the best?”

“Definitely not,” the wind that came through the door when they opened it blew their hair away from their face, and Lucifer couldn’t help but preen at the fact that he had helped that quivering little animal grow into the proud swan that stood before him.

“Speaking of the best, where are we going for dinner?”

“Don’t worry, my dear,” he laughed as they made their way out into the night. “You deserve the world, and the world you shall get.”

“Unless ‘the world’ means a steak dinner, I’m not interested.”

Mammon: “Come on, don’t leave me hangin’ out here!”

The curtain covering the entrance to the changing room rustled, and Mammon heard a faint “Fine, fine, just give me a sec!” before it finally opened and out stepped the human.

Mammon always thought they looked good no matter what they were wearing, even if it was one of his old t-shirts and a pair of shorts. Actually, especially if it was one of his old t-shirts and a pair of shorts. But seeing them decked out in his fashion brand - one he had both designed and modeled - was definitely making him feel some type of way.

He let out a low whistle when they stopped in front of the chair he had seated himself in. The results of his own shopping spree were tucked haphazardly into a colorful assortment of bags at his feet, but the human had taken a bit longer than he did picking out their stuff. And damn, was he glad they did, because otherwise he wouldn’t get the chance to see them modeling his clothes.

It was a private fashion show, just for him.

The outfit itself was pretty simple. A black fitted tee beneath a cropped leather jacket, a pair of faded dark-blue skinny jeans, and a pair of black sneaks with a gold stripe going up the side. But the thing that brought the whole outfit together was the long necklace with a topaz pendent resting against their breastbone.

“Well?” they asked, giving him a spin before striking a pose before him. “What do you think?”

For a moment, he couldn’t speak. The human wearing his clothes...it was the next best thing to them walking around with “I Belong To Mammon” tattooed on their forehead.

“I, uh...I guess you...um,” he swallowed thickly. “Ya look alright, I guess.”

“That’s tsundere for ‘you look hot,’ right?” they grinned before spinning around to look in the mirror. “Man, this is a whole look! I have to have it!”

If this had been a few months ago, the human would have waffled back and forth about whether or not to buy anything. It didn’t matter how much they wanted something, it was almost like they just couldn’t do anything nice for themselves. There was being frugal, and then there was deprivation. Now, though, was completely different.

“I wonder if I should get some shades to go with?” they mumbled, looking themselves over in the mirror. “I think that would really pull it together, don’t you?”

“Just don’t go for the Ray Bans, it’s a fucking scam.”

Leviathan: "Come on, come on, come on…"

Very rarely was Levi the one watching someone else play games, unless it was a stream. And as mind-blowingly awesome it would be to watch the human stream one of his current faves, he definitely didn't want other people seeing how adorable they looked when they were focused.

They had come to him with absolute determination in their eyes, begging him to help them out. There were a limited amount of UR armor sets in the event, and they needed to get their hands on one. And, well, what kind of friend would he be if he didn't help them out?

(The fact that he already scored the armor is irrelevant.)

So, here they were, camped out in the pillow nest that they often made for themselves when gaming in his room, laser focused on the screen with Levi giving them guidance. The event level was brutal, but they were in the final hours, so it was crunch time.

"Okay, this boss is easy once you know the attack pattern. Four regular slashes, a jab, then you've got about five seconds to get behind a pillar before it uses the AOE."

"Gotcha."

Even then, it was a long battle, and they had used up most of their healing potions by the time the monster let out an anguished roar and disintegrated into a pile of bones. The human held their breath as they moved towards it to gather their loot.

"Yes!!"

They practically leaped out of the pillow nest in triumph. There, right on the top of the loot list in shimmering gold font, and the UR armor that they had been coveting.

"I got it! I got it!" they cheered. "Levi, I finally got it!"

"Hell yeah you did!" the two of them shared a crisp high five as the results of the campaign loaded on the screen. It was updating in real time, so they could watch as the final moments of the event ticked away.

Levi knew what they were looking for. Early on in the dungeon, another player had done them real dirty, sniping them from a few levels above and then taunting them over VC about how they would never get the armor now. So of course that only inspired the human to work harder, and here they were.

3...2...1

Event over. Quickly, the human scrolled up to the beginning of the list, checking the names of all the players who scored the armor.

Levi sat next to them, chewing his lip. What was that person's tag again? He didn't remember.

Suddenly, the human let out a snort that turned into a full-on giggle fit.

"They didn't get it!" they cackled like a hyena. "Serves them right, the jackass!"

Levi was pretty sure it wasn't a good idea to laugh at the misfortune of others. But, he knew better than anyone that spite was a hell of a motivator. When they had first gotten themselves isekai’d into the Devildom, they had let demons walk all over them, Levi had personally witnessed a lower-level demon shove them out of the way to get a sandwich they had been reaching for, and the human just stood there and let them take it. But they had grown to be a little more selfish, and if they wanted something, they were taking it.

And maybe, just maybe, seeing them like that turned him on just a little bit.

Satan: "You want to come and say that to my face?"

Satan stood there in stunned silence as the human spun on their heel to look the demons right in the eyes. They had their back to him, so Satan couldn't see the look on their face, but whatever it was made the two lesser demons flinch.

"Hey, come on, Human, we were just joking."

"Yeah, no need to get all worked up."

They scoffed, and Satan knew them well enough to know that they were rolling their eyes. "Is that right? So you don't think I'm a...what was it? A fleshy meat sack who thinks they can get what they want by sleeping with the strongest demons in the Devildom?"

Another flinch. Satan chuckled to himself.. Did those morons really think they wouldn't hear them? Humans might not have super-heightened senses but they weren't deaf.

A small crowd had begun gathering around them, waiting to see what would happen. It wasn't every day one of the human exchange students squared up to a demon.

"You've got some nerve," the human drew themself up to their full height - which, admittedly, was laughable compared to most demons - and crossed their arms. "What do you think Lord Diavolo would do to demons who messed with his exchange students?"

"I believe there's a special spot in the Royal Torture Chambers for such demons," Satan came to stand next to them, and the other demons downright cowered. "If I recall correctly, there's an Iron Maiden down there."

"Ooh, cool!"

"Alright, we get it!" One of the demons cried, throwing their hands up defensively. "We're sorry!"

Satan opened his mouth to spit a curse at them, but the human beat him to it. "I've got Lord Diavolo on speed dial, so start running."

The two demons turned tail and booked it down the hallway, nearly crashing into Beelzebub as he turned the corner with a sandwich hanging out of his mouth. He stood frozen for a moment before he swallowed and turned to Satan and the human.

"Were those two bothering you guys?"

Satan cast a sideways look at the human before a wicked grin spread across his face.

"They took care of it."

Asmodeus: "Well, someone's feeling bold tonight."

The door had barely shut behind the two of them before the human was pressing Asmo against it, mouthing at his neck as their hands traveled down the front of his silk blouse. He shuddered gleefully as their breath ghosted against his ear lobe.

"I can't help it," they murmured, fingers skirting just beneath the hem of his shirt. "You looked so good out there."

"I look good all the time, darling," he hummed, reaching up to grab a fistful of hair to gently pry them away from his neck.

"You looked especially good," they huffed as he let go of their hair. "Dancing like that, I could barely wait until we got home."

"Aw, sweetheart, you should have come to join me." Asmo rolled his hips in an echo of the dancing he had been doing at the club, delighting when he felt them shiver against him. "We could have put on a show that would have captivated the whole Devildom."

"I don't think the staff would appreciate it."

"They would be too busy watching to care," Asmo giggled, diving down to capture their lips in a quick and dirty kiss. "Although I can't say I'm not thrilled to be getting a private show."

Beelzebub: “Man, this place has the best barbecue!”

Dinner dates were a pretty common thing for the two of them. Over the course of the human’s stay in the Devildom, the two of them had figured out which restaurants would put up with Beel’s appetite and which would visibly freeze when the Avatar of Gluttony entered the establishment. The Hellfire Barbecue was one of the good places, probably because Beel made sure to tip really well, and one time personally went into the kitchen to tip the chef. Or, well, he tried, anyway. He ended up giving the money to the human and told them to give it to the chef because he knew if he went in there he would devour everything. But the sentiment was still there.

Beel smiled down at the human as they wiped the barbecue sauce off of their face. “You finished all of it this time.”

“Huh?” they glanced at their plate. “Oh. Yeah, I guess I did.”

“You usually don’t.”

“I was really hungry, I guess.” they grinned sheepishly.

Beel distinctly remembered the human telling him that they always tried to save some food for later. Whether it was being resourceful or because they had a weird sense of shame around eating too much, Beel didn’t know, but he had never pressed in case it was a sensitive issue. But, seeing them indulge themselves and looking genuinely full and satisfied made him happy. And was probably his main motivation for taking them out to dinner so often.

Well, that and getting his own food.

“I like watching you eat.” Beel said, waving to the owner as he passed by.

“You...like watching me eat.” the human repeated, looking somewhat confused.

“You look so happy when you eat good food,” Beel smiled. “I like seeing you happy.”

Belphegor: Oh, how the tables have tabled.

“Come on, I don’t feel like dealing with Lucifer’s lectures today.” Belphie grumbled, tugging half-heartedly on the human’s arm that was flung around his waist. “We should get up soon.”

For all of his complaining, Belphie didn’t move. If anything, he snuggled down deeper into the bed. He loved when the human agreed to have a sleepover in the attic with him. They got uninterrupted cuddle and nap time, since nobody dared to come up to the attic except Beel. And Beel was almost always welcome to join the cuddle puddle.

“Five more minutes…” the human mumbled sleepily, burying their face into Belphie’s neck. The soft, contented sigh they let out tickled, and he squirmed a little.

“Aren’t you usually the one waking me up?” Belphie nuzzled his nose against their hair.

“But it’s comfy here,” they whined. “I don’t want to get up.”

“You just don’t want to do the presentation in class today.”

“Your point?”

Belphie laughed. “Can’t say I disagree.”

“I did all the hard work anyway,” they shrugged. “We’ll make Mammon give the report.”

“Sounds like a plan to me.”

The two of them settled back down into the nest of pillows. The human had almost drifted back to sleep when Belphie brought his nose down to theirs to nuzzle them together.

“You’re cute when you’re sleepy.”

“You’re cute when you shut up and let me sleep.”

#obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me levi #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me asmo #obey me beelzebub #obey me beel #obey me belphegor #obey me belphie

[jojosbizarrefanfics]

ah great! can i have a nsfw one shot with mustang please?

Of course you can!

Recommended listening:

You looked up to see Roy coming in, looking as disheveled as ever. He didn’t even need to say anything; you started pouring him his usual.

“Welcome home, Colonel.”

He chuckled and took a seat across from you at the bar. “Thanks.”

“You alright?”

Roy shrugged. “I’ve been worse, but...” His voice trailed off.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” You asked.

“Work just got a lot more complicated,” he said. He took a sip of his drink. “Do you understand what I’m saying?”

You nodded, aware of the situation. “I do.”

“Are you the only one in tonight?” Roy asked. You nodded again. Despite knowing you were perfectly capable of holding your own, Roy still sounded a bit worried.

“Yup, they’ve left me to man the fort,” you confirmed. “So it’s just you and me this evening.”

Roy smiled. “I hope I’m not bad company for you.”

You scoffed. “Please, Roy. You already know the answer to that.”

“Yeah, but I still like to hear you say it,” he said. He took another sip. “A man likes his ego boosted too, you know.”

You leaned across the bar to ruffle his hair. “You don’t need to flirt with me to get the info you need, Roy,” you said. “What brings you in?”

“I don’t flirt with you for intel,” he said. He was more serious than you anticipated. “Just looking for a real friend tonight. So I’m glad you’re here.”

You smiled. “That’s good to hear.”

“I’m sure you’ve heard every line in the book, anyway,” Roy said.

“Oh, no,” you clarified. “Madame doesn’t set me up on dates or anything. Usually I’m just a point of contact or hangin’ here. Partly because I’m the best shot since you taught me the ins and outs of the gun back here, but I suspect she has other reasons too. When people ask she says the bookkeeper’s off limits.”

Roy raised a brow as he took another sip of his drink. “Is that so?”

“She’s a smart woman. I’m sure she’s picked up on the fact that you don’t flirt with me for intel,” you replied.

“Ha, probably,” Roy said. “Is it alright that I keep flirting with you, then, now that my secret’s out?”

“A woman likes her ego boosted too, you know,” you teased as you rested your elbows on the bar and leaned a bit closer to him. “I just hope your tongue is actually as sharp as it seems. Your reputation precedes you, after all.”

Roy smirked. You liked the look in his eye. “We really are alone?”

“Just you and me, sweetheart.”

“Then allow me to demonstrate,” Roy said smugly. He leaned over the bar and closed the distance between the two of you with a kiss.

His lips were soft and you could faintly taste the whisky you poured him. Roy was happy to feel you reciprocate and once your fingers ran through the hairs along the back of his neck, his tongue was slipping between your lips. You never thought you’d see the day where you kissed your boss’ handsome foster son, but here you were, feeling breathless.

“Should we lock up for the night?” Roy asked. “It’s getting close to closing time after all, isn’t it?”

“If Madame’s back early, I’ll let her take it up with you,” you said. Roy laughed as he moved to lock the front door.

“That’s only fair.” With the front door set, you moved around the other side of the bar to meet Roy, who pulled you in closer now that there wasn’t a counter between the two of you. His embrace was gentle, yet firm, and his arms around you felt strong and steady like a State Alchemist’s should.

The two of you slowly made your way into the back of the bar, where Roy’s hands began to roam as the kissing continued.

“Do you know how long I’ve wanted to kiss you?” Roy asked as he removed his coat.

“How long?”

“From the moment I walked in that door and you were standing behind that bar for the first time,” Roy said.

“I’ve wanted to do a lot more than kiss you since then, Mustang,” you replied. Roy smiled.

“When are you all leaving?” Roy asked.

“Soon,” you answered.

“Then now’s your chance.”

You grinned as you and Roy made quick work at removing your clothing, letting it fall along the way as you made your way further back into the building. You made it to the stock room of alcohol and Roy lifted you up on a small table as he lowered himself to his knees.

“I’m not done showing you how sharp my tongue can be,” Roy said as he kissed up your thigh. You ran your fingers through his messy black locks and gave a light tug, hinting that you wanted a little less conversation and a little more action. Roy couldn’t help but smirk when you moaned at the feeling of his mouth on your pussy. Luckily for you, Roy didn’t disappoint.

Roy wasn’t satisfied until you came at least twice, just to say he told you so. When he retrieved, he kissed back down your thigh before standing. To his surprise, you slid off the table. He took a few steps back so his back was against a wall that didn’t have racks of liquor bottles on it, and you just kissed his chest as your fingers wrapped around his cock.

You didn’t say anything as you kissed down Roy’s body, but it sent chills down his spine as you did, slowly rubbing his cock all the while. You were gentle by the spots where he still had scars from his showdown with Lust - there was an irony there, he was sure of it - and when you finally reached his crotch and were on your knees, Roy thought he was going to lose his cool from how good your lips felt around him.

Before he could completely get lost in the pleasure, Roy suddenly stuttered, “G-get up.”

You grinned as his cock came out of your mouth with a light pop. There was a thin, barely noticeable strand of saliva that still connected the tip to your bottom lip, and Roy only noticed it from the way the moonlight hit it. The eroticism of it all had him on edge.

“Is that an order, Colonel?”

You were fucking with him now.

Roy loved it.

“It is,” he said. “Get up.”

You did and Roy gently lifted you up from beneath your rear and shifted you both so it was now your back against the wall.

As Roy slid himself into you, he whispered into your ear, “And that’s Fuhrer to you.”

You grinned. “Alright, Your Excellency.”

He nipped at your ear before kissing your neck as he fucked you against the wall. A few of the glass bottles stacked on their sides clanked together, but weren’t at risk of falling over.

This was not what Roy had in mind for the evening’s events, but he certainly wasn’t complaining. He moved his lips to your jaw, and he felt accomplished when you met his mouth, gripped tightly at his shoulders, and came on his cock.

“You feel so good, you know that?” Roy commented between kisses and long, hard thrusts.

“You better remember that when you’re actually Fuhrer,” you replied.

Roy laughed. “I promise you I will. How about that?”

You answered him with another kiss as you came again.

“I’m not far behind you,” Roy said.

“Let me down,” you said. “I’ll swallow you.” Risk-free cleanup, you thought.

As much as Roy didn’t want to pull out, he did and stepped back, helping you down. Your legs were shakier than they were when you started, but you made it back down in time for Roy to cum in your mouth. The sight of you swallowing his cum just intensified his orgasm, and he helped you up when he finished.

The two of you were both quiet as you slowly helped the other redress. There was something romantic about the way Roy buttoned up your blouse for you with a gentle precision, and he found a strange comfort in the way you helped him smooth out his uniform. You looked up to meet his dark eyes and with a gentleness, he cupped your chin and kissed you once more.

“You better not die on me, Mustang,” you said. “I’m not nearly through with you.”

He chuckled. “Don’t worry, I’m not that easy to get rid of.”

You smiled. “Good.”

#roy mustang x reader #fmab roy #fmab fanfiction #roy mustang #female reader #Roy mustang smut #fmab smut

[gainerstories]

Lifeguard Off Duty: Chapter 6

Read prior chapters here

Bradley lumbered out of Muffin Tops with a box full of donuts, muffins, and coffee cake, and saddled into his car. Slipping a hand underneath his pale pink polo shirt he scratched near his belly button, a spot that had been intensely itchy the last few days. As he pulled out of the parking lot he grabbed a chocolate donut from the box and chomped down on it. Six months ago he would’ve been disgusted with the thought of purchasing a box full of pastries first thing in the morning, but lately this had become his routine.

Bradley could no longer deny the fact that he had gotten fat. Only a few inches separated his belly from the steering wheel, and the closer he got to work the more donut crumbs collected on the crest of his gut. About fifteen pounds ago he had a minor freak out about the weight. Having avoided weighing himself for over a month, he casually stepped on the scale one day at Peter’s house and the number that appeared sent him spiralling. However, Peter quickly stepped in with words of reassurance.

Bradley wasn’t completely obtuse to the fact that Peter was attracted to his curves. There was no denying how hard the lean stud became when he slapped Bradley’s gelatinous rear during sex, or gripped his wobbling belly as they fucked. Once in a while Peter would even playfully jiggle Bradley’s thighs or tickle his love handles. But in the midst of Bradley’s melt down, Peter lent words of encouragement, not only about how much he enjoyed the extra weight on his new boyfriend but also that he enjoyed Bradley no matter how he looked. He even confessed to helping the weight gain along with his lavish dinners. Bradley retorted with fears of ill health and ending up like Eric or Malcom, but Peter reassured him that Bradley still went to the gym and was fit. There was nothing wrong with being fat, and over time Bradley began to agree.

Coming to terms with his newfound girth allowed him to relax a bit when it came to his diet and, not surprisingly, he gained several pounds within only a few weeks. Eric was no longer the only employee in the office who made Muffin Tops Bakery a part of their morning routine. As Bradley pulled into the parking lot of his office building he grabbed one more donut from the box and scarfed it down quickly. Although he had very obviously gained a lot of weight, he still didn’t feel entirely comfortable pigging out too much in front of the whole office.

Even still, by the end of the day only crumbs remained in his box of pastries. The days events left Bradley particularly exhausted come 5pm and although it was his usual leg day at the gym, he decided to forgo working out. Ever since Peter and Bradley had become an official couple they were spending most nights together, and this evening was no different. They each had a key to the other’s place and Bradley could usually count on returning home from a long day’s work to a full course meal. Not surprisingly, as he stepped into his apartment savory aromas encompassed him.

“Woah there sexy,” Peter exclaimed upon seeing his lover. “Putting on a show are we?”

“No more than usual my dear.”

“Oh I think there’s more than usual! This isn’t on purpose?”

“What do you mean?”

“Your belly’s hanging out of that shirt a good two inches, babe,” Peter grabbed his boyfriend’s bulk and gave it a rough squeeze.

“Holy shit, I had no idea. I didn’t feel a thing! Fuck, I hope it wasn’t like this all day.”

“This shirt is practically the color of your skin, so I bet no one would even notice.”

After dinner and a sexy romp in the bedroom the couple passed out curled up in one another’s arms. Bradley awoke the next morning to his stomach growling. Wobbling naked to the kitchen he grabbed some leftovers from the fridge and inhaled them still half asleep. Twenty minutes and a frothy shower later he was squeezing into a pair of new black denim pants. Despite fitting like a glove, they were still uncomfortable as the stiffness of waistband chafed against his muffin top. Bradley grabbed a button-up with a grid pattern from his closet and sucked in as he did the buttons. The shirt left little to the imagination, but he was past the point of caring.

As he waited in line at Muffin Tops Bakery his stomach began to growl again. His appetite was in overdrive lately and gazing upon baked goods did not help. As he licked his lips considering what to order a familiar face appeared before him. It was Diego, one of his former employees when he was head lifeguard about a year ago. Although Bradley had fired Diego for gaining too much weight, he was still shocked to see Diego’s body. After all this time, it looked like Diego’s physique had never bounced back.

“Diego?” Bradley said.

Diego stared at Bradley with a look of befuddlement.

“Diego… it’s me, Bradley. Your former boss.”

“Oh my god, Bradley. You…”

Bradley felt his face flush red as he realized that he’d grown unrecognizably fat. Awkwardly acknowledging the situation, he replied, ““Yeah, you’re not the only one who got thick.”

“I… well, I mean, yeah married life and running a bakery has done a number on my waistline,” Diego said with a profound confidence as he gripped both sides of his fattened belly and gave it a hearty jiggle.

Bradley was taken aback by Diego’s confidence and somewhat flirtatious demeanor and decided to play along, “No shit, you run this place? That’s amazing dude, I live for your peanut brittle. Come here a few times a week before work. I uh, got promoted to an office position at city hall… Hence this gut hangin’ off of me.”

Bradley watched Diego’s eyes lustfully scan his own body as he scanned Diego’s. Judging by Diego’s upper body, it appeared he was still hitting the weights at the gym but avoiding any cardio. The former lifeguard had impressively broad shoulders and a bulky chest, albeit covered in a layer of fat criss crossed with stretch marks. A flimsy muscle tee draped over his shoulders exposed the majority of his upper body and clung tightly to his round muscle gut. Bradley was nowhere near skinny, but Diego’s gut put his own to shame.

“Hey Adrian, give my friend here the employee discount from now on,” Diego shouted and turned to face Bradley. “From one former lifeguard to another: you look better with some chunk, Bradley,” Diego said and patted Bradley’s belly. “I gotta head out but I’ll see you around. Enjoy yourself,” he said with a wink.

Bradley was shocked and slightly aroused. He turned around and watched as Diego’s ass, barely concealed beneath skimpy basketball shorts, wobbled out of the bakery. 

This is a co-authored story by gainerstories and gainingfiction.

This chapter is written by gainerstories.

#gainer stories #gainingfiction #gainerstories #lifeguard

[meldy-writes]

Luckiest Girl in the World (Daryl Dixon X Wife! Reader)

Context:So I have an alt AO3 because for some reason I didn’t think a walking dead fic fit with the fanfictions I had under my Pen Name’s account, but at this point, I don’t think it really matters. Anyway, there’s this Daryl X Reader fic I’m writing on this alt account and I’m at the point where I’m writing two ways the story could branch, and there’s this little scene from the path I didn’t take that could work as a drabble. If you like this, or if you want to read the fic for context, it’s here. Be warned, it’s pretty long.

Summary: The Reader has been with the group since the CDC, and along the way, she fell in love and married Daryl Dixon. Now they’re in Alexandria and Aiden, one of Deanna’s sons has begun to harbor a crush. He doesn’t seem to realize that she’s taken. (Daryl’s not really mentioned until the last couple of paragraphs, but I thought those paragraphs were cute enough to warrant this being tagged as an x reader fic.)

Aiden sat at the top of the fence with her, casually leaning back in his seat. The front legs of the plastic chair were off the ground, his feet planted as he rocked back and forth.

“You’re gonna to fall backwards, you know.” (y/n) stated.

“You worried I’m going to get hurt?” he teased, leaning even farther back.

“No. In fact, I think it’d be funny. I just don’t want your mommy to yell at me.”

He let out a snort and put his arms behind his head as he began to rock back and forth. She rolled her eyes, amusement dancing on her features as she eyed the back legs of the chair in anticipation. As she predicted, they eventually snapped, and Aiden promptly fell backwards just as she’d cautioned.

She let out a barking laugh, and a few people passing by stopped to look up at her as the flushing boy tried to shake off the embarrassment.

“All right, all right, it’s not that funny.”

“Oh, I beg to differ, that was the most entertainin’ thing I’ve seen all week,” she argued, wiping a tear from her eye.

“Then your life must be very boring.” He countered bitterly, his pride hurt just a tad from how demeaning her tone was and how promptly she’d always shut him down.

“Oh, no. it’s not borin’, it’s just not fun, either.”

He finally recovered from his little mishap, tossing the broken chair down into the grass below to be fixed later, and choosing instead to sit against the wall. (y/n) kept to her perch, eyeing the expanse of pavement in front of the fence gate.

“You know, if you can’t find fun, you can always make it. There’s a game a lot of us play when we’re on watch to pass the time, want to play?”

She rolled her eyes. “I gotta keep my eyes on the gate”

“It’s a talking game. You can still keep watch. It’s called The Worst. We each share the worst experience we’ve ever had with something, and the one that’s the most terrible wins the round.” He continued, eyeing her with a charming smirk that, despite his best efforts, she hadn’t registered as flirty, yet.

He was an attractive guy, and after she’d saved his life on that run, and yelled at him, they’d bonded. He’d even swallowed his pride and let her train him. They’d gotten close, and they were both attractive, sarcastic, and confident people, so he couldn’t understand how they weren’t together yet. No matter what he did, she always shut down any plans he tried to make to hang out alone outside of the occasional look-out duty, and she always spoke to him like she was talking to a child. A very stupid child.

He didn’t let it deter him, though. No matter how much it hurt his pride. She’d eventually come around.

She turned her nose up at his suggestion, looking at him like he just told her the sky was green, and she was about to gently tell him he was a dumbass.

“That sounds like a game you don’t wanna play with me.”

He asked her why she felt like that.

“Because you’d always lose.” She stated simply, turning back to the scene past the gate.

“Okay, you don’t always have to play the jaded soldier. This world is shit, it’s fucked us all over one time or another, quit acting like you’re the saddest sack in the world.” He scoffed, smacking her shin with the back of his hand playfully.

She sighed, shrugging her shoulders.

“Alright, then. But if this ends up bummin’ you out, you can’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Internally, he celebrated. This was the first time he’d ever gotten her to agree to something she initially said ‘no’ to. Slowly but surely, he was winning her over, he was sure.

“Alright, easy. Worst night of your life. Mine was that time I left that supply run group behind. Usually, we’d go into detail, explaining what happened, but, you already know about that night ‘cuz I told you about it.” He stated sadly. She’d talked a big game, so he was pulling out the big guns. “What about you?”

Let’s see you top that, Debbie Downer.

She smirked, sensing the challenge in his voice.

“A long time before we all came here, we were stayin’ on Maggie’s dad’s farm. One night, it got overrun by a horde, an’ everyone got separated. I was with Carol, an’ a walker fell on top of me, tryin’ to bite into my shoulder. She thought I was bit, so she left me behind, but I was wearin’ a real thick jacket. I was fine, but I had to cut it open and drench myself in its blood so the herd wouldn’t sniff me out and tear me to shreds. I had to slice my way through a sea of those suckers, an’ then stumble through the woods covered in gunk for a whole day and a half ‘fore I found my people again. That was the first walker I ever killed on my own. Damn terrifyin’.”

He was quiet after that, face white as a sheet as he shuttered and coughed awkwardly.

“Y-your turn to come up with a topic.” He finally uttered.

“Worst walker encounter you ever had. Mine was this time at a mechanic shop out in… It had to be North Carolina. A guy tried to--well, it’s not important what his intentions were, the point was that he had me handcuffed to one of those automatic levers they use in autobody shops to lift cars, an’ I was hoisted off the ground. He had the keys in his front pocket, an’ I’d managed to get his head ‘tween my thighs to snap his neck. I was tryin’ to reach for the keys with my feet when he re-animated. I was strugglin’, I couldn’t go anywhere, I couldn’t use my arms, the only reason I got out of it was ‘cuz he accidentally bumped up against the control for the lift, and his head ended up crushed under the mechanism. I’ve had a lot of close calls, but I think that was the only time I ever truly felt like I was gonna die.”

Aiden let out a low whistle, letting her words settle. Maybe she’d been right after all. Still, depending on how she saw things, his might still be worse.

“Mine was right at the beginning. My girlfriend was with us while we were traveling for Mom’s campaign. I left for twenty minutes to grab some lunch, and when I got back to our hotel room, she was a walker. I don’t know if she was bitten, or if she had an accident, or if someone… I don’t know. All I know is that I had to kill her with my bare hands just to stay alive. I... dropped the hotel room tv on her head.”

He shuttered at the memory, and to his surprise, he felt (y/n) place her hand on his shoulder and squeeze comfortingly. He grabbed for it, but she pulled away before he could.

“Let’s uh, choose a more up-beat topic,” he continued weakly, “Worst date you ever went on. Mine was this girl Cierra Mauldry in sixth grade. I kissed her goodnight on her porch, and our braces stuck together.”

She laughed at first, but a long-suppressed memory resurfaced at the mention of dates, and instantly she was somber again.

“A guy I worked with at the CDC,” she started softly.

“He’d had a crush on me for a while, an’ I’d just learned that my dad died, so I was in kind of a vulnerable spot. I said yes to grabbin’ dinner together, an’ takin a walk ‘round the facility. When we got back to his room, he wanted to sleep with me, but I didn’t. I didn’t really like him that way, an’ I didn’t think it was fair to him to string him along, so I told him ‘no’, an’ that we should just remain professional from now on. Next day, he didn’t show up in the lab, an’ my boss sent me to go get ‘im. I found him as a walker hangin’ from his closet.” She took a hiccupping breath, reliving the memory in her mind, and scrunching her eyes shut. “Worst part is I cannot, for the life of me, remember his name.”

They were both quiet after that, and soon, they heard Spencer calling up to relieve (y/n) from her shift. She grinned sympathetically down and Aiden, and gave him the goodbye of:

“Told you it was a bad game to play with me.”

Still, when she got up, he scrambled to his feet as well grabbing her arm to stop her before she made her way down the ladder.

“Well, hey, I still had fun. I got to know you a bit better. I’d like to continue doing that, maybe you could come over for dinner and eat with my family tonight.”

She smiled the smile she usually did; like she was talking to a slow, and simple child.

“I’m sorry, Aiden, but tonight’s not great. Daryl’s gotten kind of close with his recruitn’ buddy, and his husband wants us to come to dinner tonight so he can finally properly meet me.”

Aiden scrunched up his eyes in confusion.

“What? What does Daryl getting close with them have to do with you? If they wanted to get to know you, couldn’t they just approach you without having to go through him?”

She smiled wider like he’d said something adorably stupid, as she clarified:

“I didn’t explain it very well, It’s more like a couple’s dinner party sort-of thing.”

Aiden blinked. What? What the fuck? Was she insinuating that she and Daryl were… she couldn’t be, right?

“You and Daryl are together?”

She nodded as if his statement was beyond obvious, “we’re married,” she corrected.

He squeezed his eyes closed, trying to picture the violent, mean, constantly dirty guy with the long, long hair together with the clever, beautiful, and secretly caring woman he’d been trying to flirt with for the past week and a half, but he just couldn’t picture it.

“How?” he blurted out.

“How do people get married?” she teased flatly.

“No, how did you two end up together? You’re so different!”

She smiled softly, looking down at her fingers as she began to twiddle them. This smile was different than any of the ones he’d reluctantly wrangled out of her. This one was genuine, and bashful, and affectionate, and dazzling. Aiden knew it wasn’t for him, and it almost felt like he was intruding on something he shouldn’t be just by looking at her.

“He an’ I are a lot more alike than people realize. We’re more alike than even he realizes, I think. That doesn’t matter though. These days, it’s not about whether you’re similar, or if you’ve known each other for a long time, it’s all about who you can trust and depend on. It’s about who you’d die for, and who’d die for you. We might not have ended up together in the old world, but in this one, we’ve got somethin’ strong. Somethin’ special.”

She grinned brightly, practically knocking the breath out of her companion as she looked him in the eyes and said, “I’m the luckiest girl in the world.”

With that, his grip on her arm retracted, and she finally made her way down the ladder. He watched her walk down the street and run into the man they’d just been discussing. He watched as she strode over to him, and gripped his leather vest, trying to pull him down for a kiss.

He noticed how Daryl grinned fondly and put his hands on her waist, placing a quick peck on the tip of her nose. He noticed how she leaned into him with her whole body. He noticed how the sun reflected off the ring on her finger, the ring he had not gathered was supposed to be a wedding ring until that moment. He noticed how soft Daryl was for her when no one else was around.

Or maybe, he was always like this around her, and Aiden had just been too absorbed in himself to realize.

#walking dead x reader #Daryl Dixon #Daryl Dixon x reader #Daryl dixon imagine #daryl x reader

[fireblaze5555]

Eavesdropping

Quick little oneshot that was stuck in my head.

Matt strode up to the door of an apartment in a less than ideal corner of Hell’s Kitchen and knocked on the door. It was a struggle not to pound on it relentlessly until there was a response. He heard a heartbeat in the small apartment spike for just a second before it went deadly calm, followed by the subtle sound of metal sliding across fabric.

His impatience flared so he knocked again, a bit more forceful this time. The occupant approached the door with what would have been silent footsteps if had been anyone other than Matt. There was a curse and the hot flush of anger from the other side of the door before it snapped open and the sound of a gun being re-holstered filled the air.

“Christ, Murdock, you startin’ to take your sermons door to door?” Frank’s voice held no small amount of contempt but his posture relaxed as he regarded the other man.

“I know she’s here Frank. I want to see her.” he said, trying to keep the snarl out of his voice.

Another flush of anger, held barely in check, “Is that right? Seems to me she wouldn’t be hurt right now if you’d done your fuckin’ job, Red.”

Matt’s face contorted around his own anger and no small amount of guilt, “You weren’t there, like usual, so I don’t think you get to play that card. Let me see her.”

Frank wanted to fight but the words must have struck a nerve cause he released another curse before stepping back from the threshold to allow the other man to enter.

Before Matt got too far into the apartment, following her heartbeat to the small bedroom, Frank caught his elbow and forced him to stop. His voice was gruff, full of warning and a touch of weariness, “She finally got to sleep not too long ago, if you wake her up I’m tossing you off this building.”

He gave a begrudging nod before continuing to where Karen was nestled under several covers and appeared to have a companion in the shape of a large dog in the bed with her. Matt could smell sharp antiseptic and a bit of blood from the fresh wound and felt a wave of guilt and anger wash over him. Without thinking, he strode into the room, intent on being absolutely sure that she was okay despite the fact he could hear her steady heartbeat.

As he got to the bedside though, there was a low growl that he could feel down to his bones as he sensed the dog step over Karen protectively, daring Matt to take another step towards her.

He could practically feel Frank’s amusement behind him, he doubted the man had any intention of calling the dog off. As quietly as he could manage, Matt bit out, “I’m not going to wake her, could you stop being an asshole and call the dog?”

There was a moment of silence before Frank gave the soft command, “Heel.”

The dog’s head turned to Frank but his feet remained planted before he gave plaintive little whine. Frank’s voice took on a more commanding note, “Fenris, heel.”

With another whining huff the heavily muscled, sleek blue-grey pit stepped off the bed and dutifully marched over to Frank, sitting down heavily at his side with no small amount of disdain.

Matt gave a small nod and a quiet, “Thanks.” 

Frank clicked his tongue, crossing his arms over his chest, “Don’t thank me, you’re lucky he listened. When she’s here, I’m not the boss anymore.

Matt tried not to think of the familiarity that implied before kneeling down at Karen’s side. He ran a careful hand down her arm, reassuring himself that she was in one piece and finally allowed himself to take a full breath since she sustained the knife wound to her shoulder just a few hours ago. It had taken him nearly all of that time to figure out where she had disappeared to, he had checked her apartment, his and Foggy’s as well as local hospitals. She had just vanished and it left him in a panic.

Frank’s apartment was the last place he thought to check and while he was relieved to have found her, he was not pleased that she had chosen to come here of all places. Why did she even know where Frank lived?

“You patch her up yourself?” He asked instead of the burning questions of why she was here, why she was comfortable naked in his bed, why her scent permeated the place more than it should for only being in the apartment for a few hours.

Frank was absently scratching at the broad head of his companion as he answered, “Nah, friend of mine was over when she showed up. He was a medic in the corps, only person I would have trusted to clean her up.”

There was reverence in his voice but he didn’t say anymore on the matter.

Matt took a few more minutes to simply listen to Karen breath and the steady rhythm of her heart. To his credit, Frank let the other man take his time, it seemed they had a sort of camaraderie when it came to Karen Page and her ability to find trouble and get hurt.

Finally, he stood and made his way back across the small room. Before he made it two steps Fenris had left Frank’s side with a huff, returning to the bed to settle curled against Karen’s legs, resting his chin on her hip with a quiet whine. It appeared even the dog had anxiety when it came to Karen and her escapades.

Matt followed Frank into the living room before passing him to reach the front door. Before he left though, he turned back with a deep scowl. 

“She shouldn’t be here Frank. You’re still killing people, still making enemies. She’s going to get hurt.” He tried to keep his voice level but there was still some disdain in the words.

There was a heavy sigh and when Frank spoke he was angry but there was also resignation there as well, “Save it, Murdock. You can’t tell me the cases she works on for your law firm doesn’t put her in dangerous situations, not to mention you have no small amount of enemies. Besides, I don’t know if you’ve ever told Karen Page not to do somethin’ but it doesn’t work. I’ve told her a hundred times and it didn’t make a goddamn difference to her.”

It was Matt’s turn to release a resigned sigh, he couldn’t really argue that point. Karen was going to do what she wanted, he tried not to let it sting that what she wanted didn’t seem to be him anymore. 

“Yeah, well, I’m going to try to talk some sense into her. She already puts herself into too much danger, she shouldn’t be hanging around with a mass murderer too.”

There was an abrupt snort of amusement, “Good luck with that. Be sure to have the salve ready for when she rips you open.”

Matt turned, there was nothing left to discuss at this point. Karen was safe for the moment, while he didn’t particularly like Frank, he knew the man wouldn’t hesitate to protect her. Stepping through the front door he said, “I’ll be seeing you, Frank.”

“Don’t do me any favors, Red.”

Then the door closed with a click that echoed through the bare hallway.

He’d made it to the stairs when he heard Karen come awake with a small start and a hiss of pain. He had already half turned to go back when he heard Frank’s low voice.

“Hey, you’re alright. I’m here.”

Her voice was quiet and hoarse when she answered, Matt had to cock his head to hear more clearly, “I thought I heard another voice. Is everything okay?”

A snort, “Yeah, Murdock tracked you down here, come to check on you.”

There was a flare of anxiety from her, “Is he okay? He wasn’t hurt was he?” There was a rustling of the covers like she was moving to get up.

“Hey, hey, he was fine.” A heavy hand settling over fabric, “No more banged up than usual.”

A heavy silence before a dry tone, “That doesn’t really mean anything, his usual is generally pretty banged up.”

“You got a point there, ma’am, but he was fine. I’d have told you if he wasn’t, now lay back down before you pull one of those stitches.” There was gentle affection in the reprimand.

“Actually, I’m kinda hungry. I think it’s the medicine Curt gave me, do you think you could order something from that place we like?” She sounded tired and hopeful.

“Yeah, I can do that if you promise to stop trying to undo all of Curt’s hard work.”

Matt was having a hard time reconciling the deep gentle tone Frank was using to banter with Karen to the one full of rage and retribution that he often heard from the other man. When had this familiarity happened? He knew they had been in touch but he was starting to think there was a lot more to it then he suspected.

A soft, breathy laugh pulled him out of his thoughts and confirmed his fear.

“I could think of something that may be worth pulling a few stitches.” Karen whispered in a low voice that Matt had never gotten the chance to hear from her.

There was a grunt from Frank that turned into a growl before Matt heard skin gliding over skin. The unmistakable sound of lips coming together, punctuated by the rustling of fabric. Frank’s rough palm moving along the delicate skin of her arm, both heartbeats doubling and a soft breath that was dangerously close to a moan escaping Karen.

Matt flushed and hurried the rest of the way down the stairs and out of the building. At least he had the answer to all of those questions. He needed a drink.

------

Later, as Karen was carefully tucked into Frank’s side and Fenris was nestled into the crook of her knees, she glanced up at Frank.

“What did Matt say?” she asked.

A small chuckle reverberated through his chest before he answered, “He said he was going to talk some sense into you so you stop hangin’ around me.”

Her face flushed with indignation, “Good fucking luck with that.”

Frank’s amusement was evident as he tucked a stray hair behind her ear and pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead before settling further into the pillows and tucking the blanket gently over her injured shoulder. Fenris gave a few lazy thumps of his tail and it didn’t take long before they were all sleeping soundly.

Also on  Ao3.

#kastle #frank castle #karen page #frank castle and karen page #frank and karen #I love them #fanfic

[haberdashing]

I Am Destruction, Decay, And Desire (3/?)

Martin finds out that Jon’s going to meet with Jude Perry and acts to intervene. It goes… poorly.

Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3

on AO3

The walk home became nothing more than a blur in Martin’s mind the moment it was over, the moment he was able to close and lock the door behind him and take a moment to just breathe. He still didn’t know exactly where he’d been when he’d burned Jon, how exactly he had gotten from here to there, though the pain in his legs and his difficulty in catching his breath suggested that it had been quite the walk.

Martin pressed his back against his door and closed his eyes and fervently hoped that the past couple of hours had all been just a bad dream that he was about to wake up from any second now.

He waited and waited and nothing changed. If this was a dream, it was one he wasn’t waking up from that easily.

Martin slumped down until he was sitting on the floor, back still firmly pressed against his front door, and let out a shaky laugh. Of course it wasn’t that easy. Nothing was ever that easy, not for him at least. And besides, they always said pinching yourself would get you out of a dream, and while he hadn’t tried that exactly, what he’d gone through was much more intense than any mere pinch could ever be...

He hadn’t noticed the tear starting to form until he heard the sizzle of it evaporating and saw the steam rising up from just below his left eye.

And he’d thought he’d been in a sorry state before all this...

Well.

Deep breath in, deep breath out.

This was far from the first time Martin had had a bad day. Admittedly, today was--Martin let out a laugh, sharp and bitter and raucous--today was exceptionally bad even for a life where other bad days included “being trapped in my flat by a worm monster (thirteen times in a row),” “being chased through my workplace by the same worm monster before stumbling on a dead body,” “being accused of being a murderer by my boss,” and “getting trapped in endless corridors by a monster with giant hands before finding another dead body, this one in my boss’ office,” but it was still just another bad day, and he’d handled bad days before.

Deep breath in, deep breath out.

Martin wiped away what remained of his tear, which was now just a thin layer of salt on his cheek, and tried not to think too hard about his skin felt oddly sticky to the touch.

He had a routine for this, plans for what to do when a day had been capital-b Bad, and they weren’t perfect, no, but they usually helped some at least, were certainly better than flailing around doing nothing in particular.

Maybe if he took a nice long bath, turned some calming music on and lit up a scented candle and tried to relax, things wouldn’t seem quite as horrible once he was done.

Maybe.

It was worth a shot, at any rate.

Martin started with the radio. It was an old-fashioned radio, one he’d bought on a whim some years back, and yes, there were other ways to listen to music, ways with less commercials and more music he knew he’d like, but he liked his radio just the same. In a way, it always made it feel that much more special when a song that he really liked came on, because he knew it wasn’t his doing, that it came down to the whims of some DJ he’d likely never meet. He almost always listened to the same station, an oldies station he’d been fond of from as far back as he could remember, and now didn’t seem like a time to mess with what worked.

A few button presses and the music started playing, the sound of the radio quickly filling Martin’s flat.

“Yesterday, all my troubles seemed so far away...”

Martin let out a half-stifled snort as he heard what the radio had on now. He’d been hoping for something a little more upbeat, but admittedly, the song didn’t not fit his current situation.

Yesterday, Martin’s biggest concern had been what Jon was up to and trying to clear him of that murder charge that he knew wasn’t Jon’s doing. Yesterday, Martin’s greatest encounter with the supernatural had probably been being trapped by Prentiss for nearly a fortnight, and he’d managed to get out of that without so much as a scratch.

“Now it looks as though they’re here to stay...”

That was probably just beginner’s luck, though, or something like it, and clearly, whatever luck Martin had had in regards to the supernatural had run out.

Martin shook his head in an attempt to clear his thoughts. He was not going to think about what had happened. The whole point was that he was going to take a moment to calm down and relax and not dwell on it.

“Oh, I believe in yesterday...”

So, radio was on, first step of the process successfully completed. Music: check.

Next up: the scented candle.

Martin had been a fan of scented candles since before he could really afford to be, when he’d stuck a small one he’d found at a thrift store in his handbag and left it there for months at a time, until he could swear he caught the scent of peppermint as soon as he opened the bag. Now he bought the full-sized ones from time to time, whenever he happened to catch a scent that he liked going on sale, saving them up for days that he needed a little pick-me-up in the evening.

This was certainly one of those days, and Martin didn’t hesitate, heading over to his closet and rummaging around a bit until he found a purple candle that apparently smelled like “love spell.” Martin didn’t have a clue what love spells were supposed to smell like, but he trusted his past self’s judgment in buying it, and it did sound like a pleasant enough name for a scent, if a bit on the abstract side.

Now, where was his lighter?

“Suddenly, I’m not half the man I used to be...”

As Martin held the candle in his hand, trying to remember where he’d stashed his lighter when he’d last used it and only half taking in the music from the radio, a thought occurred to him: perhaps he didn’t need a lighter.

Whatever he was now, it had to do with fire, right? With burning things? (Things like his own body--no, no, not thinking about that, especially when even that much consideration given to it was enough to make Martin wince.) Maybe he could make it work to his advantage. If he was going to be some sort of supernatural monster now, the least the universe could do for him was let him light his own candles.

Martin opened the lid of the candle--it smelled surprisingly fruity, with a slight hint of vanilla--and focused on the wick very intently, on urging it to begin burning.

The candle didn’t light up.

Well, maybe he just needed to get a bit more hands-on with things...

“There’s a shadow hangin’ over me...”

Martin stuck his pointer finger in the candle jar and concentrated on making his finger really warm, and thus the wick his finger was brushing against by proxy.

For a moment, nothing visible happened, and Martin felt a bit silly, standing there with part of his hand inside a candle jar because he couldn’t be bothered to go look for a lighter-

And then, suddenly, the candle burst into flame, flame that didn’t hurt his finger in the slightest when he brushed against it.

As he repositioned his finger, though, it touched the body of the candle wax, and it came back out with a bit of purple stuck to it, and the candle smelled partially of the fruity scent that some candle company thought was what “love spell” smelled like, yes, but also disquietingly like burning flesh.

The patch of purple on his finger wouldn’t come off no matter how many times he tried to scrub it off.

“Oh, yesterday came suddenly...”

Fine. That was... that was fine. That was what the last part of the equation was for, after all. Maybe he couldn’t get that bit of candle wax off by hand, but a bath should sort that out nicely, and perhaps help calm him down more to boot.

Martin undressed, leaving his clothes in a neat pile next to the bathtub, then entered the tub and turned the water on.

The water turned to steam as it hit his body, and between the roar of the faucet and the hiss of the steam erupting from him, he could barely make out the radio in the background, though he knew the words well enough. (Why she had to go, I don’t know, she wouldn’t say... I said something wrong, now I long for yesterday...)

Martin let out a slightly-hysterical laugh as the water kept flowing and turning to steam and evaporating, as the room proceeded to get more and more humid while the bathtub refused to fill.

Of course. Of course. He couldn’t even have a nice soothing bath anymore, now, could he? How dare he try to do something normal, something that might make him happy...

No, wait, maybe he could figure this out.

Martin took a deep breath and let it out slowly before turning the faucet back off. (The radio came warbling back as soon as the water stopped flowing: Now I need a place to hide away... Oh, I believe in yesterday...)

Then he turned it back on, but with the water set to come out as cold as the faucet would allow.

The faucet still burbled away loudly enough to drown out the radio, but while the steam still rose up, it came more slowly than before, slowly enough that eventually the bathtub began to fill up with water that hadn’t warmed enough to evaporate just yet.

Martin made up for the lesser amount of steam, however, by bursting into sobs with a violence that surprised even himself, hot tears disappearing as soon as they began to fall.

#tma #tma au #tma fic #tma fanfic #the magnus archives #the magnus archives au #the magnus archives fic #the magnus archives fanfic #martin blackwood #desolation martin #desolation #the desolation #personal #my writing

[ludi-ling]

Crazy Eights

Well, here it is, a little treat for my followers - the first chapter of Crazy 8′s, the sequel to 52 Pickup. I’m sharing since it’s Day 7 (AU) of Rogue/Gambit Week 2020. I don’t know if I’ll ever finish this story, even though I got a fair way through it, since I wrote myself into a corner, and I’m not sure I like it very much. But I hope you like it anyway. Enjoy!

Crazy Eights

Chapter 1

               Thieving 101.

               Simplest rule in the book.

               Don’t get caught.

               I can hear pere’s voice in my head, clear as day, literally beatin’ the words into all of us, his snotty-nosed, grass-stain-scuffed li’l Fagin’s gang.

               Don’t. Get. Caught.

               And then his face, leaning in towards mine, grinning, saying:

               Unless, o’ course, you have a reason t’get caught.

               Yeah, that was mon pere, full of good, subtle ideas. He’d usually direct them at me cos he knew I was like the worst kind of sponge. I’d be soakin’ all that shit up, swimmin’ in it like a gator swims in swamp water.  As a kid, I’d always figured he was just picking on me. As an adult, I realise all he was doing was laying down challenges, cos he knew this punk-ass kid would rise to the bait every time, pushing every damn boundary he could along the way.

               You got potential, boy. But you got no discipline. Always halfway t’ bein’ in a rage, t’ ventin’ it out on some poor trash. You play de con, kid, you live de con. No heart-on-your-sleeve shit.  Dat stays inside. Cos y’know what? Folks can read dat crap a mile away.

               “C’mon, pretty boy,” the man to my right grunts, as the alarms I’ve set off still scream all around us. “Getcha arse in gear. The boss don’t take kindly to waitin’.”

               He prods me in the back with the barrel of his gun, a little too sharply than is strictly necessary; but I get it, he has a job to do, and actin’ mean is part of it.

               “Yeah, well, that’s what bosses are like, mon ami,” I answer with a smirk. “Never got time for nothin’. Mebbe you should think about goin’ freelance, neh?  It has its advantages.  No calls at unsociable hours… Don’t gotta do all the dirty work y’self… Get t’ have a couple of pretty femmes hangin’ on your every word… Still. I reckon mebbe you two ain’t smart ’nuff yet t’ graduate from the ol’ ‘Crime Boss 101’ course, am I right?”

               “Hey!” The guy to my left gives me a crack on the back of the head with what I assume is also the barrel of a gun. “Shut the fuck up!”

               See? Boring, predictable, run-of-the-mill flunkies. These couyons ain’t never gon’ make it past mid-tier bodyguard material.

               And those alarms are still screaming.  Ain’t some asshole gon’ shut it off already?  It’s givin’ me a headache.

               Whatever. I do as I’m told and shut the fuck up. Mostly because I’m busy scanning the décor of this corridor we appear to be walking down.  The walls are lined with paintings, a mess of eras and styles that could tell anyone with an ounce of taste that whoever’s collecting this shit has none.  Taste, that is.  All it tells me is that this guy has cash, and he don’t mind throwin’ it ’round.  We walk past a Cezanne, and I grimace.

               Hang on in there, li’l guy, I say to myself as we sweep right by it. One o’these days I’m gonna free you.  Soon.

               Cos let’s face it.

               You think I’m gonna leave a Cezanne to rot in Cain Marko’s fuckin’ playboy mansion when it could be on my wall?

               I think not.

               We get to the end of the corridor and, thankfully, as soon as we do, someone finally finds the off switch to the alarms. My lovely escorts throw open the burnished oak doors that I can only assume lead to Marko’s private hidey-hole; and before I have a chance to admire the woodwork, I’m being pushed inside in yet another unnecessary show of who’s boss.  I stumble a little over the threshold, and there he is.  Cain Marko, kingpin of London town.  A big, ugly, concrete slab of a man with a mat of red hair and a jaw like a foot.  He’s sitting on a burgundy-red velvet sofa that looks to be late Victorian.  Possibly a Chippendale? Something to research later.  True to form, he has a girl on each knee.

               Crimes bosses.  I toldja so.  Predictably borin’.  Boringly predictable.

               “Well, well,” Marko greets me with a menacing grimace and a Cockney rasp. “Robert Lord.  Your reputation precedes you.  Finally, we get to meet face ta face.”

               It’s at that point that Jake decides to kick in, a harassed voice in my earpiece, hissing: “Remy? Remy, where the fuck are you? Is everything okay?”

               I jerk my head to one side and Jake’s panicked questioning cuts out.

               “Yeah,” I address the man on the sofa. “Coulda been under better circumstances, though. Don’t much care for bein’ kicked around and chained up.” I clink the restraints at my wrists and ankles meaningfully. “Unless, o’ course, it’s consensual and there’s a woman involved.”

               An ugly grin crosses Marko’s face.  He shifts a little and pats each girl on the ass; they get the message and get to their feet, tottering out on stilettos that take a certain art to walk in – neither of them have it.

               “Well,” Marko says with mock disappointment as he, too, gets to his feet. “If ya wanted to meet under better circumstances, you coulda made a less shitty attempt to rob me, Mr. Lord.  I’d heard you were supposed to be some thief extraordinaire, but you ask me? You, breakin’ into my safe? That was pretty fuckin’ amateurish.”

               “Hey,” I banter back good-naturedly as I watch him walk over to the bar and pour himself a drink. “I got through most of your li’l traps jes’ fine, mon ami.  You wanna talk amateurish, let’s talk ‘bout your alarms. They’re more fuckin’ painful than Tante Mattie boxin’ me onna ears.  And it takes too long to shut ‘em off.  Either that, or your flunkies are too stupid to figure out how.”

               Marko, who’d looked half-amused up to this point, lets his mouth drop into a disdainful sneer.

               “Y’know somethin’, yank?” he growls at me, turning back from the bar. “You talk too fuckin’ much.”

               I raise a wounded eyebrow at him.

               “Yank? Hey, now you’re just insultin’ me.”

               “Oh really?” He laughs; and I take back the comment about his alarm system. This is worse. “Mr. Lord, insults are gonna be the least of your problems tonight. No one steals from Cain Marko and gets to just walk out again. You picked the wrong house to rob, mate.  This is one job you ain’t walkin’ out of.”

               He lifts his chin slightly and calls out:

               “Klein?!”

               There’s no answer, and he gives an irate little pause, looks over his shoulder and says again:

               “Klein?! Where the fuck are you?”

               “I’m here,” a woman’s voice replies from a darkened corner, her presence so unexpected it even causes me to jump.

               “Fuck me, woman,” Marko rasps at her. “How long you been standin’ there?”

               The woman says nothing, simply stepping out from her corner.  I realise there’s a door there.  It’s impossible to say whether she’d just walked through, or whether she’d been there all along.  Marko ain’t big on lighting.  Which is a shame, ‘cos Klein is a woman to be looked at.  Mile long legs and a figure to get all wrapped up in.  Brunette hair scraped back into a bun that begs to be loosened. A glance like wildfire.

               “Sorry,” she says with a small twist of humour, all delivered in a perfectly delicious and proper English accent.  I feel some sorta expression begin to form on my face; an appreciative little smile begins to shift round my lips.

               Forget pretty girls tottering around in sexy stilettos they can’t walk in.  This is a woman.

               She glances over at me, then back at her boss with an expectant expression.

               “This shit thief stole me old lady’s engagement ring.” He takes a cellphone out his back pocket and stares at it. “Lesse how fast you can find it for me.”

               Klein don’t waste time mincing words.  Unlike the two couyons behind me, she’s calm, quiet, efficient.  She marches on up with a roll of the hips that’s entirely unconscious.  When she’s finally in front of me, I catch a whiff of her perfume – a barely-there scent that’s not quite fruity and not quite flowery.

               I cock my head to one side and hitch her a smile.

               She doesn’t take the bait.  Her expression is composed as she sizes me up, wondering where to start.  It’s as if she hasn’t even noticed my smile at all.

           “Be gentle, chere,” I quip.

              That’s when she raises her eyes and gives me a look – part disinterested, part unimpressed. Her facade is almost frosty, but it don’t fool me. Beneath the cargo pants and the bomber jacket and the unadorned face, there’s a something to this woman. It’s in the sway of her hips and the sensuousness of her scent. It’s in a whole lot more besides.

              She frisks me in all the usual places, and, Goddamn, her hands alone are enough to set me on fire. Her movements are precise, clinical... yet as insinuating as the touch of a lover.

              Did I mention yet I haven't had sex in 8 fucking weeks?

              She gets on her knees and runs her palms down my legs, and it’s almost more than I can take.

              “While you’re down there, chere...” I can’t help but say; and she pauses, looks up at me with steely eyes and says... Nothing.

              Her gaze fixes on my fly like it’s the only option left, and now we’re talkin’.

              She holds eye contact as she raises both hands, and thumbs open the button of my pants. Her look is impassive; but there’s an undercurrent there, a something that’s signalling to me loud and clear. She unzips my fly slow as a strip tease, and that’s when the shadow of a smile flickers across her face – a brief split second of something more, something to work with.

              Jesus Christ, I’m holding my breath.

              She knows what I’m thinking. She rises to full height and this time she doesn’t bother to hide the smile. She knows exactly what she’s doing to me.

              “Thought you were s’pposed t’be lookin’ for contraband, p’tite,” I can't help but drawl. The comment wipes the smile from her lips and her gaze drops. She yanks open my fly and within a few short seconds she’s found the fob pocket hidden inside the waistband of my pants. Another split second later and she’s found the ring.

              She turns and flashes it triumphantly at Marko.

              “You made record time, Klein,” he observes approvingly, glancing up from his phone. “Twelve seconds. I’m impressed.”

              Twelve seconds? I swear it coulda been a lifetime...

              She throws the ring to her boss and I watch on, with a wistful sense of loss, as it arcs across the room and into his hand. Oh well. Next time, maybe.

              “If you’re done, chere,” I pipe up behind her, “mebbe you could zip me up again? O’ course, if you ain’t, we can always take dis somewhere a li’l more private... ...”

              I hadn’t exactly been expecting an answer, so I’m doubly taken off guard when she whips round and socks me hard with a fist to the face.

              I totter a bit, tasting blood and seeing stars.

              Damn, this woman packs a punch!

              In the background, Marko’s laughing raucously.

              “Looks like you chose the wrong woman t’ try and charm, yank.”

              Seriously? Enough with the ‘yank’ thing already!

              I grit my teeth and scowl as he continues:

              “Zip ’im up, Klein. I can afford to be charitable to trespassers. I think we can let him leave here with his dignity, if not his life. He has taste after all. Me old ma’s engagement ring,” and he grins sardonically over at me, “is my favourite piece outta my entire collection.”

              Klein obediently turns around and zips me up with more force than necessary. No more smiles and subtle flirtation. She doesn’t even look at me.

              “Sentimental value,” Marko is saying, turning the ring between thumb and forefinger as he approaches me. “That’s what this ring has, Mr. Lord. Me old ma woulda been turnin’ in her grave if I lost it. Specially to some shitty low-feeder like you.”

              I lick the blood from my lip slowly. Low-feeder, huh? This guy is really throwing out them punches tonight.

              “Yeah, I getcha,” I retort with a sarcastic grin. “Momma woulda slapped ya t’ kingdom come if you ever messed wit’ her jewellery. Beat you wit’ a belt, prob’ly, told ya you were a good f’nothin’ piece o’ shit, I’m willin’ t’bet. Sure, I can read a mommy complex a mile away, homme, and you got it bad.”

              I dunno what’s gotten inta me tonight. Or maybe I do. Frustration is a thing and a half. I'm fuckin’ wired, and I can’t stop running my damn mouth off. I ain’t usually this lippy. Honestly.

              Anyways, I’m steeling myself for a beating from my End-of-Level-Boss, but surprisingly he don’t take the bait. Judging from his get-up, he’s ready for a night out, and he don’t want my blood soiling his purple Savile Row suit. Which is good for me, ‘cos the rings on his fingers look like they could double up for some pretty nasty knuckle dusters.

              “I take it back,” he sneers down his nose at me. “This bloody yank don’t deserve jack.”

              He sweeps away and grabs his jacket.

              “You’ve been lookin’ t’prove yerself, ain’t’cha, Klein,” he throws over his shoulder at the woman still standing beside me. “Take care of Mr. Lord for me, and consider yerself one of the gang.” He walks over to a side table, pulls open a draw and takes out a gun. When he throws it to her, she catches it like she doesn’t even have to think about it. “Just make sure you keep some suitably gory keepsake for me to remember ’im by. I’m thinkin’ his teeth. He’s got them pearly whites you can only get in ’Murica. It'll remind me of ’is charmin’ smile.”

              He laughs to himself, throws the ring up in the air, catches it, and deposits it into his pocket.

              “Sorry, Mr. Lord,” he addresses me, “but I have places to go and people to kill.  Don’t worry. Klein’ll entertain you in the playpen.” He waves absently at a door to the right. “I’m sure she’s just itchin’ to get her hands on you.”

              He chuckles and heads for the door, followed by one of his henchmen, leaving with a final, gleeful, “So long!”

              The door bangs shut and now it’s just me, Klein, and Henchman #1.

              Wise strategy on Marko’s part, if Ms. Klein is basically untried and untested.  I might break her little heart, and Henchman #1 might have to put me down instead.

              I suppress a laugh at the thought.

              Klein says nothing. She turns abruptly and sticks the barrel of the gun into the small of my back.

              “Move,” she says.  Her voice is deadpan – nothing to work with.

              “Y’know, chere,” I venture conversationally, as I start shuffling over to the door, “I could speed up some if you’d jes’ untie these chains… Then we could get t’ playtime in the playpen a whole lot faster…”

              “Hey, shut up will ya!” Henchmen #1 barks at me, punctuated by a sharp poke in the back by Klein’s gun. All right, all right, already. I get the message.  They hustle me up to the door and next thing I know, I’m being shoved inside.  Henchman #1 shuts the door behind me and I hear the locks thunk shut.  Now it’s just me, and Klein.

              It turns out the playpen could give H. H. Holmes’ hotel of horrors a run for its money. It’s a pokey little room, and someone’s done gone and painted the walls in a nice shade of red and crusty brown. Blood, gore and brain matter.  The whole place stinks of death.  Merde. The light-hearted mood I’ve managed to maintain so far immediately takes a dive.

              “I take it housekeepin’ don't come round often,” I quip in an undertone – hardly as insolent as it could've been, but it earns me a kick up the ass anyway.  I stagger forward under the momentum, turning to face my would-be executioner as I do so.

              She has the gun pointed at me.

              “Chere, I’d put my hands up if they weren’t tied behind my—”

              The gun fires.

              And the bullet hits the wall over my shoulder.

              The crazy femme don’t give me a moment to recover.

              In a flash she’s lowered the gun and is marching right over to me, grabbing the front of my shirt and jerking me down into a hungry kiss.

              “It’s okay,” she whispers when she sees I’m too shocked to respond. “There aren’t any cameras in here.”

              The words are barely out of her mouth and she’s kissing me again. This time I slip easily out of the chains that I’ve been working on ever since they were clapped on me, and as soon as they hit the ground, I let my palms slide up over her cheeks, pulling her closer, deeper into our kiss. Her fingers wind into my hair, tugging lightly; her body presses against mine, reminding me exactly what I’ve been without the past couple of months. I grab handfuls of her perfect ass and pull her in closer.

              God, I’d fuck her right here, right now, if we weren’t in this shithole and this wasn’t a very important job.

              We kiss until we have no air left to breathe.

              “Lord, I’ve missed ya, Remy,” she murmurs against my lips.

              “Mmm, not as much as I’ve missed you,” I answer sincerely, stealing another kiss before adding heatedly, “Eight whole weeks without you, chere... It’s enough t’ drive a man certifiably insane.”

              She laughs, soft and sexy, her fingers combing lightly through my hair as she backs up a bit and regards me.

              “Darlin’,” she murmurs with a smile, “you were the one who said no contact...”

              “Didn’t wanna risk breakin’ your cover, Anna,” I reply, bridging the slight gap between us and feathering light kisses along her jawline. “Cain Marko’s gang don’t got a real nice reputation, sweet.”

              “Pfft,” she scoffs. “I can handle myself.”

              “For sure,” I agree. “But I’d prefer it if we didn’t tank this mission ‘cos we couldn’t keep our hands offa each other.”

              She hums with vague agreement and runs her thumb across my bottom lip.

              “Sorry about the fist to the face, babe,” she apologises. “Hope I didn’t hurt you too much."

              “Peh.” I wave it off absently – I'd pretty much forgotten it already. “You do what you gotta. Speaking of...”

              But she’s already way ahead of me, rooting around in her utility belt and taking out the small mem-chip case.

              “Nice distraction, by the way,” she congratulates me wryly as she hands me the goods.

              “Didja like it?” I ask her, pocketing the small case.

              “In theory. Thought you had more style, though, Cajun. You managed to set off every alarm in the fucking building.”

              “Heh. Just wanted to make sure you had enough time to pull the heist, cherie.”

              She rolls her eyes expressively.

              “You thought it was funny pissing everyone off, admit it. And what was all that business with the fob pocket?”

              “Chere,” I answer with mock sincerity. “Eight weeks of celibacy and you think I’m gonna pass up the chance to have you feel me up? C’mon.”

              The punch she lands on my bicep is enough to hurt.

              “You are such a troll!” she shoots at me with more affection than ire, I’m happy to say.

              “You love it,” I mutter, grabbing her helplessly and kissing her mouth soundly. We end up wasting a few more precious seconds making out again.

              “So what we gonna do, huh?” I ask her once we break apart. “Henchman #1 is waitin’ outside, and I figure we could both take him out pretty easy...”

              “Nuh-uh,” she cuts me off with a mischievous grin. “That’ll break our cover for sure. You, sweetheart, are taking the back door out.”

              Her gaze slides over my shoulder, and when I look back, I see that the back door is actually a chute in the wall. From the amount of gore it’s covered in, it’s pretty obvious it's a disposal chute – for corpses.

              “You have got to be fuckin’ kiddin’ me, p’tite,” I groan under my breath.

              “Think of it as payback for kicking me down that garbage chute back at the Plaza hotel,” she banters back lightly, clearly enjoying this.

              “Anna, after this, we’re even and then some,” I say dolefully.

              “Yup,” she replies cheerfully. She swoops in for another quick kiss before saying: “I’ll be waiting for you by the East gate in about 30. Got some stuff to finish up here, otherwise they’ll get suspicious.”

              “All right.” My response is half-hearted. I ain’t relishing goin’ down that chute, that’s for sure. Anna, however, is completely indifferent to my plight. She’s almost at the door already when I stop her.

              “Uhh… Anna?”

              She stops, turns.

              “What?”

              I point down at my chained-up ankles.

              “Li’l help, please?”

               She gives a theatrical sigh; but she comes back anyway, dropping to her knees and undoing the chains round my ankles.

              “I’m pretty sure you could do this yourself faster than I ever could, Cajun,” she says pointedly, to which I shrug and reply:

              “Sure. But havin’ you down on your knees in front of me brings back all sorts of happy mem’ries I’ve been denied the past couple of months.”

              The chains clatter to the floor and she quirks an unimpressed look at me.

              “Jesus. You’re puttin’ out more pheromones than a skunk puts out spray.”

              “Chere, I been insulted ’nuff today, bein’ called a ‘yank’ an’ all. You reckon you could find an analogy a little more flatterin’ than a skunk?”

              She gets to her feet and plants her hands on her hips.

              “Swamp boy, there ain’t enough analogies in the world for the dirty things I wanna call you right now,” she declares in her gorgeously titillating and rarely-bestowed native Mississippi accent.

              “Oooh,” I banter back. “Dirty, huh? Beb, when I get you home tonight, you can call me all the dirty things under the sun. I can’t wait.”

              She chooses to ignore the statement, walking over to the chute instead and pulling it open. When she looks back at me, she’s smiling sweetly.

              “Sugar, when we get home tonight, the first thing you’re gonna do is take a shower. Cos once you’ve gone down this here chute, you’re gonna be dirty as hell, and not in a good way.”

              Trust her to kill the mood. I peer down the hole gingerly. The miasma wafting up from down below is worse than any skunk’s.

              “Chere, you wanna rethink this? Only I get the feelin’ one shower ain’t gon’ be enough t’ get the stench out...”

              “Quit being such a baby!” She’s smiling way too hard for my liking at this point. “The sooner you get this over with, the sooner we can wrap up this job.”

              I step reluctantly up to the edge of the hole, and she leans in over my shoulder, murmurs in my ear: “And the sooner I can get my hands on you again.” She lets that suggestion linger. And, Dieu, does it linger.

              “Now buckle up and hold onto the railings,” she warns me.

              “What railings?” I manage to get out, before her boot heel connects with my ass, and I’m suddenly tumbling through the filth and mire down, down into the depths of the Marko mansion.

-oOo-

[Chapter 2 now here!]

#rogue/gambitweek2020 #rogue/remyweek2020 #Romy fanfic #Romy #Rogue #Gambit #Rogue and Gambit #52 Pickup #crazy 8's #crazy eights

[shes-claws-deep]

“I don’t care whether it will hurt. I just want it.” With McCree please?

It’s been a while, but here it is~

The newest addition to your collection is hefty, girthy, and not something to be taken lightly. And yet, Jesse insists on having every single inch inside him. 

“That’ll hurt, big boy.” You furrow your brow at him from your position between his legs. “Flint’s too thick and you’re not fully relaxed-”

Your cowboy grunts and claws at your thighs, his legs closing around your waist to pull you closer. “I don’t care whether it’ll hurt. I just want it.” He wriggles his hips loser and tries to impale himself on the thick, ridged cock. And when you edge your hips away, he growls and slips a hand between you so he can slip it into himself to no avail.

“Jesse!” You admonish him.

He almost sobs. “Boss, please! Please, you gotta fuck me, you gotta! I’m fucking greedy, okay? I’ve been a bad boy and fingered myself, thinkin’ about how you’d fuck me with Flint so hard that I can’t walk right for days.” He wrenches up and kisses you roughly, snarling that he just wants you to douse him inside and out with lube so you can fuck him hard and rough. “C’mon, Boss, don’t leave me hangin’, please!”

You have half a mind to just leave him here, pulsing and aching, maybe with a butt plug just to make him shut up, but the pitiful look on his face softens your resolve. Rather than say anything, you clamp a hand over his mouth and use the other to angle Flint’s head at your boy’s dripping, winking asshole.

Bit by bit, the monstrous cock slides in. Every centimetre that goes in is punctuated by an expression of absolute bliss. You can feel his mouth drop open under your palm and the vibration of the loud ass, whorish moan he emits. His eyes roll up into his head as you press hard and make him stretch over the thickest part of Flint.

“Does it hurt, baby?”

Jesse’s eyes flutter and those chocolate orbs focus on you dazedly. “Y-yeah, but it hurts so fuckin’ good~ Oh fuck I think I’m gonna cum!”

You laugh, ramming the last inch of Flint right up his ass and feel his tight, clenching balls touch your belly.

“Oh fucking-shit-oh fuck! Fuck, that’s so goddamn big, I-I- OOonnnngggghh~” That southern drawl thickens and turns his words almost indistinguishable from the numerous moans and whines coming from his mouth. 

Jesse’s hand works overtime on his cock to the time of your thrusts and barely five seconds in, he’s cumming all over his furry belly. Yet, he slurs a beg for more. “My ass ain’t sore yet, Boss.”

#overwatch #overwatch imagines #jesse mccree #dom!reader #sub!mccree #lemon #mccree x reader #Anonymous