#but if we do I don’t think this’ll be the way | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

cal-flakes · 10 months

Note

okay but imagine reader posting new swimsuit on her story but rafe makes her take it down 🤑🤑

╰┈➤ “delete it”

warnings: mean!rafe, toxic relationship, swearing.

summary: y/n knows exactly how to get rafe’s attention.

she sighed, scrolling mindlessly through her phone as she lay on her stomach, legs crossed behind her. it had been an hour, and she hasn’t heard from him yet, and that wasn’t like him, what was he doing?

swiping out of instagram, she checked her messages once again. delivered, the small text said below her last message. so he’s definitely got it, but he hasn’t opened it. petty, she thought.

rolling her eyes, she diverted her attention to the numerous shopping bags scattered around her bedroom floor, quickly jumping up with an idea. if he’s too stubborn to reply, this’ll surely get his attention.

pushing yesterdays argument with rafe out of her mind, she grabbed the smallest shopping bag, reaching in to retrieve one of the many bikini sets she’d purchased earlier that day.

she unraveled the white strings delicately, laying it out in her bed with a smirk on her face. oh, how he’ll hate this.

she hummed along to the quiet music sounding around her room as she tied the bikini strap around her neck, huffing as she positioned herself awkwardly to do so.

once all the strings were tied and adjusted to compliment her curves perfectly, she played around with the light dimmer before grabbing her phone.

opening instagram, her thumb pressed down on add to story, and situated herself seductively in front of the large expensive mirror. snapping a quick photo, and adjusting the contrast, she sighed in delete as she typed in a basic caption and posted it to her story. now we wait, she thought.

thirty minutes- or so, passed while she lounged around her room, having replaced the bikini with a comfortable pair of shorts, and one of his oversized graphic tee’s. by this time, she’d forgotten all about the post, focusing on her skincare routine as she pinned her hair back in preparation.

a quite shriek escaped her lips as the first hard bang landed on the door of her apartment, her frame jolting in fright.

gathering herself, she smirked slightly as she tip-toed to the door, listening for the usual torrent of abuse to fall from his mouth.

“open the fucking door y/n, i know you’re home!” his stern voice called, full of anger. she rested her back against the wall near the door, sure to keep her footsteps quiet. she knew what she was doing, and she knew it was wrong, but she missed him- and if this was her only way to see him, then so be it.

“i swear to god y/n i’ll put this fucking door through if you don’t let me in, now!” he yelled again, followed by three more loud raps, which echoed through her small home.

giving in, she pushed back off the wall, deciding she’d had her fun. “okay-okay! chill the fuck out dude!” she shouted, hastily padding over to the door and unlocking it.

she smiled sweetly at him as he stalked through the doorway, almost squaring up. “dude?- did you just call me dude?” he seethed, nostrils flaring as he towered above her.

“yeah? what’s the big deal?” she chuckled, nonchalant closing the door behind him before making her way past, launching herself onto the couch.

following suit, his heavy footsteps taunted hee as he rounded the couch, stopping between her legs to look down on her. “delete it” he spat, fists balled up either side of him. “delete what?” she cooed, twirling her hair as she looked up at him through her lashes. “you know what y/n, don’t play fucking dumb, it won’t work this time” he snapped.

“ugh, you’re no fun” she scoffed, rolling her eyes as she picked up her phone to unlock it. “no fun? you think being a little whore for the world to see is fun?”

gasping, she feigned offence as she held a hand up to her chest, mouth agape. “woah- that was rude, very uncalled for rafe..” she teased, smirking as she felt his eyes watching her while her fingers tapped away at the screen.

“see? all gone? you happy?” she laughed, tossing her phone back to its original spot on the couch. “oh, so you just do this shit to piss me off huh?” he sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration.

“well- see, i missed you, and you were being all stubborn and rafe-like because of yesterday, so what else was i supposed to do..” she muttered, delicately taking ahold of his hands to pull him onto the couch.

deflating, he allowed himself to fall into the spot next to her, his hands moving to her waist instinctively as she straddled him. “you drive me fucking insane y/n, i don’t even want to know what other stupid shit goes on in that little head of yours..” he groaned, throwing his head back as she cuddled into him.

“yeah, but you love me” she stated confidently, pressing soft kisses to his exposed neck. “mhm..” he hummed, pushing some stray hairs behind her ear.

1K notes · View notes

faeriekit · 1 month

Text

Immediate Roadside Assistance Required

Phic phight fill for sapphireshield (no tumblr listed)

Warnings for: extremely mild depictions of domestic violence

The car that pulls over is a SUV. Beige. Kind of grimy. There’s a mom at the front; inside, Dani bets there’s probably one or two kids.

The mom rolls down the window. She looks nice. Kind of soft. Tough, in a kind of mom sort of way, but soft enough to see a girl with her thumb out at the side of the road and actually pull over. It’s a sweet gesture; Dani has a vague idea that hitchhiking hasn’t been trendy since the eighties, so this’ll have to do.

The mom sticks an elbow out the window and looks Dani up and down. “You alright, sweetheart?” she asks, a different twang on her tongue than the vowels Dani’s been used to all her (short) life. Dani might be out farther than she thought.

Dani grins. For this mom, it’s nice ‘n sweet. “I’m good! I need a ride, though; I’m trying to get to my stepparent’s place. Tryin’ to get as far as the border.”

The woman flattens her lips. She probably thinks Dani’s a runaway, but she’s not. Dani’s something a lot worse.

“You sure?” The mom looks up at the sky, even as her kid squeals about something snack-related in the back. “It’s about to get dark out, honey. Storm’s coming.”

Dani’s grin doesn’t let up. “I’m gonna go meet my brother! I already know where I’m gonna lay up, so don’t worry!”

The mom is for sure worrying; worrying her lip between her teeth, and worrying over a scruffy kid in a torn-up hoodie. “...Well. ‘Long as I get to see him when we get there. Hop in.”

Dani grins, and hops up in the car.

It’s a little warmer in there. Smells like cheerios; there’s a baby, Dani notices, in the back seat. It’s got her middle two fingers in its mouth and big brown eyes.

Dani waves. The baby stares, since babies do that, and Dani occupies herself by making funny faces over the shoulder of the passenger seat, eager to elicit a giggle from a little kid. She loves little kids. She wishes she’d been allowed to be one.

“You might want to turn around and buckle in, young lady,” the mom drawls, wiping stress off her forehead. “Don’t want you to die if we end up in a crash.”

I can’t, Dani doesn’t say, because she’s nice. I’m already dead.

So she turns around and buckles herself in. The mom flicks on the radio, and a woman’s voice starts growling over an electric guitar and a roughed-up drum kit. It sounds fun.

This ride’s going to be good. Dani grins, all teeth and brimstone. There’s a storm rolling in, bad luck hanging in the air like vapor and sparks. Lightning’s on its way.

It’s a long way to the state border. Dani’s going to enjoy every minute she can with the window down, electricity in her fingers, and the quiet humming of the driver singing along.

They make it to a rest stop about three quarters of the way there.

Dani’s not against stopping, so she just peeks out the window, watching cars and exhausted drivers slog through the paved flats of the rest stop parking lot. “What’re we doing?” Dani asks, entertained in her own way. Maybe this nice mom is going to try to hand her off to CPS!

It wouldn’t work, but, you know. It would be kind of annoying, if ultimately well-meaning.

“Diaper change for the baby,” the mom offers, and, yeah, that’s practical. “Vending machine break for me. Bathroom break for you, probably.”

Oh, that checks out. “Alright!”

The child lock pops, and Dani hops out of the car; she waits, patiently, for the mom to bring out the baby, who looks even more luminous asleep and spitty than when it's awake.

“It slept through a lot of Rock ‘n’ Roll,” Dani admires. The baby gets held to mom’s chest, a blanket wrapped around them both. “That’s cool.”

“He’s heard a lot of Joan Jett since he was born. I’d be shocked if he couldn’t sleep through a hurricane at this point.”

Dani trots after the mom, patient in her wake. They don’t look too much alike, so maybe there are other people wondering if they even know each other at all, or if Dani’s getting kidnapped or traded away for cigarettes. Or probably they just think Dani’s getting babysat, helping watch a baby while the mom ends up driving them over and away from wherever Dani’s landed herself this time.

The diapers the baby uses are a thick, sort of plush material. They look soft. There are little pastel teddy bears on them: one blue, one pink. Dani gets to touch one when the Mom asks her to pull one out of the big blue bag. There are a whole lot crammed in there; they’re packed in so tight that it’s hard to pull one out of the stack without pulling out all the others, but the baby can only wear one diaper at a time!

“Thanks, sweetheart,” the mom says. It’s the nicest anyone’s been to Dani in ages. She’s glad she lived long enough to hear a soft mom call her sweetie and sweetheart for no reason other than being convenient. “You have to go?”

Dani shakes her head. The mom gives her a look. “We’ll be in the state for another hour. You want to try, at least?”

…She hesitates. The baby doesn’t notice, busy playing with its toes as its mom tries to wriggle it back into its butt covering for the sake of covering its butt. She doesn’t usually have bodily functions that actually…function. But the mom lady didn’t know that.

Whatever. She’d play a game of Snake in there. “‘Kay.”

Dani goes into a stall, flicks open her phone, and manages to eat like twenty little pixels before she actually runs into her own little snake body and dies. Ugh. It doesn’t take up too much time— how much time are humans supposed to spend in the bathroom, anyway??— so she fires up a new game and almost gets through it before she hears someone yell. Dani jolts.

The baby starts crying, faint and far away. Dani quickly grabs herself together and puts the phone away. If something’s happening— something happening to the mom and the baby—

Dani dashes out of the bathroom. There’s a guy at the door. There’s a guy holding the baby by the arm so that the baby is dangling and the guy is yelling at the mom who’d driven Dani here, physically pushing her when she tries to get her baby back.

The instinct to hit him is impossible to wrangle. It’s too bad, but Dani has to help the baby and the mom. Hitting him might hurt the baby, if she isn’t careful— doubly true if she uses an ecto-blast.

She goes invisible instead.

Carefully pulling the baby intangibly through the man’s grip is a quiet, tense process. The baby keeps crying and crying and crying, but the more she hides it, the quieter the cries seem.

And then there’s a baby shallowly crying in her arms.

The guy doesn’t even realize, too busy shoving and hitting the mom who’d done nothing wrong. Dani hates this guy. He reminds her of Vlad— too angry that he isn’t getting his way, and never understanding why no one’s obeying him fast enough.

Dani hoists the baby into one arm, mirroring the way the mom had carried it into the rest stop when they first came in. The hold doesn’t feel as secure as Dany thinks it ought to, but it frees up a hand.

Dani grabs the mom’s hand.

The woman disappears into thin air. The guy looks so spooked.

Dani giggles. Either way, it’s super easy and simple to fly the mom and the baby through the bathroom walls, and hiding them in the bathroom cleaner closet seems safer than hiding them in a stall. Dani doesn’t pause when the mom gasps, frightened by the change in scenery; she pops the baby into her arms and disappears back the way she came.

Dani Phantom has a guy to beat up.

There are lots of ways to scare humans, Dani finds; humans are afraid of the dark, and afraid of what they can’t control. They’re afraid of pain, and they’re afraid of loud noises. Humans aren’t afraid of everything all the time, but they can be afraid of more things when they’re combined than when they’re not.

So Dani flexes her aura. The lights flicker in the main room of the rest stop. The man stops, but his hand is still raised.

He looks to see where the baby is, and realizes that he’s empty-handed. The woman is gone.

The lights go out.

Dani loves being seen sometimes. She doesn’t like being bothered, but she loves attention when she knows no one can call the cops on her; so she drips green. She lets herself glow, gloopy and malformed, as she pulls herself through the wall. She turns melty eyes onto the man who took the baby from its mom.

The guy kind of looks like he’s going to piss himself. Good.

Dani starts to fake cry. It starts out as little sniffles— and then moans, and sobs, Dani clawing herself out of the wall until she’s floating, midair, half-formed and wailing. She kind of hopes she looks super spooky, like one of those CGI gross guys from Stranger Things, or that girl who walked down the stairs in a spooky backbend one time.

The guy steps back. Great. Dani inches forwards. The guy steps back again, face pale as a china plate, looking inches from giving up the ghost and bolting off to the parking lot.

Excellent.

Dani takes her hands off of her face to show melting, distorted features. And she screams.

The guy is gone in seconds. He should just be a sprinter instead of bullying moms and their little babies! Dani huffs, hands on her hips. Whatever. As long as he’s gone, he can do whatever he likes.

Dani barely remembers to set her face right before going to get the mom and baby out of the closet. It doesn’t matter how human she looks, though, because when she opens the door back up for them, the mom looks like she’s seen a ghost.

Dani grins, and probably her teeth aren’t showing anything too weird or spooky. “That guy left! Can we go now?”

The mom takes a deep, rattling breath. She does that thing where she touches her forehead, her chest, and then the air above her shoulders. No one’s told Dani what that means so far, but she’s seen it a lot.

“...Sure, sweetheart.”

Dani beams.

They make it to the edge of the state just as the rain starts to pour down. The mom is still looking for Danny by the time Dani points them into a gas station, but Danny’s not here; Dani made him up long enough to get a ride as far as she thought she could get tonight. The mom is still peering through the gloom of the driver’s side window as Dani turns herself transparent and flies out and away.

The mom was nice. The baby was nice. Dani liked this ride.

She walks, intangible, through the rain. The highway is dark, and wet, but Dani’s optimistic; sometimes people feel bad for her, so she gets more rides in a thunderstorm than on a sunny day. After an hour, somewhere on a rural road she’s never seen nor heard of before, Dani sticks her thumb out for a low little car going exactly the speed limit.

The car has a little old couple in the front and passenger seat. They look like grandparents. The grandpa rolls down his window, white eyebrows pushed together. “You need a ride, honey?”

Dani grins.

#Phic phight #Phic phight 2024 #Danny phantom #dani phantom #danielle phantom #LOVE the idea that Dani becomes a national cryptid on accident #Dani does what comes naturally but her instincts are SO fucked #alright that's my last one. I'm tired.#faer fic

270 notes · View notes

hanasnx · 8 months

Text

Kinktober: House of Amateurs - S1E5

MINORS DNI 18+

KRAYT HOUSE M.LIST | NAVI | INBOX | @KRAYTHOUSE

“What do you think he’d say? If he saw us together?”

“Why the fuck are you bringing him up? I don’t wanna think about him right now!” you whine, your hole eagerly slurping up your brother’s best friend, Anakin. “Fuck, I always knew you had a big cock.” you exhale, eyes rolling into the back of your head as he fucks harder at the comment.

“Yeah? You fucking would with how much staring you do.” he taunts, big hand clapping onto your shoulder to bend you further over your bed as he stands behind you. “Didn’t matter what I came around in, you kept giving my cock fuck-me eyes.”

“You were always hard!” you keen, and he snaps his hips against yours, slapping skin on skin. Your ass must be red from the impact.

“’Cause you’d follow me around in your little skirts,” he muses through his heaves, flexing his abdomen as he propels himself into you. His storming eyes explore the way your ass looks with your skirt bunched up around your waist. “Asking what I was doing, if I had a girlfriend. Acting fucking clueless.”

You cry out as he re-angles his hips, his splayed hand sliding down your back to shove your cheek into your mattress.

“Shut up.” he hisses, but he refuses to slow his roll, his tip kissing your cervix with each thrust. “Your brother’s asleep. You wanna get caught?” Anakin had crashed here, and waited until your brother was out cold to sneak up to your room. “Your parents have already been looking for a way to get rid of me. This’ll ban me from the household. You don’t wanna make a habit of fucking in my car, do you?” At the imagery of riding Ani in his shitty car has you rocking back onto his shaft, fucking yourself on him.

There’s no way that anyone who’d lend an ear to the debauchery occurring in this room wouldn’t know exactly what’s going on. Does he actually care or is he just using it to get you wet? You have no idea, but it’s working. Soak dripping down your thighs.

“Would suck if this’s the only time we get to do this,” he moans, large hands re-centering on the fat of your thighs, yanking you back into him. “Better make it count, right?” You can’t even respond, biting down onto your covers to gag yourself. “Been waiting to get inside this body since you sent me those stupid pictures on Snap. S’pathetic, how desperate you were.” His nails dig into your flesh, and you whimper. Every time pulls out, you feel so fucking empty, begging for the next second that he sheathes fully. “Can’t believe you’re letting me fuck you raw. Sure hope you’ve got a Plan B lying around.”

579 notes · View notes

the-californicationist · 5 months

Text

a safe house

(Price/Reader) SFW - But MDNI on my blog please!

“Ghost! How copy? Riley, come in!” Price shouted into his headset.

You were sending cover fire over the fallen tree that you and your captain were hiding behind. Unfortunately, you’d been separated from the rest of your team. Soap, Ghost, and Gaz were on the other side of the large, icy ravine, and they had done a good job drawing the enemy away from the target zone. Price kept trying to connect, but there was too much snow cover. A nasty blizzard was rolling in, and you needed to find better shelter, quickly.

“Captain! Enemy has been eliminated. We need to find shelter,” you tried to pull him up off of the ground.

He looked up at you, frustrated,

“Aye, Corporal, but they’ll be back. We need to find a way to warn the boys.”

“Look,” you showed him the map on your datapad, “Laswell said there’s an old town…I think she called it Khabnoye? It’s been abandoned for years, about two klicks away. There might be some old technology, radios, whatever. We can reach them on some long-range.”

“Alright, let’s move.”

It was a short distance, but the terrain was brutal due to the snow. You made it there by nightfall, and carefully approached the outskirts of the town, following Price’s lead to scope out possible enemy combatants. There was no one in sight. It truly was a ghost town, and you were justifiably creeped the hell out.

A small house was mostly intact near the very edge of the town, plenty of empty space around its edges, and only one broken window. You began to sweep the rooms, of which there were only three, noting that its prior occupants had left in quite a hurry sometime in the late 80s. You were fighting a nameless, secret war inside of the Chernobyl Exclusion Zone, so most of the towns you came across were similarly abandoned.

You stood in the kitchen with Price, catching your breath and unpacking your bag. He was starting up the small, convective space heater checking for high levels of radiation in the room, making sure it was sustainable for the night.

“Alright, let’s go dark. No lights, no comms until we get a better idea about what happened,” he said in a low voice.

“Yes, sir. I did get a notification from Soap, but the message is unreadable,” you showed him the datapad before you powered it down.

He sighed,

“At least we know he’s alive and stable enough to send comms. We’ll work on connecting when this storm blows through.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Drop the formality, Sparrow. Not spending the whole night listening to your sirs.”

He was upset. The operation was ruined, and he had no idea where his team was or if they were even alive anymore. You said nothing, letting him unpack two MREs and prep the bags for you. You checked the other rooms. There was a tiny, filthy bathroom without running water, and a bedroom with a dingy full mattress without sheets. You set to work arming the windows with night vision motion cameras - much good may it do you with all this snow - and rigged the front door.

“No use,” Price muttered, digging into his chili and beans MRE, starving.

“Why? You think we’re safe here?”

“No tracks in or out. No trash younger than me, and no pings for ten miles,” he showed you his passive EMP monitor, “Our tracks are covered by now with the storm. They’ll assume we rendezvoused back at the base. It was closer and easier to access.”

“Closer? Why’d you come here then?”

“Base might be compromised,” he shrugged, “Couldn’t reach McTavish, so we can’t assume anything at this point. Might as well get comfortable and wait til morning. This’ll clear once the sun comes out, and we’ll send an AM ping.”

You sighed a breath of pure relief,

“I know I’ve only been with you guys for a few months, but honestly, I don’t know what’s more impressive, your technology or your level-headedness under insane fire. Feeling very much like the amateur I am, Captain.”

“You handled yourself well out there, little bird. I’m impressed,” his praise rushed through you like adrenaline, and you basked in it.

“Thanks, Cap,” you smiled, drinking the broth of your soup and packing up your MRE trash into its bag.

“You smoke cigars, love?”

It was midnight before you even considered going to bed. You and Price had stayed up in the kitchen, smoking and chatting in the dark, only illuminated by the glow of your ashes. The snow fluttered down outside, layering itself on the ground like a pile of white sheets. There’d be at least two feet of it at the door tomorrow morning.

“...and I got this one in Amsterdam, chasing some smugglers out of the wharf. Motherfucker stabbed me right through the arm. Missed the bones, thank Christ. But, that’s not the bad one.”

You were telling each other stories about your scars, and you were in all states of dress. It was warm with the space heater, and you were comfortable around each other. Aside from admiring the mountainous swell of his shoulders and chest, you tried not to think much of it. He was hot, but he wasn’t interested. You just had a small crush. It would pass.

Okay, maybe a big crush. But, you had some self-control.

Some.

“Oh,” he leaned across the table to get closer and look at your arm, “What was the bad one?”

You blushed, not that he could see it,

“It’s in a certain spot. Not sure you want to - ”

“Don’t make me beg, little bird,” he smirked, rolling his eyes at your modesty.

He was right, of course. You weren’t sure why you were shy.

Liar. You were shy because you had an enormous, filthy crush on your commanding officer.

You tucked your elbow beneath your shirt and pulled it up over your chest, showing him your sternum,

“This one. It’s a - ”

“Flare burn,” he whispered, his demeanor changing from jovial to serious very quickly.

“Yeah, how’d you know?”

He was silent for a long time. You watched as Price too a big mouthful of cigar smoke before letting it billow around him, looking like a big, brooding dragon in the quiet room.

“How’d you get it?” He asked, avoiding your question.

“Enemy trap. They rigged the door to blow a flare. My vest, all my plate, none of it mattered. The flare burned so hot that it cut right through the gear like butter. If it wasn’t for our medic knowing that he needed to knock it out, I would’ve died. Three weeks in the med bay. It was bad.”

Price reached out slowly, almost as if not to scare you, and touched the circular wound. It wasn’t sexual, but that didn’t stop you from immediately feeling aroused by having his hands on you. You shuddered involuntarily, and he jerked his hand back. The silence in the room was suffocating.

“Sorry, little bird,” he whispered his apology, “Did I hurt you?”

“No,” you chuckled, taking a drag of his cigar for yourself, trying to calm down, “Uh, no.”

“What?” He prodded, not realizing what truth he was asking you for.

“It’s nothing, sir,” you stood up from the table, trying to escape, and forgetting you were in a 200 square foot house.

He stood with you, reaching out to touch your shoulder. You sighed into his contact against your will, feeling the stress of the day melt away as he did.

“It just…” You tried to throw him a hint, “Feels good, you know. To be touched. Been a long time… sorry, sir.”

“Told you to swallow those sirs, little bird,” he whispered in a low rumble, putting his other hand on your other shoulder, grabbing you gently.

There was very little space between your bodies now that you were away from the table, standing in the no-man’s-land between the bed and the kitchenette. It smelled like sweat and tobacco and 1987 in there, and you were breathing hard, nervous and desperate for him to do something to you that he couldn’t take back.

“Sorry,” you said under your breath, not knowing what else to tell him.

Price lifted your chin up to meet his eyes, grabbing your jaw firmly, but gently. In the blackness of the night, the moon reflected only a little of his icy blue eyes, and the glow from his cigar made his face appear sharp and saurian. You didn’t expect for his touch to be so light. Just hours ago, he’d snapped a man’s neck with these same hands, and now he was passing the pad of his thumb over your bottom lip like you were the petal of an orchid, careful not to bruise you.

“I’m trying,” his breath was ragged as he confessed, “I promise, I’m trying to let it go, little bird.”

“Let what go?” You put your hands on his hips, trying to steady yourself, feeling dizzy with lust and fear.

“My desire,” he put his forehead against yours, closing his eyes, struggling, “Turn me away. Please, little bird. End my fucking torment. I’ll never mention it again. I swear it.”

You kissed him, pressing your lips into his chastely but firmly, enjoying the heat and the smoothness of his skin, the smell and the feel of his beard, coated in tobacco smoke and his own sweat. The comforting spice of the chili lingering on his mouth. He breathed in like you’d pressed a hot iron brand into him, blissful pain radiating through his body, pulling you in close to his chest. He deepened the kiss, slanting his mouth against yours, moving your skull with his powerful jaws, leading you, commanding and strong in his desire.

“Love, don’t… don’t do this. Not unless you mean it. I’m bloody beggin’ you.”

You smiled, resting your nose alongside his, kissing him again slowly and carefully before answering him,

“I mean it, John. I mean it.”

Reblogs and comments deeply appreciated! <3 <3

AO3 Link

#call of duty fanfic #cod mw2 #cod mwii #captain john price #cod #john price #captain price #captain price x reader #captain price x you #john price x reader #call of duty #captain john price x reader #captain johnathan price #captain price fluff #john price fluff #afab reader #Female reader #x female reader

380 notes · View notes

ohbo-ohno · 9 months

Note

what happens the first time Johnny comes home with some new sex toys for reader?? Cue your absolute PANIC as he pulls them out to show you, ecstatic at the thought of trying them out when Simon gets home, and then Johnny having to do damage control when he sees how he’s freaked out his precious baby :////

YOU!!!!!! Get back here!!!!!! You genius!!!!!

1.6k, nsfw below the cut. this one’s pretty long lol it really got away from me. pretend it’s a gift since i just hit 100 followers <3

Johnny’s like a dog with a bone when it comes to you - he can literally never get enough. When you don’t wake up to his mouth licking and sucking somewhere on you, you wake up to the feeling of him humping your back. On one occasion Simon threatened to “cage your little cock if it’s all you can think with, Johnny.” So like… you know they use toys. You probably should’ve expected this at some point.

But knowing they are probably comfortable using toys and staring at the goddamn spread of sex toys on the dinner table? Two very different things.

There are things you can’t even name. You spot several different types of vibrators, butt plugs of varying sizes, anal beads, nipple clamps, a few gags smaller than the ones they’d used on you a few times, several loops of rope and handcuffs, a fucking hook that you don’t even want to think about what it could be used for, and the goddamn crème de la crème - a butt plug with a fucking tail hanging from Johnny’s hand.

The bastard is smiling. Fucking beaming, like he’s found the meaning of life in a pile of sex toys.

It’s barely 9 a.m.

“Good morning, lovie!” Johnny says, pulling you towards him and placing an oddly chaste kiss on your forehead. “We’ve got a long day love. D’you know Si’s birthday is in a week?”

You can’t tear your eyes away from the cornucopia of sex toys, hardly listening to him as he prattles on.

“Bloody unfair he’s got the anniversary and the birthday so close, means I hafta get the man all sorts of gifts in just a month.” He glances down at you and shoots you a wink, twirling the tail in his hand likes it’s a fidget toy. “Some of them are for both of us, though, so I can’t complain too much, aye bonnie?”

You don’t answer, but he plows foreword anyways. “This’ll be the first part of the gift. Gonna let Simon play with you - well, both of us, but I had to buy the new stuff for you.”

You swallow dryly, hand twitching forward as if you’re going to grab one of the toys. “Play?” Is all you can manage to ask.

Johnny hums low in his throat, tucking himself behind you and wrapping both arms around you. He takes your wrists, still holding the toy in his hand, and guides your fingers across the spread in front of you. “Yeah, lass. You like playing with us, huh?”

You shake your head minutely.

“Don’t lie now,” he rumbles, and you remind yourself that he’s just as terrifying as Simon, only in a different way. Somehow you always forget to tread as carefully around Johnny, but the deep growl of his voice reminds you. “You’re soaked when we play, wailing loud enough we had to explain to the landlord what the noise was. You like it plenty.”

You whine a little, flinching backwards into his body at the reminder of your behavior at night. You don’t like it, don’t like thinking about how much you love being between the two of them, how right it feels.

“Now,” Johnny’s voice shifts back into its normal cadence, hands giving you two little taps on the front of your thighs as he steps away. “Si won’t be back until tonight, so the two of us are gonna test these out and have some fun. Excited, lass? I’m thinking we’ll start with this, work on your posture a bit.”

He picks up the fucking hook. You can’t help but lose your shit.

— — — — —

Ghost is in decently high spirits as he finally gets home. His work had been cut short hours early, and he was looking forward to spending a night in with his two precious little pets, curled up together on the couch and maybe even having a home cooked meal. He’d have to see if you could be trusted with a knife, but the idea of watching you and Johnny dance around each other in the kitchen is enough for him even if he doesn’t get to see it realized.

That all goes out the window when he steps into the flat.

He can hear the two of you, Johnny’s voice a little urgent and yours more than a little panicked. Not the most unusual thing, but the absolutely demolished living room is.

He and Johnny hadn’t decorated much - neither of them had an eye for it and once they got you they wanted to let you decorate your new home - but what little they had done is out of place. A picture frame on the floor, dining room chairs feet away from the table and knocked over, a goddamn knife stabbed into a side table next to the slightly askew couch.

And a shit load of sex toys, both on the dining room table and the floor all around it.

It barely takes a heartbeat for Ghost to piece together what’s happened. He sighs wearily, resists the urge to rub at his eyes with his forefinger and thumb so he doesn’t track paint all across the house.

He moves further into their home, heading straight for the bedroom. Sure enough, Johnny’s got you cornered. You’re slid down on the floor, back pushed as far into the wall as you can go and knees tucked up under you.

Johnny’s crouched in front of you, one hand holding both of your wrists securely in front of you and the other holding your ankles together. He’s got scratches down his face and arms, a few that are seeping just a bit of blood, and a nasty bruise forming on one cheek.

He’s also rock hard in his sweatpants.

Both of you snap your eyes to Simon when he steps in the room. Johnny’s expression is pure relief, but yours is a mix of what looks like relief and fear. There’s a little spark in Ghost’s chest at the knowledge that you see him as a helping hand here, even against what’s probably your better judgement.

He tilts his head a bit. “Johnny.” Not a question, but an expectation.

“She freaked out on me, L.t.,” Johnny says - nearly whines - eyes big and pleading.

“Because you-!” You start up, thrashing in Johnny’s grip. “You fucking bastard, I was defending myself!”

“Against me?” Johnny makes a sad noise, one Simon knows is more manipulative than it sounds, leaning in to hover over you even more. “Baby, you know I’d never hurt you. How could you think that, huh?”

“You wanted to stick a fucking hook up my ass!”

That gets a raised eyebrow from Simon. Seems Johnny’s plans for the day were far more exciting than he had let on.

Johnny can’t help but bark out a laugh, which gets a little scream of rage from you and reinvigorates your thrashing. Johnny leans more weight into you, pulling your wrists further out to keep you off balance. It just works you up more, and Ghost can see Johnny’s cock twitch in his pants.

Alright. Time to do damage control.

He steps into the corner with the two of you, lays a heavy hand on Johnny’s nape and squeezes. His boy doesn’t let go immediately, but he does go loose, leaning one shoulder onto a wall and blocking less of your body.

You’re heaving as Simin crouches down, but your eyes are dry. A good sign for the progress you’ve made.

Simon brings his other hand up to grab your chin, pulling it up and forcing eye contact. “Didn’t want to play around with Johnny, love?”

You’re a little scared - always are, when he comes home with the mask and the makeup - but you don’t tear your eyes from his. Your tiny chin quivers in his grip, but you don’t cry. He can’t help but feel a surge of pride for you and your strength

“I didn’t want him fucking with me. I’m allowed to say no,” you hike you chin in the air a little, stiff and all but daring him to disagree.

He doesn’t play into your hands, just hums and strokes both of his thumbs - one over your chin and the other over Johnny’s neck. “You are,” he agrees, fighting down a smirk at the clear shock on your face. “But did you give Johnny a chance?”

“No-“ Johnny pouts, huffing and shifting in place.

“Quiet,” Simon growls, hand squeezing just past comfortable on his neck. “You’re already in trouble for doing all this shit without askin’. Keep pushin’ and you won’t be sleeping in bed tonight.”

That gets a whine, but no more arguing. Good.

You look a little confused when Ghost turns his attention back to you, but he doesn’t bother explaining.

“You are allowed to say no,” he starts again. “But you should give new things a chance. What if you’d liked having,” he can’t resist a smirk, let’s it seep into his tone, “a hook up your ass?”

You flinch back, and Simon bites down a sigh. You’re not in a place for joking yet, apparently.

He stays crouched there for a few minutes, petting both you and Johnny and watching as you both go limp - Johnny quickly, you with a little more work.

“Alright,” he days eventually, standing and tugging the both of you up with him. “Let’s rest for a bit, get the two of you calmed down, and then we’ll talk punishment.”

You and Johnny wear matching pouts, and Simon doesn’t even fight the smile as he tugs all three of you into bed.

#if I ever write a third chapter this is getting edited and stuck in there somehow #sorry for any spelling errors spellcheck was on my ass and kept turning correctly spelled words into completely different words #bo writes #asks and answers #dlmliyh

421 notes · View notes

crheativity · 7 months

Note

Can we get a part three of This with riddle and Ruggie?? Thank you! 💜 it's fine if you can't do it btw!

SUMMARY: Someone's picked a fight with Prefect! But he isn't going to let anyone hurt you anymore. Not on his watch. Part 3! Part 1 w/ Cater and Azul can be found here, and part 2 w/ Vil and Silver can be found here.

WARNING: Riddle calls someone a coward. Also the words idiot and jerk are in his part. People get hurt in Ruggie’s part but it isn’t really gory or anything

COMMENTS: I’m so sorry this took so long, my hands have been in a lot of pain the past couple months and are only starting to get better 🥲 I hope you enjoy it! Ruggie and Riddle were super good ideas for this prompt, this was so much fun to write! Thank you for the request! Also, if anyone has any ideas for more characters they’d like for this series, feel free to send in a request!

It must be raining.

You were just out in a storm. That’s all.

That would explain the crack of thunder that collided with your face and gave you a throbbing headache. The warm liquid blurring your vision and dripping out of your mouth and nose was just the rain, not some unholy mix of blood and tears. The chills that froze you where you stood was just humidity and the cold, not adrenaline and raw fear.

And yet, even with your desperate brain trying to come up with some reasonable explanation, the only thunderstorm you could see in front of you was a student you couldn’t recognise. Not with your head pounding like this. Not with the thunder in your ears.

There was something about the boy that scared you. That wasn’t uncommon - this school was full of terrifyingly promising mages. But the scariest thing wasn’t how he wielded his magical pen with deadly accuracy, or how strong he so evidently was.

It was just how much he seemed to be enjoying the mix of horror and pain, of blood and tears, that must have been so evidently and delicately splashed across your face.

His smile twisted as he raised his pen again, something in those cruel eyes of his setting off alarm signals in your aching head.

“This’ll teach you not to meddle where you don’t belong.”

The pen glowed, pure magic surrounding it as he prepared to shoot. His sadistic eyes were alight with entertainment. He knew what he was about to do. He didn’t care.

You squeeze your eyes shut and braced for the lightning.

“OFF WITH YOUR HEAD!”

Your eyes snapped open just in time to see the lightning, arcing gracefully yet violently through the air.

Aiming straight for your assailant’s neck.

“What the- hey! Get this thing off of me!” The boy snapped, tugging at the heart shaped collar that had just appeared around his neck.

“I most certainly will not!”

Spinning around, you saw two boys making their way towards you. One was tall with short green hair, glasses, and a familiar symbol - a club - painted just below his left eye. He looked worried, his gaze flicking from you, to your assailant, to his companion and back again.

The second boy made your heart skip a beat.

His small frame shook with rage. His face, twisted with anger, had become as red as his hair. He marched straight past you, heading towards your assailant, his magical pen gripped tightly in his hand.

Uh oh.

The moment Riddle Rosehearts decides to get involved, heads roll.

“How dare you?!” He yelled. “Using magic in a fight is a clear violation of the rules! Did you think you could just shamelessly flaunt your rule-breaking and expect me not to see it?! And attacking the magic-less prefect of all people! If you really must break the rules, at least fight someone on an equal footing as you, coward!”

The courtyard was dead silent as Riddle verbally ripped into the student, chewing him out for several rule violations and other discourtesies.

“But the prefect started it-!” Your assailant protested.

“I don’t know what history you and the prefect may have, but in this instance you attacked without provocation and without warning!” Riddle huffed. “And don’t try to lie to me. I saw the whole thing.”

The boy visibly deflated. There was no getting out of this for him.

“I want to see your student ID. Now.” Riddle ordered.

The boy sighed, pulled his ID out of his bag and handed it to Riddle.

“Ah, Pomefiore, hm? Be thankful you’re not in Heartslabyul,” he snapped, handing the ID back to the student. “Although,” he added, “Vil Schoenheit is certainly not the most lenient of housewardens. He will deal with you appropriately.”

You felt a hand rest on your shoulder. Looking up, you realised Trey Clover had stopped next to you.

He gave you a small, strained smile. “Are you alright, Prefect?”

Riddle glanced back over at you, a little startled. It appeared he had forgotten you were here.

“I’m alright… I think.” You managed, sending both the dormleader and vice-dormleader a smile.

Riddle’s face somehow got even redder and he looked away. You would’ve thought it almost funny if the world hadn’t started spinning. You quickly grabbed Trey’s arm to steady yourself.

“Maybe not.” You added.

Trey reached over to support you. “Riddle, you know more first aid than I do. I’ll take him to Pomefiore and explain the situation to Vil, but maybe you should take care of the Prefect or something?”

“Very well.” Riddle made his way over to you, reaching out to support you. He gently led you over to a bench and pulled out a handkerchief.

“Please pardon me, I’m going to administer first aid to you now.” He spoke stiffly. You nodded dazedly, and then felt a pang of regret as your headache tripled in intensity. You focused on breathing steadily as he cleaned the blood from your face and examined your injuries.

“You’ll have a couple of bruises, but nothing serious, thankfully.” He sighed in relief and instructed you to apply pressure to your nose and angle your head downwards to stem the bleeding.

Slowly but surely, the bleeding stopped. Riddle sat with you quietly the entire time, silently supporting you. You got the impression that he didn’t quite know what to say or do, and just how close you both were wasn’t helping matters. That was alright, though. Just having him here was enough.

“Prefect…” Riddle spoke so quietly you weren’t even sure he’d spoken. He was looking away from you, his face a light pink colour. He seemed embarrassed.

“What’s up?”

Riddle took a deep breath, then slowly exhaled. “I… apologise for losing my temper back there. And also for not arriving and stopping him sooner. I’m truly sorry.”

You stared at him for a moment, then cracked a smile. “It’s alright. Although it would’ve been nice not to get hurt in the first place, it’s not your fault at all. You aren’t the idiot who tried to hurt me anyway.”

Riddle flinched at your ‘swear’. “Prefect!”

You grinned mischievously. “Wha-at? There’s no rule against calling someone an idiot, is there? Besides, you called him a coward earlier. If I’m going to get in trouble for calling someone an idiot then you should get in trouble for calling someone a coward.”

Riddle smiled and shook his head, his cheeks slightly pink. “Well then, I suppose I’ll have to watch my tongue. As Heartslabyul dorm leader, I simply must set a good example for my dorm members. Which means I must refrain from calling people… jerks.”

You gasped and clapped your hand over your mouth, trying so hard not to burst out laughing. “Riddle!”

His eyes lit up as you said his name. He looked at you so gently, so lovingly as you struggled not to laugh that you felt your face going warm.

Wouldn’t it be nice to stay like this forever….?

A yell of pain shot through the air, wrenching your eyes open in fear. Stumbling backwards, you drank in the scene in front of you before realising in horror what had happened.

Someone had jumped in front of you.

A beastman, to be more specific.

The boy stood protectively in front of you, breathing hard, hackles raised. He had dirty blond hair and an outfit much too big for him. His right hand was gripped tightly around his magical pen, his left was holding his right shoulder. Blood was beginning to fall at his feet.

Wait, blood?

Scanning him again quickly and you saw them: shards of ice crystals stuck out of his shoulder at every angle. Your stomach twisted and you felt the bile rise in the back of your throat.

“Prefect, go!”

“But-“

The boy turned at you and snarled. “Run!”

You stumbled backwards, stunned. A spell - another gift from your assailant - flew by your ear. Scrambling backwards, you cast your eyes around to find a place to hide.

There!

Sprinting over and sliding into the hiding spot, you peaked your head around and watched.

It was brutal.

The boy who saved you - the boy you now recognise as your crush, Ruggie Bucchi - fought viciously, yet his opponent was not the kind to give up easily. For every spell Ruggie had, this boy somehow managed to dodge or deflect almost every single one of them, and fire off a few of his own.

Come on, Ruggie. You thought. Please be okay.

Ripping your gaze from the fight, you pulled a packet of wipes from your bag and forced yourself to clean your wounds. Anything to distract from what was going on.

After all, there was no way you could help. You were magicless after all, so it was probably best to just leave things to those who could fight, right?

…Right?

A yell of pain forced your attention back on the fight. Both boys were now breathing hard, blood strewn across the courtyard. From the looks of things, neither boy could beat the other. Ruggie couldn’t break a hole in his defence and the other boy could barely hit Ruggie, who was sprinting and dodging like his life depended on it.

“Stay still, mutt!” The boy snapped, firing off spell after spell.

Ruggie didn’t even respond. His concentration remained on dodging and finding a weak point, but your assailant didn’t leave him time to cast a spell.

He just needed an opening.

Steeling yourself, you grabbed a rock and snuck around the two of them. You adjusted your grip on the rock.

Please, don’t let this hit anyone. You prayed, then stepped out into the open.

“HEY DIPSTICK, OVER HERE!” You yelled as loud as you could and then hurled the rock in his direction.

The boy whirled around and deflected the rock with magic in an instant. Seeing you, he seized his chance and prepared to fire off another spell. You squeezed your eyes tight and held your hands in front of your face.

“Laugh with me!”

No spell came. Opening your eyes, you saw the boy in front of you, clearly angry. He walked towards you rigidly, as if he was trying to do anything but that. He pulled his student ID out of his bag and handed it to you.

Then he turned around and walked away. Your eyes followed him as he walked a ways off, then stopped.

The boy whirled around, his magical pen aimed directly at you and began to cast-

And then was immediately knocked off his feet from a blast of wind magic.

Someone grabbed your arm. “C’mon Prefect, now’s when we run-“

Ruggie ran hard, tugging you along with him as you dodged through crowds of people, eventually slowing to a stop in front of some empty classrooms.

You gasped for breath and put your hands on your knees, trying to recover from your sprint. Glancing up, you saw Ruggie leaning against the wall, breathing hard.

He looked awful.

His shoulder looked worse, his uniform was singed and he smelled of smoke. He had countless scratches and scrapes. Yet despite all this, he caught your eye and smiled painfully.

“What… whatcha starin’ at, Prefect?” He panted, clearly exhausted.

“Your shoulder…” you managed. His smile fell and he shrugged - then grimaced.

“‘S fine. Don’t need to worry, shishish-“ he cursed and winced.

You walked over to him and looked him over. His face was ever so slightly pink as he looked away. He shook slightly as you tugged off his jacket and rolled up his sleeves.

Pulling out your packet of wipes, you looked up at him. “This okay?”

He glanced at you briefly, his face still pink, his ears flat against his head. He looked away again. “‘S whatever.” He mumbled.

You gently cleaned up his cuts and scrapes. Looking at his shoulder injury, you sighed. “I can’t do anything about that one. I’m taking you to the nurse’s office.”

“But-“ he protested, but fell silent when you cut him off.

“No buts. That’s serious, Ruggie. I’ll buy you doughnuts if you let me take you.” You added, hoping the bribe would work.

He hesitated, then smiled at you. “Fine. Shishishi, if I didn’t know better, I’d guess you’d care for me or somethin’.”

You simply stared at him.

He went red. “P-prefect-? Got somethin’ you wanna say? Haha…”

“Come on,” you said with a smile and a sigh. “Let’s get you to the infirmary.”

“Okay.”

What a dummy. You thought as you pulled him along. I think I love him.

♥Thank you for reading!! I hope you enjoyed it!!♥

#Rhea’s TWST fics~!#twisted wonderland #Riddle Rosehearts #TWST #TWST x reader #TWST fanfic #riddle rosehearts x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #ruggie bucci x reader #rheasks!#twst fluff #Ruggie bucchi #riddle x reader #Ruggie x reader

301 notes · View notes

wastefulreverie · 2 years

Text

"This can't be legal," Danny said in a weak voice. "I mean, how are they allowed to do this?"

Lancer tensed. "It falls under a gray area. If you ask me, the Anti-Ecto Prevention Act gives them far too much jurisdiction."

The GIW, full in pure white HAZMAT suits from the overlarge hoods to the fitted boots, ushered in the next student from his class. Poor Lester walked into the tent, looking green in the face. Sweat rolled down his temples and his hands shook as the suited agent clasped his shoulder and pulled him through the curtains.

Paulina sniffed. "I don't want to be microchipped."

"Were you even listening at all?" Wes scoffed. "It's biodegradable. It'll be out of your system within a year and prevents you from being overshadowed. Unless, of course, you are a ghost." His eyes flitted to Danny. "Then who the hell knows what it'll do to you?"

"I'm not doing it." Sam crossed her arms. She was sitting on the gym floor, cross-legged. "It's unconstitutional, the total principle of it."

"I can't believe I'm agreeing with Manson," Paulina said. "But they'll have to drag me in there before they insert something underneath my flawless skin."

Valerie rolled her eyes. "Not that I object to being overshadowed, but I'd rather not have the U.S. government tracking my every move."

"There's not trackers in them," Lancer said. "They were adamant about that when we were told about this."

"Great," Sam drew out, "the untested ghost repelling microchips with unknown side effects being nonconsensually administered to minors allegedly doesn't broadcast our current locations to the government. That eases my nerves."

The tension in the room was palpable.

"I have uh, I have epilepsy," Nathan spoke up. His voice was short and clipped. "Do they even know how this'll affect that?"

Lancer put his head in his hands. "Dear Lord. I didn't sign up for this. I hate this."

The curtains were drawn back again. An agent, possibly the same one from a minute before but it was hard to tell since they all looked the same in the HAZMAT suits. He looked down at a clipboard.

"Fenton?" he called. "Daniel Fenton?"

Danny stared at the floor from where he was standing, not daring to look up and inevitably see everyone's eyes on him. The tiles on the gym floor looked like maple-colored planks of wood, but there was a thin film of clear plastic—or maybe rubber—when he slid his shoes against it.

"Fenton," repeated the agent, "come with me."

He didn't look up.

No. Because if he looked up, that meant he would have to do something. He wanted to avoid this for as long as he could.

There was a sound of rustling and in his peripheral vision he saw his classmates move out of the way as the agent stalked toward him.

He stumbled backward, not quite tripping, but struggling to keep even footing. Oh. He hoped he hadn't phased his feet through each other. He used to be bad with that. This would be the worst time and place to fall into old habits.

The agent gave him an unreadable look, face obscured by the HAZMAT mask, but Danny could feel the man's impatience as he waved the clipboard.

"Fenton. You're up."

"No."

His classmates glanced at him nervously and the agent shifted his weight, giving an agitated huff.

"Kid, you don't get a choice in this. This is for your protection."

"I can protect myself, thanks," he snapped. "I think I'll do fine without your little ghost zapping chip embedded in my arm."

"I don't know who you think you are, but just because your parents are ghost hunters doesn't make you exempt from this. All students, no exceptions."

He locked eyes with the man behind the mask. Well, it was a calculated guess at where the man's eyes were but Danny hoped his stare came across as menacing.

"It's nothing more than a pinch. I promise this won't be half as bad as you're imagining."

"Oh, I'm sure it will be."

Wes cleared his throat.

"Fenton's a—"

Without warning, Sam pulled herself to her feet and slugged Wes in the face. Hard. He stumbled backward and almost fell on one of the bleachers. Blood dripped from her knuckles and from his nose. Oh. That was going to bruise badly.

Lancer cried in alarm.

"Miss Manson!"

"Sorry, Mr. Lancer. Muscle spasm."

"We don't have time for this." The agent reached forward and grabbed Danny's shoulder as he'd done to Lester minutes before. "Come on. Let's get this done."

Danny stood his ground, and the agent pulled against him. He was stronger than the agent, and despite that, he'd phased the bottom of his shoes into the uppermost layer of the gym's floor. He wasn't going anywhere.

"How in the world—?"

Paulina started sobbing at the top of her lungs.

"I don't want to be here! I don't want to be chipped! I want to go home!"

The agent turned toward her, startled. "Now, calm down now—"

Wes staggered forward, blood dripping onto the floor as he moved. Some fell onto the agent's pristine, white boots. He jumped away from Wes like he'd been burned.

More students joined Paulina, clamoring that they didn't want to be chipped either. Sam raised her bloodied fist and shouted—an unhinged, almost feral scream while Danny gradually phased his shoes deeper into the floor. Mr. Lancer pulled a book out from somewhere and was waving it around, a loose bookmark falling out as he did so, in a futile attempt to capture everyone's attention.

Three identical agents ran out of the curtained tent at the sound of the chaos.

"What is going on!" one of them barked.

"Sir, the students are being uncooperative," the first agent said.

"I need medical attention," Wes said, unhelpfully.

The new agent, who Danny decided was the boss, accessed Wes and the drops of blood on the first agent's boots with horror.

"Agent Kilo, you didn't…"

"No, no. It was the girl."

He nodded his head to Sam, who hid her bloodied fist behind her back.

"He's a liar!" she said. "He hit Wes! We all saw it!"

The other students gave tentative nods. Ever the performer, Paulina flinched away from Agent Kilo, as if afraid he might strike her. In the midst of it all Lancer did nothing.

"Kilo," the boss's voice was stern. "That's not how we do things."

"But I didn't—"

"You're dismissed for now. We'll discuss this later." He turned to Wes. "I do apologize."

Wes looked at him like he'd grown an extra head. "Alright?"

Agent Kilo stormed away, muttering something about lying, conniving brats and threw his clipboard on the ground.

Lancer stepped in. "If I may, I do say that my students have been through an emotionally stressful experience here and I don't know if they should continue with this today. Besides, Mr. Weston does still need medical attention and I believe that should be our top priority."

The boss grunted. "Right. Return to class. We'll continue this at another date."

He waved a hand and the other agents headed back to the tent. Meanwhile, the students trailed after Lancer toward the opposite end of the gym—all sighing in relief.

As they left the gym, Sam caught Danny's shoulder and hissed in his ear. "Danny, the clipboard."

The discarded clipboard was forgotten on the floor.

"Mark our names off," she hissed. "I'll keep them distracted."

He nodded. He tapped into invisibility and retrieved the clipboard. A ballpoint pen was clipped to the top of it and he marked off the box beside his and Sam's names, doing his best to emulate Agent Kilo's loopy initials for the official confirmation. With any luck, the man wouldn't remember it later among all the chaos. With better luck, the man would be dismissed from the GIW completely.

He flipped the clipboard face-up and left it closer to the tent so that the agents would find it. He flew back into the corridor and met up with Sam, who was lingering near the end of the group.

"Got it." He dropped back onto the visible spectrum. "We're officially chipped."

"Oh, thank God. You're a literal lifesaver."

Wes turned, holding a wad of paper towels against his bloodied nose. "Please tell me I'm not the only one who just saw Fenton appear out of thin air, right?"

"You're concussed, Weston," Valerie said, not bothering to turn around and check. "He's not a ghost."

"Manson did not give me a concussion!"

"Yeah, Agent Kilo did," Nathan brushed off. "Keep up. The GIW can suck it."

That was something they could all, unquestionably, agree on.

#Danny Phantom #Danny Fenton #Sam Manson #Wes Weston #Fanfiction #Danny Phantom Fanfiction #Phicc #Fic #Phic #wrwritings

3K notes · View notes

iamnotokaythx · 11 months

Note

just an idea:

reader “loses” miguel’s engagement ring, so he resorts to tattooing it on your finger so you can never pretend you’re not his 🥰

it could look so cool too with a red/blue/black design yknow?

anon i like the way your brain thinks. lowkey wanna do a pt2 where reader’s escaped him and is trying to cover up the tattoo to get rid of all evidence of him

cw: needles, tattooing, established relationship, reader has never gotten a tattoo/is a little afraid, yandere!miguel, gn reader, its all lowercase

—

“miguel, don’t you think this is a little bit much?” you ask, fidgeting with your soon-to-be inked finger.

“well, you lost the ring. this’ll make it to where you always have it on.” he replies with an innocent smile.

“i mean, we could look for it. and then we could put it on a chain?”

“true, but metal rusts. i’ve paid good money for a tattoo artist already. no whining.”

you decide to give up; it’s not like miguel is easy to sway when he’s set in something. the car pulls up to a parking spot in front of a cute mom and pop’s shop. miguel would have done it himself, but he has too shaky of hands and wasn’t certified—only the best for his darling.

the shop smelled like insence. you were led into a small room where a heavily inked person was sterilizing their needle. they turned back to you and waved you forward. “hi, are you mx. o’hara? appointment for 2:00.” they asked to be sure.

“soon to be.” you murmured, noticing how miguel grinned and stood up a little straighter as the artist referred to you as his spouse.

you sat on the chair and miguel offered his hand. post-eyeroll, you grabbed his hand anyways.

“i’m afraid of needles.” you warn the artist.

“it’s alright! many people are.” they promise you. “so low long have you been together? oh, and do you have wedding plans?” they ask over the whirring of the gun. they roll their chair to get right beside you, causing miguel to bristle a little bit.

“we’ve been together a couple years. our wedding’s planned for 2 months from now. they just keep losing their ring, and i like reminding everyone that they’re exclusive to me. we belong with each other.” miguel didn’t let you speak, too eager to inform even this random person that you are his and he is yours.

the tattooist glances up after miguel’s slightly creepy rant and laughs hollowly. “understood. well, you definitely do love them.”

“of course i do.” he snapped, earning a light hit from you.

“miguel. it was a compliment.” you scold him. he rolls his eyes. you squeeze his hand in anticipation as the gun touches down onto your ring finger.

“sorry.“ he muttered unapologetically.

on the car ride home, he held your hand in his and gazed intently the ring around your finger.

“it’s a little… vibrant.” he criticized, the hues being brighter than he envisioned. “the reds especially.”

“it’ll look more faded once it heals.”

“oh. good. not too faded though, right? i mean, it’s gonna be visible.”

“yeah. it’s a tattoo, miguel.” you remind him.

“ah. right.” he murmurs, still mesmerized by the ink. “do you think that artist was flirting with you? they were really close to you.”

“no, i don’t think they were flirting. they were hired to tattoo me.”

“right, right.”

“what’s your plan for after the wedding? get this one removed and then tattoo the wedding ring on?”

“…”

“that was sarcasm. and the tattoo was uncomfortable, i don’t want it zapped off just to replace it.”

“don’t lose your ring, then.” he flashed a cocky smile.

#tw yandere #—asks #this one was honestly so fun to write ngl #miguel o'hara #miguel o’hara x gn reader #miguel o’hara x reader #yandere miguel x reader #yandere miguel o’hara x gn reader #yandere miguel o'hara #yandere miguel o’hara x reader

623 notes · View notes

jd07201990 · 4 months

Text

“Oh, come on Chuck! This’ll be my second time! You can’t keep forcing me to work another 40 years, just to make it to retirement and do it all again! It’s not yours or my fault that there aren’t enough young folk to take over our jobs! Hell, maybe if we paid a bit more, the few of them out there would apply!”

“It’s Lieutenant Roth, Billy. Now go change out of that equipment and take a shower. Whatever this remote does to strip away all those years, it sure does leave a young man ripe!”

“Don’t call me Billy! I haven’t been Billy in 30 years! Its Bill Damn it! And how am I supposed to explain this, again! to David?! You know he’s not into, well… this!”

“Put your shirt down Billy and quit your complaining. We’re doing something different this time, changing things up, trying something new. See, we couldn’t afford to pay higher wages all these years, because we’ve been stashing extra money away, for a new program. This remote can do a lot more than just wipe away years, Billy. The company has a whole app-store full of features, but they cost a hell of a lot. We only had enough for 2 new features, and we think it’ll really help solve this town’s aging population issue.”

“Wha… what the hell are you saying? What do you mean, something new?! Chuck, dude… you’re seriously starting to crack! What the fuck does any of this have to do with David?! And who is, “We”?!”

“I’m only going to tell you this once, son. It’s Lieutenant Roth. Now, I guess there’s no beating around the bush with you young-bloods. So I’ll get right to it. “We” is me, the Governor, and the Town Board. We investigated every possible fix, and it comes down to this. All the youth are moving out in droves, going to college, or fleeing to the city for excitement, leaving us aging folk to do the hard work around town. With the remote able to take years off a person, we’ve decided that all our current retirees, in every department, will be regressed, and the new feature we purchased will ensure you all follow your new, youthful instincts, providing us with a full generational bump in population.

You will be the hot-blooded virile stud you were way back in the day; you remember? Except this time, just as David isn’t attracted to this prime of your life look, YOU won’t be attracted to David, or any man for that matter. You see, we need all the help we can get, so with this little app, you’ll be chasing pretty women, and will certainly end up settling down, once one of them catches. Ah, by the look on your face, you know exactly what I mean.

Good, because you and the rest of the retirees are going to have your hands full, working these jobs getting paid just enough for a double-wide and a truck, leaving a trail of gals before you settle in with one, and have a whole mess of kids. "

“Ch… Lieutenant, sir… Wha… you’re insane dude! Fuckin’ totally cracked! You hear yourself! You can’t do this! I can’t be… I can’t chase… I don’t… don’t like…. Fuck… fuck dude… what the fuck are you doing?! Quit pointin’ that shit at me bro! My.. my head!”

“Don’t worry son, I’ll let you off the hook for all that mouthing off. It’s got to be rough having your brain completely flipped inside out, dumped out and filled with everything you need to be a, productive, member of society. Isn’t that right Billy?”

“Wha.. Oh, hey Lieutenant! So uh, is it ok if I head off to the showers and hit the road? Kind of a slow night huh sir? If it’d be alright, I want to go down to the Strip and hit the bar. The dudes and I figured we’d start the weekend early, ya know? Gotta get get some tail on lock before the storms hit. Thinkin’ I might run into Becka too, you know, from Thornton Stables? God she’d look real pretty, all knocked up good n’ proper!”

“Oh alright son. Go ahead, take the night off. But you’re on call. Got it! One or two beers, maybe a shot, take some cash and buy the lass one of those fruity drinks, and you treat her like a lady, young man. Got it?”

“Got it Dude! I mean Lieutenant! I’ll make a lady outa her yet! Thanks for the money too! Ya know how rough it is on the town’s wages! Although you and the Board seem to be doin’ alright. I hope I can get to where you are, Sir!”

“Don’t worry Billy, you’ve got a good 40 years or so to work your way up! Go have fun tonight!”

355 notes · View notes

piichuu · 7 months

Text

♡ DAYLIGHT - BASEBALL GAME

NOVEMBER 11TH

7:21PM

the sun has already begun to lower as you, shoko and utahime arrive at the baseball court that has been taken over by the others you will spend the evening with, one of those including nanami kento. he is wearing his usual attire despite the fact that he might have to take part of the fun, but it seems like he’s planning on being on the sidelines.

his eyes meet yours for a quick second before they look away towards gojo who is already talking his ears off after not many minutes.

“y/n!” the sound of itadori yuji’s voice reaches your ears as he runs towards you, putting his arms around you for a hug after months of not seeing one another. the last time the two of you saw each other was before nanami broke up with you.

you put an arm on his back and giggle lightly. “hi yuji, have you been okay?” you ask and the young boy nods, flashing you a wide smile. “mhm! have you?”

you give him a slight nod and watch as he then runs over to nanami to talk to him, one of his favorite people in the world. it is when he points towards you that it comes to your understanding what yuji is talking about to the taller man in front of him.

“i think he’s doing anything to get the two of you back together, you were pretty much acting like his parents back then,” shoko chuckles.

utahime nods in agreement before gojo walks up to you three, wrappings his arms around you to pull you in for a group hug. “you came! you guys are playing too,” he says, causing you to let out a groan. “i thought we wouldn’t have to play.” “well, you do now, so come on. we have to make the teams.”

your gaze flickers around at the others talking to one another. nanami kento is now sitting on a bench a little further away from the others and after giving shoko a quick glance, you walk over to him. maybe this’ll be the best way to avoid playing a baseball game where you know none of the rules.

the blonde man looks up at you before he watches as you sit down beside him. “also trying to avoid having to play?” he questions and you give him a quick nod of the head. “i don’t think i would want to either be in a team with gojo nor play against him.”

nanami chuckles and shakes his head. “same, i’ve played with him before which is why i’m sitting here now. you probably remember that game, when he was about to use his domain on me because my team won against his.”

as the memory plays back in your head, you let out a giggle. “yeah, i remember that now. i was actually scared for your life for a second,” you say and nanami gives you a soft smile. “so it’s probably best if i sit this one out.”

you nod. “probably, and remembering that makes me want to play even less. i wouldn’t even be able to defend myself against him.” “he probably wouldn’t hurt you. if he didn’t hurt me that time, he wouldn’t hurt you. he’s harmless to us, you should know that as well.”

“i know,” you flash him a light smile before looking away towards your friends who have just started playing, seeming to have accepted you and nanami not wanting to join in.

he sighs. “how have you been holding up since we last met?” his hands are placed in his lap as he speaks, not knowing what else to do with them as he awaits an answer. “i’ve been good. i’m sorry you had to see me like that…”

“it’s not like it was the first time. it’s okay, i was happy to see you,” nanami speaks and as soon as those last words leave his mouth, you can’t help the fact that your face is warming up for each second that passes. “i don’t want you to think otherwise. i’m always glad to see you.”

you try to hide the smile that is growing wider on your face, looking away from him. “you can’t say those things,” you mumble, suddenly feeling the touch of his hand now over yours, slowly intertwining your fingers together like it’s the most natural thing. “i know, but i can’t help it…”

just as you’re about to look back at him, gojo’s voice reaches your ears. “nanamin, y/n! you have to play, come on, don’t try to get away!” he yells and before anyone can see, you pull your hand away from nanami’s and stand up on your feet, walking towards the group of friends with a heart beating quicker than ever before.

FOURTEEN | MASTERLIST | SIXTEEN

PAIRING: nanami kento x f!reader

SYNOPSIS: nanami thought he did what was best for y/n when he broke up with her, but he could not have been more wrong. he isn’t making it better when he accidentally sends her a follow request and doesn’t even realize.

WARNINGS: none i think

TAG LIST: @yourmumsthings @minibolos @kaitfae @purplecandygerl @rijhi @hangezoeisabaddie @ilovekennyomega @peachesnoranges @satoruskitchenrag @jtoddwife @hana-patata @mysuperrainbow @changbinsuals @zenilili @creative1writings @bloombb @vynz0ne @tranzumaki @libbyistired @sad-darksoul @r0ckst4rjk @becsmarvel @magalimachete @wxnderless @letthewindlead @lyannablaiddyd @nerdiel-has-no-braincells @rreborn @stardusthyuck @lvrmelanii @thvunaise @mrswhitethornbelikov @mr-underhills-things @lynxxyyy @polarbvnny @bbysatoruuu @bhootlekhakag @sillygetocat @moonmalice @ssc7514 @ti-mame @asp7n @bananasquash @spiidergirlsworld @luvceleste @fresa-luna @grimistheangerinmystares @zanellemalkovich @fragil3ghost @scorpio-echo

361 notes · View notes

fruitcoops · 4 months

Text

In the Beginning

Going back to my roots this year with some pre-Coops PT fluff :) This is definitely going to turn into a short series (with exceptions for Leo's birthday, of course) and I'm really excited about it! Hoping for some more time to create this spring <3 Character credit goes to @lumosinlove

TW canon injury (Sirius' ankle)

“Sirius.” Despite the whiteboard with his name scrawled next to 11:00, Remus still managed to sound pleasantly surprised. “Hi, how are you?”

“Fine.”

God, he sounded like an asshole. Remus’ smile didn’t falter. “Glad to hear it. Come on in, take a seat wherever.”

Was this it? The first test? Sirius glanced between the chair by Remus’ desk and the exam table. Hell, maybe he was supposed to sit on the stool. Was he? Was that a ‘Remus spot’ everyone else was smart enough to not even consider?

He picked the chair. Lowered himself gingerly to the cushioned seat, crutches propped on the armrest next to him. A spot on his ankle itched under the Velcro of his stiff boot.

“Thanks for making the time today,” Remus continued, as if Sirius had been any sort of friendly or welcoming. “I really appreciate it. This’ll be quick and easy—just a check-in, figuring out what’s going on and where we want to be. Sound okay?”

“Yeah, sure.”

“Sick.” Remus dug around behind his desk for a moment; Sirius could hear papers riffling. Remus’ brow furrowed for a second before relaxing with satisfaction as he pulled a sheet free. “Alright. Sirius Black, meet your new best friend.”

Sirius blinked. “You?”

“Ha! No, I think Pots still has me beat,” Remus laughed, sliding a clipboard across the desk. He pulled his own chair around as well, even though Sirius could see him fold his knees out of the way of the desk. It couldn’t be comfortable. “I don’t like sitting back there when you guys are in here,” Remus said, as if he could read Sirius’ mind. The side of his nose scrunched. “Feels…bossy? I dunno. Can’t really write upside-down, either.”

“Ah. Ouais.”

“But that’s—” Remus waved a vague hand and picked a pen from the broken-handled mug tucked by his computer. “It’s not important. This, on the other hand, is your two-week chart. Decorate it, marry it, I don’t care. As long as you know it’s yours and can find it in that—” He pointed to a wire bin by the door. “—box. Capische?”

Sirius shrugged one shoulder and readjusted his ankle under the table. “Sure.”

“Shweet. There are some forms under the top sheet, if you can fill those out for me real quick.”

Remus stood as Sirius bent his head to write; he puttered in Sirius’ periphery, collecting tape and bandages and a handful of other things from the drawers lining the walls before moving to the exam table behind him. Something spritzed, filling the air with the faint scent of lemon. When he glanced back, Remus was wiping down the exam table with a washcloth.

The table. Of course. He should’ve known. “Do you want me to move?”

“You can if you like.” A lopsided smile found him over Remus’ shoulder. “I’m just cleaning, though. Take your time.”

Feels like I’m taking nothing but time, he thought with no small amount of bitterness. At least Remus meant well. Arthur kept telling him he could have all the recovery time he needed, but Sirius could tell he was getting impatient. He hadn’t even been allowed to think about physical therapy before the six-week mark was up. On some teams, that was long enough to justify rumors of a trade.

Ink smeared under the side of his hand. Sirius cursed under his breath and licked his thumb to smudge it off, but only succeeded in blurring it more. He gave up and scribbled it out, leaving the check mark next to the box instead. Remus’ handwriting was at the top of the page. Sirius Black, printed with a gentle slant to the right. Numbers looped, their tails snagging into one another. Sirius had never met someone who wrote their ‘2’s that way.

“Done?”

He jumped.

“Ope, sorry,” Remus half-laughed as he rolled behind his desk again. The wheels of his chair squeaked. “Didn’t mean to sneak up on you.”

Sirius shook his head. “You’re fine. And ouais, here.”

“Thanks.” Remus flipped through the clipboard with easy neutrality. Sirius had expected him to take this a little more…well, seriously. “Looks good. Like I said before, today is just getting the boring stuff out of the way. Forms, building your exercise plan, making sure you don’t run screaming from the room.”

Sirius frowned. “Why would I do that?”

“Hopefully, you won’t.” Remus gave him a look—a joke, he realized a second too late.

“Oh—yes, no, not at all.” Great recovery. It took everything he had not to roll his eyes at himself.

Again, Remus seemed unaffected by his awkwardness. Did he just not see it? Did he think Sirius was playing along? But Remus was always like that, with every one of them. Unflappable and infallible. The world was smooth and calm for him, like a lake on a windless day in the dead of summer. He was wearing a shirt of the same blue-gray as the pond in the park by Sirius’ house.

“How’s your ankle feeling today?”

Get out of your head. “It’s…fine.”

The side of Remus’ mouth pulled up. “Gotta give me something to work with here, Cap.”

“A little sore?”

The light caught his sandy hair as he tipped his head back and forth. “Sore how?”

“Just…” Sirius shrugged. “Sore. Like normal.”

“Stabby? Dull? Lightning-y? Can you feel your heartbeat in it?”

“Um.” The cool air of the PT room siphoned into the small gaps of his boot when he wiggled his toes. “Mostly dull. Sharper when I take the cast off.”

Remus nodded. “You haven’t been putting weight on it?”

“Non.”

“Good. That sounds about right for this point of recovery. Is it an ‘all the time’ kind of pain, or just when you do certain things?”

This was a lot more talking than Sirius had anticipated. He had assumed Remus would sit him on the exam table, poke around, and then send him off with some ice packs and stretches. More time, he said when Sirius had imagined it. You just have to give it another week or two, and you’ll be fine. A hopeful part of him figured they’d let him back on the ice as soon as the bone was healed.

“It’s sore a lot,” Sirius admitted. “The dull kind. It gets worse when I move around, I guess.”

“Even with crutches?”

“Ouais.”

“Do you sleep with it on?”

“…my crutches?”

“The boot,” Remus snorted, though it wasn’t mean. He was rocking slightly in his chair, back and forth. Sirius could see the armrests turn with each light push of his foot behind the desk. The tense thing in his belly eased. If Remus was this casual, maybe he was allowed to take some deeper breaths.

“They gave me a different one for the night,” he said. “It’s softer.”

“Are you more of a back sleeper, side sleeper…?” Remus trailed off, gaze darting across Sirius’ face, and gave a sheepish grin. “That sounds super invasive, wow, sorry. I promise I’m just trying to figure out if you’re sleeping on it weird.”

Sirius tried to school his expression. He didn’t want to know what face he had been making at Remus’ question—they knew each other well enough to not fix him with a media glare. “Uh, my back,” he answered. “Usually. The doctors said to put it up on a pillow until it healed.”

“Cool, cool, sounds good.” Remus nodded again, then drummed his hands on his thighs. “Alright. Those are all the questions I have. Any on your end? Concerns, preferences…?”

How fast can you get me out there? Something told him Remus wouldn’t have an answer he’d like. “No, I’m good.”

Remus had a dimple on his left cheek. It made a divot with his small smile. “Great. Ready to hop on the table so I can take a look?”

It took a moment for Sirius to get to his feet; he reached for his crutches, only to find Remus already holding them steady for him. He hobble-hopped the five or so feet from the desk to the exam table; six and a half weeks in, and the crutches still did their best to stymie him at every turn. Horrible fucking things. His underarms were rubbed raw after fifteen minutes. Clunky and awkward and—

“Hold on.”

Sirius paused.

Remus was frowning at his leg. “Those don’t look right.”

“Quoi?”

“You’re…what, six-three?”

“About.”

“Sit, sit.” Remus ushered him to the edge of the table, but took the crutches as soon as Sirius perched himself on the cushions. He pressed a small button near the base; aluminum squeaked as the foot shortened by a few notches. “That’s better,” Remus muttered, almost to himself. “These pads are all worn out, too. Did they give you towels?”

What the fuck? “Uh, no?”

A disgruntled exhale made Remus’ nostrils flare. He leaned the crutches against the wall with a similarly irritated tilt to his mouth. “Remind me to give you some before you go, or the tops are going to wear the hell out of your armpits. I reset the height, too. They were two inches too tall.”

“Oh,” Sirius said helpfully.

“It’s not, like, a huge deal or anything, but it’s uncomfortable.” Remus cocked his head. He regarding Sirius with a critical, but not harsh, eye. “Has your back been hurting?”

Sirius shifted in his seat. “…yes.”

“That’s probably from the height issue.” Remus’ nose twitched with clear displeasure. A pen turned between his fingers, glimmering in the pale light. Sirius hadn’t noticed the bandaid on his knuckle before. The pen stilled with a sigh, then vanished into Remus’ pocket. “Sorry, I just—Moody and I have been trying to get the guys to come in here sooner, because of shit like this. Crutches at the wrong height, no towels, not knowing you’re allowed to wash braces. You’re already uncomfortable, you know? No need to make it worse.”

“Sorry.”

“Oh, god, it’s not your fault,” Remus said immediately, pumping hand sanitizer into his palm. “Just sucks that we have to ask permission. It’s not like we’re going to do anything stupid while bones are still healing.”

Sirius swung his legs up on the table while Remus rolled a stool across the speckled linoleum; his ankle twinged, but he managed to keep his wince light.

It was no use. “What was that?”

“Hmm?”

“Face.” Remus pointed at him, arching a brow. “You’re in my rink now, bud. You made a face. You can either lie about it, or get out of here on time.”

Perhaps Sirius had been a bit overconfident in how well he could hide pain. “Just sore when I lift it.”

“Where?”

“Uh. My ankle.”

“Right, I—” Remus broke off with a short laugh. “Sorry. Is there pain in other places when you lift it?”

He let Remus wave him further onto the table before answering. “I can feel it in my calf and foot. A little into my knee.”

The plastic was sticky from cleaning solution, but the cushions were perfectly firm on his lower back. He let his head rest back against the wall with a slow breath and wiggled his toes again. It was nice, being able to do that without lancing pain. Remus tapped his thumb against the edge of the table a few times before moving to stand by Sirius’ feet. “Can I take your shoe off, or do you want to?”

“Oh. Um…” He sat up further, but his fingers just barely brushed the hem of his pants. With a grind of his back teeth and a quick flash of pain, he bent his opposite knee and pulled the shoelace free. His ankle began throbbing faintly as he nudged the shoe off—sock too, thanks—and a puff of air slipped out when he finally leaned back.

Remus was watching him with a sad sort of wariness. “Can I make a request?”

You could ask me to do literally anything. “Yeah, sure.”

“Please don’t ever do that again.”

If he didn’t look so sympathetic, Sirius would have bristled. “What?”

“That—” Remus gestured at him. “Looked painful as fuck. This is an anti-pain establishment. If you think something’s going to hurt, we’ll work around it. No judgement.”

The thing was, Sirius hadn’t actually done this before. He knew where the ice packs were kept, and that the big steel container in the corner held heat pads in boiling water. He knew where the support bandages were, where Remus kept extra stick tape, and that the set of small drawers next to the desk would each be labeled with the name of a teammate so they could find specific gear. Remus had given him stretches for his sore back and arms and legs and whatever, but this—the shoes, the touching, the gentleness—there was no rulebook. No captain’s log to rattle through when he needed guidance.

“Okay,” he finally said. “That’s cool.”

“Cool.” Remus gave him that half-smile again. “Can I take your boot off?”

“Ouais.”

Remus was a lot nicer to the Velcro than he was. The rip was quieter than Sirius thought it could be, peeled off by practiced hands. He felt the pressure on his skin release immediately and took a breath at the tender feeling. Not pain, but something close. It made his heart spike every time. “Hurting?”

“Non.”

“You sure?”

“Just—makes me nervous.”

“Makes sense,” Remus agreed. “You’ve had it all wrapped up. Feels safer in there, right?”

Right. Exactly right. Something tightened in the center of his chest. “Yeah,” he said. “Something like that.”

Remus nodded. “Is it okay if I take it the rest of the way off? I can do most of the exam like this if that’s better.”

“You’re asking me a lot of questions.” He tried to sound wry. He wasn’t sure it came out that way.

“Lot of people don’t like touching,” Remus answered easily. He hadn’t moved to touch the boot again, hands flat to the maroon plastic covering the table. “I’d rather you tell me to step off now than make something hurt more.” He gave Sirius an apologetic sort of grin. “Plus, you’re probably sick of people grabbing at you. Don’t really want to be one of them.”

Sirius was sick of it. Hands and fingers and grasping through slivers in plexiglass while he was trying to move, goddamnit, when he just wanted to go back down the tunnel and finally be able to catch his breath. People grabbing him on the ice, pushing. Snape’s body against his own—a shoulder in his sternum. Fingers digging into his skin. A tight grip on the back of his neck.

“You can take it off.”

Remus had a crooked canine tooth. Had he noticed that before? “Thanks.”

Sirius’ fists clenched at the touch of warm hands on his heel and calf. It was…fucking strange, but not painful. Not unpleasant, either. Remus had calluses in the bends of his knuckles and on his palm when he carefully transferred Sirius’ foot to one hand and set the boot up by his hip.

“I’m sweaty,” he blurted. “Sorry.”

Embarrassment flooded him before Remus laughed. “Dude, you have no idea how nasty your boys are when they roll up here. Did you know I had to send a reminder to shower before seeing me? And to wear clean clothes?”

Sirius wrinkled his nose. “Ugh.”

“They don’t cut their toenails, either.” Remus’ eyes flicked up to his face, bright and teasing. “I’m not telling you who, but if you can throw a little captain-y weight around…”

“I’ll try.” It almost came out a laugh. Surprise tingled in his lungs. “But seriously, you don’t need me. They listen to you like gospel.”

“Oh, please.”

“They do,” he insisted. Remus rolled his eyes. “Non, non, I’m serious—”

“Yes, I know.”

“—fuck off—you could tell them to brush their teeth four times a day and they’d be at it. They listen to you more than me.”

“I don’t believe that for a second,” Remus informed him. “And I also think you’re healing really well.”

“I—what?” Sirius looked down; his ankle was back on the cushion, cradled lightly between Remus’ palms. It jolted something in him. Had his skin always been that pale? He could see the line where the boot ended halfway up his calf. His foot looked ghostly in the light and everything else looked…thin. Skin and muscle, even bone.

He propped himself up on the heels of his hands. The angry, puckered scar from surgery had faded to a narrow line. When had that happened? Surely not overnight. It had looked so ugly in the shower yesterday, which was exactly why he tended to avoid looking at it. He glanced up at Remus’ patient face. Was he grossed out? That wasn’t how Sirius’ ankle was supposed to look. The knobbly bones on either side were practically gray in comparison; they stuck out, as if someone had stuck two marbles under his skin. His stomach turned.

“Sirius?”

He hummed.

“You okay?”

The joking tone had gone from Remus’ voice. The pit of Sirius’ stomach was heavy. His ankle looked weak; his calf, skinny all the way to the weird lump of his knee. “Mhm.”

“We can be done.” Slight movement caught his attention as Remus ducked to catch his eye. There was the solemnity he had expected. It was odd to see it now. “Any time. Just say the word.”

“The exam?”

“I’m not going to do anything you don’t want me to do.” Firmness had never sounded so kind. “These first steps are visual, anyway.”

Am I done? Sirius looked back at his foot, the strangeness of it, the sickly mirror of his healthy one. “Keep going.”

“Are you—”

“I’m okay.” He mustered a deep breath. “I’m good. Keep going.”

“Okay,” Remus said quietly.

They sat in relative silence, but it wasn’t bad. Sirius was glad for a break. It was easier to watch Remus work than hold a conversation. The tenderness faded somewhat under the gentle touches of Remus’ fingertips—a tap here and there, faint pressure in the soft spots. Murmurs of feeling alright? and tell me if this hurts filled the buzzing static in Sirius’ ears.

“Ow.”

“Here?” Remus’ first two fingers hovered at the arch of his foot. Sirius nodded. “Cool, thanks. Your swelling isn’t too bad. I think I’m going to hold off on big exercises until Monday, okay?”

Disappointment, bitter and tacky as molasses. “Yeah.” He couldn’t keep the sigh out of his voice.

“We’ll get there.” When he remained silent, Remus poked the peak of his kneecap. “Hey. We’ll get there, I promise. I want you to work on the rest of your flexibility this week. Keep the boot on, but stretch out your legs and back. Your other muscles have been compensating for this and I don’t want anything to get strained.”

“Okay.”

“I’m going to do everything I can to get you back on the ice.” Sirius could hear the but in his voice before he even finished speaking. “But I won’t rush through this and throw you out there just to get hurt again.”

Hurt again. Pain, cold and consuming, flashed in his memory. “Okay.”

“If anyone gives you shit, I want you to throw me under the bus, alright?” The last strap of Velcro fell into place. Remus was even careful with that part. The pressure on his skin was familiar and welcome. He felt a light pat to the table. “Tell them it’s all my fault. That I’m being overcautious and mean and keeping you here, whatever. If the coaches have a problem with your care, they can talk to me and Moody about it. Not you.”

“Okay.”

Remus let him get up unhindered. That was nice. Sirius was pretty sure he’d lose his mind at one more helping hand. He waddled back to the desk chair at an incline of Remus’ chin and was once again relegated to watching while Remus taped some small, folded towels to the tops of his crutches before joining him by the desk.

“You did great.”

Wasn’t that a thing to imagine. Could barely get my shoe off, but alright. “Merci.”

“It’s hard to get people to come in here and actually want to get better.” Remus scribbled a few things on the chart. His forehead crinkled in the middle with concentration. “Lotta guys think they’re fine as soon as the doctors’ visits end. But this is the part that’ll make a difference in the long run.”

The chart slid across the table, followed by a smaller, far more sparkly sheet. A smile pulled at Sirius’ mouth in spite of himself. “Gold stars?”

“Very serious stamps of completion, actually.” The corners of Remus’ mouth were tight with restrained amusement. He couldn’t keep the laughter out of his eyes. “You can pick a different theme if you want. Talkie’s got Lisa Frank, which was kind of a power move.”

Sirius snorted—it was over from there. It took a minute for them to collect themselves, and as much as he hated to admit it, he did feel better after peeling a star from the sheet and sticking it in the first box. “Regarde,” he said with a wave of his hand. “Success.”

“Perfect.” Laughter still lingered in Remus’ voice. It was a nice sound. It was nicer when he looked up and smiled, like Sirius had put one of those heating pads right in the valley of his ribs. “Alright, well, that’s all I need. We can do the same time tomorrow, or you can check out the schedule. We technically have office hours, but you can shoot me a text if we need to find a different one. Number’s on the board. Make sure you give your name in the first message.”

“Okay.” Those ‘2’s again, in green marker this time. That weird feeling in his chest was softening. “Yeah, okay. I think tomorrow works for me.”

“Awesome, see you then.”

“Awesome.” Why can’t I talk? Sirius stood and took his crutches back with a slight stumble. He hoped it passed off as broken-ankle unsteadiness, not—whatever else was going on. He breathed an audible sigh of relief when the tops didn’t immediately begin to chafe his inner arms. “Oh, wow, thanks. This is great.”

“Yeah?” He could hear Remus’ smile before he even turned. He looked pleased, fiddling with the edge of Sirius’ chart. “I’m glad. Sucks to not have what you need, and not even know it.”

“Lucky we’ve got you then, eh?”

Remus’ cheeks flushed. It was rather warm in the room. “Nah. I’m the lucky one. Best job in the world.”

“Got you beat, there.”

Another laugh made Sirius’ chest squeeze pleasantly. It was good to see Remus happy, with all he did for them. “Guess you do,” Remus admitted, then shooed at him with the chart. “Get outta here, your boys are waiting. And check the box by the door for this when you come in tomorrow, got it?”

“Très bien, Loops.”

Maybe it was the adjustments to his crutches, or the promise of something like progress on the horizon, but Sirius didn’t feel quite so awful as he made his way down the hall. He almost felt good, actually. Almost hopeful.

#sirius black #remus lupin #coops #pre-coops #pt room #fluff #sweater weather #my fic #fanfic #lumosinlove

149 notes · View notes

josibunn · 8 months

Note

Alright,

Imagine Euronymous's girlfriend always begging him to on bottom but he always refuses so when he laying down in bed they go in there and handcuff in to the bed frame and then we all know what happens from there 🤭

omg anon you LITERALLYYYY hacked my account this is sitting in my drafts!!!

sorry this took so long anon, school literally beats my ass. I love this idea tho!!

fem reader x euronymous, smut! obvi, p in v, unprotected, use of restraints and a blindfold, smacking, cigarette play, subby euro and dommish reader, slight angst, he’s just so mean to you in the beginning :/. sorta cnc, heed the warning if you’re uncomfortable with such! enjoy! comment to be in the tag list or for moots ok mwah mwah!! scroll all the way down for taglist form :3

tl: @cc-luvr @bambi-horror @sugarinte

“øysteinnn,” you whine, following him into your shared room. “no.” he shakes his head, almost closing the door on you. “but—just once! it won’t be bad!”

“I don’t care, because I won’t be fucking doing it.” he laid back against his bed, flipping on the tv. you’d been begging your boyfriend for weeks to let you be in charge, try something new with the cuffs he’d usually use on you. but no, he just had to be in charge all the time! wont even give it a chance!

“you don’t even know if you don’t like it!” you sit next to him, rubbing his stomach. “I don’t need to, because I don’t want to try.” he didn’t even look at you, and you groan. “you’re so mean! why do you always get to be in charge? what if I wanna make you scream my name?” you cross your arms, watching him light a cig.

“you’re fucking crazy, and you’re about to piss me off. don’t make me waste a cigarette on you.” he pointed at you, and you knew he was referring to how he’d press his cigs into your knees.

you huff, “fine, whatever. i bet varg would let m—” you couldn’t even get the joke out before he grabs your throat with his cigarette hand, slapping you across the face, making you gasp and yelp, putting a hand on him chest to push him away but he wasn’t budging.

“say it. say it I fuckin’ dare you.” he says lowly, eyes glued on you as he watches tears well in your eyes. he slaps you again but harder, making you cry louder. “you were just so fuckin’ bold, where’d it go? say it, go the fuck ahead.” he grits, squeezing your throat, making you whimper.

“mm. what I fuckin’ thought. don’t ever pull some shit like that again.” he takes a long drag of his cigarette before immediately smashing it into your thigh while it’s still red, the burn making you cry and scream and kick at him while he held your throat and held it down, watching your face with no remorse.

“maybe this’ll teach you how to behave.” he flicks it off onto the floor before slapping you again, blowing the smoke in your face as you cry. “you’re-so mean,” you cry, rubbing your leg and whipping your face off with your sleeve.

he sighs, he didn’t like listening to you cry, not out of frustration at least. “you gotta stop pissing me off sugar,” he coos with a hint of anger still in him as he cups your cheeks, using his own sleeve to wipe your face now as you look to the side.

“i’ll..think about it. i’ll think. just stop pissing me off, yknow I don’t like hurting you.” he kisses your cheek slowly before kissing you, rubbing your leg lightly and holding your face with his other hand.

you nod as he lets go of you, taking off his glasses and laying on his back and taking off his shirt, pulling the cover over his body. “go get yourself an ice pack, i’ll sleep on it, but that doesn’t mean a yes. ok? i love you, i love you,” he repeated, just because he wanted you to know he meant it and he loved hearing you say it back. no matter how soft he spoke you knew he’d still say no, but you just nodded.

“i love you too,” you say and he kissed you one more time before laying back with his arm over his eyes, then his lips parted. you left the room with a huff, crossing your arms as you went downstairs and fixed yourself an ice pack.

you didn’t know why he didn’t want to try it, maybe it was a masculinity thing, or his love for being in control of you during sex. but you were gonna get your way, you always did with him. whether he liked it or not.

so after your leg stopped hurting you went into your guys box of toys and trinkets, grabbing the cuffs and blindfold you knew oh so well. you snuck back into the room, seeing him sprawled out in the bed, thankfully on his back, sound asleep. and it was a good thing he was a heavy sleeper.

you grab his arms softly and place the cuff on his wrist, laying his arm back down and locking it around your bed frame, going around doing the same, and he was still sound asleep. you step back to look at him, giggling with a hand over your mouth.

an hour goes by and you’re getting ready for bed, having just got out of the shower. you had gotten into some lingerie you’d recently bought, it was lacy and red, and the lace making embroidered roses around the nipples but best believe they poked out underneath, the sheer fabric barley covering them.

and your underwear was bout the same but left your pussy to the imagination of whoever we gazed upon, the straps of it being thin red lace that barely covered your ass and only your your vagina, and ooh you knew he would hate not being able to watch you gush onto him.

euronymous stirred away, going to rub his eye but found he couldn’t, his hands in the air. he furrowed his brows as he tried to move the both down, jerking at the restrictions. “what the fuck?” he whispered to himself, looking up at what was holding him.

he tried to sit up but couldn’t even do that, more rage pulsing through his tired body. he huffed and shouted your name, it echoing through the apartment and made you jump, smiling. he’s up!

you giggle as you slip on a white nightgown, fixing your hair in the mirror and putting some vaseline on your lips, popping your head into the room so he wouldn’t see your get up. “yes?” you say innocently, and he stares at you, head down and eyes low with anger, a shadow cast over his eyelids. (like the gif :3)

“cmere.” he nods his head as he says calmly, but you could hear his anger. “is something wrong?” you smile, tilting your head. “come here,” he repeated louder as you lean against the door frame, showcasing your outfit, head propped against it as your hands ran down it.

“you like my gown?” he snarls your name again, “get me the fuck out of this.” you roll your eyes. “I get all pretty for you and you don’t even care!” “get me the fuck out of here!” you watch him jerk his hands against the cuffs, and it made you giggle a little as you sit on the edge of the bed next to him, rubbing his leg.

“oh you think this is funny? it’s fucking funny?? wait till I get out.” he nods, his nails digging into his palms as his biceps flex. “yknow you look so hot right now,” you crawl onto his right leg, rubbing his biceps. “i’m gonna fuck you up when I get out of here. just you fuckin’ wait, you can’t keep me in here forever.”

“how bout you just shut the fuck up. ok?” you’re seated fully on his lap as you rub down his chest sensually. “you’re being so ungrateful, and to think I wore something so pretty for you tonight.” you cup his cheeks to him look at you, his eyes still glaring.

“you’re in for it. you’re in for it I swear to fucking god.” he mumbles,trying to get out of your grip. “you wouldn’t have to wake up like this if you just cooperated baby,” you faux frown.

he struggles around you as you tie the blindfold around his eyes, “you’ll never be as good as me, yknow that? nobody can get you worked—” you slap him across the face and he chokes a gasp, mouth open in shock.

“you fucking-” “you just talk so fucking much, just let me take care of you,” he sucks in a breath, feeling your hand pull the covers off as you rub his waking wood, pushing his lips together and stopping himself from bucking up to your touch.

“øystein you know i’ll untie you if you want me to. but you really don’t want me to help you?” you coo in his ear and he jumps slightly as you continue stroking him through his boxers, feeling him grow in your hand and seeing him strain against his boxers.

“you don’t want me to make you feel good for a little, baby?” you kiss his neck lightly as you run your thumb over him clothed slit, hearing him hiss and pull at his restraints more. “[y/n], don’t touch-.” he grits, but lets out a whimper when your lips run over his sweet spot, his breath heaving.

you raise your brows in shock at the noise, continuing to prod at his sweet spot, running your tongue flat against it and sucking on it greedily, hearing him strain and whine some more as you stroke him quicker, his pale chest arching and heaving, trying not to let out any sounds of pleasure, he didn’t want you to have that satisfaction, but you know how to get it out of him.

you bite at the spot and hear him let out a strained groan, teeth pressed together as he moves his head out the way for you, there it was. you litter tiny bites on his skin, hearing him let out muffled groans and whimpers, making you frown.

you lift up and move your hands away, tracing a finger on his abs. “you were just so loud baby, what happened?” you coo, running your nails up his thigh teasingly. “hm?” you watch his pink face as his lip quivers, searching for your voice and how close you were.

“euronymous, you better speak the fuck up before I leave you here.” you warn, hand now up his boxers, and he gasps. “baby, cmon.” he mumbles. “what was that?” you sit close to him, slipping your gown off. “speak up for me.” you were drinking in this feeling, and he knew that, he hated it, and he hated how the situation made him feel. but he hadn’t been this hard since you let him fuck you over a balcony on a third floor apartment.

“baby come on,” he says louder, his voice whiney and desperate. “what’d you want me to do baby? you gotta tell me.” you kiss his lips as you pull him out his boxers, his hard, red tip oozing with precum, making you smile against him.

“mmf-do it, please baby,” he says in the kiss, and you slap him. “do what, euronymous. you gotta tell me what you want or I won’t do anything.” he gasps and exhales shakily, a whimper leaving his open mouth, breathing into your mouth.

you watch his cock twitch as his legs squirm and his fists struggle against the cuffs, making you smile. “you’re a dirty boy, yknow that? you like when I hit you?” you stroke his cock and he lets out a groan, and when he doesn’t answer you strike him again, harder. he yelps and grips his fists again, nodding.

“yes, y-yes I do baby I do,” he breaths, chest heaving and red. “touch it. touch it baby cmon,” he turns his head as he whines, searching for your voice. you smile, “is that how good boys ask? where’s that magic word you love so much, huh?” you taunt.

he pushes his lips together, whining. “no.” he mumbles, and you raise your brows. “no?” you repeat and move his hand away from his cock. “guess you don’t want it.”

he gasps, “no! n-no no I want it, I want it please baby,” he wiggled his hood in search for your touch again, and you could feel yourself get wet at his pathetic squirming as you bite your lip.

“say it again, say that magic word again babyboy.” you rub his thigh. “please baby, please touch me,” he whines. you smile, “only because you were so polite. but when I touch you you gotta say thank you, understand?”

“yes, y-yes I will,” he nods frantically. “yes what?” “y…yes ma’am.” he whispered, and you smile before spitting in your hand, grabbing his aching cock and stroking him quickly, hearing him moan out, throwing his head back.

“oh thank you, thank you baby,” he stammers, bucking up to your hand as his wrist move against the cuffs. “can you say thank you momma?” your squeeze around his tip as you stroke him quickly, pre cum gliding down onto your hand.

he whines, lips forming a pout. “don’t do this to me baby..” “say it. or i’ll stop.” you squeeze him again, and he lets out a groan, mouth agape and lips glossy with spit, oh he looked so cute. such a sweee contrast to how he usually preformed.

“o-ok! ok th-thank you momma, thank you momma,” he whines, biting his lip as he fucks your fist. “good boy, I knew you could be my good boy,” you scoot between his legs on your knees, leaning down to his tip, still watching his face as he groans out, head thrown back and his pretty pale chest heaving as his legs squirm.

“stop moving baby.” you warn, and he feels your breath on his tip, making him turn his head down, even though he still couldn’t see. “you’re—I wanna see, lemme watch you, please.”

you sigh a smile, oh his moans and whines and whimpers just went straight to your core, you were throbbing, aching. he whimpered feeling your hot breath on his tip, his dick jumping.

“you wanna watch? do you think you deserve to watch, hm? you’ve been so mean to momma.” you rub your tongue along the slit of his tip and he moans out. still pulling at his restrains.

“i’m sorry momma I-I didn’t mean it, I swEar jus’ lemme watch, love your lips, please,” he begs, voice cracking cutely. “my baby loves my lips? loved watching my lips wrap around his pretty cock?” you slip the blind fold off his head and his eyes shoot everywhere, taking in what you wore.

“oh fuck, fuck look at you,” he pants, his eyes glued to your boobs as you rub his shoulders before slapping him across the face, earning a squeak and whimper, his eyes shutting. “watch your mouth, you curse again and i’m gonna hit you harder.”

he nods, eye fucking your pussy that was closed off to him. he pulled at his restrictions, “lemme touch you, wanna touch you. please momma please..” he looks up at you with those big blue eyes you love so much. you shook your head, “you don’t get to touch me tonight, at all. you should’ve cooperated early.”

you crawl back down between his legs. he whines, “momma no, please I just wanna touch you, wanna make you feel good,” he whines, and you lay your head against his thigh, his cock his hand looking up at him. “you’re so cute, but no. no touching, you’ll make me feel good later baby, I promise you that.” you kiss his tip before circling your tongue around it, stroking the rest of his length as you took his tip on your mouth now, hearing him let out a loud groan and curse.

“ahh fuck momma,” he moans, and you slap his thighs making him jump. “do you want me to stop? what’d I just tell you,” you pull off, and he shakes his head frantically. “m-m’sorry, I promise i’m sorry, don’t stop momma.”

you hum as you go back down on him, sucking around his tip and hallowing your cheeks out, hearing him groan whinily again, watching himself disappear into your mouth with blown out eyes, brows furrowed and mouth agape, hair cutely stuck to his forehead.

you held his hips down to stop his squirming as you took him whole, your ass arched in the air, knowing how much he loved it, and knowing how bad he wanted to shove you down onto him.

“faster momma, f-faster please, can’t take it,” he groans, still trying to move his hips. and you listen, bobbing your head on him quicker as your tongue latches onto the underside of his cock, making him whimper out, eyes squeezed shut as his head lolls around and rests on his shoulder. “momma, momma please lemme touch you, m’gonna—” he cuts himself off with a moan, feeling his abs tighten.

“you’re gonna cum baby? is my pretty boy gonna cum?” you pull off and stroke him quickly, using his own slick as lube as your rest his tip on your tongue. he nods, teeth smashes together as are his eyes, bucking into your hand again.

“gonna cum momma, gonna f-f-” he stops himself from cursing by biting his lip before he groans and cums on himself, spurting on his abs and tailbone. “look at alll that,” you purr, watching as he just kept going, his eyes low as he watches, trying to catch his breath. he watches you get in and wipe your hand on his boxers, his eyes widening.

“when you’d get that?” he breaths, looking you up and down. “last week, you like it,” you sit next to him as he nods eagerly. “lemme touch you. undo me,” he looks up at you.

“boy you’re not getting out till I say so,” you clip on top of him. “stop tryin’ it.” “momma, look at you. I need to, please. lemme take care of you,” he whines, licking his lips as his head hangs on his shoulder, watching your boobs jiggle as you stand his dick up to your stomach.

“you’ll take care of me alright,” you grab his cigarettes, lighting one for yourself and taking a hit before putting it in his mouth, letting him take one too. “you remember what you did to me earlier?” you tap his cheek with the cig in your hand. “what’d I do?”

you take another drag before jamming it into his chest under his pec, and he cries out, pulling at his restraints and squirming under you. “stop moving.” you keep it on his skin and he groans between his teeth.

“fuck momma!” he cried out, tears swelling in his eyes. you flick the cig to the floor and slap him again, making him cry louder. you cup his cheeks to make him look at you. “keep disobeying me, you hear? i’ll leave you like this, with a hard dick stuck in hand cuffs. what would your little buddies think, hm?” you say, and his eyes widen, “n-no..”

“their big, bad, metal lord all tied up, begging to cum and calling his little girlfriend momma? you think they’d still fear you?” you coo, and you felt his dick jump against you as he whimpers looking away from you. his precum oozed onto your stomach, and you smack your lips.

“oh you like that huh,” you tap his sensitive tip, feeling him move against your grip as you do so. “dirty fuckin’ boy, want your friends to know about our little secret, huh?” you ask and he shakes his head. “no momma, please no momma,” he whines, tears rolling down his cheeks.

“mm, only because you’re being so good for me. you still wanna make me feel good?” “yes! yes yes yes, wanna make you feel so good,” he nods frantically as you push his head on the pillow.

“keep-keep this on though, keep it on momma. look so so good,” he watches you move your underwear to the side. “do you think you deserve it, huh? you’ve been actin’ out a lot tonight,” you rub his tip against your soaking entrance.

“uh huh, need it, need that wet pussy,” he groans, squeezing his fists. “you want my pussy babyboy?” you sink onto him, letting out a moan as he tips his head back and groans, making you clench around him. god he looked so so good like this.

“oh momma, oh momma,” he moans, his eyes shut and his lips parted. “don’t move, ok? lemme take care of it,” you rock your hips against him, holding his chest down and rubbing your thumb over his burn mark. he hisses at the sensation but bucks his hips up into you, starting to fuck up into you.

you choke back a moan before slapping him, “you don’t fucking listen, I just told you not to move.” with a huff you slide off of him, and he immediately tries to get up but can’t, “no! no no i’m sorry, i’m sorry I-i’ll be good I promise, fuck me momma please fuck me,” he begs as you go to the box in your closet.

“no. you don’t deserve it, bad boys like you don’t deserve my pussy,” you sit back in between his legs, yours draping over his as you tease your whole with the dildo. he whines, “no momma, please I-i’ll be good, just fuck me..i’ll be better,” he whimpers, whining more when you slid it in with a loud moan.

“momma..” “no. I gave..you a lot of chances tonight, and you’re blowin’ it baby.” you sigh as you fuck yourself, using your elbow to prop yourself up on the bed. you know he hates you getting off on your own, he always says he’d rather you just wait for him so he can do it, because he knows your body best.

he watched the clear dildo disappear into you with pouty lips as you moan out, head tipped back and eyes shut, your body jittery as you move faster. and god, you hated how he was right all the time, even under your control. he did know your body best.

“momma..momma please, i’ll do better. jus’ lemme feel you please,” he begs, his cock jumping at the sight of you arching your back, your boobs jiggling against your arm as you push deeper into yourself, a high moan emitting from you. “you promise baby?”

“yes, I-I pinky promise just please, please give it to me,” he whines. you roll your eyes before slipping it out, throwing it on the bed and crawling over to him. “you better listen to me,” you say as you sink back onto him, and he let out a drawn out groan, his eyes shutting and his head tipping back.

“that’s it, thank you momma thank you,” he whines, eyes low as he looks up at you, your hands planted on his pecks. “oh there’s my good boy, I knew you had it,” you coo, rubbing his cheek. he nods, “your good boy, swear momma i’m your good boy,” he breaths out as you lean to kiss him, hopping on his dick eagerly.

he moans high in the kiss, still pulling at his restraints but holding still like you asked. “oh fuck baby,” you moan shakily, hitting that deep sweet spot in you that had your body tingling and your legs shaking, feeling your stomach twist up.

your breathing gets heavier and you pull away, unable to continue kissing him so you two just breathed into each others mouth, eyes glued together, both drowned out in lust and ditziness. your moans got louder and you felt your body get heavier, and you knew what feeling was coming to you.

for some reason, your orgasm came harder when you were on top. “you’re gonna cum momma, yeah? gonna cum on me?” he sighs, watching you shut your eyes as you slow down, grinding onto him to to prod that sweet spot, and you moan out louder. “yes baby, I-m’gonna cum,” you say shakily.

he watches you lift up and bounce on that sweet spot, lips glossy. “so pretty, oh you’re so pretty momma, cum, cum on m—” he chokes as you wrap your hands around his throat, holding him down to the bed.

“shut up baby, let me take c-care of it, oh fuck, ooh fuck baby,” you whine, squeezing his neck as you cum onto him with loud drawn out moans, gasping as you ride out your high, eyebrows scrunched and mouth open, shuddered babbles flying off your tongue.

“gonna-cum momma,” he chokes, gasping for air as you press down more, riding his through his orgasm. he throws his head back and squeezes his eyes shut, moans spewing out of him before he cums deep inside you, hard load after load.

“mmm yes baby, that’s a good boy, yeah? you’re my good boy?” you continue riding him to overstimulation, and he shudders, groaning and arching his back.

“momma feels too good, feels too good wait, n-no,” he whimpers, gritting his teeth as he continues coming into you. “I know, it’s so good right? keep goin for me baby you got it,” you kiss his cheek as he moans, throwing his head back against the pillow. “n-no, it’s so good momma no more,” he begs, and you finally pull off, laying next to him on your side, cum leaking out of you as you try n catch your breath with your boyfriend.

“what’d you think baby,” you lift up to look at him, rubbing his face as he catches his breath, body relaxing against the cuffs, his eyes closed and chest heaving. “so good, real good momma.” “mmhmmm.” you nod, kissing him gently, hearing him still whimper when your lips connect. “lemme clean you up n i’ll let you go, ok?” you leave the room to wet a towel, coming back and seeing him laid back and eyes closed.

“baby?” you say softly before realizing he’s asleep, making you smile. “poor baby, all fucked out.” you clean him up gently before uncuffing him, allowing him to roll on his side. you turn off your lamp as you slip under his grasp, holding the hand that drapes over you.

you don’t think you’d do it again, or at least not often. that was a lot of fuckin’ work.

anddddd fin!! I loved this soooo much thank u sm anon :33 subby euro is something I didn’t know I needed in my life! I hope u enjoyed, comment for moots and taglist request form can be found here. bye love u mwah mwah!!

#rory culkin #rory culkin smut #x black reader #euronymous smut #lords of chaos smut #lords of chaos #sub euronymous #subby #eurory prompt

344 notes · View notes

sopiao · 9 months

Note

Hiyyyyyaa, how would the 141+könig react to military y/n being a goth girl? But they didn't know because she doesn't wear her piercings or makeup due to stranded military rule regulations, until they all meet up at the pug. Please and thank you. Take your time.

EHEHEHHE I LUV DIFF STYLE REQS LIKE THESE ^^

i tried my best 😭

Being apart of the task force was probably the best decision you made, you like the people, you have fun, and it pays good. Only downside of having to take off each of your piercings each time, especially if their fresh or barely healed, which could be dangerous (don’t do that kids) but rules are rules.

You never really told them about your style or anything since you didn’t really think it would be important, or if it would even matter.

When Soap reaches out to everyone and suggests to all meet up at a pub, you were more than willing to come. You had more than a handful of missions together and spent quite some time with them, but have never seen your teammates out of work before.

You’re the last to arrive since your time management is shit, you were stressing and messing up your makeup, but hey, at least you came. Parking your motorcycle and kicking the stand, leaving your helmet on the handle. At this point you realize that none of your comrades has never seen you in your attire, with all of your piercings in.

Entering the warmly lit and semi-busy, you saw them at a wooden table off to the side, laughing and talking about whatever has been going on in their lives, you see six drinks assuming they bought one for you. You decide to fuck with them since this’ll be the first time they see you in the full get-up.

“Boo!” At first their startled, then confused. Soap interested, he’s never been with a goth girl before, he’ll try anything— or anyone— once. Gaz is the first to realize who you are

“[NAME]?!!” Gaz shouts, making everyone look at him then to you, all making the same conclusion at the same time, Soap a little slower, but that’s normal. You chuckle, smiling as Price scoots to the side to make room for you, pulling out the chair next to him. It’s regular for him to want to sit next to you, he even had his jacket draped over the back rest to save it for you.

“You look sick” Gaz smiles, it soothed you. At first, you were worried how they’d think of you looking like this, but seeing his genuine expression eases you a little more. They wanted to say something, a comment or compliment, but they didn’t know how to say it properly without making it sound weird, not wanting to make you uncomfortable.

“Oh! We got you a drink” Soap slides over your drink, a fruity strawberry Cosmopolitan. It was all new to them but familiar at the same time. They always kinda pictured this look on you but never thought they’d actually see it. In a way it kinda reflected how you are in the field.

“Did it hurt?” Ghost speaks up from beside you. Of course it hurt. But you were glad that he was interested, especially because he is almost never interested in anything.

“Some more than others” You shrug, hands resting in the pockets of your DIO sweater. Ghost leans forward, arms crossed and resting on the wooden table, slight nod of the head signaling for you to continue.

“Top 5?” Price asks, his arm wrapped behind you to rest on the backrest of your chair. You’re surprised that they’re even this interested, you kinda expected them to just accept it and move back into the conversation.

“Uhh.. I guess the first would be these. Took a while to stretch these out” Turning your head to show the others, poking the tip of your finger through the hole of your gauges. Chuckling awkwardly until you heard oohs and aahhs from them.

“Industrial is second, couldn’t sleep on my side for a couple months” Turning your head to the other side to show the metal bar coming between the shell of your ear.

“But this put me through hell, couldn’t talk or eat for a while. Lived off of smoothies for like forever” Sticking your tongue out to show the small metal star on the center of your tongue. Ghost’s eyes slightly widened, he had one too (i luv referencing my other stuff) but didn’t wanna mention anything yet.

“This hurt, but after a week I didn’t even feel it” Twisting the metal bar of your bridge, careful not to smudge your makeup.

“Didn’t even feel this, my lip was a little swollen for a while though” You pull your lip down to show off your snake bites. You didn’t really notice this until now, they were intently listening, not just hearing you but actually listening. Not expecting them to be this interested since people either were a little weirded out or just a dick about it.

“Wow… And I’m too scared to even get my ears pierced” König chuckled nervously, hand unconsciously coming up to lightly pinch his smooth and un-poked ear lobe.

—

“It was nice seeing you guys again” Grinning warmly as you all stood outside of the pub. The snow made you wanna leave already, but the company of your friends made it bearable.

You give Gaz a kiss on the cheek. A simple and platonic act of affection. Forgetting you had black lipstick on, seeing the black mark on his cheek made you embarrassed. Especially with Soap’s teasing.

“Hey, give me one, too” He bent down and tapped his cheek, with a cheeky grin. Laughing it off as you planted one on his cheek. Price leaned in too, wordlessly asking for one.

König was still not ready to lift his mask up that high yet, but he still wanted a kiss. So you just settled a smooch on the back of his hand like and prince would do to his fair lady. After you left a kiss mark on each of them they all looked at Ghost, waiting for him to lift his mask up for one.

He looked around with a shrug, then shaking his head with a sigh, as he uncrossed his arms and lifted the side of his mask only up to his nose. Making sure to press with a little more pressure with him since there was less lipstick on your lips since it was faded.

—

Extra:

Omg. Imagine like showing off cool but weird tricks. Taking off one of your lip piercings and showing off how you can squirt out water from the opening. Soap wondering if you could slurp spaghetti through it.

328 notes · View notes

beskarandblasters · 4 months

Text

New York or Nowhere

Part six: It Was Always New York or Nowhere

Bodega Owner!Joel Miller x F!Reader

New York or Nowhere Masterlist

Main Masterlist | Joel Miller Masterlist

Author’s note: We’ve reached the end for these two 🤍

Chapter summary: Joel breaks some terrible news at your apartment. A few weeks later, you reconnect at Beldro’s.

Word count: 2.4k

Warnings: reader is able-bodied, angst, friend breakup, talks of Sarah’s death, dub con (reader has consumed alcohol), oral sex (F receiving), vaginal sex, unprotected sex, creampie, pet names (sugar, sweetheart), praising, daddy kink, no use of y/n

Fic notifs: @beskarandblastersfics Fic recs: @kelbellsficrecs

It’s been hours since you called Joel and told him the news. You knew he just couldn’t just close up the store in the middle of the afternoon on a Sunday. So you resigned to comb the streets of Brooklyn by yourself, searching for Ellie but to no avail. When you finally get back to your apartment, you slump down on the couch, staring at the ceiling. Dozing off, your dreams are filled with Ellie, where she could be, and how scared she probably is. She’s never left Joel’s store up until coming to your apartment. She’s either lost somewhere or… and you don’t want to think about this but… she could have crossed paths with the wrong person. Before your dream can delve into that further, a knock wakes you up.

Groggily rising from the couch and opening the door, you find Joel. He doesn’t look angry or worried but instead like he’s about to deliver some bad news.

He holds up his hand and speaks first, saying, “Ellie’s fine. She found her way back to the store.”

“Oh, thank God,” you sigh. The guilt of the situation is still eating away at you but at least you can rest knowing she’s safe.

“But there’s something else I wanna talk to you about, sugar.”

“Oh, okay. Do you want to come in?”

“S’Alright. This’ll be quick.”

“Okay…”

“I think we need to slow down, sugar.”

“Slow down?”

“We’ve been movin’ too fast.”

“Oh… Alright.” His words hurt but somewhere deep down inside you, you know he’s right. It’s barely been two weeks since you first walked into his store.

“That doesn’t mean we can’t try again in the future, sugar. I just can’t right now.”

“Right…” you say, looking at the floor, “Let me get you her carrier.”

You turn and walk back into your apartment, blinking back tears. You grab Ellie’s carrier and hand it back to Joel. He takes it in his hand but grabs your chin with the other. Looking into your eyes before kissing you one last time.

“Bye, for now, sweetheart,” he says before disappearing down the hallway.

You close the door and immediately head to your bedroom, collapsing on the bed and trying your hardest not to sob over a man you’ve known for such a short time. But it was probably for the best, right?

The next morning you wake up with puffy eyes and a pounding headache. You replay yesterday’s events in your head, everything from the way Joel woke you up, getting ready for brunch, getting drunk, realizing Ellie was missing, calling Joel, and him letting you down gently in your doorway. You think about the window being open, how long it was left open… who opened it in the first place.

Jessica.

She wouldn’t do that on purpose, would she? But after all the shit she’s pulled lately, you wouldn’t put in past her.

Following your hunch, you pick up your phone, calling her as you get ready for work.

“Hello?” she answers.

“Hey, I just had a random question,” you say.

“...Okay?” she says, already getting annoyed.

“Why’d you open that window yesterday?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Really? You don’t remember anything?”

“We got pretty fucked up yesterday,” she says defensively.

“Are you just deflecting?” you press.

“Nope,” she snaps.

“Mhm, I’m sure.”

“Are we done here?”

This is pointless. She’s never going to admit to opening the window on purpose. And you’re pretty sure arguing with her is costing you brain cells.

“You know what? I think we’re done here. You’ve been nothing but shitty to me and I’m tired of being your friend.”

“Are you fucking for real?” she scoffs.

“Yup. I am,” you say, hanging up the phone and flopping down on the bed. At least that’s over with. But you also don’t feel like seeing her at work so you pick up your phone and call out. Today’s a self-care day.

Four weeks later

It's been a few weeks since you last saw Joel at your apartment. You’ve avoided Beldro’s like the plague since then and neither one of you has called each other. You’re not sure when you’re supposed to pick back up with him, if at all. He said he wanted to slow down, not that he was done with you forever. He also never specified if you could see other people or not. You haven’t been anyway but what about him? Has he been fucking other women over the counter?

Probably not, the rational part of you says. But the anxious side of you tries to convince you that yes, he is fucking other women at his store.

Whatever, nothing you can do about it either way.

It’s a regular Wednesday morning. You’re heading to the subway stop by your apartment, about to make your morning commute. After swiping your metro card and passing through the turnstiles, you wait for the train.

Once it arrives you glance through the windows before it slows to a stop, not too crowded. You keep your head low and avoid looking at others like you normally would when you take the subway anyway. But once you sit down and look at what’s across from you, you see him; Joel with Ellie’s carrier. He’s looking directly at you, a soft smile on his face.

“Hey,” he says, putting his hand up.

“Hi,” you respond.

“Going to work?” he asks.

“Mhm. What about you? Where are you off to?”

“The vet. Getting Ellie microchipped.”

“Probably a good idea,” you chuckle.

The conversation falls flat, with both of you avoiding eye contact with each other. But for some reason, now feels like the time to ask him the question you’ve been secretly thinking about this whole time.

Why did he move to New York? He’s clearly not from here.

“Joel? Can I ask you a question?”

“Shoot.”

“Why did you come here?”

“Like why did I move here?”

“Yeah.”

“Moved here once my daughter, Sarah, passed. She was fourteen.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry, Joel.”

You had no idea. He never mentioned her.

“S’alright. Happened a long time ago.”

“But why here? Why New York?”

“It was always New York or nowhere, sugar,” he says with a smile.

The train comes to a stop and he rises from the bench,

“Well, this is our stop. See you around, sweetheart,” he says with a wave.

He steps off the train, looking back at you one more time before walking out of the subway station. You think about what he said. It was always New York or nowhere. You have to agree with him.

Two weeks later

You’re at a bar with Charlotte and Nathaniel. The night is coming to an end but before you all decide to go home, you decide you need a little treat. Drunkenly stumbling out of the bar, you start to make the journey to the nearest bodega. Which, of course, has to be Beldro’s. As the green awnings come into view, Charlotte asks, “Are you sure? We can go somewhere else.”

“I’m fine, Char. We’re pretty much there already. I’ll be fine.”

She nods, letting you lead the way to Beldro’s. The bell on the door jingles as the three of you pile inside. Joel glances up from his… iPhone?! When did that happen?!

“Look who upgraded,” you tease.

“Good to see you, sugar,” he says, “And you two as well,” he adds, glancing at Charlotte and Nathaniel.

You stay at the counter as they grab their snacks, eyeing Joel up and down, taking note of how good he looks.

“How have you been? Noticed you’re down one,” he says, referring to Jessica.

“Yeah… We’re not really friends anymore,” you respond.

“Good for you. She seemed mean,” he says.

“She was,” you chuckle, “How have you been?”

Just as you ask, you feel Ellie circling your feet beneath you. You bend down to pick her up, holding her as you talk to Joel.

“I’ve been alright,” he says.

The small talk is… okay. But you really wish he was bending you over that counter again. Charlotte and Nathaniel return with their purchases but Joel doesn’t charge them.

“Someone’s feeling generous tonight,” you joke, setting Ellie back down on the floor.

“You gotta be sometimes,” he says, shooting you a wink.

Charlotte and Nathaniel bid him their thank you’s before leaving, waiting for you outside.

“Bye, Joel,” you say, walking to the door.

“See you around, sugar,” he says.

You take one final look at him before meeting your friends outside.

“You okay?” Charlotte asks.

“You know what? I am,” you say.

Just as the three of you start to walk away, you hear the door open followed by Joel’s voice saying, “Wait up!”

You turn around to find him hastily locking the door and heading over to you.

“Can I talk to you?” he says.

“You guys can go. You don’t have to wait for me,” you tell your friends.

“You sure?” Nathaniel asks.

“She’s sure,” Charlotte says smirking at you before waving goodbye and grabbing Nathaniel’s arm, leading him down the street.

“I’ve been thinking about us a lot, sugar,” he says, grabbing your hand.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah and… I’d like to try again… if you’ll still have me,” he says nervously.

You close the gap between you two and kiss him, something you’ve missed doing for weeks on end now. He wraps his arms around you, pulling you closer. The kiss grows needier, more passionate by the second, evidence of how much you two missed each other.

“Come with me,” he says, abruptly pulling away and grabbing your hand. He leads you a couple of feet over to the cellar doors on the sidewalk. He unlocks them and opens them, gesturing for you to walk down the steps.

“You’re taking me to your basement? Never beating the creep allegations, are you?” you tease.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Get in there,” he says, rolling his eyes in faux annoyance.

You head down the basement steps, with Joel following behind you. He closes the doors and reaches for the light switch. The light flickers a few times before turning but it doesn’t do much to provide actual light. His hands are immediately on your body, palming your thighs and groping you over your dress. You let out a small gasp as his hand moves to your underwear, pulling the fabric back and snapping it against your skin.

“Get these off, sugar,” he says, sliding your underwear down your legs. He bends down and picks them up, stuffing them into his pocket. His hands immediately grab your hips and spin you around so you’re facing the stairs.

“Bend over for me,” he softly commands.

You do as you’re told, bending over and placing your hands on one of the steps. You feel him kneel behind you, pulling up your dress and hooking his hands around your thighs. He kisses the back of your thigh before bringing his face to your cunt, inhaling deeply and taking in your scent before dragging his tongue along your entrance. Your knees buckle underneath you as he eats you out, tongue swirling expertly around your clit. Your body shivers as the muscles in your core tense up in anticipation of release. You cum with his face taut against your cunt, his basement filled with the sounds of your mangled moans and whimpers.

“Good girl,” he says, kissing the back of your thigh again, “Such a good girl for daddy.”

He rises from the floor, giving your ass a squeeze with one hand while the other pulls his cock out of his pants. He rubs the head of his cock, against your sensitive cunt, teasing you as he talks to you.

“Stay just like this. You’re doing such a good job for daddy,” he purrs, pulling his cock away to gather your release on his hand. He spreads it on his cock before hooking his hands on your hips. He pushes into you slowly, cursing under his breath as he fully sheaths him inside you.

“Fuck, sugar. I missed this,” he says, drawing his hips back slowly and slamming into you.

A whimper escapes your lips, growing louder and incessant as he fucks you harder, reaching forward and grabbing you by the throat. He pulls you upright against him, never dropping the pace of his thrusts.

“That’s right. Take daddy’s cock like a good girl,” he says.

You’re unable to form a complete sentence, letting out nothing but a string of cries, whimpers, and moans. Your walls tense up in preparation for your orgasm. Tears spring in the corners of your eyes, your thoughts filled with nothing but Joel and his cock pounding into you.

“Gonna cum for me, sugar? Let me feel it,” he says, his grip around your throat tightening. You cum for a second time, feeling your release spill out of you, soaking his cock and running down your thighs.

“Fuck,” he curses, coming inside you with the head of his cock buried deep inside you. The pace of his thrusts grows sloppier as he fucks you through your release and his. But once he feels himself go soft, he pulls out of you and pulls you close against him, kissing the nape of your neck.

“I missed this. I missed you,” he admits.

“I missed you, too. So much for taking things slow,” you chuckle.

“Fuck going slow. It’s for the birds,” he says, absentmindedly kissing your neck up to your ear.

“So you want to try again?” you ask.

“Was that clear enough?” he laughs.

“Shut up, old man,” you laugh, “When did you get an iPhone by the way?”

“Last week. Thought of you when I got it. Figured you’d give me shit for it.”

“Give you shit for it?? I’m overjoyed I can actually text you now,” you tease.

“Text me all you want,” he says, kissing your neck one last time before letting you go, “Let’s get out of here, though.”

“Where to?”

“Your place, if you’ll still have me. I’ll bring Ellie.”

“You know I could never say no to her, Joel,” you say, walking up the steps back to the sidewalk. Joel locks the door and lets you back inside the store, scooping Ellie into her carrier before locking up again.

You back to your apartment hand in hand, feeling like all is right for once– down a shitty friend and back with your man (and his cat) by your side.

@pedrostories

#new york or nowhere #bodega joel #bodega owner!joel #joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller smut #joel miller x you #the last of us fanfiction #tlou fanfiction #joel miller au #joel miller fanfiction #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #joel miller pedro pascal

158 notes · View notes