#but man was it hard to get that purple shiny effect on the fabric

[zivazivc]

i don't know how zoë managed to top vesperia but hot damn

#miraculous ladybug #ml #zoe lee #kitty noir #kitty noire #i switched her eye and lipstick colors because i prefer the headcanon that all cat holders get green eyes #and warm colors look better on her skin #but people who have issues with any other parts of her outfit are wrong #she is perfect #chloé could never #but man was it hard to get that purple shiny effect on the fabric #ml transmission #transmission spoilers #deflagration spoilers #ml deflagration #my art #fihuli

[jostepherjoestar]

An Educational Favour: V

NOTsfw // FEM! reader & pronouns

warnings/notes: 18+ content, minors dni, it’s Melone x reader x Risotto, interc0urse, v0yeurism?, sex toys, footjob, lingerie, double stuffed creampuff (lord i can’t type the real thing for some reason), sensual vibes, risotto yearns, reader yearns, melone gets treated, dynamic changes! and honestly nothing that extreme for dear melon man

part 1- 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7

PART V: 💜Melone💜

“What about this one?” Like a quality inspector the lithe form a little ways further examined the soft lace between his slender fingers. Pads carefully assessing any sign of future discomfort before holding it up, presenting it to you and all the other nosy patrons that had quietly started whispering to each other. As you noticed the audience that had gathered, their curious side glances still not sure who exactly that strange purple haired man was shopping for, you felt a blush caress your cheeks. “I don’t really like that colour Melone. A bit too cold maybe.” You hurried to his side while offering your hushed answer, letting go of the cute set you had been admiring an isle away. The stares and muttering were starting to annoy you, Melone seeming completely unaware of them as his brows knitted together in thought, placing the thong back on the steel rack. Either he hadn’t a clue to his surroundings or he simply didn’t care. The thought of strangers always treating him this way saddened you, shortly after followed by anger. Yes, he was a special guy with even more unusual tastes but he was just as deserving of respect as any other, those nosy shoppers were here for the exact same reason as the both of you. “What about this…for you?” 

That kind smile offering a comfort, an apology, for the onlookers and their rudeness. The man wasn’t oblivious, he knew- but accepted your generous smile anyways. He’d always liked the contrast you offered, a soul so gentle, so curious, a little puppy who packed quite the large bite, considering how successful you proved to be at your shared occupation. He took the strappy teddy bodysuit adorned with lace decorations from your gentle hold, giving it his usual assessment before a mischievous smile curled his lips. “Di molto! How’d you know I liked purple?” He nudged his elbow playfully into your side while picking out his size and laying it in the shared basket. 

It had been his idea to go shopping together to get some nice pieces you’d all enjoy, Risotto will just have to wait and see what the two of you had picked out. “Come on Melone! We have to get to the salon on time!” Pulling the distracted shopper along, hooked in his elbow while he held onto the paper shopping bags filled with light pink fabric hiding the goodies from the public. Peeling him away from his laser focus on another frilly robe. So delicate; the thought of seeing Melone’s trained but slender figure in that nicely fitting bodice already letting loose a few excited tingles near your thighs as you hurried to your next stop. 

For once Risotto didn’t even need to explain your next guest’s preferences. On a particularly quiet evening your tentative colleague slid into your room, knocking while he’d opened the door, defeating its very purpose. “So about our little adventure! Let’s chat.” His excitement so obvious as he made himself comfortable at the foot of your bed, crossing his legs and playing with the comforter that you’d been resting under, already half asleep when he entered. And before you knew, it had been an hour already, wide awake as he walked you through his array of likes. Some seemed more appealing than others but the man was fair and didn’t mean to make you do anything you weren’t fully comfortable with. Deciding that if you were to explore his fascination with feet and hands, it would only do you both good to go and get mani-pedis together. The rest of his plans would come to fruition on the day itself. 

All shiny and clean, your hands having never felt softer or smelling this lovely, like you’d been marinating in a vat of vanilla syrup for a couple of days. It had been such a nice outing, quite the change of pace from the otherwise mundane free time you’d have. 

“One more thing, sweetheart.” His closeness making every hair on your body raise up to the heavens, his lips kissing the shell of your ear as he handed over a small bag alongside the others. Clinging to every syllable of that smooth voice, anticipating the next while heat built in your core. “We’ll have some fun with these before our lovely meeting tomorrow. We’ll switch remotes.” You didn’t even need to know the content of the little baggy, that curious mind of yours having seen enough lewd toys to know the one’s he’d gotten to play with. You hadn’t the power to reply, the way he exuded an aura of arousal letting only a breathy hum escape you. Oh this was going to be quite the educational endeavour. 

—

The thick golden liquid dripped from its dipper, landing in satisfying folds as the high pitched shrieks from the steaming kettle settled down when you turned off the heat. A nice hot cup of tea with a tad too much honey always hit the spot on a chilly day like this, bundled up in a cozy cardigan and feeling a little too aware of the foreign object currently residing inside you. It hadn’t started its buzzing, the anticipation of any movement had already liquified your determination to keep up appearances while moving about the kitchen. 

Risotto had been working hard all week, drowning in stacks of documents, phone calls or secret emails that kept him away from the very work his superiors kept dropping on him. That being the exact reason you’d also poured him a cup of the comforting drink, scuttling over to his office to hand it off. But as you stood there, two cups in hand, not a free one to open the door with, you called for you capo. Your soft voice like a siren call to the overworked man, and unbeknownst to you just yet, a very audible confirmation to Melone. A low buzzing startled you. So it began. A sly smirk quirking up the corner of your lips. “You won’t get me that easily, asshole.” You whispered to yourself, treating the tall looming figure that had come to open the door. “Here. Take a break for a minute.” Albeit reluctant, Risotto accepted the hot mug, his long strides only needing two or three steps to place him back behind his desk again. You took up the invitation that he hadn’t even extended, sitting yourself down on the chair reserved for his guests. Well now you were one. But the low buzzing tickling your insides, offering little to no stimulation still made you straighten your back. The sensation only letting you rest at the very edge of the seat. 

Knowing how much your superior appreciated silence, you opted not to engage in any useless smalltalk. Leaning back in his chair, letting his tremendous legs stretch, he breathed out a short groan. You offered a small smile as comfort, reminding yourself that the purple haired gentleman had oh so lovingly handed you a small remote as well. The silicone nub of buttons thudded gently as you placed it on the large oaken desk, making Risotto avert his gaze, landing it on the bright pink object. He quirked an eyebrow while intently staring back at you, searching for an answer. “Do you mind if I help you out a bit, Ris? Just to get a load off.” A devious little grin at the play of words, pressing a single button to activate the small device that resided in your colleague a few rooms away. “Sure. Start with that pile over there, consigliere Topollino wants those sorted.” You still weren’t sure if Risotto had caught on to what was happening, unsure of his knowledge in assorted sex toys. Fortunately for you, your commencing of mutual buzzing only egged on the other side, sending an intenser vibration through you as it gained. power. A small gasp left your lips, quickly clearing your throat and sipping from the warm drink in front of you to mask the new sensation. 

The tickling had little effect before but now the pace had quickened. You wondered if you capo even heard the soft hum of the toy, getting increasingly wetter, clenching around the form inside you. As best as you could, you started sorting the stack, gripping some documents a little too harshly as you felt your building pleasure earn footing. To retort the growing feeling, you pressed your remote twice, upping the speed and intensity, a wicked sense of satisfaction overtaking you at the thought of Melone wriggling in his seat. And as if he’d been planning it, the purple haired man struck again. “Shit.” That small huff out offering no sense of release as the hum continued. 

You were getting closer and closer, not even concentrated on the papers anymore as you gripped the armrests of the chair instead. Risotto peeled his dark eyes away from his screen, ceasing his tapping on the loud keyboard. “Are you feeling alright? You look a bit red.” Behind his minimal concern was a twinge of amusement, his trained ears had already picked up on the buzzing and that flashy coloured remote only solidified the answer to his own questions. You and Melone were in the middle of a heated teasing battle. The sight of your flushed cheeks, that earnest glimmer in your eyes he’s been so taken with, ever familiar. You were pretty bad at hiding it too, those short pants and wriggling in your seat, nails drug into the chair. Were you even trying to be discreet? As the thoughts ran through his head, not even caring that your only answer was a quick hum, he felt his cock harden slowly, enjoying the invisible battle. 

You couldn’t handle it any longer, breaths getting heavier by the second as you fumbled with the remote, pressing down again to increase power. If he was making you come undone in front of your capo, for the fifth time, you’d gladly return the favour. He was alone in his room but you were sure the thought alone had made him cream his pants. “Try and keep those documents in order. You’ll have to start all over again otherwise.” A hint of a smug grin dented his cheek as he kept his eyes on you, sipping his tea with great ease, enjoying the view of his struggling little minx. “F-fuck! I’ll try.” You stuttered as the tension kept building, inching closer to your peak by the second. Just as you gave the sorting another go, you toppled over the edge, mewling as the stimulation didn’t relent, crinkling the papers in your fist as you pinched your eyes shut. Risotto’s smirk only grew wider, taking in how you squirmed through your orgasm wondering if you’d pushed Melone far enough as well. 

Try as you did, nothing changed, the humming still going strong inside as your walls clenched around the toy. “He’s not stopping.” You grunted, growing agitated at the overstimulation, standing up from your seat with the strength of a newborn calf. That deep breath out offering a semblance of confidence as you moved to the door, that handle being close to ripped out of its socket as you held on for dear life, another wave of pleasure making itself known. The burn of overstimulation not as strong as your resolve to choke out the man who kept up his teasing. You wondered if he was writhing just as much as you as you made you way into the hall. Your swear you heard a small chuckle come from your capo’s office. 

Just as you reached Melone’s door, Ghiaccio stepped into the hall, offering a quick nod as his cheeks flushed red like yours. Something that kept happening whenever you met him alone since your meeting with him. Concern graced his usually grumpy features as he saw you pant and cling to Melone’s door. “What’s happening? Are you hurt?” The softness of his voice coaxing your second orgasm as he tightly gripped your shoulders between his hands. Those familiar moans ringing through him while you lost balance at the sensation. “I’m sorry Ghia. Shit, I have to go!” You trembled, practically falling into Melone’s room, quickly shutting the door behind you. The curly haired man was left to himself, a bit perplexed before huffing loudly when he realised what had been going on, those beautiful noises you made were all too familiar. As quickly as you left him, his hardness grew, hastily bringing the man back into his room, the thing he set out to do already forgotten while he furiously started his own stimulation. 

“Turn it off Melone!” You huffed, scrambling to his bed where he lay. Splayed out like a Greek marble statute, like Dionysus indulging in earthly pleasures, moving his hand over his shaft with a wide grin, not a semblance of strain gracing his façade. A Cheshire Cat grin mocking you for crumbling so easily. “Had enough, darling?” Emphasising his pet name for you, groaning theatrically while his eyes pierced yours. He seemed so unfazed, basking in the stimulation but so trained to not let on. With a swift click he stopped your toy, offering you relief from the buzzing, your body remembering the sensation, leaning against his desk chair and keeping your eyes on his length. It was slender and long, just like him. Not an imperfection in sight as it faintly leaned left. 

His strokes got more powerful, moaning only growing louder, so melodic as you recovered, sweetly egging him on with that sharp stare. Melone’s eyes fluttered as he bucked into his fist, white spurts of his come painting his toned abs. As he basked in his orgasm, you regained your senses, remembering you hadn’t brought the remote with you . “Shit let me get the remote!” You scrambled back to your feet, legs still feeling like jelly as you returned to Risotto’s office where he sat, that same smug grin never having left his lips as he continued his work, length straining at his trousers. 

As quick as you could, you shut off the toy. That little sigh leaving Melone not sounding like relief but slight annoyance that you’d stopped. “I would have kept going, but alas. We’ll continue this later.” That cheeky wink making you smile, already curious to that slender member inside of you, not before putting that pedicure to good use though.  

—

Melone hummed softly, admiring his own form in the floor length mirror that resides near your closet. His slender digits moving over the softness of the lace decorations, the comfort of the fabric so delicate against his supple skin. Behind him, resting on the edge of the bed was you, carefully rolling up stockings to your thighs, fastening them with the garter clips. Besides the thin see-through nylon and the detailed fabric resting on your hips supporting the hosiery, your body remained nude. The sensation of having lazily pulled up the fabric, caressing your legs in the meantime, had already earned a few excited flutters from your core. 

As you fastened the robe you’d picked out yesterday, Melone’s favourite choice so far, you stood up to nudge the lithe man out of his personal haze. “Ready?” You hummed as you snaked an arm around his waist, admiring his reflection with a soft stare. He felt so appreciated in that moment, admired, desired even. A feeling he rarely gets to experience as his advances are normally cut short. “Mhm, ready.” His tone so gentle, offering a quick smile before intertwining his lanky fingers with your, leading the way to his own room where Risotto awaited his colleagues. 

The confidence you’d built up never faltering as your capo’s intense gaze raked over every inch of your thinly covered figure. Like he was seeing it for the first time again, enjoying every little detail of the flouncy robe loosely cradling your breasts. How could someone look so lovely, so endearingly gorgeous? And why did all strength leave him because of it? He felt helpless against your eager charm, having to aptly remind himself of the position he was in. Tutor, albeit with the occasional hands on approach. 

“D’you like it?” Your questioned aired while Melone went to lay himself down on his bed like he had earlier this afternoon, that toned form so intoxicating, moving with care. He was making sure to flaunt his every muscle and curve before resting on his side, leaning his grinning face on his palm. “Yes.” The short answer enough of a confirmation from Risotto, neither of you had disappointed him with the choice of garments. Somehow hanging around that purple haired fellow made you even more alluring, the air feeling thick with anticipation as you strode over to the bed. Both stares trained on you when you tossed the robe, revealing that lovely body of yours to the cool air and the two men. Even though both of them had already seen you naked, they still gawked, a hushed “di molto!” falling from Melone’s wetted lips, his tongue moving over them. 

“Today-“ you paused, sighing dramatically while taking place at the end of Melone’s wide bed, opening your legs as you leaned back on your elbows, pussy displayed to the man that moved his form so he had the best view of your already glistening folds. “We’re going to be indulging. A lot. Right Melone?” You grinned, every word emphasised, that purr stolen from Melone’s tactics as you turned your head back to your capo. His expression not faltering but the straining of his length already gaining against his trousers. Melone hummed in response, completely taken in by the alluring vision before him, many thoughts already racing through his lewd mind. Those childbearing hips, that eager form so inviting and nearly dragging him in as his cock hardened under his pretty bodice. “First, we’re going to put that pedicure to good use, aren’t we? Risotto, would you be so kind as to throw me that bottle of lotion? We’re a bit preoccupied at the moment.” As much as your tone implied condescension, your capo complied, throwing the little bottle to your side, moving a nylon covered foot gently over Melone’s hardening length. A satisfied mewl already escaping him while you leisurely moved the pad of your foot against it. 

It was all quite new for you but after doing much scientific research on the lithe man’s handy laptop you felt confident to emulate the theoretical knowledge you’d picked up. The unusual but sensual tone you’d been using of your own inclination, knowing just how much it excited you when Melone purred into your ear before. 

Before teasing him any longer with the soft drags of your toes over his shaft you sat up and moved between his legs while his hungry gaze followed your every move. The way your breasts just so plumply invited him, making him yearn to suck them raw as you writhed under him. His little fantasy was cut short, your soft hands covered in the cold lotion inching the fabric covering his aching cock to the side and revealing his slender length. It was just as beautiful up close.

Your lathered fingers moved with care, pumping only its head as he bucked his hips ever so slightly, earning him a soft tap to his hip from your other hand, ordering him to behave. That confidence never for a second wavered as you worked the sensitive tip, cooing at the recipient. The condescending act so new but if felt so fitting already. “Do you want me to rub my pretty feet on your cock, huh? Work them all over as you whine?” You teased, never averting your eyes from his. That devilish grin enjoying every minute of your little act, waiting to make you beg for more later on. “Oh you little flirt. Of course I’d like that.” He graciously accepted the offer, not bothered by your tone in the slightest, it only egged him on. His patience was a trained one, a self-taught skill. 

You resumed you previous position again, placing a single foot behind his shaft to support it and moving the other with its pad flat against the length, pumping him gently. It felt a bit clumsier than your hands but those strong calves of yours could handle the pressure of the continued motions. 

Quickening your pace every time Melone moaned in pleasure, making sure to move over that sensitive head with your toes every once in awhile. As the man got closer and closer, not a single bead of sweat presented itself. But the twitching of his cock between your feet betrayed his nearing peak. You heard Risotto adjust in his seat. A fast glance to the side confirmed your suspicion, the man was in need of friction, anything to stimulate that aching cock. “Tut tut. Not yet Risotto. You’ll get your chance.” You mocked as he stopped his hands, resting them back on his thighs as his member stood proud, no longer restrained. His eyes squinted in frustration. 

The sight only made you giggle as you focussed on making Melone come. Picking up the pace yet again, movements intensifying as his moans and pants filled the air. “Come for me Melone!” You ordered, grinning so devilishly it could sway Beelzebub himself. Without much more stimulation his hips bucked up, the same fluttering eyes as before fighting to keep open as his stare remained. The spurts of come covered his delicate bodice, staining the fabric as he shuddered, the orgasm having brought on more pleasure than expected. “Di molto amore!” He groaned as you removed your feet, the nylons having been soiled as well. 

“Good boy!” You commended softly. Those words pleased a deeper sense in him, not knowing just what to think of all this but oh so happy to participate. Things like this rarely happened to him, never really. His lack of dirty talk chalked up to a deeper wonderment, a disbelief that someone hadn’t found his charms off-putting but endearing instead. 

Senses already aptly regained, shoving away any insecure thoughts Melone snapped into action, moving over your resting figure in a brisk motion, pinning you under him as his lips clashed with yours. It felt so needy, letting on more than he’d like to admit to wanting you. Desperate but still deliberate he moved, a skilful tongue toying with yours, moaning into you so melodically. His vocalness was so endearing, the whole night already having you soaked. His curious digits moved over your figure, grazing the skin of your waist, lightly hovering over your nipples and playing with your breasts. “Fuck. Let me fill you up already.” The impatience in his voice surprising since he’d always seemed so patient until now. His kiss accompanying his faltering composure. 

“Now it’s time for you Risotto. Come over here and lay down for us.” Melone purred, making room for the large figure that strode over to do as he was told. While he positioned himself in the middle, Melone and you undressed, letting the soiled lingerie drop to the floor and admiring each other for a moment, so intoxicated with each others allure. Those carved lines on the lithe mans body like a guide, showing off all its best assets. “You won’t be needing those.” He gestured towards Risotto’s figure, ushering your capo to undress as well. 

God he looked so stunning, just like always. His rippling muscles moving so beautifully as he slid off his trousers and shirt. Like two hungry hyenas assessing their next meal you stared at the man splayed out in front of you, the two of you flanking his thighs on each side. Both resting a gentle hand on his thick quads. 

To Risotto’s surprise you took place over his hips, straddling him under your form. Your sensitive folds enjoying his aching shaft positioned perfectly between them, wetness already slicking it thoroughly. Your capo’s dark eyes widened and his brain short circuited at the unexpected move, confused as to what was happening. As much as he was perplexed- finally feeling your touch on him- that long awaited moment nearly made him come right then and there. But he remained strong and kept his composure. To make things even harder on him you broke the distance, you breasts now resting on his midriff and that cute face near his own chiseled mounds. It took all the strength he possessed, that had already been worn thin, not to move under you. Just the slightest adjustment and he could so easily enter your wanton core. Eyes so full of mischief stared up at his dark ones that tried their best to remain focussed on you. You weren’t making it easy for him. 

“Oh don’t worry capo, I’ll be doing the work today. You just rest up.” You didn’t even need to face the man behind to know he shot Risotto a cheeky wink. Writhing your figure over him, searching for that stimulation your clit desperately needed, Melone grabbed your hips to still them, having relented all power to him now. “Shhh bella, we’ll get to moving in a second.” The mattress dented further as his body moved closer, Risotto’s legs spread wide to accommodate the other man. 

Melone could barely contain himself, gently lining himself up behind you while an inquisitive finger entered your dripping core. It drove him wild to now he’d already made you so excited, knowing that the entire combination of your stoic capo that showed his iron restraint and his nimble form so hungry for yours crumbled you to an eager mess. Barely containing his need to fill you to the brim with seed while soft mewls escaped your lips. He returned his finger, licking it clean with fervour. “Di molto! You’re so delicious bella!” That buttery smooth voice leading his wanton cock to your hole, carefully slipping it in without any restraint. 

That groan so loud, hurrying himself inside fully, those warm walls accepting him with want. And as he commenced his pace, you slid over Risotto’s straining member with ease. Not only were you getting the stimulation you needed, so was the man under you, eyes still trained on yours while his senses needed to get used to your wonderfully soft skin grinding on his. 

It was almost methodical, the way Melone moved his hips, a greatly experimented tactic finally being put to use. And oh was it working, it seemed like his cock reached all the right places, every thrust- as gentle as they were, hit the most wonderful spots that made your head swim. Moaning and groaning with abandon Melone and you fully indulging and letting go of any inhibitions. But the man beneath remained quiet, too enamoured with his cock finally so close to your sopping cunt. 

His brows had started furrowing, maybe that chest moved a bit heavier than before, betraying just how badly he needed to let go. “Come on Risotto, let go for me. Please?” Soft pants against his chest, sucking little marks on his skin to coax him out from under that shell. When your hands found themselves wondering across his jawline, caressing them with such admiration he felt his chest tighten. Just how badly had you wrapped him around your finger? 

The sensual thrusting continued, adept fingers kneading at your plush hips while feeling the rush of your orgasm finally arrive, letting it ripple through you with abandon. Gripping Risotto’s throat with your fingers, digging into the skin as you clenched around Melone’s cock, making him hiss and stutter while trying to hold himself back for just a bit longer. Along with your whimpers and Melone’s moans, your other colleague finally took up your lesson, groaning softly, so sweetly it almost turned into a whining moan. “Thank you Ris.” You huffed your praise, offering more kisses and suckles at his chiseled chest, fingers loosening around his thick neck all the while your orgasm subsided.

Melone’s hips bucked, that familiar flutter arriving as well, coming undone inside your sensitive core with those same short spurts as before, moaning all the while. It felt so warm within your walls, the coldness so contrasting when he pulled out. That deeper desire to have filled you with his come finally satiated after so long. 

“Lets treat our patient capo, eh darling. He’s been so good for us.” He grinned deviously as he helped you off of Risotto who ached for his own orgasm. “Come inside of her.” He ordered, voice sterner than you had ever heard it. As you leaned back into the lithe man’s lap, letting him hold you tenderly while playing with your breasts, Risotto regained his senses just enough to move over you. His figure so huge, looming over you and pumping his shaft while his other arm held him up. That steel gaze having softened, letting go as you asked, revealing a needy tenderness that made your heart swell. 

“Fuck!” His deep voice gritted, his blushing tip leaning against your entrance while he unloaded inside. He was sure that the moment he’d let himself slip in, his resolve would falter. That last bit of strength holding him back, reminding that there would only be one more after this. One more until you’d be his alone. 

“Thank you boys.” You whispered, rubbing their arms tentatively, assuring them it’s was ok to rest now. Although the figure you’d been leaning against didn’t even seem that worn. Still feeling a bit peckish, Melone gently laid you down, moving easily between your legs after Risotto moved away. 

“One last thing.” That smooth voice sounding so endearing. Before you could even register that dark haze behind his eyes, he dipped down and eagerly started suckling every last bit of their combined come out from your core. The sensation so absolutely lewd it made you quiver while he continued over your sensitive bud. Tongue moving like his cock had, with utmost precision, like he knew every little spot that made you melt into him. Like a man starved, finally let loose on a depraved buffet.  

Risotto took Melone’s previous spot, letting you rest your back on his thighs, caressing your hair almost lovingly while the other urged another orgasm out of you. For the first time, it almost felt romantic. Three lovers so drunk on each others essence. Trembling as the waves calmed and the moaning stopped.

As Melone wiped his mouth with his fingers, licking up any juices he’d find, he plopped next to you with a deep sigh, this time one of relief and satisfaction. Tonight felt so different, the intimacy thicker and more genuine than before, teaching you just how important the entire atmosphere can be. It hadn’t slipped your mind how comfortable Risotto seemed with Melone there, letting him lightly touch his thighs, admiring his lithe figure in the outfit. 

Basking in the pleasant aura seemed right, regaining thoughts and senses, letting the comfortable silence speak for itself; this would not be a one time thing. 

#shoots love and kindness gun at melone #also dies because ris i just too cute #jjba x reader #la squadra x reader #melone x reader #risotto x reader #jjba smut #la squadra #jjba fic #jjba imagines #jojo x reader #notsfw #minors dni #jojo's bizarre adventure #risotto nero #melone

[bonemarroww]

Something Else - Trans!(O) Amajiki Tamaki x (A) F!Reader

Summary: “You’ll get there someday!” Mirio always says. “You’ll do bette next time.” Tamaki doesn’t want to get there someday. And if every Alpha always does, well, maybe he’s something else then.

Warnings: None.

Feedback is welcome!

(I do not own the picture)

AO3

Prologue | Chap 1 | Chap 2 | Chap 3 | Chap 4 | Chap 5

————————— Epilogue

“Cheers!”  

The loud sound of glass clinking against glass made Tamaki flinch, but to see Mirio and Nejire’s bright expressions, and his mate’s proud look, it was worth the slight discomfort.  

Tonight was his leaving do from Fat gum’s agency. After four years of loyal service, he was finally creating his own agency with Mirio and Nejire. The thought was as exciting as it was frightening. He had gotten used to working with the Pro Hero, as the specifics of their quirks made them a nice pair. Still, the thought of working with his best friends was appealing, and when a few months ago, Mirio had brought up their childhood dream of becoming Pro Heroes working together... He had accepted.  

Nejire had joined in their project with her usual enthusiasm, as her contract with the agency she worked at was coming to an end anyway. Tamaki knew his mate would have joined too, but she couldn’t for the time being, her work with Gang Orca slowly but surely coming to fruition . In a year or two, maybe .  

The Omega had been a bit disappointed to hear that, but after a few days of sulking and a calm discussion, he had come around it. It was hard sometimes working with people you loved, and as long as she came back to him every night, he would be happy.  

Tonight’s gathering was also the occasion to celebrate with his friends the three-year landmark since the beginning of his transition. By now, he no longer felt any of the after-effects that had plagued him for a year and a half after the treatment. His scent was now clear as that of any Omega, sweet enough for his mate to get drunk on it. Hearing people refer to him as an Alpha in the present tense had gotten rarer and rarer; and now that he was bonded to his ever-loving mate, and had a job he liked with his best friends as colleagues, it seemed nothing could get more perfect.  

Being able to be true to himself had been a real awakening for Tamaki, who had gone a long way since his high school days in matters of self-esteem. While he was not the most assertive hero, and he still got shy around people he did not know, Tamaki was a whole lot more confident now than he had been as an Alpha. Confident in himself, in his abilities. Every time he looked at his mate, as she was engaging in a lively conversation with one of Fatgum’s Beta sidekicks, he saw the flash of purple, gold and white around her neck, and he was reminded of it.  

As he had been injured and on medical leave for a while about a year ago, he had reluctantly tried crocheting again, hoping to kill some time until his Alpha could come home to him. Much to his surprise, now that he was free of the pressure and expectancy of him to craft a courting gift, he had found the activity much more enjoyable. After a few tries, he had been able to gift his Alpha a present he was actually proud of; a new scarf in his colors, that he had scented at her request –to motivate her to come back earlier, she had joked, but he knew it was because of how much his Omega’s scent calmed her whenever her Alpha went in a frenzy.  

He had complied, secretly happy to have her wear his scent. Though much of her Alpha’s overzealousness was now channeled towards him, she was still known to show a lot of care towards any Omega she might find, fussing particularly over the civilians she was rescuing. Tamaki knew it to be her nature, and he loved her for it, but sometimes, he was a bit afraid these Omegas would get ideas and get attached to his mate. She was aware of his sentiments on the matter, of course, and often asked him to thoroughly scent her before she left for work, if only to bring peace to his mind.  

“Excuse me, Suneater?”  

Tamaki startled, looking away from his mate and to a girl wearing UA’s uniform. She looked young enough, probably in second year. Tamaki didn’t seek to breathe in her scent, a habit he found distasteful as he knew full well one’s identity was not dictated by their scent, but as he took an inspiration to calm his anxiety, it was the absence of any particular smell that made him tick. She was using scent blockers.  

“Y-yes?”  

In the background, Tamaki heard his mate end her conversation with the sidekick, and he felt her move closer to him. It comforted him slightly, as the bubbly student introduced herself.  

“I am sorry to bother you, but I have something pretty important to ask you.” She didn’t beat around the bush, displaying an engaging grin. “I’m a second-year in UA, and I am j ust like you .”  

In the way she emphasized the words, and coupled with the eerie lack scent emanating from her, the Pro Hero immediately understood what she meant.  

While the shy boy didn’t go out of his way to let it know that he hadn’t always been an Omega, he hadn’t done anything to hide it either, and with some researches online, any fan could come across this information. Fans ; he had not always expected to have them. He didn’t shine by his personality like Lemillion , or by his feats like All Might. Still, he had been proven wrong when Fatgum’s agency had started receiving fan mail about him as well; a lot of praise, of thanks, some gifts –some of them profoundly inappropriate.    

He had received some heartfelt letters, about how knowing he was one of ‘them’ had inspired a few into transitioning as well; or about how they dealt with their assigned second gender, not wanting the treatment. All of them moved to learn there was a Hero somewhat like them in the noticeable rankings.  

“I am hosting an awareness event at the school in two weeks. You have been a huge inspiration to me, you’re a Pro Hero a lot of us can relate to, and seeing you being well on your way to the top makes me feel like maybe I have a chance too.”  

Tamaki looked down in embarrassment, flattered yet nervous. One thing caught his attention, though, below the student’s neck. There, hooked to the strap of her bag, a vibrantly colored pin with the symbols of the Alpha, the Beta and the Omega artistically intertwined.  

“I want to make it so that students like us in the Hero course, and all other classes, know they are not alone and that they are not freaks. I want all the others to listen too. We can’t have allies if they’re not even aware we exist!” She chuckled, Tamaki’s silence seemingly making her a bit unsure.  

He felt his Alpha link her fingers with his, and caught her look of fond encouragement. She squeezed his hand, looking pointedly over to the teen and then at him again.  

The shy young man cleared his throat, shaking slightly his head to try to stop his anxiety from taking over.  

“It-it’s a great project.” He finally answered, his free hand fiddling with the fabric of his cape. “I hope many will come to listen. D-did principal Nezu give you access to the main lecture theater?”  

The student smiled; her cheeks ever so tinted from joy to hear her idol approved of her initiative.  

“He did. I hope it will be filled with fellow students. I have invited several Pro Heroes, whom I found to be overtly trans, to come share their story and point of view. So, I guess a number of students will come, if only out of curiosity.”  

Tamaki nodded; it did not really matter the motivations that brought the students at this conference, so long as they stayed to hear the point of the meeting.  

The student seemed to hesitate a bit, as if suddenly overcome with some shyness.  

“It would mean a lot to me if you could come and share your experience too.”  

She must have felt how much he tensed at the prospect, for she immediately looked to regret the anxiousness she had projected upon him.  

“Your mate could come too, as an ally, of course!” She assured him, which only seemed to relax him a tiny bit.  

Tamaki’s hand was so tight against his mate’s, he was surprised the Alpha didn’t pull from him. Instead, she let out a low purr, her other hand coming to rub his arm in slow movements of comfort. The Pro Hero closed his eyes for a moment, breathing deeply, focusing on the agreeable sensation of her purrs vibrating through him.  

When he opened his eyelids again, he exhaled and smiled hesitantly, gathering all of his courage.  

“I’ll come.” He affirmed, not as loudly as he would have liked, but he had put the words out there and that was the only thing that mattered.  

He knew he would not regret his decision until the moment he would have to speak in front of these students; but the knowledge that his past self would have most probably missed this opportunity out of shyness cemented his decision. He was sincerely interested in this event, felt honored and timidly pleased to have been invited. He would be afraid, but he would not regret.  

The student’s face broke into a relieved grin.  

“Thank you so much!” She opened her bag and rummaged through it for a few seconds, before coming up with a pastel colored paper. “Here’s a flyer for you. I won’t bother you any more than that. I’ll see you then!”  

She bowed slightly to them, fully intent on leaving them to enjoy their night. Still, as she was closing her bag and turning away, Tamaki caught sight of something shiny in her bag, and yelped out a ‘wait!’.  

By now, his hand was crushing his mate’s, but he timidly looked up at the younger girl. When he spoke, his tried to keep nervous stutter at bay; in vain.  

“I-if you n-need an internship, o-or an agency to work with for Hero studies... F-feel free to c-contact me.” He felt his mate purr just a little louder in surprise, and in the way she squeezed his arm quickly, he knew he had her approbation. “Also...”  

His trembling free hand left the abused fabric of his costume to shakily point at the pin on her bag’s strap.  

“D-do you have more?” His cheeks set ablaze, and he immediately looked down, hoping his hair might hide his flaming cheeks.  

There was a moment of silence, before the Alpha chuckled and nosed his shoulder tenderly, breaking the student’s shock. The younger girl opened her bag again with colored cheeks as she bashfully explained she made them herself; eyeing carefully the Alpha to know if it was okay for her to give it to the Omega.  

When the young woman nodded with peaceful eyes, the student was extending one to Tamaki, visibly flattered.  

The Hero slowly released his mate’s hand, and gingerly took the little object in both his hands.  

“Thank you.” He whispered, still too embarrassed to properly face the creative student.  

After a few words of goodbye and promise of seeing each other at the awareness event in UA, to which Tamaki knew his mate wouldn’t mind going, he sighed in relief.  

Without a word, the Alpha led him to a quieter part of the hall, letting him rest from the social exhaustion.  

“I’m proud of you.” She whispered in his ear as she treaded her hands through his hair while she leaned to kiss his cheek softly.  

Tamaki purred contentedly, taking deep inhales of her scent. He was proud of himself, too.  

Her hands trailed down to his, and she seized the little pin. It was similar to that the girl wore, in different colors, less vibrant, more appeasing. It suited him.  

“Help me put it on?” He quietly asked.  

His Alpha’s nimble fingers hooked the pin to the fabric of his cape, just above his heart. The colors fit nicely with the rest of his hero costume; discreet but present.  

“There.”  

She leaned back; eyes squinted ever so slightly in admiration, a fond smile on her lips, and a tender purr in the air.  

“You’re perfect.”  

——————

That’s it folks ! The epilogue to Something Else. 

I hope you all liked it, if you did, feel free to leave a comment !

#amajiki tamaki x reader #trans amajiki tamaki #amajiki tamaki fluff #tamaki amajiki x reader #omega amajiki tamaki #my hero academia #something else

[ohwereusingourmadeupnames]

Starker + 13 please

Mini fics are hard for me, so this is as close as it gets! Thanks for the request, lovely! <4

send me a ship and one of these and i’ll write a mini fic

13. things you said at the kitchen table

So, maybe they shouldn’t have started in on the whiskey after coming home from the latest Avenger’s charity event. 

It didn’t seem like too big of a deal when they stumbled out of the elevator into the shiny front room of their penthouse apartment. In fact, Peter looked over his shoulder with a wicked look and gestured over his shoulder with a still glove-covered hand.

“Can I pour you another?” Peter asked, his eyes glazed with too much alcohol and the earliest hints of lust. Despite being watched by his entire security team on the ride up, Tony couldn’t keep his hands off of the boy wonder – not when Peter looked the way he did in the perfectly tailored suit he saved for special occasions.

Unable to say no to anything Peter asked (pretty much ever), Tony followed his boyfriend to the bar on the far side of the room, his hip colliding with one of the stools there as he absentmindedly attempted to suavely lean against the smooth surface of it. 

He was at the point in their night where not much aside from Peter registered, anyway.

Noticing the less than elegant movement, Peter snorted out a laugh, the action dragging a delightful blush to the surface of his cheeks, the redness there compounding with the alcohol’s effects.

“Smooth,” Peter managed through his laughter, his eyes distractingly shiny.

From there, Tony could only remember whiskey-sharp kisses and his fingers clenching tight around the fine glass of his tumbler – all of their conversations from that moment and the rest of the night starting to blur the further under the wave he allowed himself to fall.

Without much recollection of how they got there, Tony found himself in the sleek kitchen of the penthouse, the stainless steel of it reflecting Tony’s more than intoxicated appearance. His hair was everywhere, finger tracks running through it like a map of Peter’s impatient touches. The bow tie that sat perfectly against his throat earlier that night was hanging open, more of the fabric of it sitting on the left side of his neck after having strong arms wrapped around him. Through blurry vision, Tony caught his own smile, too – the look on his face seemingly love drunk and completely happy.

An enthusiastic “shit” brought him out of the pond of reflective thinking, his eyes squinting behind purple tinted glasses to hunt down the cause of the noise. Getting up, Tony forced himself not to bark out a laugh at the scene he walked in on. Peter was completely covered in flour and what could only be exploded pancake mix, the thick batter falling down the longer hair resting against Peter’s forehead.

“Looks like a nuclear pancake bomb went off in here,” Tony said, the corner of his eyes crinkling from the smile he was attempting to keep under lock and key. Though, Peter’s pouty face pointed in his direction was too much to bear – Tony finally let the chuckle bubbling up spill from his lips, one of his hands coming up to cover his mouth in a last-ditch effort to keep the lid on. The raucous sounds of his laughter could be heard through the gaps of his fingers, despite the valiant effort.

“Shut up! I’m trying to make us food – I’m so hungry, Tony.” Peter deepened the pouty look on his face, the puppy dog eyes making the mess on his face all the more hilarious. Tony bridged the space between them, his hands wrapping around Peter’s shoulders – the both of them too drunk to be worried about the sloppy batter getting all over them and the usually spotless kitchen.

“Don’t worry, Petey – I’ll get you some food.”

They halfheartedly attempted to clean the kitchen while they waited for their late-night food delivery – if he paid Kimm to stay open a little longer to make sure Peter got his favorite dumplings, no one needed to know.

Tony was just pulling a sleepy Peter into his arms when FRIDAY’s voice came over the comms system – “delivery boy is coming up, boss.”

In place of replying, Tony held a thumb up in the air, the complexity of his tech system more than familiar with his usual gestures.

He led the loose-limbed spider boy to the table after grabbing the food, his boyfriend now at the clingy stage where his hands didn’t want to leave the comfort of Tony’s hips, or the confines of his boxer-briefs the younger man could get his fingers under. He kept Peter close as he navigated himself around the kitchen to get plates and utensils. When they sat down, Tony dished out the food and finally found a bit of freedom to move as Peter detached and immediately dug into the food in front of him.

Not nearly as hungry as the young buck next to him, Tony let his eyes drift over Peter’s form – the tight white shirt fit snuggly against well-developed biceps and was framed nicely with a wide-open waistcoat that when done and put together, tapered Peter’s waist dramatically. The simple thought of it made Tony’s mouth feel like the dessert, his tongue sticking to the roof of his mouth despite the copious hydration he took part in throughout the night.

So caught up in it all, Tony forgot the food in front of him in favor of watching Peter’s hands grip his fork, the subtle movement of the tendons and muscles more than a little distracting. The need to rein himself in strength-wise was apparent in each of Peter’s movements – Tony could see the tightening in his forearm, the action more than telling after being around him for so many years. That strength was something Tony loved being wrapped up in – when Peter pulled him close and tightened his arms around him, Tony never felt safer.

Unable to hold himself back any longer, Tony let his hands wander across the table, fingers landing on the hand Peter wasn’t using to shovel food into his mouth. His boyfriend didn’t react, but Tony was expecting that – when someone got food in front of Peter, there wasn’t any stopping him until the beast was totally fulfilled. He even reached over and dragged Tony’s plate in front of him without so much as recognizing the action – they’d been together long enough for stuff like that to be commonplace.

Finally, Peter let his fork hit the plate, a satisfied look on his face. “You take the best care of me,” he started, Peter’s hands finally registering the contact against bare skin. He grabbed both of Tony’s hands, bringing them to his lips to press chaste kisses against the knuckles of his fingers. “While I was eating, I couldn’t stop thinking about what the sauce would taste like dripping down your cock. Care to try it out?”

Tony couldn’t remember a time when he got out of his chair faster, his greediness and the underlying arousal he’d been nursing all night all of the sudden spiking – Peter needed to be sans clothes and stretched out on the blank canvas of their fancy sheets right that second.

If he pocketed one of the packets of sauce as he hauled Peter up from his chair to head towards the bedroom – well, no one needed to know about that, either.

#starkerscoop #starker #bobbie writes #peter parker/tony stark #do the dang thing

[weirdfetishes123]

Don't Get Too Excited - deviantart

Victor Beauregarde, the muscular, strapping star wrestler at his school, was on his way across campus to Professor Wonka's laboratory. After flunking Wonka's chemistry midterm, Victor was stopping by after hours to turn in some research for extra credit. As the young man entered the laboratory, he noticed the room was alive with work, even with no one there. Beakers bubbling, tubes stringing from container to container with bright colored fluids pumping back and forth. It seemed more whimsical than the usual chemistry lab. Professor Wonka stepped in, noticing Victor's presence. "Ahh, Victor my boy, thank you for dropping by." The Professor was dressed in a crumpled purple lab coat, his hair frizzy and disheveled. By comparison, Victor's curly brown hair was tousled perfectly around his handsome face. Victor strode across the laboratory, papers in hand. He was on his way to wrestling practice- dressed in form-fitting blue nylon sweatpants and a sweatshirt to match. "Here you go, Professor Wonka," he said, blowing a bubble from his gum and handing over the paper. Wonka rifled through them. "Good work Victor, this looks very good indeed!" Victor's eyes crawled over the laboratory. Between two tongs, sticking up out of the mass of tubes, was a bright blue nugget, gleaming. Victor reached out and grabbed it. "Wow, Professor Wonka, what is this?" he asked. Wonka looked up. "That, my boy, is an extremely potent piece of gum! Blueberry, in fact. Once it's perfected, it'll last for hours, even days, without losing its taste!" Wonka looked back down to finish looking through Victor's work. Victor shrugged, took his wad of gum out, and popped the blue nugget in his mouth. As soon as he began chewing, he felt the sweet taste of blueberries fill his mouth. "Holy smokes, Wonka, this is amazing!" Professor Wonka looked up in a panic. "No, Victor, you can't chew it! It's not right, the side effects!" He ran over to the boy. Victor, seeing him rush over, quickly swallowed the gum. "OK, I swallowed it! No more chewing!" Wonka's eyes grew wide. "Oh no, that's no good at all..." he said, wringing his hands. Victor furrowed his brow impatiently. "What gives, Wonka? I stopped chewing!" Wonka sighed. "Well, you've avoided the immediate effects- for now. But the gum has some particularly nasty side effects, and I'm afraid you're not out of the woods yet." "You see, the gum is now getting absorbed into your stomach," Wonka continued. "The particular molecules in the gum that have been causing problems are going into your abdomen, and unfortunately, by my calculations, they'll end up in your... in your reproductive system." Victor scrunched his face in confusion. "In my junk?!" "Precisely!" Wonka exclaimed. "The good news is, that once they've settled, they're dormant as long as they don't get stimulated- like chewing on them would do. So you'll just need to let it sit and work itself out of your body for, say, about 24 hours." Victor shrugged. "So one day with no sex and I'll be fine?" "No sex, no excitement period," Wonka cautioned. "Don't... ummmm, get to climax, under any circumstances." "Or what?" Victor inquired. "Well, that gum has an incredibly potent blueberry juice formula," Wonka explained. "So potent, in fact, that it can replicate and literally transform a subject. Theoretically, you could inflate into a giant human blueberry!" "A human blueberry! Wow..." Victor trailed off. His phone beeped, reminding him. "Shoot, I'm late for practice!" As he ran off, Wonka called out after him: "Remember, don't get too excited!"

* * * * *

Exiting the locker room, Victor glanced at the clock. 23 and a half hours to go, he could do that no sweat. He was just as horny as the average college student, but if push came to shove, he could control himself. Victor strutted onto the mats, adjusting his bulge and butt in the bright blue singlet and pulling up his blue knee socks. His buddies had already started horsing around before their sparring began- Victor noticed two of them roughhousing, with his friend Julian on top. Julian was Victor's favorite- cute round face with dark hair, dark skin, thin waist that tapered down to a bulbous booty. As he stared as Julian's plump, round butt in his red singlet, Victor remembered the warning and shook his head to get his mind onto other subjects. "Hey guys- you ready to start practice?" Victor said. His buddy Adam, clad in a shiny green singlet, came over and slapped Victor's booty. "Ready when you are, stud." Adam was the troublemaker of the group- the beefiest, with thick muscles in a high weight class. If his shaved head made him seem intimidating, his cute smile was disarming. As he felt Adam's squeeze, Victor gulped. "OK guys, I have to tell you something. I'm dealing with kind of a.. medical issue, and I can't get too excited for the next 24 hours or so." The third friend, Will, stood up in his black singlet. "You mean like, you can't do cardio because of your heart?" he asked in a concerned voice. Will was the smallest of the group, thin and blonde with prominent cheekbones and an almost pixie-like face. As Victor and anyone else could tell through his singlet, Will had almost no body fat to weigh him down during a match. Victor shook his head at the boys. "No, I mean like, EXCITED excited." As if to emphasize the point, he reached down and adjusted his package through the blue spandex. Adam grinned. "Oh REALLY?" he feigned shock. "Well, we DEFINITELY will try to make sure that doesn't happen!" he said with a smile on his face. From behind, Julian grabbed Victor's legs and wrestled him down onto the mat. The boys grabbed at each other, trying to get the upper hand, and Julian's hand found itself to Victor's package. "Oops, don't want to get you too excited!" he said mischeviously. He quickly rubbed Victor's package, feeling him react through the thin, shiny fabric. Victor gritted his teeth, remembering Wonka's warning, as he felt his member begin to stretch his singlet. "Cut it out!" he grunted, flipping Julian over. Victor now had the upper hand, with Julian face down on the mat. His face planted down, Julian smirked as he realized how he would tease Victor more. Victor suddenly felt Julian's massive rear end start bobbing up and down next to his crotch. At first dismissing it as him struggling to get free, Victor realized that Julian was using his plump ass to get him even more excited. "Grrrrrrr," Victor growled at Julian as he continued to thrust his rear backwards. Julian continued rubbing his red spandex-clad ass up and down, Victor's bulge firmly planted in his crack. He could feel Victor beginning to get harder and harder and he struggled, finally beginning to throb through the spandex. Julian smirked and rocked back against Victor. "Guys..." Victor panted, "I can't... really..." he started to pull back from Julian's grinding to try to get up. Adam leapt down to tackle Victor, and planted himself firmly behind his struggling friend, keeping him in place. Victor pushed back into Julian, who continued his rhythmic butt thrusting. As Adam twisted his arms through Victor's, the boys' legs pressed up against each other. Adam felt Victor's big blue bubble butt press up against his bulge, as his buddy struggled. Adam grew more and more excited, and eagerly began to tease Victor with humping that gradually quickened. Victor's firm bubble butt jiggled against Adam, and he quickly became rock hard.

Victor panted. He knew he was fully hard, and the feeling of both of his buddies rubbing and teasing him felt incredibly good. Maybe, just maybe though, he could hold off and escape. They didn't know how serious the side effects would be! Victor tried to keep his mind off of what was happening and scramble out of the rubbing, writhing group of excited young men. Will was egging Adam and Julian on, shouting at them "Harder! Harder!" while starting to sport his own bulge. As the young men struggled, Julian began to give in to the erotic tangle of bodies- moaning and softly whispering to Victor "My ass, my ass..." Adam took a cue from him, and his free hand began to explore Victor's body. He felt Victor's hard pectoral muscle, then grabbed down to get a palm full of the side of Victor's plump butt over his singlet. As he continued to grind his hard package into Victor's butt, he let his face slip into the nape of Victor's neck, breathing heavily and starting to gently lick and bite him. Victor felt himself losing control. Between Adam's package humping his booty, and Julian gyrating back into him, Victor knew it was not long before he would suffer the consequences of Wonka's warning. He looked up at Will with pleading eyes. But Will just stood there admiring the sight. And what a sight they were. The three young men were rubbing and grappling, with the poor boy in blue in the middle struggling to resist and get out. He would normally be in heaven, as their throbbing erections bobbed in unison as they struggled, wrestled, and humped together, contained only by their thin singlets. Victor felt a throbbing feeling begin to creep into his crotch and began to gasp "No... no..." Even as every ounce of Victor's willpower tried to stop, the rubbing and sensation was too much for him. He felt Adam's package rubbing against his butt, while Julian continued to gyrate, sliding his spandex-encased badonkadonk over Victor's package. Will was laughing and teasing, enjoying the spectacle. Victor felt himself edge closer and closer, as his buddies continued their teasing and rubbing, faster and faster. "Fuck... you... guys... UHHHHNNNN" With that, the boys stepped back as they heard Victor start to climax. As he came, instead of feeling the cum shoot out of him, he began to feel squirting inside his body. As he writhed on the mats in pleasure, the other guys noticed that his blue singlet was still dry- nothing was coming out. Adam turned to Will. "That's weird..." Julian gasped. Victor continued to moan, feeling the pleasure of ejaculating and the oddly continued squirting of something inside his body. As the throbbing and pleasure spread from his crotch through Victor's body, Julian saw his skin begin to turn blue- splotches here and there, until his whole body was the same deep and bright blue as his spandex outfit. Will's jaw dropped. "Victor, you're blue!" "Bright blue!" Adam said, shocked. Victor heard their hollers but was focused on the orgasmic, body-changing sensation. What had started as an orgasm had spread through his body, and instead of release, each convulsion brought another squirt deep inside him, the ecstasy building upon itself. As Victor felt the orgasm build up bigger and bigger from deep inside, he began to feel his body expanding along with the pleasure. "Victor, what are you doing!" Adam cried out. "You're blowing up, dude!" Julian hollered. The blue Victor had indeed started to inflate- his stomach beginning to balloon up like a beach ball. His arms and legs began to swell, puffing out and making him less and less mobile. In between moans, he tasted the sweet taste of blueberries in his mouth, more and more powerful.

The pleasure, both to Victor's delight and to his horror, wasn't subsiding. As Victor struggled against the incredible shooting orgasmic feelings, he tried to get up but only succeeded in flipping over, exposing his massive butt ballooning bigger, wider, and rounder. As he reached his inflated arm behind him, he felt the pulsing of juice into his butt as it grew larger, larger, and larger. Victor let out a deep moan. Julian and Adam ran to Victor and helped him to his feet. Adam felt Victor's arms plumping up under his fingertips as he lifted the now heavier young man. Julian lifted from his midsection, and realized that his arms just barely fit around the blue boy's stomach. He felt his hands unclasp as Victor's stomach continued to inflate, pushing Julian's hands apart. Will stared transfixed at Victor's predicament. He put his hands on Victor's stomach, feeling the pulsing juices pumping into his friend. He met Victor's gaze, rubbing his friend's bloated form through the spandex, then giving a slight poke. Victor, now almost totally lost in his orgasm, responded with an open mouth and low, guttural noise. Adam had let go of Victor's arms, allowing them to pop up like two balloons pushed up by Victor's inflated body. Adam circled his friend, noticing that his package had swelled considerably as well. He reached down to touch it, feeling the thick throbbing member through the shiny material. As he rubbed it, Victor's moans deepened, and the young man's swelling quickened. Adam jumped back and let out a nervous laugh, as Victor continued to round out. Adam, Julian, and Will all backed up slowly as Victor continued to balloon out, rounder and rounder. His singlet stretched to outrageous proportions, the white stitching serving as the only contrast to the blue fabric and his blue skin. Victor himself continued his moaning, only able to flap his arms slightly as they began to absorb into his ball of a body. Squirt after squirt, he felt the unrelenting pleasure shooting throughout him, knowing that he was suffering the worst and most permanent side effects that Professor Wonka had warned him about, but finally giving in to the most incredible sensation he had ever felt. Victor finally felt himself ripening. His body shuddered with pleasure and he felt the torrent of juice invading every inch of his body. His spandex stretched perfectly around his blue form, becoming totally round. "OHHH FUCKKKK" he cried out as his inflation slowed and he felt his body round out completely, his inflation finally turning him into a perfect blueberry. He gasped and cried out as he felt the built-up orgasm ripple through his body, losing all control to the overwhelming sensation of pleasure, and feeling his body change into something totally new. Watching the intense pleasure that Victor had just undergone had stunned the boys- and had proved infectious. Adam, Julian, and Will just stared at the giant blueberry boy in front of them, their singlets tenting out in front of them as each young man had a prominent wet stain on their crotches. Julian caught his breath and smiled at the other guys. "That was... actually pretty hot." Will didn't respond besides adjusting his damp package in his spandex and smiling sheepishly. Adam walked over to their inflated blue friend. He had stopped blowing up, but was now slowly examining his newly bloated form while continuing to softly moan. Tucking his package down, Will put his hands on Victor's body. "Let's get him down to Professor Wonka's lab to see if he can do anything to fix it!”

* * * * *

Professor Wonka shook his head in disappointment. "Victor, Victor, Victor." The three boys, still clad in their singlets, surrounded their friend- still just a head, two hands, and two feet sticking out of a perfect blue ball. Victor smiled sheepishly at Professor Wonka. "I told you that there were serious side effects!" Wonka said. "We didn't know!" Adam protested. "We were just having fun, and all of a sudden the started to blow up like a balloon!" "Like a blueberry, actually," Wonka corrected him. "Can we help him, Professor Wonka?" Julian asked earnestly. Wonka began to circle poor Victor, as Adam and Will slowly rubbed the human blueberry to comfort him. "Well, Wonka began, "I had warned him that he needed to wait at least 24 hours. Some of the effects can be temporarily reversed with a juicing. But unfortunately before long Victor will slowly but surely inflate back up to his new form here." Adam and Julian shared a smile. "Juicing, huh?" Julian asked. "I can't wait to see how that works." "Hopefully he'll enjoy the release as much as he enjoys blowing back up!" Will offered. Hearing his friends, Victor slowly waddled side to side in the laboratory, surveying his ballooned blue body. He managed to gasp out: "You guys... I told you... not to let me get... too excited..."

[uneq-apol--arts]

Flay 

AO3

Summary: Beej has a depressive episode. Charles is the only other person awake. (Rated Teen for Language.)

Warnings: Blood, knives, referenced abuse, implied rape, suicide(?) attempt, self harm

Genre: hurt/comfort(?)

Characters: Beetlejuice, Charles Deetz, Juno (briefly)

Please let me know what warnings to add, if necessary. And please if you are struggling with suicidal and/or homicidal thoughts, please talk to someone.

----------

Idiot! 

He had been feeling like this for weeks now. 

Failure! 

Everything had become muted. 

Useless! 

Nothing felt real. 

Parasite! 

No one was awake. The house was dark and oppressively quiet. Beetlejuice had been waiting for everyone to go to bed. It was just past ten when he snuck down to the kitchen and grabbed a knife from the holder. It felt nice to hold one again. The handle was smooth and cool under his fingers. The blade was so shiny he could see his distraught face reflected in it. He laid a gentle finger on the tip and instantly it drew blood. The pain was soft. Welcome. With just a prick, Beetlejuice felt a small amount of realness return. The pain was grounding. Not the healthiest, he knew, but it was something. 

Upstairs, he sat down on the edge of his bed and pulled the string on his bedside lamp. The bulb flared to life with a soft buzz. Beetlejuice removed his sweatshirt and rolled up his neat, white tank top. The paunch of his stomach was already littered with white scars and stretch marks. 

"You idiot! You can't die! You're already dead!" 

That was the first time she had caught him cutting. He was five in human years. 

The blood dribbled lightly from the shallow cuts. Not deep enough to flow but just enough to scar. He rolled down the shirt and it clung to him, red spots seeping and spreading. Next he turned to his upper arms. They were pelted with scars. Not only knife wounds, though. Some were perfect, circular burns. 

"You want to feel? I'll give you something to feel!" 

That was the first time she burned him. He was only almost six in human years. 

The blood flowed quicker from his arms. The cuts were deeper to make it through the scar tissue. He wouldn't be able to lift much the next few days. Beetlejuice slipped on his hoodie again and looked down at his final target. He laid the knife next to him for a moment, red dripping onto the spotless cream sheets. He rolled up his boxers to reveal his horribly marked up lower thighs. The knife was back in his hand. 

"You're a demon! You take what you want!" With Juno's nod, a whip cracked against a young demon's back. 

"I won't do it! It's wrong! I don't want to hurt her!" Beetlejuice was on his knees, crying. In front of him was Juno, towering over the boy. Kneeling behind her was a beautiful latina. She was gagged with a scrap of filthy fabric and her hands were shackled to the wall above her. She was also completely naked. 

"I don't give a fuck! You take from them what you damn well please!" Beetlejuice was whipped again. Juno walked away to talk to someone else and the little demon looked up at the girl in front of him. She couldn't be more than twenty in human years. Beetlejuice himself was only seven in human years. He turned his face back down to the ground as Juno approached again, a newcomer behind her. Said newcomer was another demon. One of the disciples of Asmodeus. "Take him," was all that was said before the disciple and Beetlejuice found themselves in an empty dungeon. 

That was what started centuries of brainwashing and torment. Only treated by staying in the Maitland-Deetz household. 

When Beetlejuice opened his eyes again it was to hear a light rapping on his door. Damnit! 

-----

Charles had decided to stay up later than usual to update the listings on the realtor website. Finishing the fifth one that night, he glanced down at the clock on the desktop and sighed. It was nearing eleven. He still had three more listings to update. He began to work on the next one when he heard a soft whimper and sniffle from the bedroom next door to his office. Concerned, Charles stood up and laid an ear to the wall to see if he could collect more data. All he gathered was more sniffles and whimpers and the rustle of fabric. Lawrence must be having a nightmare. 

After grabbing two juice boxes from the refrigerator, Charles headed back upstairs and tapped gently on Lawrence's door. "Lawrence, can I come in?" On the other side, there was a deafening clatter. Concern and anxiety growing, Charles tried the door knob to find it locked. "Please, Lawrence, unlock the door," he was met with a pained whimper that sounded suspiciously like 'no.' "I can't help you if you don't let me in," Charles was met with silence. Sighing, he took a thin red knitting needle and pressed it into the keyhole. The lock gave way. 

"I'm coming in," the door let out a creak and Lawrence gave a muffled yelp and a hard thump. Charles stepped in and looked around. The bedside lamp was on low and something glinted up from the floor next to the bed. Lawrence was nowhere to be seen. Charles stepped closer to the glint as he put the knitting needle back in his pocket. He let out an involuntary gasp. There, laying innocently on the floor, was a boning knife, the blade coated in deep red blood. 

Charles set the juice boxes on the nightstand and picked up the knife. The handle was still warm to the touch. He laid the knife on the nightstand. Charles peered over the edge of the bed (trying to ignore just how much blood was on the comforter) to see Lawrence looking up at him. His hair was a messy twist of oranges, blues, blacks, and purples. I'll have to go pull up the chart later. His amber eyes were wide with fear and tear filled. Charles sat down sideways on the bed and Lawrence shrunk back. Charles knew he wasn't good with emotions but he'd be damned if he had to go wake someone else up. 

"Lawrence, did you hurt someone?" The man in question nodded slowly. "Who did you hurt?" Lawrence paused and looked down at himself. "Beetlejuice, who did you hurt?" Charles hated pulling out the middle name but it was the most effective way to get the man's attention. Lawrence looked up at Charles before raising a shaky hand with a wince. He pointed to himself. "Oh dear.... Can you tell me why?" Lawrence shook his head. "Okay, that's alright. Can I help patch you up?" Lawrence tilted his head questioningly before nodding and moving up onto the bed. 

The arms of his sweatshirt were growing more red by the second and as he brought his legs up, blood dripped onto the floor and mattress. Charles sent him a soft smile before grabbing a juice box and opening the flaps and punching in the straw. He held out the box to his companion who took it with a shaky smile. "I'll be right back, okay?" Lawrence nodded as Charles stood and left. 

Back in the kitchen, Charles fished out the first aid kit from under the sink. About to leave, he turned back and grabbed a third juice box. Won't hurt to be over prepared. Lawrence was still sitting quietly, sipping his juice, when Charles returned. Charles tapped lightly on the door before stepping in and closing it. Gesturing for Lawrence to follow, Charles led him to the en suite and sat him down on the toilet. On the floor, Charles laid down a couple of towels so the floor wouldn't stain as badly. While he did this, Lawrence took off the old college sweatshirt Charles had gifted him. Underneath was a white tank top whose front was bloodied. The source was Lawrence's upper arms, the fronts of which were covered with cuts from the boning knife. 

Charles took a washcloth from the sink and dampened it. Lawrence winced as soon as the warm cloth touched his arm. "I know it hurts. It'll be over soon," Lawrence nodded numbly and Charles continued. When the cloth was soaked red, he grabbed another and continued until Lawrence's arms were cleaner. Grabbing yet another clean cloth, he poured some peroxide on it. "This is going to hurt a lot. Let me know if you need a break," Lawrence nodded. 

They only needed to take a few breaks as Lawrence numbed quickly to the pain. After his arms were clean, Charles covered them with gauze pads and wrapped them softly with elastic bandages. "Is there anymore?" Charles, of course, knew the answer before he asked. After all, Lawrence's legs had been completely coated with blood now and there was a sizable pool on the floor. Even though he knew Lawrence was dead, it still made the living man incredibly anxious and uncomfortable. 

Lawrence sighed and pulled up his shirt. His torso was also covered with shallow cuts. After he let it down again, he rolled up his boxers to reveal even deeper cuts than those on his arms. Charles let out a sympathetic sigh and laid a gentle hand on Lawrence's shoulder. From his standing position, he pulled Lawrence into a loose hug which he didn't return. "I need to go get more washcloths. I'll be back in a bit," with that, Charles left. It's going to be a long night. 

It was one in the morning by the time Lawrence was completely patched up and clean. Charles had run out of clean washcloths and swapped to using full sized towels. He'd also run out of gauze pads and bandages and had to go find more in another first aid kit. 

Charles sat down on the edge of the tub to look over at Lawrence. Lawrence was guiltily peering into the bathtub where a decent sized pile of bloody towels and washcloths sat. Seeing this, Charles set a hand on Lawrence's knee. "Don't feel guilty about this. It's no big deal," Lawrence looked away and sipped on his second juice box. His hair had shifted to yellow-green, teal, and blue with only a few stripes of black. I really have to check the chart. Charles reached over and turned Lawrence's chin to face him. "How about you come sit with me in my office and eat cookies and drink your juice?" Lawrence nodded and smiled softly. "Alright. Do you need help getting over there?" Lawrence's hair flashed pink and he nodded. 

They made it to Charles' office with little fanfare. Lawrence pulled one of the plushy chairs over next to the office chair with a soft squeal. He plopped himself into the chair and curled up with his legs over the arm and his head against the vacant office chair. Charles ruffled Lawrence's hair then made his way downstairs to grab a few different sleeves of cookies and the rest of the juice boxes. 

-----

The next morning, Delia found the two asleep, Lawrence leaning against Charles. The latter had a strong, protective arm around the former. There were dopey smiles on both of their faces and Lawrence's hair was a brilliant green. 

----------

Why must I be mean to my faves?

Remember: You are loved and cherished and we'd hate to lose you <3.

#btjm fic #beetlejuice #betelgeuse #beetlejuice musical #beetlejuice the musical #beetlejuice bway #lawrence beetlejuice shoggoth #charles deetz

[filthysweetie]

star trek drabble

Prompt: “good thing i didn’t ask for your opinion.”

Day 16! Note, there’s description of a broken bone in this one (not super gory)

———

This wasn’t their smartest decision; directly disobeying Starfleet command (again) and beaming down to the planet’s surface to inoculate the plant life (and the inhabitants only source of food) against a bacteria infection that would leave them devastated and starving—without the security of food shipments from warp capable civilizations. He calls it ‘their’ decision, because none of his bridge crew had called him out on it or argued after he’d declared their plans. Which was great, because he wasn’t about to leave this one up for debate. The bacteria was the same that had devastated Tarsus IV and he wasn’t about to let anyone stop him from helping.

The surface was idyllic; greenery (and blue-ery due to the high anthocyanin levels) in every direction, clear purple skies, there was even a rushing river ahead who’s source was their target. 

“Based on our scans, this water source feeds more than 3/4ths of the planets singular landmass.” Spock says, barely looking up from his data pad as he starts towards the water. 

“Wish we could just crop dust the darn things,” Jim mumbles to himself knowing exactly why they can’t have a flying craft sprinkle the component over the land—and more importantly the peoples—of a non-warp capable planet. While cropdusting would have gotten a higher percentage of the plant life, it would have also irrevocably impacted the peoples, and Jim was already anticipating the lecture he’s going to get from Starfleet command when they notice the Enterprise is still hovering over Lima VIII when told explicitly to make their way to the Echo quadrant. He follows after Spock, not even half as graceful even though he’s actually watching his steps. 

“This will get the most populous regions,” Sulu says sympathetically though he’s not looking at any of them, instead staring with shiny eyes at the plants all around them, “their main cities and habitats are around the water sources.”

“Right,” Jim sighs, “which means that we have to be even more careful as we get to the source.” 

“Because there’s always something looking to kill us.” Bones grumbles.

Jim can’t help but smile at Bones’ familiar grumbling—no matter where they were in the galaxy, there were some constants, “I told you, you didn’t have to come, we need a botanist, not a doctor.”

Bones snorts, “knowing your fool self, you always need a doctor.” Jim can’t say much to that. 

They get through the foliage and towards the lest populated side of the water source—an absolutely huge lake fed by underground springs. They were on the only cliffside of the water, making it the only area that wasn’t teeming with settlements, both permanent and transient. It was beautiful. And it was going to stay that way, if Jim had any say in it. 

“Alright, give me the gun.” Jim turns to Spock; gun isn’t exactly accurate, as those stopped being used well before Jim’s birth, but it was so reminiscent of those crude old time weapons that Jim couldn’t help it. It was also much easier to say than ‘antibacterial triggered projectile device’.

“You will need to aim at the center of the water for the most effective transfer of the component.” Spock says, handing over the device. He’d given up trying to get Jim to say it right a while ago. Jim tries not to grunt at the device’s weight—Vulcan strength is an unfair advantage.

Jim shoulders it and takes a step closer to the edge and then he’s on the ground. 

————

Bones is kneeling over him, cursing. Spock has Jim half propped up against him, touching him much more than must be comfortable for the Vulcan, and Sulu is stepping back out of the foliage, phaser drawn and at the ready.

“It wasn’t manned.” Sulu says, keeping out of the way but clearly worried.  

“How…” Jim looked down and feels ice run through his veins, “oh.” His leg is—shattered. There’s no other word for it. There’s a spear sticking out through his calf and it—it hit bone and won. Someone had torn away his pant leg and the skin was already purpling from internal bleeding and bruising. It looked so fundamentally wrong; Jim let his head fall back against Spock’s arm, nauseous. He doesn’t feel pain—he’s not sure if it’s shock or something Bones gave him or some mind magic that Spock’s doing.

“Don’t you fucking pass out you idiot.” Bones curses him, “‘don’t need a doctor’ my fucking ass.” He’s doing something—Jim can feel a pressure against his leg but he doesn’t dare move, and tries hard to focus on anything else. Spock’s shirt has a tiny loose thread. Very out of place for the meticulous first officer. Jim wants to cut it off. 

“I need to get him back to the Enterprise.” Bones says, and he’s talking over Jim to Spock.

“They won’t be able to beam us up from here, we need to get back to the clearing.”

“Well lets fucking go!”

“Did ya get th’ stuff in the water?” 

“I’m seeing movement—I think there was some kind of alert on the trap, there’s a group mobilizing.” Sulu says, eyes on the edges of the lake.

“Get it in the water—we need to—get it in.” Jim can’t leave with that not done. Sulu looks back at them for a moment; Spock nods. Sulu stows his phaser and grabs the gun, staying further from the edge than where Jim had stood. He gets one shot off. The recoil shakes the ground and Jim feels his muscles seize. The pain is starting to make its way through the shock. He lets out a harsh breath and tries to force himself to relax. Easier said than done.

Spock looks to the left, “I can hear them coming.”

“Get the other shots off, Sulu.” Jim gets out. There are two more that need to be in that water, otherwise this is all for nothing. Sulu nods, face stern, and resets, pulling the trigger again. The same wave of pain goes through Jim and Bones sticks him with something. 

“That’s all I got—we need to get you back, now.”

Jim shakes his head; “There’s one more.”

Bones turns to Sulu, he can hear the incoming group too now, “well? Hurry it up!”

Sulu resets as fast as he can—but the incoming party heard the noise of the second shot too and they’re getting closer, faster. Sulu will be able to get it off, but they won’t be able to get back to the clearing fast enough to avoid the indigenous people, not with Jim as deadweight.

“Hey—hey you know what I think?” Jim can feel the slur in his voice—he reaches out a hand to Bones and puts his other on Spock’s arm, “I think you should go.”

Bones is splinting his leg with a branch, wrapping it with his torn pant, “Well, isn’t it a damn good thing I didn’t ask for your opinion on the fucking matter.” Each movement is fire up his leg and through his spine.

“I must agree with Dr. McCoy on this, Captain” Spock speaks calmly into Jim’s shoulder. 

“Don’t sound so defeated over it Mr. Spock.” Bones ties the last of the fabric to the backdrop of Sulu’s final shot.

Jim gets out a laugh that makes both blue shirts look back at him with varying levels of worry. Sulu secures the gun to his back, he has that same look and Jim decides he doesn’t like it at all.

“This will hurt.” Spock says and then Jim’s being lifted up. God it hurts so much—Jim bites his lip as hard as he can to keep from screaming. He tastes copper. —— He wakes up in medbay and can help grinning. “We did it then?” Bones scoffs, “yeah you crazy bastard, we did it.”

#star trek #spock #James T. Kirk #sulu #bones #Leonard McCoy #broken bone #drabble on #i fancy myself a writer

[fundeadasylum]

Untouched

You ever think about, how growing up, Jake wasn’t really exposed to any real affection and how he really didn’t have anyone to comfort him and in stressful scenarios his only company were people who would hurt him?

Warnings: mentions of physical and emotional abuse, blood, implied violence, descriptions of panic attacks, emetophobia

********************

Dan opens the door and steps back in time to let Jake into the house. Jake is soaked from the rain outside, his head ducked low and his black hair dripping into his face. His thin shoulders are jagged peaks under the t-shirt plastered to his skin and he leaves a trail of wet footprints from the door all the way to the bathroom.

Dan hurries after him, shushing his siblings and trading a knowing look with his mother. He sees her get up and head to the kitchen before he’s following Jake into the bathroom.

His friend is already sitting on the edge of the tub, pushing his sopping hair out of his face and sniffling, eyes puffy. And splotchy. There’s a nasty spread of bruising already forming across Jake’s face and his nose is crooked. Most of the blood’s been washed off his face by the rain but it’s stained his shirt, great streaks of dark crimson plastered down his front and splattered across his jeans.

Jake sniffs again and winces, one hand gingerly pressing shaking fingertips to his nose. He hisses and tears well into his eyes. Dan reaches out to help, to comfort, to do something to help his friend. But Jake only recoils, the movement a flinch of horror and instincts and bitterness. There’s a flicker fo something hurt and wild in his eyes as he meets Dan’s gaze.

“Don’t touch me.” Jake sounds raw, like someone’s scored the inside of his throat with a razor. Or maybe it has something to do with the purple bruises fingerprinting around his neck.

“Jake—“

“Don’t. Touch me.”

So Dan doesn’t.

He lowers his hands, steps back, and then leaves the bathroom, chewing on his lip. He’s talking softly to his mom in the hall when the crying starts. He pretends very hard not to hear it.

————

They come back from afternoon classes to find Jake curled in on himself on the couch, head between his knees, fingers biting into his messed up hair as his entire body shakes. He’s nearly hyperventilating from breathing so hard, gasping sobs occasionally escaping him as he heaves in air, trying to stabilize.

Milo drops his bag on the floor and crouches down beside Jake, “Hey, buddy, slow down, okay. It’s all right. Hey, Jake, pal? Deep breaths, okay?” He reaches out and rests a hand on Jake’s back.

The effect is immediate. Jake lurches away as if he’s been burned, bucking Milo’s hand off of him and kicking backwards onto the couch. He draws his knees up to his chest, eyes wide and glassy, knuckles white as he bunches his fingers into the fabric of his jeans.

“Don’t touch me!” It’s a gasp that wants to be a scream, a ragged cry from Jake’s trembling lips. He ducks his head, hides his face in his knees, chokes on a sob, “Don’t touch me, don’t touch me, don’t fucking touch me! Don’t—don’t, don’t…no…no…” And he trails off into strangled gasping.

Milo looks helplessly up at Dan who is standing over the couch with a forlorn expression on his face.

The opened letter in his hands is addressed from Jake’s mother.

————

Milo is tiny.

Milo is tiny and he’s a child and even though they love him just the same, there’s a sense of wrongness about it. The tall, skinny, stick of a man with a brilliant smile is a toddling child tripping over his too-big hoodie. It’s difficult, if not impossible, to reconcile.

Jake is hunched over the kitchen table, trying to sort out a budget between their bills and the food and not to mention all the stuff they had to buy for the newest edition to the house. He pinches the bridge of his nose, squeezing his eyes shut to try and stave off the headache scraping jagged fingernails against the inside of his skull. He feels tired and stretched too thin and as if he’s hovering on the edge of an unfathomable cliffside plunge.

Something tugs at his pant leg and he jumps, one hand clutching at his chest as he looks down. A pair of big, innocent eyes surrounded by freckles and a mop of red hair gaze up at him. Stubby fingers reach out for his pant leg again and Jake doesn’t even think before he’s pulling himself away again.

He trips over the chair and stumbles backwards into the counter. The edge crunches into his back and sends a pain so sharp up his spine it makes his teeth ache.

Tiny Milo stares at him in confusion, clutching at the chair to support himself on little legs, blinking soulful eyes at him. Jake can feel his heart tearing against his ribs, pounding against his chest and trying to escape, can feel it where his fist is knotted into his shirt with a white-knuckled grip. The edges of the room seem to buzz with static. He tries to tell himself that the little figure in the giant shark hoodie is his friend, tries to convince himself that that is Milo standing there, staring at him in confusion.

But it’s not.

It’s not Milo and it can’t be Milo and it won’t be Milo.

That…that thing is not his friend.

The little boy that used to be a man toddles across the linoleum and reaches out for Jake again. And Jake is horrified. Cold, gut-wrenching panic freezes his blood and he backpedals, scrambling along the counter to get away because if it touches him then it will be real and he’ll have to accept that it’s real and he doesn’t want.

“Don’t—“ He chokes, backing up, tripping over the fridge as the tiny copy of Milo whines and tries to catch up to him, “Don’t touch—don’t touch me! DON’T TOUCH ME!”

He runs out of the room and presses his hands over his ears because he can hear the little changling crying mournfully behind him. He dodges past Dan on the stairs without a word and when he slams the door to his room and sags against it he tries very hard to tell himself that he’s only crying because his heart is beating too hard to be healthy and not because it aches for other reasons.

————

Dan has the patience of a saint. Most of the time, he can take a breath and set everything aside to deal with the problems in front of him. Most of the time, he can be the mediator, the healer, the helper, the person that the others need him to be.

Most of the time.

But when Jake comes home with a limp and a split lip and darkening marks on his wrists, Dan sees red.

He shushes Milo’s worried questions and tells the teenager to stay at the table. Then he follows Jake down the hall to the bathroom.

“What happened?”

Jake doesn’t look at him and Dan has vivid recollections of all the times when they were kids and Jake had shown up at his house with blood and broken bones and festering anger spitting between his teeth.

“Aaron.” Jake’s voice is a grunt, short, to the point, hurt and furious and so, so damaged. Dan can see his hands shaking as he dampens a cloth in the sink, “Didn’t know he was in town. Don’t know why. Don’t really give a f—don’t really care why. Cornered me is all.”

“What did he want?”

Jake snorts out a bitter laugh, so sour it curdles and chills the air between them, “What he always fucking wants.” His voice trembles with tears he’s refusing to shed and Dan steps forward automatically, already reaching out for his friend.

As expected, Jake recoils, pulls away and turns his back with a biting, “Don’t touch me!”

Dan swallows and backs out of the bathroom. He hovers for a second and then turns to go take care of Milo who is shouting to know what’s going on. He leaves Jake alone.

He always has to leave Jake alone.

————

Getting possessed sucks ass.

Cody and Milo had dragged home a ghost from poking their noses where they don’t belong and it took one look at the ragged wounds in Jake’s soul and dove right in. It had taken a lot of effort to get the stupid thing out again.

The unpleasantness that followed was…a lot.

Dominic is clutching a shivering Cody and Milo from behind a barricade of furniture, fumbling to hold them both and still dial for an ambulance at the same time. Dan creeps out from behind the barrier, slowly approaching the prone form his friend hunched on the floor.

Jake shudders, coughs, and vomits a sticky mixture of ectoplasm and stomach acid onto the carpet. The air smells like iron and sour citrus and, well, sick. Jake’s shirt is ripped, exposing one shoulder and part of his chest and back, shiny burns streaked down near the ridges of his spine and a dripping red cut along his upper arm.

Dan shuffles closer.

“D-doh—don’t touch m-me!” Jake’s entire body heaves and he wretches, more green-black ectoplasm slopping out of his mouth, gumming up his words. Sweat has plastered his blond hair to his head and the way his torn shirt hangs off his body makes him look emaciated. There’s a few tiny shards of broken glass peppering one of his bare feet from the mess left in the kitchen.

“Jake, you need—“

“Don’t!” Jake barks and he finally looks up. His face is streaked in tears and sweat, blood smeared form his nose, that oily ooze standing out starkly on his pale skin and cracked lips. His eyes are wild and panicked, his breaths shuddering, “Don’t touch me, fuck, d-don’t—don’t touch me, no, no, don’t!”

And Dan almost turns away.

He looks back over shoulder at where he can just see the top of Dom’s head over the tipped over couch, thinks of Milo and Cody being held safe in his arms. Then he sets his jaw and faces Jake again.

“No can do, buddy.” He murmurs and crouches down to gently pull Jake into his lap.

Jake struggles weakly, hiccuping and coughing and Dan gets stomach acid and ectoplasm on his jeans and all over his hands but it’s okay. It’s okay because Jake is pressed safely against Dan’s broad chest so he doesn’t have to try and hold himself up anymore. It’s okay because Dan can peel the rest of his friend’s shirt off so it isn’t irritating his burns anymore. It’s okay because Jake feels like he’s freezing and he naturally curls into Dan’s warmth and then he’s crying and clutching at his friend and Dan can only hold him and rock back and forth and and tell him it will be all right.

Jake is sobbing, words slurred and stumbling as he cries, tries to push Dan away even as he clenches his fists into Dan’s shirt. It’s a mess and Jake’s so exhausted that he passes out before the ambulance arrives and Dan has a hard time letting that thin, frail looking body go, afraid that without his warmth Jake will freeze to death somehow.

Dan helps Milo into the car and follows the ambulance to the hospital.

No one says anything for a long time.

————

“Hey Dan?”

He starts, blinking and looking around. The room’s darker than he remembered it being and the television is still playing, but now it’s some old western film with actors he doesn’t know and Dan figures he must have fallen asleep on the couch. His shift at the factory had been a long one.

“Dan?” Jake’s hovering near the opposite end of the couch, in his pajamas, fiddling with the hem of his shirt.

“What’s up?”

“Um, may I join you?”

“Sure.” Dan shifts slightly and Jake plops onto the cushions, hunching in on himself and wrapping his arms around his chest, “What’s wrong?”

“I…” Jake stares at the carpet between his bare feet. The light from the television makes him look sallow and corpse-like, “My mother called me today.”

Dan feels a sick pit in his stomach and fights to keep his expression blank, “What’d she want?”

Jake shrugs one shoulder, “The usual, I guess. Didn’t think much of it but…” He sucks in a deep breath, lets it out slowly, “I can’t sleep and every time I close my eyes, I just…it’s just. Bad.”

“Can I do anything?”

Jake hesitates, chews on his lip, twists his fingers together. Dan thinks he’s going to say no, is always ready for Jake to say no, but then his friend murmurs,

“C-can I…can I please…h-have…a hug?”

Dan smiles broadly and it takes all his self control not to lunge at his friend. Instead, he leans forward and bit and opens his arms wide, inviting but waiting for Jake to make the first move. There’s more hesitation, more fluttering of fingers and awkward shuffling. And then Jake scoots over and leans his head on Dan’s shoulder. Dan smiles at him and slowly folds him into a hug, not too tight, loose enough that Jake can pull back if he needs to, like he expects Jake to.

Instead, shockingly, Jake puts his arms around Dan in return, squeezing him with as much strength as his thin arms can muster, and pushes his face into Dan’s shirt. He’s trembling a little and Dan shushes him softly, rubbing slow circles into Jake’s back as he lets his friend cry.

#let jake pierly have nice things 2k19 #micoverse #sorry it's jake centric again like the predictable jake loving trash i am

[waterstar2016]

Hey, I read the latest Raph story you did with spanking and rough sex. Do you think you could write for Leo too? I have the feeling not, but I thought I might ask anyway. Thanks anyway!~

18+ Content. NSFW.

Here you go, my first Leo fic! I hope you like it.

You’re in a dark room. The only source of light is from a flickering candle somewhere behind you. Your hands are tied at the wrists with a piece of blue silk. You shiver slightly. For, the only piece of clothing you have on is a dainty pair of black lace underwear. You’ve been told to sit on the edge of the bed and wait. Your gaze travels around the now familiar space. You live here with your boyfriend Leo. As you wait in anticipation for what is coming you remember the first night you met him.

You were taking the bus home. It was making its rounds in a poorer area. Tired workers eager to get home to their families after another long shift. You roll your eyes, the city really needed to change the lightbulbs in the street lamps, it would make it safer for the people who lived there. Suddenly, the bus comes screeching to a halt and you grab onto the rails above you trying to stay upright. You get slammed into the pole in front of you. Reaching up to feel your head, your fingers come away sticky with blood.

The doors at the front of the bus are ripped off, and what could only be described as warthog man steps up the stairs and onto the bus. He had a bright purple mohawk. “Hey y’all folks. Sorry, but not sorry but we’re gonna relieve you of your personal effects.” Being at the back of the bus you slowly reach for the handle of the back door exit. You turn it slowly keeping your gaze on the beast that is making his way down the aisle, collecting people’s wallets and cell phones.

You had managed to turn the handle the entire way. Now all you had to do was push. Making eye contact with a few people, you slightly tilt your head at the door. They nod. They’ll follow your lead. Making your move you push open the door and jump down. Recovering your stumble you turn to try and help as many others get off the bus as you can. A massive hand grabs you and spins you around. You’re now face to face with a Rhino. He looks down at you and snorts. You back yourself up and find yourself up against the bus. Just as he’s about to grab for you he goes flying into the trashcans set out on the sidewalk.

The warthog still on the bus yells “Rocksteady, it’s the turtles!” Turning you see him him run back to the front of the bus and crash through the already mangled doors. It’s hard to see. The red lights from the brakes don’t do much for illumination. Sliding to the ground, you hold one hand to your head while trying to see. You hear the sound of motorcycles taking off and a voice over them. “Damnit, they got away!” People flee the scene, forgetting about the person that tried to help. You try to get up, but a wave of dizziness overtakes you. A figure approaches, looking up you see that this one is a mutant turtle. Miss, are you alright? You gulp and nod. The motion of your head makes you wince. He gets on one knee beside you and gently pulls your hand away from your face to inspect the wound. His eyes meet yours. “My name is Leonardo, but you may call me Leo if you wish. Thank you for trying to help the others on the bus. That was very brave.”

That night Leo had ended up carrying you home and made sure that you were ok. His appearance was a little jarring at first, but you found you felt a tingle of attraction. He had the most amazing body, and his eyes were like blue fire. Leo would come to visit you, and after a little time you started seeing each other. Leo was the most attentive partner you ever had. It was almost like he could read you. And the sex, o my god the sex. Some nights he would tease you into oblivion by making love to you slowly. So slowly that you would end up begging him to make you cum. On others, he would fuck you so hard so that you felt like you were going to pass out. He had seemingly limitless strength and stamina, and he used them both on you. Grinning to yourself you remembered the first time he had tied you up. Leo was a kinky son of a bitch and you loved him.

A voice jars you out of your reminiscing. “Hello,Angel. I see you’ve been a good girl waiting for me.” You look up and see him leaning on the doorframe. Leo slowly enters the room and shuts the door. He starts walking towards you. In response to the feline grace of his movements you feel a shiver run down your spine. Standing in front of you he starts unwinding the wraps at his wrists. His gaze never leaves your body as he slowly unwinds the material. Leaning over he does the same to the bindings on his legs. Still looking at you he walks over to a shelf and places the strips of fabric in their holder. He then takes off the rest of his armour.

Even though he had yet to touch you, your body already yearned for his. You knew what he was capable of making you feel. Leo returns to stand above you again. Your gaze is level with his now protruding cock. You lick your lips. He was so fucking thick. No matter how many times he pounded you, it always felt like he was tearing you in two, and you loved it.

Leo looks down at you, and you can see love and lust radiating from the blue depths of his eyes. You look up at him and nod, giving him your consent. He smiles “Remember, blue moon, ok Angel?” He always gave you a safe word. He could get rough, but he always, always kept it to where you could take it. You’ve never had to use the word.

Leo smirks “All I’ve been thinking about today is you leaving for work in that tight little skirt.” He reaches behind you and grabs a handful of your hair, and pulls your head back so you’re looking up at him. “Do you know how hard it was for me today, waiting for you to come home?” He leans down and kisses you. It starts soft, slow and tantalizing and it sets your nerves ablaze. His hand fists into your hair tighter while his tongue slips into your mouth. You moan in response and your stomach flips.

Leo pulls away from you releasing your hair. He drops to his knees in front of you. Taking his large hands he rests them on your knees. Your chest is heaving with your breathing and you can feel your wetness start to drip out of your core. Leo inhales. Growling, he forces your thighs apart. You throw your head back and gasp. He leans down and starts nipping his way slowly up your leg. Each sting causing you to moan in delicious pleasure.

He grabs your hips and pulls you closer to the edge of the bed. The first word escapes your lips “Leo!” You feel him smile against your thigh. His one hand slides around your hip and over your stomach. It keeps moving down. As he reaches your slit he takes two fingers and slips them underneath the material. He bites a little harder at the feel of your slickness. You hear him “That’s it Angel, drip for me.” Suddenly he clenches the material and pulls it up between your moist lips and tugs it upwards. His other hand grabs your thigh making it impossible for you to move it. You throw your head back and let out a moan.

Leo starts tugging harder, the material between your slit is riding up against your clit and causes your back to arch. A scream escapes your throat. “Fuck, Leo!” Leo relentlessly keeps up the rhythmic pulling. Your heart is hammering in your chest and your nails are digging into your hands. Letting go of your thigh Leo grabs your underwear at the side and tears it off your body. You hear the material rip and watch as he throws it to the floor. All you can do is gasp. Leo leans in and nuzzles your pussy with his mouth, his tongue slipping out only adding to the torture with its flicks. He turns his head and takes a hold of your outer lip and pulls on it with his teeth. You arch into his face, your hands reaching down holding onto his head. He lets go of it and bathes your pussy with long sweeps of this tongue. Pulling away, he makes you groan “Leo, please.”

Leo raises his head slightly and you can see the candle light reflecting off his now shiny mouth. Your body is squirming in response to the sudden denial of his touch. He stands. Putting his knee beside your body he starts pushing you down on the bed. Before your back hits the sheets he grabs you around the waist and flips you over. You moan and bite the comforter beside your face. Leo takes his finger and starts rubbing it against your now dripping slit. You start slightly rotating your hips desperately trying to get more friction.

You scream in shock and your eyes snap open as the first sting of his hand lands on your ass. A second sharp slap and a third follow. All the while his finger is continually lightly caressing your slit. The stark contrast between the two sensations sends your nerves into overdrive. You start whimpering into the bed.

Leo leans over you and nips the back of your neck. His finger finds your entrance and pauses. You scream “Fuck, please!” He moves beside your ear. “Fuck, please…what?” Your hands grasp whatever material you can hold onto. You manage to find your voice. “Fuck, please Leonardo!” At your words he slips his finger inside of you. You scream into the bed.

Leo starts to finger fuck you slowly. The tempo and force slowly increasing. Not stopping the movements of his hand, he gets up and moves in behind you. His thick finger starts pumping into you harder. He adds a second finger and starts pushing down towards your g-spot with each thrust. You are beyond screaming. Your voice is caught in your throat. Leo pulls his fingers from your pussy and you squirt a little as they leave your body. A whine manages to work its way out of your mouth.

You feel Leo move in behind you. He slaps your ass again. The force of his slap sends vibrations into you. “Spread your legs wider, now.” He growls out. Your pussy clenches involuntarily at the tone in his voice. Wiggling you move your legs wider apart and wait. Feeling the head of his cock pierce into your pussy you scream and more of your juice coats him. He grabs your hips and in one hard thrust he rams himself into you. Without pausing he starts fucking you hard. He’s driving himself into you relentlessly. The force of his thrusts are ramming you into the mattress. You start to beg, “Leo, please make me cum!”

Without losing rhythm, Leo reaches under you and places a vibrator on your clit and says “I want to feel you clench my cock. Cum Angel! I want you to cum for me now! Your body tenses at his command and you scream as your orgasm rips through you. “LEONARDO!!! Your pussy squirts around his cock and it runs down both your thighs. Leo isn’t done. Removing the vibrator Leo grabs your hips, his fingers digging into your flesh and starts fucking you even harder. Your walls still spasming over his cock. Leo yells “Fuck!” and with one last final thrust he empties his load into your pussy.

You’re both breathing hard. Leo eases himself from you. Crawling up on the bed beside you he reaches over and undoes the knot that is holding your wrists together. He puts his arm around you and pulls you into his plastron. Tenderly he nuzzles your shoulder, lips easing the sting of his earlier bites. You sigh in contentment.

Leo pulls away and gets up. He reaches down and effortlessly picks you up and carries you into the bathroom. Setting you down on the edge of the tub he starts running a bath. While he’s waiting for it to fill he kneels in front of you and grasps your chin gently. Meeting your gaze he smiles. “I Love You Angel.” You smile in return. “Leo, holy shit do I ever love you.” His eyes spark a deeper blue.

When the bath has filled he picks you up and sets you into the warm water and then gets in behind you. Wrapping his arms around you he pulls you into him. You rest you head back against him and can feel your hearts beating as one.

End.

#tmnt leonardo #tmnt smut fic #prompt #first leo fic #leo x reader

[silasnce]

Star Collection

Part One | Part Two > | Ao3 Link

An Empress!Allura, Altean Advisor!Lance, and Galra!Shiro fic that I decided to start writing based on a dream I had a while back.

Dimmed, turquoise light bathed the corridors that a lone Galran snuck through. He kept close to the walls and alcoves, keeping an eye out for the guards that patrolled the castleship. His steps were light, hardly making a sound, despite his bulk. Purple, bat-like ears folded back as he neared his destination. Strangely enough, the room lacked any posted guards at its mechanical doors. His brow furrowed in momentary confusion, but the Galran shrugged it off, determined to complete his task. He slipped into the room, his clawed hand already unsheathing the dagger that was strapped to his thigh. He tiptoed to the bed where a figure slept curled under a heap of soft looking blankets. His free hand reached out to pull back the fabric, blade held at the ready.

Before he could strike, the Galran caught movement out of the corner of his yellow eyes. He managed to narrowly avoid a knife expertly flung at his neck. It barely grazed over the skin of his throat. He turned his attention to the Altean man who stood before a full length window. The passing galaxy’s sun cast the room with a soft glow from behind him. The man spoke with a hard edge to his voice, “By order of the Empress, you’re under arrest for high treason against her majesty. Surrender yourself to me, and your life may be spared.”

The Galran snarled in response as he turned towards the other, readying to launch himself at the Altean. Unexpected pain exploded from the back of his skull. His hand dropped his weapon at the surprise attack. He didn’t even have time to process what had just happened when he was bodily lifted and flung through the air. He hit the wall hard, his ears ringing. He rolled onto his feet, trying to clear his head. However, he was halted in his second attempt at a counterattack by a hand gripping him by the tuft of hair at the top of his head and using the hold on it to slam his head into the wall behind him, effectively turning his world to darkness.

Pain throbbed from the back of the Galran’s head as he returned to consciousness what felt like seconds later. His yellow eyes blinked open blearily, a soft groan rising at the back of his dry throat. He tried to assess his current situation as his vision cleared. His hands were bound behind his back. He, currently, was laid on his front, but he still seemed to be in the room he had been in before. Only, the room was now well lit.

“He’s awake, my empress.” The voice startled him, but it was due to the extensive training he had gone through that kept him from flinching. Instead, he slowly lifted his head as well as he could in his position with a heavy glare plastered over his scarred face. It was also due to that extensive training that kept the glare on his face when he was met with the sight of a breathtakingly beautiful Altean sitting cross legged on the floor before him. The Altean’s expression was passive, almost bored as he stared back at the Galran.

The shuffle of a dress dragging along the floor took the Galran’s attention off the male. His attention, instead, was given to the towering woman that stepped up behind the other Altean. The glare nearly faltered as his ears flicked, fighting the urge to fold them back. He had never encountered an Altean woman so large before. He settled for baring his fangs at her as his ears won the fight to fold. The empress merely looked down her nose at him as if he were nothing but dirt on the bottom of her shoe. “Who sent you?”

The Galran only growled, keeping his sharp teeth bared. A hand grabbed his face, cutting the growl off as his ears flicked back forward in alarm. The Altean male that had been sitting now kneeled before him, hand around his jaw with a bruising grip. Displeasure was clear in his expression as he hissed, “You answer the empress when she asks you a question.”

“Lance,” the empress spoke, voice calm but full of authority, “release him.”

Lance obeyed instantly, shuffling back and standing a fair distance away as the empress knelt down in his place. Her white curls swayed where they cascaded down her back and spilled over her shoulders. She clasped her hands in her lap, her cold, blue eyes still on the Galran’s face. She tried again. “Who sent you?”

This time, the Galran answered in a low, vicious growl, “The ones who are going to end your tyrannous reign.”

“Lovely.” She appeared unphased by his answer as she gracefully rose to her feet. She turned to exit the room, the doors sliding open with a low hum. The words she spoke next sent dread icing through the Galran’s veins, but he swallowed it down. He knew this was a possibility when he took the job.

“Execute him.” Then, she was gone, the doors shutting with a harsh sounding thud behind her.

The Galran was hefted up into a sitting position by Lance. He didn’t know how to feel about being so easily moved about. His glare returned, and he fixed it on the Altean he was left with. Lance pursed his lips, hip cocked to the side with a hand resting on it. “What’s your name?”

The Galran’s glare faltered, confusion causing his nose to scrunch up slightly. “What?”

Lance lifted a brow cooly. “Did the empress knock your brain into an alternate reality? I asked you for your name.”

The glare returned. “Why would you care? You heard your master, yupper. I’m to be executed. Just kill me already, or are you so weak?”

An icy look touched Lance’s face, but it was gone in the blink of an eye. He squatted down so that he was eye level with the Galran. “Can’t a guy know the name of the person he’s going to be taking the life of? I happen to have standards, you know.”

A growl rumbled in the Galran’s chest, but he relented. What did it matter if the Altean knew his name? He was about to be dead. He averted his gaze to the side, refusing to look Lance in the eye as he grumbled his name. “Shirogarthak.”

Lance blinked, eyes checking out the Galran as he attempted to repeat the name, but it stuttered in his mouth. He frowned. “I’m just gonna call you Shiro.”

Shirogarthak growled, eyes snapping back to him, “No.”

“Why not? Don’t like it?”

“You are not my mate,” Shirogarthak spat, fur bristling as he bared his teeth, “Shortening one’s name is only for mates.”

“Only for mates, huh? You got one?” An easy smile touched Lance’s lips.

The Galran’s ears folded back. “Well, no…”

“Then, why shouldn’t I call you Shiro?” Lance laughed at the responding growl. “You know what? You’re pretty cute. I think I wanna keep you.”

Shiro’s ears straightened forward immediately. “What?”

Lance patted Shiro’s head before standing, “I’ll be right back.”

Shirogarthak’s mind ran a mile a minute as Lance left the room. As soon as the doors thudded shut, he was working to get to his feet. He needed to get out of here. He’d rather die than become some Altean’s pet. A shudder passed through him at the thought. He walked to the door, working his wrists in the cuffs holding them. The doors didn’t open as he approached them. He frowned. They must be locked from the outside. His eyes swept over the room, looking for any other means of escape.

A buzz sounded as the cuffs finally deactivated and fell from his wrists. Shirogarthak smirked as he stretched his arms over his head, his back giving a satisfying pop before he dropped them back to his sides and shook them out. He returned to scouring the room for another exit. Soon, he found a vent up near the ceiling that appeared to be for maintenance workers. He pulled a plush chair beneath its location and stood on it in order to reach it. He curled his claws into the grate and yanked it off the wall, the broken screws dropping to the floor with tiny metallic clinks. Then, he hefted himself up and inside. He just barely managed to fit. He had to hunch his shoulders as he shimmied through, which wasn’t the most comfortable thing to do, but it was better than becoming stuck.

He had managed to get rather far through the vents before an alarm sounded through the ship. His ears folded back against the noise as he picked up the pace. He finally reached another grate and attempted to peer through it to see what was on the other side. Unable to see anything except a few stripes of blue, the Galran shrugged and pushed against the sheet of metal. When it didn’t budge, he adjusted himself and sent his fist flying. The grate dented. A couple hits later, it fell, hanging from a single screw. He grinned in triumph, pulling himself out of the vent and rolling forward to land on his feet. However, he didn’t hit solid ground.

Instead, his body was enveloped in a wet warmth. He flailed about at first before realizing he could stand. He blinked, his fur and skintight suit sopping wet. Water. He was in water. Looking around, he realized he was in an extravagant bathing facility of some sort. Why anyone would need a lake to bathe in, he didn’t know. He waded his way to the edge of the pool and got out, shaking out his fur in a futile attempt to dry off. A shiver passed through him as the air turned chilly due to his soaked state. He marched his way over to a door and waited until it opened. Once it did, his jaw dropped.

Lance looked over at him from where he was leaning casually against a wall. A smirk graced his lips. “Welcome back.”

Shirogarthak glanced over his shoulder in bewilderment, utterly speechless. He was back where he started.

Lance pushed away from the wall and over to the Galran, his hands - Soft hands, Shirogarthak noticed. - taking his and locking a new, shiny pair of cuffs onto his wrists. “Don’t you know it’s rather rude to keep a lady waiting? C’mon. I’ve made a fantastic argument, and it would be a shame if you slipped away and ruined your chances.”

Shirogarthak could only follow as he was tugged and lead out of the room, dumbstruck. The alarm still sounded loud in their ears as they navigated the winding corridors until they ended up on what the Galran could only assume was the bridge. The empress stood at her station, hands out at the ready and her eyes staring straight at the image on the screen before her.

“Your highness!” Lance called as he bounded forward, a spring in his step.

“Not now, Lance,” the empress snapped as the screen lit up with explosions. The ship suddenly shuddered, and the lights flickered. The woman paid it no mind, barking orders to a few crewmen who went scrambling to follow the harsh commands.

Lance pouted before moving to drag the Galran closer to her stand. “You said you wanted another look at him before you decided. I have him right here. Just give him a quick look. It’ll take ten ticks tops.”

Jaw clenching, the empress closed her eyes and took a deep breath before turning her head to look at them. Her blue eyes roamed over their prisoner, her jaw slowly relaxing as she became more thoughtful. She tilted her head before reaching out to lift Shirogarthak’s chin, not seeming bothered by the fact that his fur was dripping wet. He stiffened at her touch. She was much too tall for his comfort. It was uncommon for him to find anyone taller than him, and yet, the empress was a whole head and a half so. He swallowed nervously as she made him turn his head this way and that before dropping her hand. She returned to her position without a word.

A whoop to his left startled the Galran. He whipped his head to the side to stare at Lance incredulously. Lance grinned and grabbed his arm, hauling him out of the bridge with a strength the Galran forgot the Altean possessed. Shirogarthak’s nose scrunched in confusion. “She didn’t say anything.”

Lance glanced over his shoulder and gave him a wink. “Don’t worry. She didn’t have to.”

That only served to confuse the Galran more to the Altean’s amusement. A smile stayed on Lance’s face as he practically dragged Shirogarthak back to that room and into the bathing room. Lance let go of him and deactivated the cuffs. “Strip. You’re going to bathe. No offense but you-”

“I’m not,” Shirogarthak growled, advancing on the other and making Lance stumble back in alarm, “going to be some Altean’s docile pet.”

Back now against the wall, Lance found himself crowded by the Galran in front of him. He could feel the warmth of the other’s breath fanning down over his face. He tilted his head up slowly to look Shiro in the eye. All traces of his previous alarm and surprise were now gone. Instead, a coy smirk curled his lips. “Oh, no. Of course not. Docile wouldn’t look good on you at all, Shiro.”

The Galran’s body tensed at the nickname. If his fur wasn’t still wet, it would be bristling as his mouth opened and closed while he tried to find the words to convey just how angry he was becoming. Lance grabbed the front of Shiro’s suit, yanking him down closer, and touched their foreheads together. He whispered, mere centimeters away from his lips, “However, I do know what would look good on you.”

Shirogarthak jerked backwards immediately in response, yanking free from Lance’s grasp, only to slip on the slick tile underneath and fall right into a section of the bath. Lance was laughing when the Galran stood up out of the water. Shiro sputtered and wiped the water out of his eyes. Lance sashayed over to the edge of the bath with a grin, his laughter quelling. “Cleanliness. That’s what I meant would look good on you. Get out of the suit, and bathe properly. I’ll bring you some new clothes.”

He turned and left the room with a bounce in his step. Shirogarthak could only stare after the Altean in shock. Numbly, he reached back and unzipped his suit to slip out of it. He rolled the wet fabric down and tossed it to the edge of the pool, not bothering to make sure it didn’t fall back into the warm water. Then, he proceeded to sink down into the water until the surface of it was just under his nose. He had to admit to himself that the bath actually did feel nice. Normally, he couldn’t afford such a luxury. A quick shower was all he and the other members of the rebellion usually allowed themselves, and even then, the water was frigid. His ears drooped as the warmth he was currently surrounded in eased his tense and sore muscles. His eyes slipped closed as he allowed himself this small moment of peace to quietly ponder his options of escape.

Lance casually strolled his way back in with a stack of clothes in his arms and set it down on a plush chair in the corner of the room. He glanced over to the Galran in the bath, a smile hinting at the edge of his lips. Quietly, he made his way over to the edge of the bath and sat down, blue eyes still fixed on the other. “You seem to be enjoying yourself.”

Shiro cracked an eye open to look up at him before turning his back to the Altean. Lance pouted. “You’re just going to ignore me now? Rude.”

Shiro lifted his mouth from under the water. “What’s rude is supporting the enslavement of different people across the universe and not allowing them to keep their will.”

Lance dropped his gaze at that, chewing on his bottom lip. Silence settled between them. Shiro took that as a sign that their conversation was done with. However, after taking in a sharp breath, Lance spoke once more. “She- We didn’t mean for anything like this to happen…”

Shiro turned to look at him out of the corner of his eye with his brows furrowed in question.

“The hoktril wasn’t-” Lance frowned, moving to stand up. “Nevermind. Ignore me. I’m a bit of an idiot. I put your clothes in the chair over there. I’ll be in the bed chamber.”

Before Shirogarthak could say anything, Lance was out of the room. The Galran stared at the door for a solid minute, mulling over the conversation. He needed more information. Perhaps, he could pretend for a while. It would only just be long enough to gain trust and grab information to use against the empress. Then, he could, hopefully, make his escape.

His mind wandered to his crew as he finally reached for bottles of what he assumed was some kind of soap. He wondered if his partner in arms would be alright with his sudden disappearance. He frowned. Yorak was more likely to wreck through a fleet of Altean ships after finding out the mission was compromised. The other Galran would definitely be upset that he took this mission alone despite being warned against it. Shirogarthak sighed through his nose, a headache already building from the stress of his situation.

Whatever the outcome of this mission, he knew he was going to hate the duration of his stay as a pet to the empress of all people. He could only hope that he could convince them to keep the back of his head hoktril-free.

#shallurance #empress allura au #vld #fic #my writing

[chibinightowl]

A Man Walks Into a Saloon

@charcoal-soul, your little head cinemas are going to be the death of me.  

For those who aren’t privy to these little headcanons, welcome to the Wild West where Bruce is the town Sheriff, Dick is his secret deputy who really has too much fun wearing a skirt, and Stephanie runs the local saloon. 

I could be persuaded to continue this. We’ll see.

~*~*~*~

Dick is a performer, through and through. It’s in his blood, is part of the very essence of who he is. But just because he’s on stage dancing his heart out in men’s burlesque show in front of a crowd of rowdy customers doesn’t mean he’s not paying attention to what’s going on around him. Bruce trained him better than that.

Not that anyone knows he’s a deputy for the wily sheriff. Much of his work here at Stephanie’s saloon is just that. Work. Bartending and running tables when he’s not on stage or rehearsing, but through it all, he keeps an eagle eye out for folks who just don’t look like they belong here. He’s gotten to a point where it’s practically a sixth sense.

And that sense is screaming at him as his blue gaze lands on the tall man who strides into the saloon and takes a seat at the bar. He looks road weary and dusty like most do in these parts, as does his companion, an equally tall woman with fiery locks barely contained in her long braid. Normally his attention would be on the redhead, especially since she’s dressed in men’s clothes rather than the divided riding skirt that’s more common in these parts, but Dick keeps going back to her dark-haired companion. There’s just something about him that sends a tingle down his spine.

This warrants further investigation.

But first, there’s a show to finish.

When he and the other men are done, they hop off stage and work the crowd. Or rather, Dick works the crowd while the others run off and change. While they’re all part of the entertainment, he’s the only one as comfortable in women’s clothing as he is men’s. And that means more tips and more attention for him. Dick has no problems playing both sides of the fence and Stephanie knows he’s more than capable of taking care of himself if someone gets too handsy.

One less thing for the saloon owner to worry about.

Dick slowly makes his way to the bar, stopping here and there as he does to chat. One woman even stopped him to ask where he found the rich blue silk that stands out so vibrantly against the black of his skirt.

“Had it special ordered from St. Louis,” he says, twirling around so she could see the full effect of it. “No offense to Mr. Pennyworth, but this just ain’t something he keeps in stock down at the general store.”

“It sure isn’t,” she agreed, her eyes lingering not only on the silk, but also on the ribbed corset in matching colors going up his waist.

Dick grins and winks at her as he walks off. The corset is strictly for show, as is the little bolero jacket he wears over it. His best friend Wally often teases him for how he looks in costumes like this, but to him, it’s all part of the act. Stephanie doesn’t care what he wears as long as it brings in customers, so he’s allowed free rein.

As he approaches the bar, he can’t help but like what he sees and wonders if maybe the shiver earlier was simply him picking up on the gorgeous hunk of a man sitting there. From behind, all he can see is broad shoulders, well muscled arms, and a solid trunk of a torso. The man’s jacket falls over the back of the barstool so Dick can’t make out the rest of the package, but so far, things look promising. Time for a closer inspection.

The stool on the man’s right is open, so Dick flops down with a flourish of silk and lace. “Hey, Steph! Got anything you’d think I like?” he calls out to the busy bartender/owner. The blonde woman knows better than to give him too much alcohol after a show (especially since he has another set in an hour) but dancing and flirting is thirsty work.

“Honey, you like it all,” she replies, dropping a pint of beer in front of him. “Try not to have too much fun in that new skirt of yours.” Steph winks and bustles off, her own purple and black striped dress looking fantastic on her. He’d ordered the silk for hers along with his own.

Dick salutes her with his glass. Turning, he looks at the two strangers and instantly, his heart starts beating harder. The woman is stunning, but the man…he can’t find words to describe him. His face looks like something out of one of Tim’s history books, the ones about Ancient Rome or Greece.

Time to turn his flirting up a notch.

“Hello, stranger,” Dick says with a saucy smile and runs a gloved hand over the smooth fabric of his skirt, outlining his thigh in the process. He picks up his beer and takes a sip, eyeing the man over the rim. The man is dressed for traveling, his dark brown leather jacket shiny with age. A dusty cowboy hat rests on the bar next to an empty shot glass and a mostly full glass of beer. “You must be new in town,” he offers with a wink. “I’d never forget a face like yours.”

The man honest to god blushes. Dick wants to crow in delight as red stains his cheeks.

“Yeah, Arty and I are just passin’ through.” The man replies as he tries for casual, even running an awkward hand through his black hair while his companion laughs boisterously. He’s young, probably around Dick’s age, but he’s got a white streak in his hair that’s rather eye-catching.

“Jay, I swear you always act like this whenever anyone hits on you.” The woman, Arty, slaps him hard on the shoulder. She catches Dick’s amused eyes. “Don’t let the blush fool you. He’s had his eye on you since we first walked in.”

Jay groans and gives Arty a good-natured shove. “Shut it.”

Dick laughs because this is just too much fun. “If it’s any consolation, I have too.” He takes another swig of beer and holds out his hand. “I’m Dick.”

The man accepts it and grips it firmly. “Jason, but I go by Jay more often than not.”

Dick reaches across Jason to shake Arty’s hand too. She also has a very firm grip. “Artemis. Only yahoos like Jay get away with Arty.”

“Noted. So, what brings you two into town?” Dick settles in for some small talk. He’s got the time but maybe if he plays his cards right, he won’t be crashing into an empty bed tonight. It’s rare that someone gets him this interested this fast, but hopefully Jason won’t be like the others.

He has a tendency to be attracted to the wrong type, usually with questionable appreciation for the law. Wally and Tim both joke about his poor taste, but Dick only has to remind them that they’re both single and to shut up, that at least he gets laid on occasion. Stephanie doesn’t run a brothel, no sirree, but she doesn’t care (much) what her employees do in their off time.

“Like I said, we’re just passin’ through,” Jason replies easily as he sips at his beer. “Wanna try and get to Colorado Springs before the end of the month. Heard tell there’s gonna be some hirin’ down there for some merchant trains and we could use the work.”

Before Dick can probe further, there’s a commotion over by the main entrance. Shouts ring out and Stephanie reaches under the bar for her shotgun.

“You assholes take it outside!” she shrieks loudly and pumps the shotgun for emphasis. “Now, before I blow someone’s hand off!”

Dick doesn’t even realize he’s stood and sits back down, but as he does, he catches sight of Jason lowering his jacket back over the gun on his belt. The stock on the revolver is inlaid with pearl. That’s an unusual sight and one that doesn’t exactly fit with the poor cowboy image the man is trying to portray.

Something isn’t right here.

He starts talking with Jason and Artemis again, casually flirting and enjoying the crap out of the blushes he gets from the other man. Soon enough, his hour is up and it’s time to get ready for his next show. As he stands, Dick runs a gloved hand over Jason’s lightly stubbled cheek. “Keep your eyes on me,” he whispers and leans in to plant a kiss where his hand just was. Jason looks startled, his deep blue eyes wide as he blushes again.

Artemis laughs raucously as Dick walks away, making sure to put an extra sway in his step.

Jason is seriously cute and Dick really wants to find out how far down his neck the man’s blush goes, but he’s still bothered by the sense that something is off about him. He’s halfway through the next set when he figures it out. Only years of performing keep him upright and in character.

The man sitting at the bar is the Red Hood.

Bruce had shown him the new wanted posters that arrived with this morning’s post. The sketch doesn’t do the man justice at all, especially since he always wears a red bandana over the lower half of his face and the brim of his black cowboy hat pulled low, but the sketch did mention his deep blue eyes.

Some additional information about him was passed along only to law enforcement, which Bruce shared with him as well. Like the pearl gripped revolver and the fact that his accomplice is suspected to be a woman. Dick remembers the poster for Artemis being even more vague as she wears a full wrap of faded red around her face and head, leaving only her eyes bare, probably to conceal her feminine features and that massive amount of red hair.

The pair are wanted in conjunction with over a dozen robberies in the last year. Almost no one is ever seriously hurt but one man was killed when he tried chasing after them. He’d been shot in the shoulder and the impact sent him flying off his horse where he then landed wrong and broke his neck. Accidental to be sure, but murder is murder.

Dick wants to groan in frustration as he kicks up his legs and dances around the stage. Why does this always happen to him? It’s like he’s one of those magnets that attracts trouble rather than iron shavings.

But he remembers Jason’s blush as he flirted with him and how sweet he is, even while telling Artemis off for ordering a third beer. This can’t be the same person that has a $500 reward for his capture.

Additional verification needs to be done first. After all, the sketches for the Red Hood Bandits are iffy at best.

It doesn’t take long for Dick to rejoin Jason and Artemis after his last performance. Stephanie drops off another beer for him, which he downs quickly. “Care to take a walk, Jay?” he asks with a wink. “I could use some fresh air.”

Artemis all but pushes Jason off his barstool. “You do too. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

Jason curses and mutters something that Dick doesn’t quite catch, but has his companion laughing uproariously as she slaps his hat on his head and shoves him towards the door.

Outside, the night air is cool against Dick’s flushed skin and he welcomes the change in temperature as he and Jason stroll down the wooden sidewalk. Jason’s heavy boots jingle slightly as they walk from his spurs. He awkwardly holds out his arm for Dick, who can’t help but laugh lightly at him. “I am a guy, you know. I just wear women’s clothing because it’s fun.”

“Well, my ma beat it inta me ta always offer my arm to a lady and since the one I travel with never wears a skirt…” Jason’s lips quirk in amusement.

“I accept then,” Dick replies and takes his arm. The man is taller than him but not by much. Warm too, but in a good way.

They stroll for a little ways before Jason speaks up again. “Ya know, wanderin’ off with strange men may not be the smartest thing for someone like you ta be doin’.”

Dick waves off the warning. “Thanks, but I’m more than capable of taking care of myself.”

“That so?” In the faint light from the moon, Dick catches a glint in Jason’s eyes.

Challenge accepted.

Before Jason can react, Dick has him firmly pressed against a wall, out of sight of the street and one of his secreted knives pressed lightly against his throat. “I grew up in a circus,” he breathes into the other man’s throat. “Learned a few other things besides how to put on makeup, kick up my heels, and look fabulous in a dress.”

“I see that,” Jason replies carefully, not moving in the slightest against Dick’s body, which he thinks is a crying shame. “So what now? You gonna rob me?”

Dicks smiles into the warm skin and presses his lips firmly against Jason’s fluttering pulse. “I can think of one thing I want to steal from you.”

“What’s that?”

“This.” Dick slides the knife back into his skirt and presses even more against Jason, capturing his lips in a heated kiss. The man gasps into it, startled, but then lets out one of the sweetest moans he has ever had the privilege to hear.

Oh, good lord. If Jason is the Red Hood, boy is Dick ever screwed.

#chibinightowl writes #Jason Todd #Dick Grayson #JayDick #Wild West AU

[winsister91]

Breaking A Promise

Part Six - The Moment

Summary: Sam decides to use the opportunity, but can only watch in horror. Y/N gets her lead.

Characters: Dean x Reader, Sam

Warnings: Language, canon-typical violence, angst, grief, themes of addiction.

Word Count: 2256

A/N: I’m sorry, but I’m a little proud of this one for some reason. @sofreddie can vouch for me when I say how giddy I got when I finished this chapter! I hope you guys like it too ;) I’m thinking there’s one, maybe two parts left! I am going to finish something!!!!!!

Series Masterlist Full Masterlist

~ Series and forever tags are open! ~

(italics are flashbacks)

Sam strains to keep his eyes open. He’d been sat in the Impala all night, watching, waiting. He could see your car parked outside the motel, he’d arrived shortly after the signal from your GPS died. She’s a great hunter, but not so great at covering her tracks. Reckless. Doubly so right now. Part of him understood. She was desperate, hell, he was too. Hence resorting to this. Y/N was his new lead. She had hit rock bottom and he couldn’t pull her back up. So… he thought to use the opportunity. If she can find Dean this way, that means I can too.

Sam had parked the car a couple of streets over, but still with a clear view of the motel. It didn’t take him long to work out which window belonged to you. He didn’t want to know what was going on inside that room. He saw the flashes of purple through the curtains last night, shouting, the words inaudible to him because of the distance, but they sounded full of rage. Then silence. A silence that had persisted all night and into the morning. A silence that was now being broken.

Through the thin curtains, he saw that purple light again. It flashed frequently. Like you were trying a spell over and over again. “Dammit Y/N…” Sam mumbles shaking his head, “I’m sorry...I shouldn’t have left you alone.”

He continues to watch, the flashes visible through the curtains growing in intensity and speed. He felt terrible. Guilty. Hoping you weren’t going to fall too far down the rabbit hole. Praying once you found Dean he could save you. Both of you if necessary.

A man catches his eye. A small man with a plump belly and balding head. He marched out of the motel’s reception and straight for your door. The motel manager maybe? It was around about the usual check out time for these kinds of places. He panicked. Chuck only knew what you were doing in that room, and this guy was headed for a ‘wrong place wrong time’ moment of the worst kind. Sam threw the Impala door open and ran.

“Don’t!” he yelled, but the man was already knocking on the door, and you were opening it.

Sam ducked for cover so you didn’t spot him. He was stuck and all he could do was watch with bated breath.

You looked rough. Hair all over the place. Skin pale. Eyes baggy. Yet you smiled. Chatting happily with the man at your door before stepping to one side and inviting him in. Sam wished he could hear what you were saying, nothing good no doubt.

As the door clicked closed behind you both, Sam stepped out from his cover and made a slow cautious approach. He wanted to try and hear what was going on. He kept a hand close to the gun in his jacket, loaded with Witch killing bullets. He didn’t want to use them, but he needed to ensure he had some form of protection against you.

As he stepped into the car park, the shattering of glass attacked his eardrums.

“Shit!” he yelled, now leaping for cover behind a nearby parked truck.

The window of your motel room was in pieces, the man’s body being the catalyst for the destruction. He landed with a hard thud a mere few feet away from Sam. His eyes glazed over and blood oozed from his head onto the hot tarmac.

“Oh god…” Sam panted, wide-eyed. She’s lost it. She’s gone homicidal.

He peeked around the truck only to hastily shift back behind it again. You were marching out of the door, smirking, backpack in hand. You skipped chirpily to your car and climbed inside. The sound of Guns and Roses’ Paradise City blasting from your stereo.

“Take me down, to the Paradise City where the grass is green and the girls are pretty!” Sam heard you shouting cheerfully as the engine revved and you sped from the parking lot.

Once you were out of sight, Sam scurried to the man’s body. Instantly placing two fingers to his neck to check for a pulse. Dead. Sam spotted more blood flowing to the ground, not from the manager’s head, but his wrists. Two large gashes sliced straight across the veins.

“Oh my god…” he mumbled, mortified.

He got to his feet and ran to your room’s door to look inside. It was trashed. A multitude of empty vials scattered across the blood-stained carpet. A huge circular symbol painted on the floor, a bowl full of blood at the centre. Sam narrowed his eyes at the other items in the circle. One of Dean’s shirts. Three photos. One of you and Dean. One of Dean, Bobby and him leaning on the Impala’s hood. The final one of Dean, John, Mary and himself as a baby. All of the pictures were spattered with blood. Sam gritted his teeth and hissed through them, pained at the sight of such precious memories being tarnished by your madness. The fact that you’d left the photos behind too. Is this even about finding Dean to you anymore? Or just an excuse for you to keep taking the blood?

He spotted an open book laid on the bed. Your spellbook. It laid open on a page describing an old blood ritual spell. It was to find lost loved ones. Naturally, for a blood ritual, it required lots of the red stuff. The caster to consume demon’s blood, and a lot of human blood to be spilled.

“That’s why you killed the manager…” Sam mumbled, picking up the book and skim reading the page, “So now… you know where Dean is…”

As Sam turned on his heels, it was only now he noticed red letters, painted in more blood on the wall above the broken window.

Red Dragon Inn. South West.

Fumbling for his phone, Sam quickly searched online. The only Red Dragon Inn he could find that matched the directions was roughly two states over. It was time for another long drive.

°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。

Five hours you’d been driving, and your optimism was far from diminished. You did it. You finally had a lead. So sure in your confidence, you didn’t care that you’d left some possessions behind. The spell had lingering effects. Even if Dean had moved on from the bar, you’d be able to track him with a simple sip of blood and concentration. You knew that was unnecessary, you could sense he hadn’t moved. Maybe just one more gulp to be sure.

“IIIIIII, don’t care about anyone else but me,” you hummed happily along with the Drowning Pool song blasting from the old car speakers, “Don’t care about anyone or anything.”

You reached for your trusty bag on the passenger's seat, taking another bottle and emptying it down your throat. Closing your eyes blissfully, you embrace the buzz as it rushes to your head.

“Nearly there baby,” you grinned, turning off the highway and heading into the new unfamiliar town. 

The spell was like an internal GPS. You knew exactly where you were going. You couldn’t believe your luck on this fine day. You were all ready to give up back there at the motel when the spell didn’t work for the fifth time. Then that Motel owner came knocking like some kind of divine gift. Of course, your own blood wasn’t going to work for the spell. It needed human blood. Yours was tainted with that of a demon’s. You wince, briefly checking the wounds on your wrists. They were healing quickly. Your powers, and frequent top-ups of your fix, were speeding the healing along just nicely. You shake your head with a chuckle, thinking back to the joy that hit you when that knock came on the door. When that dumbass showed up, he may as well have had a shiny little bow tied around his neck.

Turning onto a new street, the Red Dragon Inn was in your sights. You grinned gleefully. He was inside. You knew it, you felt it.

All the questionable shit you had done was for this moment. Going back to the coven. Killing Harper. The fire. Hurting Sammy. Ignoring Cas. The Motel guy. Breaking your promise. It was all for Dean.

°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。

“Dean!” you wailed hysterically as Sam carried his brother’s lifeless body into the bunker, “Dean no!!!!”

It felt like someone had ripped your heart out. Numerous knives jabbing into your guts. Your eyes burnt. Your mouth coated with the salty taste of your tears as they flowed endlessly down your cheeks. “Sammy!! No!” you pleaded with younger brother, “No! Please! Tell me he’s okay.” “Y/N…” Sam stuttered, his own eyes red and blotchy from no doubt many tears, “I’m sorry. I couldn’t do anything to stop it.”

You couldn’t form words. Dropping to your knees, you continued to uncontrollably sob. You told him not to go after Metatron. Not alone. To let you or Sam help him. It was the damn mark. Dean had been getting more and more irrational since getting it. He was brutal. More violent than you had ever seen him, and he was shutting everyone out. He shut you out. Shoving you off and lying that everything was OK when it evidently wasn’t. You should have done more. You should have been more forceful. But it was Dean. Your Dean. He said he would always come back for you.

“No no no…” you pulled at your hair, “This can’t be happening…”

Crowley entered the bunker as Sam carried Dean’s body away down the corridor.

“You!” you spat, making a beeline for the King of Hell and shoving him up against the wall, “Fix this! NOW!”

“No can do love,” the demon shrugged, “I’m just here to share my condolences.”

“Son of a bitch,” you punched at his chest, angered by his lack of reactions, “You fucking SON OF A BITCH!”

“Hey hey hey,” Sam said quickly upon re-entering the room, grabbing you from behind and pulling you away, “Y/N please, just try to calm down.”

You began to sob again, clutching at the fabric of Sam’s shirt tightly, burying your head in his chest. You could feel his muscles twitching and convulsing, finding it difficult to hold back tears himself.

“May I see the boy and say my goodbyes?” Crowley’s voice echoed behind you.

“FUCK YOU!!” you screamed, glaring at him with piercing eyes, “You stay away from him!!”

Pushing Sam away from you, you ran down the corridor in search of where he had put Dean. It didn’t take you long to find the open door

There he was. The love of your life. Motionless and bloodied. You felt your stomach churn painfully. Grimacing and averting your eyes before quickly looking back again. You just wanted him to wake up. Any moment now surely he will sit up, tell you to stop being a dramatic jackass and throw his arms around you. Any minute now... “Dean please,” you whimpered, sitting on the mattress next to him and gripping his cold hand, “P-please. Just wake up.”

You wanted to grab him by the shoulders and shake him out of it. You squeezed his hand with all the strength you could muster. You dropped your head to his chest, hopelessness overwhelming you at the lack of heartbeat.

“Dean…” you mumbled, interlocking your fingers between his, “Please… I-I can’t go on without you. I need you…”

“Y/N…” Sam’s voice came from the doorway, his eyes bloodshot as tears stained his cheeks, “He’s gone.”

°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。

You smirk. He wasn’t gone. You’d found him. One mere crossroad away from the building you knew he was currently sat in. The light turned green and you eagerly slammed a foot on the gas pedal, a beaming smile painted on your face.

A smash into your side. The car flips. You cry out as the car began to roll with a powerful momentum down the street. The sound of metal crunching and glass shattering tore through your eardrums as shards of glass rained over you.

The rolling finally stopped. You could feel a warm stickiness spreading down one side of your face. Your ribs throbbing and stinging as you struggled to breathe. You couldn’t move your legs, they were trapped under the deformed remnants of your car. All sound had ceased apart from this hissing, as oil and steam leaked from the destroyed engine. You couldn’t move at all. Trapped tightly by your seatbelt, as the car laid upside down. You were losing blood fast. Losing power. You attempted to flex your hand out, trying to will the car to move so you could break free. You couldn’t. Blackness descended upon you as your energy and consciousness drained.

°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。

“Uugh,” you groaned. Everything hurt. Your head throbbed and your vision was a clouded mess. You weren’t in the car anymore. You were in some room. A dark room. You hear footsteps coming towards you. You can’t move your arms, they’re tied down firmly to the arms of a chair, and your feet tied to the legs. Your head felt heavy, you couldn’t find the strength the lift your chin up from your chest. A hand lifted it for you. Now looking up, your eyes finally focused and you were looking into a familiar set of emerald green eyes. That cocky smile. A deep husky voice greeting your ears.

“Hey there Sweetheart,” Dean chuckled, his green eyes flitting to black, “Been looking for me?”

Tags! Forever Posse: @sofreddie @chelsea072498 @ria132love @untitled39887 @chicagolove88 @akshi8278 @sis-tafics @younoeatcheeseyounobefat @mandilion76 @teamfreewill92 @supernaturalmagicfolk @emoryhemsworth @musicistobeheard-blog @pheonyxstorm @mrswhozeewhatsis @turnttover @itspronouncedsatanbitch @the--real-wombat @xagateophobiax @samisimportant @jensen-gal @castiel11235

Breaking A Promise Squad: @arikas5744 @lessons-of-red @spnaddict11283 @lemonchapstick

Crossed out means Tumblr won’t lemme tag you :(

#supernatural #spn #spn fanfic #dean series #dean x reader #dean angst #sam angst

[scribblesandimaginings]

Guardians’ Halloween

The Guardians take Groot trick or treating - Anon

Okay, so there is very little actual trick or treating in this, but I’m pleased with the way it turned out :)

First time writing a fic that isn’t reader insert or features an OC, wish me luck, but I didn’t think this would work with another character to add to the mix

(Also, Yondu lives AU)

-----

Ever since Peter had explained what Halloween was, the rest of the Guardians had become intrigued. In particular, Groot had gotten very excited over the whole idea. And Rocket hadn’t been terribly hard to convince get in on it. In fact, the only person who had needed a little extra convincing was Gamora, but once Rocket pointed out that a surprise Halloween party would make Peter really happy, she had to get involved.

Somehow, Rocket arranged it with Yondu, that Peter would be kept busy all day, while the other Guardians set their plan into action. Since everything that had happened with Ego, Yondu had been accepted back amongst the Ravagers, making the Ravagers as a whole, new friends allies of the Guardians - meaning that they were getting forced to take part too.

It was late by the time everything was sorted, but it looked sooo good. The decorations were up round the Milano, all skulls and bones and scary masks with ghosts and and ghouls and made up monsters. Everyone had their costume on, even Drax who still wasn’t 100% sure of the entire event. There was so much food, drinks, sweets and cakes, on the Milano and all of the Ravager ships too.

They had found a suitable location to land all the ships, using them to form a circle. The Ravagers had been told to dress up too - which, in fairness they had, but no Ravager had a costume as such, so they were all wearing either the only good clothes they owned, or undercover outfits - at least they all did dress up. They all did take part. In the centre of the circle of ships, they had set up dozens and dozens of tables, all with more food and drink. And because the Ravagers had taken care of that, there was a lot of drink. They had had no problem getting involved, once Rocket had explained that it was a surprise for Peter - and seeing as Peter was more or less Yondu’s kid, and Yondu was in on the whole thing, Stakar and the other captains took it as an opportunity to try to make things up to Yondu.

On the Milano, the Guardians received a message from Yondu saying that they were on their way back.

‘Everything ready?” Rocket called, a mischievous grin on his face. His costume was a ninja - ever since he’d been told about ninjas, Rocket had loved them. He was dressed all in black - he’d managed to get a hold of black boots from somewhere, but he’d struggled to find a mask, so he’d wrapped a long length of black fabric around his head and made it work. He looked pretty damn good.

“Everything’s been ready for the last hour, Rocket” Gamora answered - she was slowly getting impatient, waiting for her boyfriend to return to get this whole thing underway. She had found a mask a few days ago, at a market place, that had the feathers of a Terran bird, a peacock. She had based her costume off of that, wearing a long green and purple dress, and a ‘feathered tail’, she’d made out of patterned material over a wire frame. The overall effect was incredible.

“How long will Quill take to return?” Drax’s voice boomed as he entered the room. His costume (if you could call it that) was supposed to be a ‘warrior’ - it looked sort of like a very scantily clad Terran gladiator. He was wearing a leather stripped ‘kilt’ that came just to his mid thigh and just about covered his... dignity. Other than that, all he was wearing was a leather sash, and his normal boots. It was a... striking look.

“Not long, ten minutes if that” Rocket said, “Where’s Groot?”

“I am Groot!” came the little call.

Seeing the tiny Flora Colossus all dressed up, Rocket grinned wide. “This is gonna be awesome”

*****

Peter’s day had been weird to say the least. Yondu had shown up out of the blue (ba dum tsh) going on about how he needed help with finding this ‘artifact’ and because it was originally Terran, Peter had to be the one to help find it. The story was bullshit, and he knew it, but he went along with it anyway, curious to find out what was actually going on.

It had been a wild goose chase from the off. Yondu had them round every port and market the thing - which Peter eventually found out was an ancient Egyptian statuette (which was pretty cool) - had ever been at. By the time they found it, and Yondu had gotten it sold at a ridiculously high price, and then had split the money between them both, it was late.

It was late. And Peter was tired. And he had no idea what this was actually about. And why the shit there had been an ancient Egyptian statue this far out in space. And why in the galaxies he hadn’t heard a word from the other Guardians (which was totally out of character). No. Peter had had a very long day, and he just wanted to go back to the Milano, and forget all about the weirdness the day had brought.

So, when Yondu touched down, who knows where, in a ring of ships, which (bar one) were all Ravager ships, Peter actually thought he might kill him.

Peter stood up, “Yondu what the f-”

“Wasn’t ma idea boy, don’ go shoutin’ at me. Now git yer ass out there and see what’s goin’ on”

Peter stared at him for a second before he turned and stepped outside, grumbling about the ‘crazy old blue man’.  Then he was his friends.

Peter started laughing, quietly at first, then louder, and louder and louder, clutching his sides. “What the shit?” he managed to get out.

“Happy Halloween” Rocket said, smugly grinning.

“You guys made a Halloween party, with all the Ravagers... to surprise me?”

“Yes” Gamora said, quite precisely.

“I don’t have a costume though!” Peter laughed, still taking in the everything around him.

“Yes you do - Gamora got it for you” Drax said, producing a shiny plastic bag, hanging on a coat hanger, with his costume inside.

Light blue jeans and a white vest... with a picture of Kevin Bacon in Footloose taped to the from of it.

“It’s Kevin Bacon, you’re dancing hero” Gamora said, hoping that this was in fact correct.

Peter grinned “It’s awesome” He grabbed it and ran inside the Milano to get changed. Returning quickly, now in costume, he started dancing. “Hey, where’s Groot?”

“Right here” Rocket said, proudly, stepping aside to let Peter see the tiny tree creature.

Peter froze, his jaw dropped open, “No way” Groot was dressed as a tiny little Star Lord, with mask and gun and all. “Aww, dude”

“Okay, so first up - we’ve got some trick or treating to do” Rocket said.

Peter frowned, “...how?”

Rocket gave another smug smile, “Go round each of the Ravager ships - ya think they’re here for nothing?”

Peter nodded, “You guys are awesome”

And, as a group they started to walk towards the nearest ship, to start their trick or treating, and the rest of their Halloween party activities. Peter hadn’t had such a good in literal years.

#Guardians of the Galaxy #gotg #peter quill #star lord #Rocket Raccoon #groot #gamora #Drax The Destroyer #Yondu Udonta #Halloween #guardians of the galaxy fic #gotg fic #request

[myheroesoc]

Kumiko Reynard - Spider Vixen

Name: Kumiko Reynard

Code Name: Spider Vixen

Personality: Highly calculating, and is very inventive. In the start, she’s very nonplussed by everything, glaring at those that try to talk to her, even to colleagues. But when her brother appears to be alive, back on the right side, and attending her old school, she undergoes a drastic change. She becomes warm, friendly, and is very bubbly in her personality. Gets that squirmy kind of embarrassed when complimented.

Affiliation: Pro Hero

Likes: Minestrone

Quirk: Warp Threads

In Brief: Creates spacial strings out of the fabric of space, with variable tensity.

Kumiko is able to take empty space and conjure up strings that make up that space, forming strong spacial strings that attach to thin air. Like her brother’s Spacial Fabric, caffeine is a necessary component to actually shape and form the spacial strings. While the strings are formed, their length and pliability can be adjusted on the fly, as well as choosing if she wishes for the ends to remain attached to space, or just using it as a rope, doing typical Spider-Man web swings and zips with space. They can also be used in methods like her brother’s fabric, such as using the strings to hang in the air, using some strings as a tightrope or human slingshot for maneuverability, or even to use them as a slingshot for projectiles she keeps on hand.

Portals are not a thing for her version of the spacial warping Quirk, and neither is the panoramic sense, but Kumiko does have a pair of spider legs from her mother with the same qualities, albeit with the lack of ability to hide them, and as a bonus they are able to manipulate the strings as much as the rest of her. Also in a tradeoff, her manipulations stretch quite farther and more intricate in comparison to Manami’s, being able to tug on a string and have elaborate web formations form along its length as if they were always there, entangling and binding most people in extremely durable space tethers.

Most of her techniques pay reference to Manami’s due to similar styles;

Weave Arrow: Kumiko can create a string and pull back on it, nocking a dart from her equipment into it for an arrow projectile. This is similar to Warp Slingshot in spirit.

Tangled Web: A variant of Twisted Space, she loosens a particular string and twists it in the same manner, but immediately gives it the maximum tension, making it snap back and the resulting whip crack forms a strong pressure sonic boom. 

Space-Tied: By yanking on a string, she creates a line of strings to reach her target, lassoing them with hard to break strings that seemingly stretch themselves into existence. This extension is also a useful tool in other scenarios, and she can adjust the creation of the strings by simple weaving it around in a certain way that changes its angle of creation, like weaving a cat’s cradle.

Parlor Welcoming: A formation of the maximum amount of strings in a room, being able to entangle a large area at once and capture or disable a bunch of people in highly tense string pattern clusters.

Mad Arachnid: In her arsenal, she keeps clip-on explosives in which she puts on various small lines in space. When touched, they detonate, so she tends to keep them around in tactical positions that would seem unlikely to search for traps in thin air.

Caught In The Web: On top of Spacial Nodes, her gauntlets obtain an ability for her to not just alter the tensility, but also certain qualities by spending more creation energy, such as giving them a static clinging quality being the most common. This is a natural ability, but it does take time to actually produce the effects, so it would be easier with the gauntlets.

Suit Features: Her suit is a skintight black and purple bodysuit, with a band in her hair that has two parts that look like a pair of fox ears. Since she can’t draw in her spider legs, she just leaves them at her tailbone, in order to look like a pair of tails. Her gauntlets and boots were designed by her, before her brother borrowed the design to apply it to his, so of course she has matching boots and gauntlets with shaper nodes.

In her equipment, she keeps the clip-on charges for sneaky unexpected ambushes, as well as arrowhead darts, to shoot out easier than pellets, since they nock nicely into a string.

Body Features: Her body is of a nice hourglass shape (because spider family), with a roundish face. Her large almond shaped blue eyes (were) dull and shaded, and covers her whole eye like her mother and brother, though not as sensitive, with another pair at the same level on her forehead, but become bright and shiny after reuniting with her brother.

Tidbits: Her little brother Manami, was always a great inspiration to her, even when she was young she didn’t have much ambition until her brother started developing the passion to become a hero like their parents. She decided to share this enthusiasm, saying that she’ll be a hero in the top ten for him for sure (So she can also get him to look up to her as he does with mom and dad). When he vanished when she was around eight years old, she went under some serious mental breakdowns because she feels responsible (They originally came for her, but they decided to take Mana instead), and essentially became a husk of her former self, going day to day as she would, occasionally haunted by her brother’s shocked face as she couldn’t stop the person whom took him away. The horror would no longer plague her upon his return however, but she’ll still get that feeling of regret.

#MHA #BNHA #OC #Pro Hero #Kumiko Reynard #Quirk rework to be more interesting of a design