#labor has to step the fuck up and stop this now

[queen-mabs-revenge]

i'm sorry but what are we doing what are we doing what are we doing??? 500 people in a hospital just slaughtered - pure act of genocide and what are we doing??? like, yes, just the fact that the numbers out on the streets are what they are is testament to unprecedented failure in the western propaganda murder machine, but at the same time what the fuck are we doing???

because this can't be another blm - record numbers of people out on the streets and what? what happened? what result but deepened reaction and further entrenched state violence? this is an acute genocide that is happening right now we're just gonna do the same shit we've been doing for a decade that we know does worse than doesn't work??

signs at protests shouldn't be begging biden to call for a ceasefire, they should be calling for unions to stand up and collectively refuse to handle genocidal war goods. unions representing newsroom crews and newspaper workers should collectively refuse to produce propaganda of genocide. the fucking politicians aren't gonna fucking stop this shit, it's only gonna be labor shutting it down that's gonna stop it. fuck letters to the senator we gotta stop the fucking death machine and labor is the ones with our hands on the levers.

#palestine #strikes aren't just for better working conditions #they're to show who has the power #without us none of this runs #labor has to step the fuck up and stop this now #we should be writing to labor unions i swear to fuck

[freedomfireflies]

SnakeBite*

Summary: The third part to 404*

The one where Harry is good for more than a good time.

But he's still good at that, too.

Word Count: 5.2k

*Contains Mature and Explicit content! Please only consume what you feel comfortable with!💞You are so much more important!*

“Oh, come on…please. Please, don’t do this. Not right now. Not today…please.”

With a deep breath, you stick the key back into the ignition and try again. Waiting anxiously for the sound of the engine roaring to life. A sound you desperately need to hear more than anything.

Instead, all that follows is that familiar clunking of something heavy before there’s a rather shrill buzzing you can’t quite place.

Fuck.

Exasperated and woefully defeated, you take the key back out, groan, and drop your forehead onto the steering wheel. “This is not happening.”

Truth be told, you should have seen this coming. This isn’t the first time your poor car has made this unsettling noise, and perhaps it’s your fault for ignoring it for so long. You hadn’t meant to; you just didn’t realize it was this bad. Or that your car was this old.

Now, you’re trapped in the Juno Incorporated parking lot on a Friday afternoon with no way of getting you or your car home.

“The fuck is wrong with you?”

You don’t even bother to lift your head as Harry’s voice carries in through the window. “Nothing. Go away.”

You hear the sound of his boots scraping across the concrete before they stop, and you feel a large shadow fall over your side of the vehicle. “Can I assume that god awful noise came from this hunk of shit you call a car?”

Leaning back, you huff as you look over. “I’m sorry, do you want something?”

Harry smirks, arms crossing over his chest as he juts his chin toward you. “Pop the hood, let me see.”

“Yeah…no.”

“Come on,” he pushes, a few curls dancing across his forehead from a soft gust of wind. You realize he looks different outside of the lab. Normal, almost. It’s unsettling. “You wanna leave, don’t you?”

“Yeah, but knowing you, you’d probably cut my breaks.”

“If I were gonna take you out, I would have done it by now.”

“Oh. Wow. You’re really instilling me with a lot of confidence, thanks.”

He steps back and motions toward the front of your car. “Fucking relax, Tinkerbell, and just pop the goddamn hood.”

Regretfully, you do as instructed before leaning out the open window to watch him walk toward your engine. “Do you even know what you’re doing?”

“I know enough,” he replies, using the back of his hand to push on his glasses before bending down.

“That…is not helpful.”

“Well, I’m your only shot. Everyone else is gone.”

“I can call a repair guy.”

He shakes his head once. “Won’t get here in time. It’s rush hour on a Friday. You’ll be here for hours if they even show at all. And chances are, they won’t be able to schedule you in till next week. So, unless you’re planning to sleep here, in your car, can you please shut the fuck up, and let me focus?”

You feel your expression morph into a scowl as you unclick your seatbelt and step out. “I’d rather sleep in my car than trust you to fix my engine.”

You notice his eyes roll, but he’s amused. “Well, I can’t fix it. Not here. I think it’s your spark plugs. They tend to wear out faster in older cars. You’ll probably have to get them replaced.”

Scurrying to stand beside him, you glance over your engine and the internal workings of the car with a heavy sigh.

“You’re kidding,” you mumble beneath another strained groan. “And let me guess, it’s gonna be expensive.”

“Probably,” he agrees, glancing over. “But it’s not like you can’t afford it.”

Your eyes narrow. “I know I can afford it, I just don’t like dropping thousands of dollars on something so dumb.”

“Spark plugs aren’t dumb,” he retorts while reaching for your hood to slam it shut. “You need them to fucking drive.”

“Yeah, but having to pay for a rental car, manual labor, and a tow truck is dumb,” you point out. “And this is the last thing I need right now.”

His eyebrow lifts but he doesn’t ask for elaboration. Instead, he begins to stride across the lot toward a dark, black Harley, leaving you and your crisis behind.

In turn, you reach for your cellphone to look up local tow trucks and mechanics that might be able to help you out.

To your dismay, most shops are already closed for the weekend, except for one. And after a very lengthy and frustrated discussion, you learn that they won’t be able to come by until much later tonight. Which means that all your hopes of having a nice, relaxing evening are for naught. 

Once again defeated, you slump back against the side of your car and drop your head. “Well…great.”

Harry’s smirk returns as he glances over and straddles his bike. “What?”

“I’m stuck here until midnight,” you mumble, running a palm down the side of your cheek. “You were right, everyone is booked.”

“Shit,” is about all he offers while pulling his helmet over his head. “That sucks.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“Welcome.” He revs the engine, and just like that, the bike roars to life. The loud and somewhat startling sound echoing across the parking lot as you flinch.. “So, what’s the plan, Princess? You gonna call an Uber and come back later?”

“I can’t,” you shout over the noise. “I have to be here in case they come early, or they’ll leave.”

Through the open visor, you see him frown. “Ah.”

“Yeah.”

He studies you for a moment more, and you feel your skin grow warm under such a scrutinous gaze. Like he’s looking for something written between the lines of your face. “Well…make sure you lock your doors.”

“No shit.”

He smiles again before flipping the visor shut and steadying the bike with his leg. You stand back, ready to watch him speed out of the lot and onto the street, but to your surprise…he simply sits there.

In fact, a good sixty seconds pass before he suddenly slips the helmet off his head, sighs, and thrusts it toward you. “Get on.”

You blink. “What?”

“Get on the fucking bike, Tink,” he repeats. “I know a bar we can hang out in till they get here.”

“I…I just told you, I can’t leave—”

“You can see the parking lot from inside,” he interrupts. “If they show, we can just run back over.”

You step closer, drawn to his proposition, although still wildly confused. “Uh…okay. Why, though? I’m fine to just wait here.”

He looks at you, the grassy green behind his glasses somehow softer in this natural lighting. “S’not safe,” he says simply, shrugging one shoulder up. “Be better to wait somewhere public, and I don’t really want your death on my conscience.”

 And you aren’t exactly sure what to say. Because you think this may be the nicest thing he’s ever done for you – even if it’s still a little odd – and you don’t want to spook him by doing the wrong thing.

But as you debate a response, he shakes the helmet at you again, rather aggressively. “Tink, get on the goddamn bike, please. I’m wasting gas here.”

With a huff, you snatch it from his hand and join him on the Harley. The helmet slips on rather easily, and once you’re sure it’s snug and secure, your eyes trail down his back, unsure of how to proceed. 

You don’t exactly want to…hold him. Or touch him or straddle him. At least, not outside of the way you do in secret. In broad daylight. Where people could see.

In fact, you already feel as though you’re grinding against his ass from how small this goddamn seat is. Almost too close for comfort as you catch a subtle trace of his cologne and feel the warmth from his body.

But motorcycles don’t exactly come with seatbelts, and if he were to take a sharp corner, you might end up pancaked on the cement.

“Tinkerbell,” you suddenly hear him call over his shoulder, voice raised to carry over the growl of the engine. “Just fucking grab me, it’s fine.”

You glare at his curls, despite knowing he can’t see you. “I’m good.”

He snorts again before he’s suddenly reaching back, grabbing onto your wrists, and hoisting your arms around his middle.

You’re tugged forward, your chest pressing to his spine rather forcefully as he glances back.

“Pussy,” he murmurs, releasing the clutch until the bike jolts forward and takes off through the parking lot.

With a rather shrill squeal, you tighten your hold on his broad frame, and bury yourself between his shoulder blades. The sensation is exhilarating and frightening all in the same moment. The rush of wind, adrenaline, and the way he leans around the corner before taking off down the street.

You think you feel his chest vibrate with laughter, perhaps from the way your nails are scraping down his shirt. And despite your increasing terror, you find that you feel oddly…safe with him at the handles.

Not even two minutes later, he’s pulling into another parking spot on the other side of the street, right in front of the aforementioned bar. It’s a bar you recognize, one that a few of your other coworkers often frequent from time to time.

In fact, this is the exact same bar you and Harry first hooked up in all those months ago.

The memory makes you smile.

“What?” Harry asks as swings his leg over the side and stands up. “Why are you grinning like that?”

You quickly wipe the smirk from your face while wrestling the helmet off to hand back. “Like what? I’m just smiling, calm down.”

“I don’t like when you smile. It freaks me out.”

“You’re really rude, you know that?”

“What? I’m just being honest. You have a lot of teeth. It’s weird.”

You glower at him, swatting his chest as you brush by. “Bite me, Harold.”

“With what? Your teeth?”

You feign a snubbed gasp – to which he chuckles – before striding into the bar, leaving him to follow behind.

The large room is loud and crowded with people, the smell of alcohol and bad decisions clinging to the air. You make a beeline for the counter, exhausted and overworked and already annoyed by Harry’s future comments before he can even make them.

Like—

“Really? An appletini?” 

With a deep breath, you look over while the bartender turns around to begin prepping your drink. “Yes, really. I like apples. And it’s delicious. And the color is fun.”

He rests an arm on the edge of the marble bar and leans in. “How incredibly boring of you.”

Once again, your expression falls flat. “Are you gonna be this fucking annoying the whole time? Because I’d rather wait by my car and get murdered.”

“I make no promises.”

“Clearly. And let me guess, you’re gonna order something cool and manly like a scotch on the rocks.”

Harry’s eyebrow quirks up before he smugly turns toward the bartender and calls, “I’ll have a SnakeBite.”

You can actually feel your eyes roll all the way into the back of your head. “God, you’re fucking pretentious.”

“Thank you,” he says with a smile, and you grit your teeth. “Will you relax? I haven’t even had a drink yet and you’re killing my buzz.”

“I’m not killing anything, I just can’t stand you.”

“No? Ouch. I thought we were friends.”

The sarcasm is evident, but you huff, nevertheless. “For the love of god, shut up.”

“What?” He nods his chin at you. “S’just a drink, don’t be so sensitive.”

“I’m sensitive because you’re annoying.”

“No, you’re sensitive because you’re wound up,” he retorts, eyeing you closely. It makes your skin crawl. “When’s the last time you got off, Tink?”

The inquiry makes you step back, almost as though trying to avoid his judgment. “None of your business.”

“So…couple weeks ago? In the closet, with me?” He clicks his tongue in disappointment. “That’s a long fucking time, Princess. No wonder you’re so uptight.”

Your mouth drops open, ready to scoff your resentment and perhaps a quippy remark before he suddenly steps forward and lowers his voice.

“Bet it’s achy, huh?” he coos, and the slight air condescension and sympathy makes your head spin. “Bet you hump your little pillow every night trying to get it done, yeah? But it never works, does it?”

Stunned and left without much remark, your lashes flutter.

He moves closer. “See, if we were friends…I’d offer to take you into the bathroom and help you out. But since you think you can do better…go ahead.”

He leans back while you gape at him. “I’m sorry…go ahead and do what?”

“Find someone,” he answers, glancing around the packed bar. “Take ‘em into the bathroom and let them bend you over the sink.”

“You can’t be serious—”

“Why not?” His eyebrow raises. “That’s the whole reason people come to bars. To get drunk and fuck.”

“Well…that’s not why I’m here.”

“It could be.”

“Harry…no—”

“Why? Seriously, why not? You need it.”

“I don’t…you’re so fucking rude, I don’t need to get off—”

“Coming is good for your health. And for your unfavorable attitude—”

“Oh, you are so fucking—”

“Rude? Annoying? Doesn’t make me any less right.”

You clamp your mouth shut and step closer, letting your gaze travel the expanse of his face. “Come on, Harry,” you murmur softly – salaciously – as his breath seems to catch. “Do you really think…you could watch me with some other guy?”

His expression twists, his mouth already forming around something else snappy and crude.

But it seems to get stuck on his tongue when you suddenly reach out and trail your fingers down his chest. Moving in until there’s only a single breath between you.

“Do you really think…you could watch me touch them?” you whisper, glancing down to your hand as it grazes over his pec. “Or know that they had me dripping down their cock…the way I always drip for you?”

He wants to fight you. Wants to snort and look away.

But he doesn’t. He can’t. He’s mesmerized by the power you so easily stole from him. Undone by the sound of your voice taunting him with an idea he can’t seem to stomach.

“Wanna know I’m whimpering their name the way I always whimper yours?” you continue, smoothing your other palm up the back of his neck. Squeezing just hard enough to make him straighten up. “Wanna see the marks on my throat from where they held me—”

“Easy,” he warns lowly, reaching up to snatch your wrist. But he doesn’t move you. “Not here—”

“Why?” You push up onto your tiptoes and let your lips ghost over his. “Who’s gonna see, hm? Who’s gonna care?”

His lashes flutter, eyes traveling down to your mouth. “Are you this desperate for it, Princess? Wanna fuck me right here in the middle of the bar? Make them watch?”

You smile, head tilting until the tip of your nose dances across his cheek. “Maybe,” you nearly purr. “Bet you like to be watched. You always like watching me.”

And maybe he knows you’re merely playing a game. Teasing him just to throw him off track and test his patience.

But he plays along, eager to see where it might lead. “Can’t help it,” he replies calmly, smirking himself. “Y’just always look so pretty when you’re three fingers deep in your cunt.”

“Yeah?” Your nails scratch at the soft curls near the nape of his neck. “Funny how I can make myself squirt better than you can.”

He exhales a rather sadistic chuckle while his arm reaches to loop around your waist, pulling your chest flush with his. “I wasn’t trying to make you squirt.”

“No?”

His head shakes once. “No. Trust me, Tink. If I wanted to…I would.”

“Then maybe you should.”

His lips part just enough to tease you with a taste. “Maybe I will.”

“Yeah? Right here? In front of everybody?”

Another grin. “I could. Be so fucking easy, too. Bend you over the bar, pull your soaked little panties down…spread you open so they can see how much of a dirty little cumslut you are.”

And perhaps this started as a ruse, but just the thought and the tantalizing way he speaks breeds a new inspiration.

“Cause you are, aren’t you?” he asks quietly, large hand pressing hard against your spine. “My dirty, fucking Princess? Get all wet and weepy from just a couple words?”

You swallow a whimper trying desperately to come free.

“Should I check?” he whispers, now subtly moving you over until your back meets the counter. “Hm? See if you’re as wound up as I think you are?”

You rifle through your list of responses but find that you have none to offer as his fingers delicately begin to trace the edge of your jeans. Provoking you further.

You reckon you should probably stop him. Point out what an idiotic idea this is and remind him that he’s still very much in public, surrounded by people.

But his body blocks you from most of the crowd, and nobody else is close enough to notice. And you suppose that even if they did look over, they wouldn’t exactly be able to see or understand.

His eyes flick to yours, looking for hesitation. But when he finds none, the corner of his mouth twitches up into a pleased smile.

“Dirty Princess,” he teases, sliding his hand into your pants as subtly as he can while you quickly glance around for prying eyes. “That’s right, Tink. Look at them.”

 The feel of his cold fingers against your warm skin is like ecstasy, sending a rush of adrenaline straight down to your toes.

You gasp quietly to mask a whine, vision going hazy as you watch him study you. 

“Oh, sweetie,” he tsks, smoothing his touch through your folds. Spreading and stroking as you reel. “Poor fucking thing. Did’ya get yourself all wet for me?”

“No,” you manage to reply, heart hammering against your rib cage when he smirks. “I was watching TikTok’s of Andrew Garfield earlier. This is for him.”

“Ah,” he hums, but he’s wildly amused, hand still cupping you gently before he swiftly pulls out and leaves you to wilt. “Well, in that case…”

He steps away, fingers tucked between his lips as he pretends to turn around.

However, before he can get far, you manage to capture a fistful of his shirt and yank him back to you. 

And you kiss him. Without reluctance or fear. You kiss him, and you sigh against his mouth, and swallow his surprised but greedy moan.

His hands are on your hips, squeezing and pulling, desperate to tug you further into his frame. 

You go willingly, becoming pliable in his hands. A few people cheer from beside you, raising their glasses and whistling like drunken animals. 

But it makes you both smile, suddenly unencumbered by the ideas of what people might think or who might see.

And it’s strange to feel so at peace in his arms. Unnatural almost to find relief in his lips or safety in his presence. Because this is still the same Harry that would let you drown before he jumped in after you. That would rather tell you off than tell you he likes you – even as an acquaintance. 

You’re not enemies, per se. You imagine you’re both too old for such childish rivalries. But he’s cruel and rude and blunt. His ego rivals the size of the moon, and his lack of care and inhibitions is proof that he could never be who you’d need him to be.

But that’s okay, you realize. You find serenity in the sadistic, strange behavior. Because it means you don’t have to commit to giving him anything more than what he deserves.

His tongue leaves a quick lick to yours before he pulls back and studies you from behind the dark frames of his glasses. “I need to fuck you.”

And you almost laugh at the frank way he speaks. “Yeah?”

“Yes.” His palm slides over the curve of your ass, squeezing it one, twice, three times. “Meet me in the bathroom.”

“Ew, no. I’m not fucking you in a crusty ass bathroom in a sketchy bar,” you retaliate with a scrunch of your nose. “Pick somewhere else.”

“There isn’t anywhere else,” he huffs. “Unless you really do want me to fuck right here in front of everybody.”

“That’s not funny.”

“M’not trying to be funny. I’m trying to fuck you.”

“Well…try harder.”

His eyes narrow. “Fine, you wanna fuck me on my bike?”

You blink. “Okay, that’s really not funny.”

“What?” He’s grinning again, and you hate the way his dimples pop out. Hate how charming they make him look. “Come on, I ride the bike, you ride me.”

You snort as you turn around to take a sip of your drink. “I’d rather get herpes.”

“Wow. Classy. Real fucking classy—”

“Admit it, you’ve had it before—”

“Oh, fuck you—”

“Well, you can’t. Remember?”

He scoffs. “Then where the fuck do you want to go?”

“I don’t know. Literally anywhere else?”

“Well, I’m not taking you back to mine.”

“No? You don’t want me to see the bridge you live under?”

“Troll jokes. Funny.”

“Thank you, I thought so. It’s very fitting.”

His expression falls flat before he sighs and steps closer again. “Meet me in the fucking bathroom,” he repeats quietly, “and let me fuck you. Let me make it better.”

You want to remind him – again – that a dirty bathroom in a crowded bar isn’t exactly the best place. You’d never get a moment of privacy, and the position would most likely be wildly uncomfortable.

But suddenly, none of your reasons seem to matter. Because it hurts to be away from him. Actually aches between your thighs, forcing you to swallow thickly.

So, instead of responding with an actual answer, you simply take his hand, and drag him through the crowd.

You catch his smug smile – and resist the urge to slap the glasses off his face – before yanking him into the hall and toward the bathroom.

You both stumble through the door, already back on each other’s lips. Kissing, and groping, and groaning as you work to get the lock flipped.

You pause for only a moment to make sure the single stall restroom is in fact empty while Harry uses this as encouragement to begin nipping down the side of your neck. 

Your nails scratch down his scalp and he moans against the heat of your skin, exhaling his relief and lust all in the same breath.

His touch is firm – pointed and almost painful – as he pushes you back toward the wall. You gasp when you meet the cold, hard cement, lashes fluttering from the force and the sound of his belt coming undone.

He nods his chin at you, entertained by your fascination. “Come on, Princess. You’ve seen my cock before.”

“Just shut up and fuck me,” you murmur, swallowing thickly when he pulls himself out. “Before I change my mind and find somebody else."

He scoffs with a smile. “I’d like to see you try.”

He gives himself a few pumps, growing harder in his palm before he lets go and moves his attention to your jeans. He’s got them down your legs and pooled around your ankles in under thirty seconds flat, your panties soon following suit.

But he teases you for just a moment. Because of course he does, the sadistic fucker. Needing to hear you beg for him before he actually gives you what you both want.

“Harry,” you huff, glancing down as he presses a kiss to the inside of your thigh. “We don’t have time, and the floor is dirty. Just do it.”

“Just do it? How romantic,” he snorts before obliging and straightening back up. “Thought girls liked foreplay.”

“We do, but not in gross, dirty bathrooms.”

“Fine. Next time.”

And for some reason, the casual way he refers to the future makes your head spin. You always assume the two of you will continue from time to time. But hearing him promise to take care of you again…

It’s almost…nice? 

Pushing the thought aside, you begin to turn around, hands pressing into the wall to brace yourself in preparation for what comes next.

But just as you’re getting comfortable, he suddenly grabs onto your hips, and spins you forward once again.

“No,” he murmurs softly, pretty green eyes trailing down your face. “No, I wanna see you this time.”

“Oh,” you whisper, skin growing hot as he steps between your legs. “Okay…?”

He grins lightly before reaching up to trail his thumb along your bottom lip. “I like watching you get all sappy when I fuck you. The way you grin when it feels good.”

Suddenly, your pulse starts to stagger. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. I like your smile.”

You suck in quiet breath. “I thought it creeped you out. That I had too many teeth.”

He chuckles to himself before taking hold of his cock and bringing it closer, trailing it between your legs. “You do. But that’s what makes you so beautiful.”

You think he must be out of his mind. Lost on the idea of sex and pleasure and SnakeBite’s. Tipsy and not all there. Because the Harry you know would never say something like that to you.

But you suppose you don’t really know Harry at all.

With that final thought, he hoists your leg over his hip, and begins to push in. It’s slow at first. You’re tense from the surroundings, from the loud sounds of the bar just on the other side of the wall, and from his admission.

But he loves it, cursing through gritted teeth before surging forward to kiss you. “Tink, you gotta fucking relax. Y’know I can’t do it if you don’t let me in.”

“Try…trying,” you pant, head falling back against the wall with a thud. “Sorry. Just go.”

He frowns, eyes rolling as his glasses begin to slip down the bridge of his nose. “M’not gonna go if you’re not stretched, Princess. I’m not trying to hurt you—”

“I don’t care,” you argue with a soft whine. “Really, I don’t care. Just go. Make it hurt.”

He releases your leg to slip his fingers just below your jaw, forcing your eyes on him. “Stop. M’not gonna do that, just relax.”

“I’m trying—”

“Try harder,” he murmurs, kissing the side of your mouth. “Come on, sweetie. Know you can do it. Know you always take me so well, don’t you?”

You nod fervently. “Yes…yeah, yes—”

“Then take me,” he whispers, his free fingers finding your clit. He rubs, and presses, and pinches until he feels you begin to unwind. “There you go…there she is, that’s my girl. S’better, isn’t it? Yeah? Gonna let me in now?”

You can’t exactly speak, already lost in the pleasure and the fullness his thick cock provides as it pushes past your walls and settles nearly in your belly.

The sound you make is depraved and eager, and it makes him smile. “That good, huh? So fucking cute how cockdrunk you get.”

“Shut…up,” you huff before reaching for his hair. “Faster.”

“Faster,” he repeats to himself, hips pulling back just to snap forward. “Always want it fast, don’t you? Never want me to take my time.”

“Cause I don’t want your dick in me longer than it needs to be,” you retort, but you both know that’s not true. “Fucking hurry—”

With a sharp and sudden thrust, he changes the pace. Obeying your command for fast and hard as your bodies shake with pleasure and force. 

And you imagine it should feel quite strange to be so enamored by one man – one cock. But here you are, panting, and gasping, and whimpering as he fucks you against this bathroom wall. Ignoring the pounding of the fists against the door from people wanting to be let in.

He kisses you. Kisses all of you. Your lips, your cheek, your chin, your nose, your jaw, your neck, your collarbone. Tugs on your skin with his teeth before flattening his tongue against the tortured flesh. 

His hand dances underneath your shirt. Palm smoothing up your stomach and over the cup of your bra. Slipping just far enough inside to knead you in his grasp. Make you whimper and push closer.

And he’s so warm. All of him is warm and soft and strong. He smells like mahogany and sex, and he feels like ecstasy.

You love his hands. The veins in his arms, the bulge of his muscles. The tan of his skin and the way he holds you. 

He might be infuriating, but my god is he fun to look at. 

“Fucking shit,” he snaps, readjusting his angle to make sure he’s fucking into you just right. “So fucking good, Tink. You’re shaking, sweetie. You close already?”

You can’t respond with words, instead clenching around him in an effort to prove his point.

He smirks, quickly reaching up to push his glasses back into place. “Good. Want you to come all over my cock, baby. Want you to soak me. Can y’do that for me, Princess? Can you soak my cock?”

You think you know what he means, but truth be told, you aren’t sure if you can. You’ve only done it twice before – by your own hand, not his – and you wonder if you’d even be able to like this.

But the question is answered for you when he moves just enough to find that sweet, spongy spot that unravels you faster than lightning. 

He hits it over and over and over – perhaps without even realizing – and when you suddenly begin to cry out his name…he understands.

He watches as it happens, aiding in your pleasure by spitting on his fingers and bringing them down to your clit. 

The ministrations are ruthless and beautiful, and it almost distracts you from the gushing between your legs, and the way you soak his thighs.

“Shit,” you think you hear him groan, his eyes nearly rolling back in his head. “So fucking good, Tink. Yeah, just like that. That’s good, baby, keep going. Give me all of it. Fucking all of it, sweetie, yeah.”

And just before you can go sliding down the wall out of pure exhaustion…he follows. Pressing his chest into yours to keep you upright as he spills inside your pussy, creating a bigger mess than before. 

Everything is wet and sticky and warm. He’s breathing into your neck, holding onto your body so tight, you imagine you’ll see memories of him tomorrow. 

And you stay, just for a moment. Learning how to take in air again and waiting for the feeling to return to your muscles.

“You okay?” he finally asks, exhaling the question into the sweaty skin of your throat. “Didn’t break you, did I?”

Your smile is lazy as you shake your head. “It would take a lot more than you to break me.”

And he laughs. In the kind of way that makes you clench around him again.

Which only makes him laugh harder.

“I fucking hope so.”

Next Part:

~ Jealous*

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~ Off the Shelf*

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[starogeorgina]

𝐔𝐧𝐛𝐫𝐨𝐤𝐞𝐧

Paring: Aemond Targaryen × Targaryen OC, minor Daemon Targaryen x Targaryen OC

Warnings: Swearing, smut, kidnapping, sexual blackmail, self harm (overall dark themes)

Chapter: 1.01

Blood and cheese.

Fucking blood and cheese.

The destruction that blood and cheese caused would haunt Aemond until the day he died. He never meant for Lucerys to die; he thought at most his nephew would piss his pants and fly off home crying to his mother; instead, he indirectly set off a chain of events that couldn’t be stopped and was responsible for tearing his own family apart.

If Arrax hadn't breathed fire on Vhagar, then Vhagar never would have...

It was his fault.

Deep down, he knew that.

And now Aemond had paid the ultimate price. He took his half sister’s son away from her, and now the blacks have taken his sweet wife and unborn child from him.

Not only was the prince demented with fear of not knowing what had become of his beloved Viola, but his poor sister Helaena was forced to make the worst choice a parent could make and lost her firstborn son, Jaehaerys. He could never bring his nephews back, but perhaps he could still save his wife, if he ever found her. His wife’s dragon Stardust has been circling the keep, squealing loudly while looking for her rider since the day Viola was taken, and whenever the dragon went silent, a fleeting feeling of hope would cross Aemond's mind that perhaps she had returned, but that was never the case.

The prince’s fingers grip the leather arm rest of the chair tightly, and his knuckles turn white as his mind takes him to a dark place. Was someone mistreating his wife? Was she dead? He had been tracking the dates and had determined that his unborn babe should have been born two months ago.

“Prince Aemond.”

He stands when the king's hand approaches him holding an opened scroll in his hand, “grandsire.”

“I believe we know where Princess Viola is.”

“You’ve said that before,” he spits harshly. “And all it did was cause my mother more heartache.”

As soon as the words leave Aemond’s mouth, he regrets them; his comment wasn’t fair. His grandsire cared for them all but had a particular soft spot for his granddaughters. Aemond often had to remind himself that his wife being taken affected the rest of his family as well. His grandsire had used every connection he had to try and find Viola, while his mother had sent ravens to Rhaenyra, begging for her daughter's return.

“I’m sorry,” Aemond says. “Where is she?”

Otto nods, giving him a look of understanding. “Dragonstone.”

“Dragonstone,” he repeats. Could it be that she was so close to home all this time? The last time Aemond thought he had found his wife, he ended up burning Harrenhal to the ground. “How do we know this isn’t a trap?”

Otto holds up the scroll: “A raven arrived from Prince Jacaerys.”

Believing he’s heard everything he needs to, Aemond goes to leave but is stopped at the door by Ser Criston, who gives him a sympathetic look and pats his shoulder. “There are still things you need to know, my prince.”

—

You stare up at the ceiling, waiting for your uncle to appear. He always comes when the sun disappears and the sky turns black. On cue, the door to the room is unlocked, and your uncle walks in with a strut in his step. One of his hands had a tight grip on the head of his Valyrian steel sword, while the other dangled the key.

Knowing what his intentions were, you pull up your gown, spread your legs wide open, lick two of your fingers before bringing them to your clitoral area, and begin rubbing in a circular motion. This wasn’t about putting a show on for your abductor; you just wanted it to be over quickly. “Your cunt of a brother stole my wife’s crown, sending her into early labor, and your husband killed our Lucerys in cold blood. You are going to rectify those things by replacing what was taken from us.” Since the day the maester cleared you for sex again, your uncle has visited you nightly.

Daemon smirks, “Such an eggar girl, I’m starting to think you enjoy our nightly activities.”

You wondered if Daemon convinced himself that he doesn’t mistreat you so he could sleep better at night and find a way to forgive himself because he knew the gods wouldn’t forgive him for what he was doing to his own kin.

“Don’t stop touching yourself until I say so,” he orders.

You do as he says, thinking of Aemond as you touch yourself.

“Husband.”

Aemond looks up at you with a smile on his face. You’d been searching for him for hours, and you now feel silly for not searching the castle's library first. He often reads late at night before joining you in bed, but because of the stormy weather, you thought your husband might have gone dragon riding.

“You’ve kept me waiting.”

“Oh, I must have lost track of time; my apologies,” he says sincerely. He puts a bookmark in place, then sits the book on the small table beside him.

You walk towards him with a smirk on your lips. “It’s quite alright, my love, but I don’t think I can wait much longer.”

“Wha—”

By unfolding your robe and pulling up your sheer nightgown, you grant Aemond complete entry to your glistening cunt. He slides his finger along your folds gently, “so wet already.”

“I warmed myself up while waiting,” you tease.

Aemond kisses over your clothed body while sliding a finger into you, a smile pulling on his lips. “Well, I better not keep you waiting any longer, my dear wife.”

Daemon smacks your hand away, replacing your hand with his, and rubs at your clit until a moan slips from your mouth. He kneeled down and buried his head between your legs, bringing you pleasure with his skilled tongue. You hated yourself for enjoying the feeling of his mouth on you. When your walls start to clench, Daemon abruptly stops and unties his breeches low enough for his cock to spring out. He spits into his hand and strokes himself to complete hardness before sliding into you.

You wince at the stretch. Daemon wasn’t much smaller than your husband, but it always seemed to hurt when he thrust into you.

Perhaps that was deliberate on his part.

It didn’t matter how rough Aemond was with you; he never hurt you. Not once.

—

It doesn’t take Daemon long to reach his peak inside you, filling you with seed. Once he’s caught his breath, he begins to quickly fix his breeches. “You had tears in your eyes.”

“I’m surprised you noticed.”

He scoffs, “If it’s causing you so much pain, I can have the maesters bring tea; that will help.”

“I don’t want a tea to dry my milk up, uncle; I want to see my babe, Daenys, and feed her myself.”

He shoots you a cold glare and says, “No.”

You practically leap from the bed and press your back against the door, just as he reaches to open it. “Please, Daemon, please. You said I could see my daughter. All I want to know is that she’s safe. Please, please!”

“I said you could see her once you held up your end of the deal.”

When he forcefully pulls the door open, you are forced to move forward to let him by, and your body shakes with anger. “I’ve held up my—”

Daemon grips your face harshly. “The deal was that I would return the Kinslayers babe to you once you're pregnant!”

The single door to the room is slammed shut and locked, and you're all on your own again. Tears fall from your eyes as you move to the bed and curl up in the thin bed sheets. You felt like a fool when Daemon first took you as his prisoner. You sobbed and begged at his feet, promising to do anything it took to stay alive so that your unborn child could survive. And out of all the horrific thoughts that crossed your mind, you did not consider that he would force you into becoming a vessel, with the sole purpose of giving him another heir.

The only person who was kind to you was your nephew, Jacaerys. Sometimes he’d manage to sneak you extra food during the day, but mostly he’d sneak in to see you during the hour of the owl and would bring Daenys with him.

The few hours a night you got to spend with her made everything you suffered seem worth it, but it was never enough. The visits had become less and less, as Jacaerys was terrified of Daemon finding out. Your nephew promised he’d find a way to free you, but day by day, your hope of ever making it off Dragonstone was fading.

—

Aemond squeezes the sapphire necklace that he had made from his wife moons ago. It was his intention to give it to her on her birthday, but he never got the chance. Her eyes would light up whenever she got excited, and he imagined how they would look when she received her gift. He knew his wife would appreciate the sapphire carved into the shape of a heart. The sharp point of the bottom of the heart digs into his palm; the sting of it is the only thing that reminds the prince he is alive as he listens to his grandsire talk about his beloved.

“It seems Rhaenyra has slowly descended into madness, leaving the island under the charge of prince Daemon, who has deemed princess Viola his new— whore.” The pain and disgust in Otto’s voice was clear as he spoke of his granddaughter's fate. “Jacaerys states Viola has given birth to a healthy baby not long after she was taken, a girl.”

Aemond struggles to breathe as all the air is sucked from his lungs again. He had a daughter, a baby girl. Tears threatened to spill from his eye, but he squeezed the necklace harder to stop that from happening. It’s not until Aemond feels a warm liquid falling from his hand that he realizes he had held onto too tightly, and now he is bleeding.

Ser Criston notices but doesn’t draw attention to it; the knight clears his throat. “What does the bastard want in return?”

“For his mother's life to be spared,” Otto replies. “He even says he’d bend the knee if it meant saving her.”

“It could be a trick.”

“No,” Alicent says. “I don’t believe he would gamble on his mother's life. Rhaenyra’s sons love her; this we cannot deny.”

“Mother, I didn’t hear you come in.” Aemond's chest tightens with guilt when he spots the tears in his mother's eyes. “You shouldn’t listen to the details; it will only upset you.”

“Oh, my boy,” Alicent strokes his cheek, “we will get her back, the both of them. This I promise.”

#house of the dragon #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen/you #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen smut #house of the dragon fanfiction #house of the dragon fanfic #house of the dragon smut #daemon targaryen smut #Daemon Targaryen #Daemon Targaryen x you #daemon targaryen/you #Aemond Targaryen x oc #Aemond Targaryen x female oc #Aemond Targaryen/oc #daemon targaryen x oc #daemon targaryen x fem oc #daemon targaryen/oc

[blackopals-world]

Runt

Vet!femYuu x Leona Kingscholar

The birth of their son hadn't gone as expected. Leona contemplates what comes next to keep his family safe.

Leona might be a bit OOC but that's mostly due to age. Trust me if this man is going to have a kid he's going to have to be mature or else.

Child based on Nuka from The Lion King 2

Special thanks to @queen-shiba for the idea

He was small. Puny and weak. He could barely breathe on his own. The nurses rushed him to the NICU after announcing that it was a boy but he was red-faced and could barely squeak let alone cry.

What should have been the happiest day of his life became a nightmare.

The baby came early and they weren't prepared for the complications. Leona was fortunate to stay with his wife for as long as he had but as she lost blood he was pushed out of the room. If she didn't make it it was better he didn't see.

The nurses told him that the baby would stay in the NICU for now and they'd tell him when his wife was out of surgery.

Leona stood behind a glass barrier watching the doctors as they hooked his cub up to a ventilator his breathing was rough as his tiny chest moved up and down frantically. Leona couldn't hear anything as he watched knowing at any second it could stop. His heart felt like a rock in his chest.

Suddenly a hand touched his shoulder causing Leona to rear back to see Falena looking as him with a worried expression.

"Hey." He said his tone soft.

Falena looked a mess. He had rushed to the hospital when he heard Yuu went into labor. His wife posted herself at the operating room door as she waited to hear about Yuu's status.

"Hey." Leona managed to say as he turned back to see his cub.

Despite everything the cub was holding strong. His fists were clutched and his legs twitched. His ears were folded against his spotted tawny fur.

"Are you okay?"Falena asked knowing he had to say it.

"This isn't how it was supposed to go," Leona said but he wasnt really listening.

"Are you scared?" Falena asked, he knew the answer but it didn't matter because sometimes you just have to say it.

"Fuck yes." It wasn't said in anger and if it was it was at the world for letting this happen but instead, it was said in breathless sighs. It was if he was the one who was fighting to breathe.

The two stood in silence until the nurses stepped away. They had finished taking vitals and only time would tell.

"He looks like you. He has the same spots you did. He even has the one that looks like a blotchy star." Falena smiled his mind when back decades ago when his mother let him hold Leona for the first time. He wanted Leon to be named Nyota back then which he still believed was a good name.

"I'm not naming him Nyota." Leona said brushing his brother off. He already knew what he was thinking.

Falena faked hurt.

"He needs a name." He reasoned.

Leona knew that. Of course he knew that. He had plans, so many names he had planned. Tradition demanded that he chose a name that fits the situation of birth. The time of year, the order of birth, the apprentice of the child and finally the aspirations for the child's future. Leona himself was named for the constellation he was born under.

Leona wanted to name his son Jebali, Hodari, or Bomani. His greatest hope was to name him Khari but none of these names would be used now. His child was born a runt, as harsh as that sounds it is the truth. Any defects or mishaps on this day would be judged harshly by the people. His son's future was marred already by the condition of his birth.

His child's mother would be judged as well for not going to term and producing a premature child. A weak prince had no place especially born to the kingdom's blade.

Is there a name that can rewrite this night?

A nurse interrupted his thoughts. She asked Leona if he wanted to see his son up close. The baby needed physical contact now more than ever but without his mother Leona would need to be there.

Leona left Falena to enter the NICU.

The boy looked less red now. They had placed him in an incubator to keep him warm, away from the chilled hospital air.

He reached into one of the openings and watched as the tiny cub immediately grabbed hold of his finger and squeezed.

Leona let out a short laugh of amazement. Despite everything the kid kept showing him that he was still kicking.

Leona watched his cub for the rest of the night. Falena and his wife let him know that Yuu was out of surgery and was resting. Leona wanted to go to her but she made it clear that he was where he needed right now. She was right but that didn't sit well with him even if she was a doctor.

But as the sun rose the light brightened the sterile room. The cub opened his eyes for the first time. The bright blue eyes that every cub had scanned the room before landing on his father.

At that moment Leona knew what to name him.

"Hey, Nuru."

The baby turned his head as if to respond. His lips twitched like he wanted to smile.

Nuru grew like a weed. No one could tell he was a preme and he caught up easily to his peers. Leona would never admit it but he became a bit overprotective of his son. Every cold or bruise was a reason to keep Nuru inside and safe. Leona had enough anxiety from marrying a woman who has to tranquilize her patients. Nuru had to have guards anytime he went out and being the captain meant Leona was always aware of his wayward family members.

Nuru was a paradox. He wasn't the strongest but he never knew the meaning of surrender. He had Leona's green eyes and his bark hair but he had his mother's nose and eye shape. Still, you would know who his father was at a glance

Leona was okay with his cub's sense of exploration at first but there were only so many times he could stop Nuru from climbing anything he can reach. Add that to his fascination with bugs and Leona had a bad feeling about his future.

Yuu has high hopes that Nuru would join her research extraditions and use his love for bugs for science.

When Yuu announced her pregnancy Leona had a hard time being excited. He felt they were. Lucky enough to have Nuru and was quick to remind Yuu that she almost died during the first delivery.

Leona knew what kind of person he was. He may have changed alot but he was still selfish and demanding. He had no doubt he would resent this new baby if Yuu lost her life to have them. He didn't want to believe that but he did.

But his fear was assuaged when his daughter was born healthy. Vita was just like her father down to the lackadaisical love of naps.

Vita and Nuru didn't get along especially since she wanted to be the next guard captain like her dad unlike Nuru who wanted to be like his mom.

Leona loved his family he just never thought his life would be so hectic. And he may not have known it but his family was just about to get bigger.

#vet!yuu #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland leona #leona kingscholar #twst leona #leona x reader #leona kingsholar x reader #leona x y/n #falena kingscholar

[shankss-magnificent-ass]

Imagine having deep discussions with the Whitebeard pirates

Ace: Have you ever wondered why the world government opposes people so far away from them, doing what we do?

Marco: [mutters] I wish you would just stop saying odd shit.

Whitebeard: well we're breaking the law, obviously.

You: It's a little deeper than that. It's because what many pirates do, is the same thing the world government does.

Marco: We are not similar in any way.

You: no, think about it, what does the world government do? They lay out a bunch of rules and if you don't follow them, they use violence to force most of the world into following them. And if a nation elects not to join the world government, or can't afford to join, they raid and pillage those islands and take their citizens as slaves.

Izou: On the other hand, if a nation does join the world government, they have to pay heavenly tributes, because if they don't, the Marines will raid and pillage your country. But if they pay the heavenly tributes, the marines will protect their nation from outsiders, like pirates and non-world-government-nations.

Whitebeard: However, on top of paying the heavenly tribute, the average person also pays local and national taxes, so it's a heavy burden for some countries.

Marco: Oh my gods, it's like a protection racket, that common thugs run, just on a massive scale.

Whitebeard: and, like many pirates.

You: they don't like pirates, for the same reason they don't like common thugs, because you all are muscling in on their turf.

Thatch: so most governments are just organized, and socially acceptable, thuggery.

You: Not all, look at Alabasta for instance, King Cobra has a lot of social programs for his people. Food programs and affordable housing for the poor. Medical programs that put a doctor in every village and a bunch of other stuff. The people should receive something back from their government besides 'protection'.

Ace: I know a lot of nations that are in the world government have a large lower class that they exploit labor from and bleed them dry with taxes, tolls, and fines. I can never forget what I saw at the Grey Terminal out of the Goa Kingdom's Great Gate.

Thatch: That's because in "normal society" they value wealth, and look down on and take advantage of people who don't have it. Meanwhile, in pirate culture, we value strength and look down on and take advantage of those who are weaker, like how we raid other crew's ships because we can, and they can't stop us.

Izou: [sighs] That's an oversimplification If I ever heard one.

Thatch: [steps into Izou's space bubble.] You got something to say to me?

Izou: I've been to both world-government nations and non-world-government nations, and I can tell you that they value both strength and wealth. It's just different classes value one over the other. The upper and more privileged class values wealth, and daintiness because they can hire the strong. While the less privileged value strength, because it helps them survive, because they don't have money.

Thatch: I know that, did you forget I grew up poor as shit, mister little daimyo's vassal-boy.

Izou: And I was a wandering beggar minstrel before that, also keep Oden's name out of your mouth.

Thatch: how about you fucking make me?

Marco: [hops between the two men and dramatically claps his hands together like a clapperboard.] Aaand scene, that was a brilliant performance, gentlemen.

Ace: it was almost hard to tell that you two are actually friends.

Thatch: [huffs] Alright, I'll take it back, I'm sorry Izou.

Izou: I'm sorry too

You: you all are too fighty.

Ace: bitch, you're the most stab happy out of all of us.

You: I am not

Whitebeard: Just last night, you stabbed Vista's hand with a fork because he kept reaching over your plate.

You: ... I did do that, but only after asking him to stop three times. Which is more than reasonable, he's a grown-ass adult, and he, and his fuck ass mustache, should know basic table etiquette by now.

Ace: and then you stabbed me for no reason, with the same fork!

You: that was for good measure, just in case you got any ideas!

List of Up-and-coming works || Master list || Twitter| Kofi || Patreon

#one piece #one piece x reader #one piece imagine #one piece scenario #whitebeard pirates #whitebeard #portgas d ace #fire fist ace #marco #marco the phoenix #marco the pineapple #izou #thatch #from the depths of the dragon's hoard #tma original #4/22/24 #no beta we die like men

[ereardon]

Before I Knew [Jake Seresin x Reader] Chapter Five

A Jake Seresin unexpected pregnancy fic

Overview: On your first night after moving to San Diego to spend more time with your brother Bob, you unknowingly have a one night stand with his teammate Jake Seresin. For the first time in his whole life, Bob has a closely knit friend group and you’re desperate not to rock the boat. But an unexpected and unplanned pregnancy upends your world, forcing you and Jake closer together, against Bob’s wishes. What will happen when you find yourself actually falling for the father of your unborn child? 

Pairing: Jake Seresin x Reader; Bob Floyd x Sister!Reader 

Warnings: Pregnancy, cursing, eventual smut, angst

Chapter summary: Jake and Ducky dance around each other the morning after the big fight; Bob overhears a conversation he shouldn't

Masterlist here; previous chapter here

The silence was deafening. Just as Bob opened his mouth to speak, a crack of lightning broke across the sky, the loud bang following a few seconds later. You were used to counting the seconds between lightning and thunder. Back in Tennessee, that was something you learned as a kid, how to tell how many miles away the storm was. That felt like a million years ago. The easy innocence of being a child was a million miles away. 

Jake looked at the floor. Bob looked at you, eyes wide but words caught in his throat. 

You shook your head, tears falling slowly down your cheeks. “I deserve more,” you whispered softly. “We both do.” And then you turned on your heel and walked to the bedroom, locking the door behind you, sealing them out. 

***

You could hear Jake in the living room. Pacing. You laid in bed as long as possible, but you had to face the day. Gently, you eased open the door, the bright light of the living room invading your senses. 

“Y/N.” Jake’s voice cracked. You turned to see him standing at the kitchen counter, both hands on the quartz island top. “Listen, about last night—”

You cut him off. “I’m sorry I came over,” you said, picking up your purse from the ground. “It won’t happen again.” 

“It’s OK,” Jake whispered. 

You turned to him. He looked scared. Green eyes soft and warm and terrified. “I need you to know I never meant for this to happen,” you said quietly. “It was an accident. But I’m tired of running from my mistakes. I have to grow up.” 

Jake was quiet. Then, “For what it’s worth,” he said, “I’m sorry.” 

“So am I.” You reached for the door. “I’ll see you later.” 

“Let me drive you home.” 

You shook your head. “I need to walk. Clear my head.” 

He frowned. “Bob’s house is way too far to walk.” 

“I’ll be fine.” You scrambled out of the door before Jake could protest again. The air was fresh and clean the way it can only be after a hard rainstorm. 

Every step felt like a penance. You couldn’t shake the way Bob had looked. So quietly devastated. 

All you could hear was the pounding of blood in your ears, but after a while you felt a presence on your left and you stopped, turning with wide eyes. Jake pulled his Jeep up next to you on the shoulder of the road. “What the hell are you doing here?” you asked. 

“Get in the car.” 

“No.” 

“Get in the fucking car, Y/N,” he demanded. 

“I’m fine walking.” 

Jake sighed. “I can’t in good conscience let the woman pregnant with my child walk by herself on the highway. Now get in the truck. Please.” The last word was strained. You could hear the pain and exhaustion in his voice. Against your better judgment you pulled open the door handle, sliding into the passenger seat. Jake let out a ragged sigh, yanking the car into drive. 

A silence enveloped the car. Just the sound of the bumpy road and the tires screeching against asphalt and your heart pounding in your ears and Jake’s labored breaths on the driver’s side of the truck. You kept your eyes glued to the windshield, his fingers tight across the steering wheel. 

When Jake pulled into Bob’s driveway you gulped. Bob’s truck was there. You hadn’t let yourself think about what would happen when you went back. Jake cut the power and the two of you sat in silence for a moment before he said, “Do you want me to come in with you?” 

“That would be a suicide mission.” 

“I’m not afraid of Floyd.”

“Well you should be.” You unbuckled your seat belt and sighed. “I’ll be fine.” 

“Y/N.” Jake’s hand was hot on yours as your palm slipped against the leather seat and you pulled away, leaving him leaning over the center console in the truck. “You can call me,” he said. “If you want me to pick you up. Or you need to talk.” 

You closed the door. The window was still rolled down, Jake’s face framed perfectly between the metal sides. “I know you’re trying to do what you think is right,” you whispered. “But so am I.” 

You turned before you could see Jake’s face. Inside, the house was dark. A part of you had expected Bob to be sitting in the living room, waiting for you to come home. The way he had when you were a preteen and got home late from your first date. But instead, the house was quiet. Eerily quiet. 

In your room, you sat on the ground, pulling your knees to your chest. 

What had you done? 

***

You had dated a few guys in college, but you thought you were going to marry the last one. 

Peter. He had been tall and handsome. A political science major from Washington. His family were WASPs. They did things like rent out private villas in the US Virgin Islands and go golfing with senators in Chevy Chase. 

He took you home to meet them during spring break of senior year. You hadn’t known what to expect. Surely not a mansion in Palisades overlooking the Potomac. Not a three-story marble foyer and little sisters in Gucci mules with matching sweater sets and cocktails at six o’clock sharp and grandparents who didn’t hug. It was miles and miles away from the life you and Bob lived with your mother — hand-me-down quilts and warm nights by the fire playing Settlers of Catan and reruns of Desperate Housewives on the background as you stirred soup at the stove and summer nights spent frolicking in the tall grass behind your high school with a few bottles of beer and someone’s playlist echoing loudly from the open doors of a parked car. 

Peter lived in an alternate universe. And still, a part of you thought you were going to marry him. 

It wasn’t until a week before graduation when you realized it was over. 

“I want to be a mom,” you said. Peter looked up from his drink, eyes wide. “Not now,” you rushed out. “But eventually.” 

He set his rocks glass down. “Baby,” he whispered. “I don’t want kids. They’re just not for me.” 

That was the beginning of the end. You watched the light drain from his eyes and he watched the hope leach out of yours. By graduation morning you had broken up, and that afternoon you were one of the first cars to peel out of the parking lot, headed East to Chattanooga, the tears filling your eyes, making it hard to see. 

You had known all along you wanted to be a mother. Have a family. But you had mistakenly thought you’d do it in the right order. First comes love then comes marriage, then comes baby in the baby carriage. 

You had never been so wrong. 

***

Bob was always the first person to apologize after a fight. He would knock on your door with a sleeve of Oreos hidden behind his back as a peace offering or offer to take a midnight drive in the country with the windows rolled down and the music blaring until finally you were calm enough to talk. 

You were the hot head and Bob was the even tempered one. 

Until now. 

For two days you danced around each other. You got up after he had left. He was in his room by the time you came home. You had taken the library job. It was a small library near the beach with a daily reading session for kids that you had volunteered to lead. Even though Bob said it was a waste of your talent and degree, there was something so nice and calm about going into the library and settling into a pile of books, helping to set up the coloring station in the corner, assisting older people with finding the right book or manual. 

On the third day, you came home from the library with a tote bag full of parenting books to find the Dagger Squad in the living room. You stopped dead in your tracks as the room was enveloped in silence. 

One look at their faces and you knew that they knew. Jake was conspicuously absent. 

“Hi,” you squeaked, stepping into the hallway. “I’ll just get out of your way.” 

“Y/N.” Phoenix’s voice cut through the stiff air. “Let’s chat.” 

It felt like a Bachelor moment where the contestant steals the bachelor on a group date. But this time no one else was interested in speaking to you. Least of all Bob, who sat in the corner with his face turned down toward his shoes. 

Outside, the warm air licked at your face. You and Phoenix settled into the two Adirondack chairs Bob had set out on the back deck. She turned to you. “I just wanted to say, congrats.” 

“You know you’re the first person who has said that to me,” you replied. It felt like a weight being lifted off your shoulders. 

“I know Floyd is having a hard time with this,” Phoenix said. “But he’ll come around.”

“What if he doesn’t?” you whispered. 

Her face softened. “He will. He has to. I’ve known Floyd for two years now and there’s only three things I know for sure. First, that Hangman will never beat me in a race. Second, that he might try and hide it but I’m pretty sure Bradshaw’s middle name is Joy. And third, that Bob loves you more than anything in the world. He’s gone on and on about his perfect little sister so much that we all felt like we knew you before you even showed up on North Island.” 

“I’m not perfect,” you said quietly. “Nowhere near it.” 

“Does it matter?” Phoenix asked. “He loves you. You’re the one thing he cares most about.” 

“Then why doesn’t he care that he’s hurting me?”

“He’s too stuck to realize it. He thinks that he let you down.”

“He has let me down,” you said. “Not because he let me get pregnant. That was never his decision to make. His reaction to all of this, that’s the only time I’ve ever felt let down by my brother in my entire life. It’s the one time I’ve ever found myself wondering what a life without him would be like. It’s made a part of me hate him.” 

The sound of the door sliding open caught both of your attention. You and Phoenix turned to see Bob with his head poking out the sliding glass door, ears red, eyes wide. He had heard you.

Every last, terrible word. 

Please follow my library page @ereardonlibrary as that will largely serve as my tag list. Anyone I previous promised to tag is here:

@bobfloydsbabe @blue-aconite @wkndwlff @mamachasesmayhem @mandylove1000 @djs8891 @clancycucumber230 @rosiahills22 @buckysteveloki-me  @kmc1989 @gigisimsonmars @eloquentdreamer @mjisbby @shanimallina87 @seresinslady @seresinhangmanjake @blackwidownat2814 @yanna-banana @bbyvanessaa  @mrsjobarnes @midnightmagpiemama @ingoaliesitrust @rockbottomphilosophies-blog @iangiemae @joaquinwhorres @boiolay @sometimesanalice @spinning-away @mycobrakai1972 @xomrsalliej4787xo @na-ta-sh-aa 

#jake hangman fic #top gun fanfiction #jake seresin #top gun imagine #bob floyd fanfiction #jake hangman x you #hangman fanfiction #jake hangman imagine #bob floyd x female reader #robert bob floyd x reader #bob floyd x y/n #bob floyd x reader #jake seresin x y/n #jake seresin x you #jake seresin x reader #pregnancy #pregnancy fic #unexpected pregnancy #sister reader #natasha phoenix trace #bradley bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x reader #glen powell #jake seresin angst #hangman angst

[whileyoureinschoolidothisallday]

OKAY it has been a day of being sad and panicky. Time to move.

Yesterday, I made a post detailing the cdc announcement that there will no longer be an isolation requirement for covid. If you are one of the thousands of people rightfully raging in my notes, here's some steps to focus on.

We're not gonna give up. I've seen quite a few comments with things like 'what's the point', 'why should I even try anymore' etc etc and what we're not gonna do is give them what they want! It helps the eugenics cause to be apathetic and listless. We've made it this far, we will continue to make it. I know it's hard, but I am at least right here with you. Give yourself whatever time you need to grieve, and then I need you to get up.

If you have stopped masking for any reason, or you haven't upgraded to a respirator style mask, now is the time to change or start. From now on, we will be living in a country where you could assume there are multiple covid positive people in the room with you at all times. Surgical masks will not handle that load, and cloth masks will be even less effective at that point. Obviously, this is an unprecedented situation we're putting these masks in, and I'm not gonna sit here and pretend to be an expert that can tell you with certainty that even respirators will hold up with this amount of viral load for a long period of time, but it's the best and strongest tool we have. I'm considering using my p100 more, so that's always something to consider as well (and they make you look like a cool raver when you wear them!!!). You can buy all sorts of masks here, there's more links in the comments of my original post, and most states have their own mask blocs. To find them, go to Instagram and type "[your state] mask bloc". Here is a google doc of verified advocacy groups and mask blocs all across the country here is a diy fit test kit you can buy for $30 (unfortunately they are sold out right now. shocker.) PLEASE remember to take a layered response in these times. Masks are not the only tool in our arsenal. PLEASE for the love of God keep up with your vaccinations. Make a corsi-rosenthal box or buy a high quality air purifier if you can afford it--at the very least our homes can be safe havens (you can even put a hepa filter on your furnace!!!! And in your car too!!!!!). Use CPC Mouthwash, nasal irrigation, and nasal sprays like this one. Make it a routine: you come home, you shower, you brush your teeth, you rinse your nose, you change your clothes. And, like I said in another one of my posts, DO NOT TAKE OFF THE MASK.

3. If you would like an outlet for your rage and you're into calling your reps, feel free to calmly but firmly let the cdc have it at these numbers!!!!!

[alt text: a tweet by user silly_paulie that reads:

"Disdain for the CDC unites us all. Call today and demand isolation policies be returned to 10 days, and reducing it further to 1 day would be criminally dangerous. Call both:

404-639-7000 (press 8)

800-232-4636"

end text.]

4. If you need more outlets for your rage, I STRONGLY encourage you to get involved with your local union. Moreso than calling the CDC, tbh. I've seen multiple comments telling people just to lie about your symptoms to get more sick time off, but since there's no legal precedent to allow employees sick time for covid, all that's gonna do is get people fired. I truly believe in my lefty heart that the ONLY way we're getting anything close to mitigation is through labor rights. Even the standard for the fucking flu is 3 days, and that's nowhere near as contagious or disabling as covid. I say this as a high risk person with a neuromuscular disability: covid is an intersectional issue, but where we have the most leverage to get what we need is through labor rights.

It is NOT safe for workers to be working while ill with a Level 3 Biohazard (same as TB and the FUCKING PLAGUE. Seriously we have more regulations around fucking lice)

It is NOT safe to willfully EXPOSE your employees to a Level 3 Biohazard

It is NECESSARY for all employees to be allowed up to 10 days to recover fully from Covid-19, in order to avoid possible further injury from or hospitalization

You will NOT die or be disabled for the sake of the wealthy!!!!!

(and while you're at it, ask for better air filtration too!!!! At least 5 air changes an hour, MERV-13 air filters!! Then we won't have to constantly worry about virus bs and policy changes in the first place!!!!)

5. Closing statements. Nothing has changed with covid, this is just policy. Covid still isn't magic, she still has to get in you before she can do damage--mask up, arm your home with clean air, and don't let her. It's always worse toward the end. This is not the time to give up, it's time to dig in your heels and get to work. There are so many good things happening with covid. They are finding encouraging treatments for long covid. Finally, after years of nothing, a new prophylactic for the high risk was submitted for emergency use to the FDA, and it looks like this time it's built to last against new mutations. Covid is here to stay for the rest of our lives, but the real science hasn't given up on taking the worst of its teeth out. We WILL get to the point where the extreme fear of catching covid is nothing but a bad memory for EVERYONE. All I need you to do is commit to the belief that you're gonna survive long enough to be in that moment with the rest of us.

Now stay safe, and give em hell!!!!!

#covid 19 #covid safe #covid advocacy #covid is not over #mask up #danger days: truffula flu simulator #truffula flu survival guide

[turbulentscrawl]

can we get norton with modern reader? :3

You sure can! I find these pretty easy to do

-He’s another one who doesn’t give much of a damn, initially. Aside from possibly being a bit bitter over how nice your clothes are in comparison to his (and potentially assuming you’re someone well-off, regardless of whether you are or not), Norton’s opinion of you isn’t informed much by your origins. He’s much more concerned about whether you can make yourself useful in matches.

-There’s a decent chance he doesn’t like that phone of yours, though. The light gives away your position, and unless you brought earbuds along he thinks it’s loud as fuck for such a small thing. And why is so much of future music you play so obnoxious? Guess people of your time left their good taste in the past.

-Being from our modern world, you’re likely better informed about various mental disorders than some of the others in the manor. Even some peripheral knowledge would make you better equipped to handle Norton’s personality flips, and maybe even become something of an advocate for him. One of the biggest hurdles Norton faces in the manor is simply other people not stepping off when he tells them to. They don’t grasp that he’s afraid of hurting them, that he’s looking out for them when he isolates. So, if you’ve got some knowledge or experience and can help convince people to give him his space when he needs it, his opinion of you improves rapidly.

-Norton also doesn’t like to owe people. If the above happens in any capacity? Well, you looked out for him, so now he has to look out for you. Mostly in matches, but if someone gets out of hand mouthing off to you in the manor, he’ll step in then too. You should be prepared for him to keep score, though, and for him to make it known if it turns into you owing him.

-Don’t worry, he’s not some creep. Mostly he’ll start asking to swipe bits of food off your plate at mealtimes. Your future-food is very rich…but good. This much seasoning was hard to come by for him. (I feel like this poor guy would get sick off a baconator, but it wouldn’t stop him from wanting another.) After long enough, he’ll also start asking you to teach him about any labor-based skills you have. Or just general academics, even. Norton’s always looking for ways to self-improve.

-Eventually, your technology will grow on him a bit. Don’t get him wrong, he’s a little angry, a little jealous when you tell him about technological advancements in your time. If he’d been born then, maybe life wouldn’t have been so hard. Maybe he wouldn’t be hacking up his lungs at all hours of the day…. But he swallows that negativity down and starts devising little plans for that phone of yours to help during matches.

-Another way Norton tries to look out for you is by introducing you to his level of technology. Which is…not much at all. You know, maybe you have a thing for vintage and antique, maybe the manor seemed charming to you at first…but Norton knows it will wear off eventually, and then you’ll just feel homesick and vulnerable. The best way he can help you combat that is to make sure you have independence. Home is where you feel safe, and the first step of that is being able to take care of yourself.

-Have you got an inhaler? Please give this man a puff or two, the only reason Black Lung hasn’t killed him is because the manor won’t let it.

#idv x reader #identity v #norton campbell x reader #idv prospector #turbulentscrawl #philomena's files

[milf-murdock]

Heyyy been reading your fics since you were writing for matt murdock🥹🤭 idl if you take requests or not but if you dont just ignore this!!🌸

Can you write smthng for reader with asthma? With simon riley or john price☹️🫶🏻 plss

Sweet Anon!!! 🥺 My oh my, you have been here a while!! Your support means the world to me 🫶 I absolutely loved this request! I am a sucker for a sweet Simon and injured reader. I apologize in advance for any inaccuracies though. I don't know too much of what an asthma attack feels like, but I did my best. If anyone has any constructive criticism, my inbox is open and I'm willing to make adjustments to make it more accurate. I hope you enjoy, sweet nonny!!

Asthma Attack - Simon "Ghost" Riley x Reader

TW: Asthma Attack, potential medical inaccuracies, protective Simon should come with his own warning

“Just one more block,” you thought to yourself, focusing on the steady rhythm of your shoes hitting the pavement. The familiar tightening in your chest set in about two blocks ago, and you struggled to keep your breathing steady. It had been a minute since you’d had a flair up, and you silently cursed yourself for not bringing along your inhaler. You should’ve known better. 

Simon easily kept up pace beside you. He enjoyed joining you on your jogs—the exercise light and refreshing in comparison to the type of intense training he was used to. He didn’t really gain much from the easy workout, but the peace of mind that came with knowing you were safe every step of the way more than made up for it. 

As your flat came into view up ahead, your breathing became more labored, a slight wheeze tinging each breath. Simon shot a concerned look your way. 

“You ‘lright,  love?” Simon’s deep voice cut through your growing panic, grounding you as you barely made it to the steps of your flat. 

You collapsed on the steps, your hand coming up to press against your chest as you struggled to get down air. 

“I can’t—“ 

“I don’t—“ 

“Simon—“

You struggled to get out a full sentence through your choppy breaths, your chest rising and falling at a rapid pace. You were borderline hyperventilating now, and breaths only became harder to manage. 

“Fuck,” Simon murmured to himself as realization dawned on him. A wave of panic shot through him: you were having an asthma attack. He inwardly began cursing himself for not recognizing the tell-tale signs sooner. He should’ve seen the signs. He should’ve stepped in sooner. 

Simon stopped himself, forcing himself to tamp down on his fear and let his tactical instincts taking over. 

Assess the situation. 

Simon knelt down to your level, pressing two fingers to the pulse point on your neck. “Alright love, I need you to try to take a slow, deep breath,” he coached, nodding to himself as he mentally took note of your elevated heart rate. “You’re gonna be okay.” 

Make a plan. 

Sliding one arm under your knees and one under your arms, he pulled you up to his chest from the stairs.  Your arms wrap around his neck and you try to force yourself to slow your breathing and control the panic. You focus on breathing in the familiar scent of Simon, the faint notes of oak and gunpowder mingling with the salt of his sweat. 

Simon makes quick work of the steps, managing to unlock the flat one handed before stepping inside. “Where’s your inhaler, darling?” He asked as he gently set you down on the sofa, making sure you’re in an upright position. His voice was calm, but his eyes betrayed the panic beneath the surface. 

“Kitchen,” you manage to gasp out, tears stinging your eyes as you feel your attack getting worse. 

Simon’s back in seconds, shaking the inhaler before ripping the cap off and bringing the plastic cylinder your lips. “Okay, breathe in, sweet girl,” he coaches, pressing down on the canister. You do as your told, pressing your eyes shut as the first hit settles into your lungs. 

“Hold your breath. 1…2…3..4…5. Okay, again,” Simon gave the inhaler another shake before administering a second dose, counting down again.

“Good job, love, keep breathing. Slow, deep breaths, just like that.” The sense of urgency was slowly fading from his tone as he watched your breaths ease up. He pressed another two fingers to your jawline, checking your pulse. 

“Atta girl, give me one more for good measure,” another shake and puff following up the last hit. You finally felt relief as your airways started to expand, taking in full breaths, trying to follow the deep breaths Simon was modeling for you. 

Simon raised a hand to push back a stray strand of hair, tucking it behind your ear. Your entire body was shaking in the aftermaths of your attack. 

“Thank you,” you muttered breathlessly. Your chest was aching and you felt such pure exhaustion sweep over you as the adrenaline slowly left your body. 

Sensing that the emergency was over, Simon gingerly pulled you to his chest. You couldn’t help but notice how fast his heart was beating under the soft fabric of his hoodie. 

“Fucking hell, sweetheart, you scared the shit out of me for a moment there,” he murmured, pressing his lips to the top of your head. “You alright, then?” He pulled back, his attentive gaze raking over your body, conducting his own assessment. 

“‘M’okay,” you whispered, suddenly feeling like even carrying on a conversation was too much. 

With a nod, Simon took the hint, pulling you back into his arms once more. A strong hand rubbed up and down your back, the motion soothing you. “Let’s take a rest then, yeah? Eventful morning.” The subtle nod of your head against his chest gave him all the approval he needed to help you up off the couch and guide you back to your shared bedroom. 

He made sure to get you settled under the fully duvet first before pulling off his hoodie and crawling in on the opposite side. 

“Come on, have a proper cuddle,” he coaxed, pulling you to rest against his bare chest. Exhaustion swept over you, and you struggled to keep your eyes open as  the steady beat of his heart brought a sense of comfort and familiarity. 

“Thank you, Si,”  you breathe out. “Thank you.” 

“O’ course, darling. S’what I’m here for.” Simon held you a little tighter, thanking every lucky star out there that he was here for you and that you were okay. He’d always make sure you’re okay.  

#simon riley #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x you #ghost x reader #ghost x you #simon riley imagine

[mpregandproud]

THE BEACH

I love going to the beach. Since I was very young I have loved going down to the beach, lying on the sand to sunbathe and spend the day swimming in the sea. The beach recharges my batteries and fills me with life, it's like medicine for me.

Now that I'm in the final days of my pregnancy, and I'm on paternity leave, every day I go to the beach for a while. I like to take the car and look for a remote and quiet place. I look for secluded places with few people so I can go nudist. With the size of my belly, any swimsuit is too tight. So the best way I feel is leaving my belly free, getting a tan and feeling the breeze of the air all over my skin.

Today I have chosen a beautiful and tiny beach. It's between some cliffs, with crystal clear water and a few shady trees. I put my towel under one of these trees and took off all my clothes. I apply cream all over my body, and feel that my belly is harder than normal, and a little lower. I guess it will be normal at 38 weeks, I should be going into labor any minute now. Today will be my last visit to the beach, as a precaution I will stay home until after delivery.

As soon as I lay down I fell asleep. The temperature is so pleasant and the sound of the waves has made me fall asleep. It must have been a couple of hours since I arrived when I woke up again. My baby has started to move more than usual. I feel intermittent pressure. I'm guessing Braxton Hicks contractions.

I get up from the towel and head for the water. I'm going to swim for a while, which I'm sure will ease the pain and soothe my son. He's just like his father, big and very mobile, what a nine months he's given me. I am kidding, the best nine months of my life. Sam and I were going through a rough patch, and this baby came along to fill our lives with love...and sex. We've never fucked as much as we have these past few months. They say hormones make you horny, but I don't know if me or my husband has been hornier this time.

I swim for a while. I walk with my belly underwater, caressing the pronounced curve of my belly. This little guy doesn't want to settle down today, and the contractions are getting stronger. Am I going into labor? I should pack up my things and go home. I have to let Sam know he's going to be a daddy very soon.

I start to get out of the water with great difficulty. Every few steps a pain runs through my body and forces me to stop. When I get my breath back, I get going again. As soon as I get out of the water I feel something is wrong. The strongest contraction I have ever felt... and then a river of water pours into my crotch. No doubt about it, I'm in labor and this baby doesn't want to wait. I bring my hands to my belly as if trying to grab it from underneath and try to reach my towel. I'm finding it harder and harder to walk, my steps are more and more clumsy.

By the time I get to my towel I am so exhausted that all I can do is sit down and spread my legs. I convince myself that it will only take a few minutes to catch my breath and get back on the road to catch the car and go to a hospital. Another contraction and the pressure grows enormously in my hole. I let out a moan. It's coming, and I'm going to have it on the beach. This boy may be big like his dad, but he likes the beach like his daddy.

With my hand I feel my hole. I feel hair, it's the boy's head, it can't be, he's already here! The pain gets worse, I'm sweating and trembling. I moan non-stop and writhe in pain. A man who was with some children at the other end of the beach, and who I swear is also pregnant, approaches me and touches my belly. "Easy, breathe, I'm here to help you. Don't worry, everything will be fine. I've given birth twice...and in a couple of months I'll be giving birth to twins. I know how this goes. Relax, I'm going to help you deliver your little one", he tells me. His calm voice reassures me, I know I'm in good hands.

My legs spread wider and wider to make way for my son. Almost effortlessly, but with a great deal of pain, his head pops out. This child wants out and is not willing to waste a minute. I take a breath and start with the shoulders. More pain, screaming, sweat and fluids. I imagined giving birth to my son in a hospital, with my husband next to me and my body clean. How delusional.

The baby finally comes out and I wrap him in the T-shirt I brought to come to the beach. "Congratulations, you were very brave. You just had a beautiful and very big baby boy. Congratulations" the man says. I'm crying, my son is crying too. I sit down and rest my son on my flabby belly, it has lost the size it had after giving birth, but it is still swollen. It will be hard for me to lose all the kilos I have gained during these nine months of eating non-stop for two.

When we have calmed down a bit I grab my phone from my backpack and call Sam. "Hi my love. I'm at the beach and you won't believe it. Congratulations, you just became a daddy. This little guy didn't want to wait and he's born now, can you come pick us up? I love you".

I have never been so happy in my life. I am in tears with emotion. I breastfeed my baby while I wait for Sam to arrive. I see the man who helped me playing with his two children on the shore with a huge belly of twins. He smiles at me when he sees me breastfeeding my baby. Now I know, I want a big family like his.

#mpreg #pregnant man #male pregnancy #pregnant guy #man pregnant #mpreg story #gay #manpregnant #belly #morph #mpreg belly #mpreg kink #mpreg fic #mpreg labor #mpregnancy #mpreg morph #mpreg birth #mpreg mention #pregnantman #huge pregnant belly #pregnant #pregnant men #pregnancy

[yestrnight]

slime brainrot anon, back again with another, shorter rot for ya. bc the first one got too long

shrinking yourself to tag along with alhaitham to work! cw for: dubcon, exhibitionism, kink discovery, i do not know how his job works so i just guessed lol

at first, you simply chill in his belt-pouch thing (it's a fanny pack but mihoyo won't admit it), sit on his shoulder or head, or roll around on his desk until you eventually get bored and slide down into his pants.

he tries his best to get you out, but sticky and slippery as you are, you persist, so he eventually resigns himself to his fate. it's going to be a long day when each step of his makes you shift around his cock. at least his belts and sashes cover up the evidence.

in an unfortunate turn of events, alhaitham is forced to walk much more than usual that shift. while he usually sits at his desk, he now has to pace laps around the archives sorting and organizing tomes.

and to make matters worse, you've escalated from simply wrapping yourself around him, to actually moving and teasing him.

the poor scribe is trying his best to keep the shaking of his legs, and the noises that threaten to slip out to a minimum. but after some time, he's stumbling as he walks, using the walls and shelves for support.

eventually, he gets oh so close, having to stop and lean up against a bookshelf, gripping the shelves while he tries in vain not to buck his hips into nothing. and alhaitham bites his lip, breathes in, and out, tries to keep level, but he can't help the quiet, low, breathy moans that slip out, and the way his head tips back and his eyes roll up into his skull.

luckily, the archives are usually quiet. unluckily, one of his superiors has ambled in, looking for a specific file.

and alhaitham can't decide if it's luck or unlucky that you've slowed your pace, but not stopped.

his self control is almost, almost strong enough to keep from breaking. hey, he made it pretty far into the ordeal, you have to give him that.

alhaitham's not exactly the religious type- far from it, but he thanks all of celestia that the unknowing sage is turned away, absorbed in the sound of their own one sided conversation. and that he's able to keep quiet enough when he cums in his pants, only letting out one, hitching intake of breath as he grips the shelves so hard he almost dents them, mouth open in a silent moan, convulsing, nearly collapsing.

for a sage, his superior is pretty stupid. chalking up the scribe's somewhat debauched appearance- his flushed face, labored breath, and slight tremble to fatigue, recommending him a cup of tea and a break before sauntering out.

he does end up taking a break, watching you gurgle happily in slime form while you bounce around his office, and he just doesn't have it in him at the moment to discipline you.

because he's too busy thinking about why in the hell being secretly fucked in front of one of his bosses felt so good.

extras!! cw for: implied dom character (but it's vague enough,) mild objectification, slime cum, aphrodisiac

letting one (or several) of your masters actually be in control for once, by using you as a fleshlight

it's obvious that fucking them brought you some level of enjoyment, but were slimes actually capable of bona fide sexual pleasure?

apparently, they are. and your masters are drinking up your adorable reactions to having your slime gspot? prostate? erogenous zone??? massaged by their cocks.

and apparently, slimes can also cum. if this sweet smelling, viscous material you're gushing counts.

in a moment of poor impulse control (some might claim scientific curiosity), they find out that it tastes as sweet as it smells. and- ah, they'd be regretting that decision if their minds weren't clouded by an almost unbearable desire for more.

their judgement may be a bit skewed right now, but perhaps a few more rounds wouldn't hurt... actually, fuck it. they need more.

it's bound to be a long day, and night, for the both of you.

isn't it always though? hey, at least this time, they might actually be able to keep up with you.

super excited for part two of the series :)

actually feeling really horny for slime reader so i'm gonna satiate myself with this masterpoece in my inbox <3

ahhh haitham being fucked wide open in front of his boss <33 and subby slime reader being used as a pocket pussy for their masters :(( they're so cute fr

#nite.thirsts #genshin smut

[eddiesgorlie]

Eardrums

Dad to be!Austin x Mom to be!Reader

Summary: Austin helps reader through labor

Warnings: Birth

Word count: 837

Why did I ever think this was a good idea? I was currently in labor with mine and Austin’s first child, that was a great idea, the bad idea was the home birth. As Austin sat on the edge of our bed, I was sitting on his lap, holding onto him for dear life as another contraction began. I tucked my head into his shoulder and let out a powerful scream as he tried to coach me through it. “You got this, baby. Let’s take some deep breath’s together.” He calmly said as I basically blew his eardrums out. “Get this baby out of me!” I yelled. My midwife immediately walked over. “Let’s check you, Y/n.” She said as she checked my cervix. “You’re just about 6 centimeters.” She said. “6?! Only 6?” I cried as my contraction slowly mellowed down. “Sadly, yes.” She sighed. “I think I’m going to pass out.” I said dizzily, looking at Austin with wide eyes. “Lay her down, now Austin.” My midwife said, obviously she saw the panicked look in my eyes. He followed her instruction and laid me down on the bed, I was humiliated as she put a “Puppy pad” under me. “I’m so embarrassed.” I said as tears clouded my vision. “Honey, there’s nothing to be embarrassed about. Your about to bring our child into the world, and you look so beautiful doing it.” He said as he kissed my forehead. “Y/n, he’s a keeper. You wouldn’t believe what I’ve heard dads say before.” She said with a laugh. “Oh I know he is.” I said, smiling. “Aw, you two are going to make me blush.” Austin said jokingly. “We better stop before his head gets too big.” I said with a laugh.

“Austin, lay with me please, I feel another one coming on.” I said with a deep breath. He crawled in bed next to me. “I’m right here.” He very gently stroked my belly through my contraction, doing everything he could to try to ease my pain. “Next baby we have, I’m having a hospital birth and getting that fucking epidural.” I said through gritted teeth as my contraction became stronger. “There’s going to be another baby?” Austin asked with a smile. “It depends on how big this one’s head is, from the way it feels, it got my big head.” I said. “I love your head, it has room for all of your thoughts a great ideas.” He said lovingly. “Fuck you.” I choked out. “I’m sorry…” He said, dragging out the Y. “Can she check me again? It’s been a while.” I said. “Baby, it’s been 15 minutes.” He sighed. “Can she still check?” I asked. He got out of bed and returned with the midwife a second later. “Let’s see where you’re at now.” She said. “You look at be about a 9. It looks like it’s time to start preparing.” She said with a smile.

Austin looked at me with excited eyes as my midwife left the room to get the supplies. “I’m so scared.” I said. “It’s okay to be scared, I’m going to be with you every step of the way and we’ll have a beautiful baby in our arms soon.” Austin said as he stroked my hair. “Who’s ready to have a baby?!” She said as she walked in the room with a big bag of things. “I definitely am, are you, baby?” Austin asked as he looked at me. “Me too.” I said with a smile. “Well perfect. I’m going to see how dilated you are and if you’re a 10, we’ll start pushing, if not I’ll get set up.” She said. I nodded. “Well, it looks like you are at just about a 9. Are you still having bad contractions?” She asked. “They’re horrible.” I said. “I’m going to get set up, if you feel the need to push, just tell me and we will get started.”

It was another hour before it was finally time to have this baby. “Austin, it’s time.” I said, my breathing becoming unstable. He quickly stood up and ran to the doorway, calling for the midwife. She sped into the room and walked over to me. “Feel the urge to push?” She asked. “Mhm, very much so.” I said, my voice shaky. “Ok, let’s try something to get you comfortable. Austin lay behind her and have her lay against your chest.” Austin immediately laid behind me and I leaned against him, she was right, this was very comfortable. “Spread your legs now, please.” My midwife said. I spread my legs and saw her shocked face. “You’re crowning, give us a big push.” She said excitedly. I wailed as I pushed. “It burns!” I yelled. “It’s the ring of fire, you’re doing so good! The head is almost out.” She said with a smile.

“It’s a boy!” She said as she carefully laid my newborn on my chest. “I’ll give you three some time.” You three, I loved the sound of that.

#austin butler #austin butler elvis #austin!elvis smut #austin butler fic #austin butler x reader #sebastian kydd #sebastian kydd x reader #austin!elvis x reader #austin elvis smut #austin elvis imagine #austin butler smut #elvis biopic #elvis imagine #elvis x reader #elvis presley x reader #elvis smut #elvisaaronpresley #elvis the pelvis

[honeyhotteoks]

into the aurora - chapter twenty-eight (ot8)

chapter twenty-eight: it's all just treasure

chapter summary: after all that talk... you slip away with yunho, san, and wooyoung special note! this chapter was previously published as a one-shot called treasure a long, long time ago. i've completely rewritten so the thread of the fic is the same though. i far prefer this version.

warnings: heavy smut, but specific content warning for the use of a safe word mid sexual act. reader is momentarily panicked/overwhelmed, but no one is hurt at all and no boundaries are disrespected. otherwise; mmmf group sex, oral (f receiving), oral (m receiving), rough oral/face fucking, fingering, overstimulation, rough sex, gratuitous orgasms, light choking, allusion to woosan, big dick yunho, size kink, discussions of boundaries/safe word, aftercare

pairings: ot8 x reader

genre: fluff, angst, romance, ateez ensemble x reader, polyamory, non-idol!reader, fem!reader, smut

word count: 5.6K

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You knew living in the dorms with them would be an adventure, but there was no way in the world you could have anticipated the position you find yourself in now. It’s not even really clear how you even ended up here, but after a long and stressful day and just enough soju, the tension crackling between you finally sparked. Spread across Yunho’s bed, pliant, needy, and nearly naked, you wait for someone to make the next move. 

It shocks you, you’re the one who had suggested that the four of you slip away while the rest of the boys were out. You’re not sure what possessed you to take the step forward and stop talking in hypotheticals, but it certainly seemed like a good idea when you were cuddled between them and feeling their warm touches and soft murmurs against your skin. 

Wooyoung dips forwards eagerly and locks his lips on yours, groaning as you work a hand into his open jeans and under the waistband of his boxers. San continues to kiss and nip at your inner thighs, easing your legs up over his shoulders so he has a better angle. Yunho lays lengthwise on your opposite side, his long legs hanging over the edge of the bed with one foot planted on the floor, watching in rapt fascination as he palms your breast and rolls a nipple experimentally with his thumb and forefinger. While you often catch him watching you during sex, it’s a rare thing that he gets to take a step back and see every moment of your pleasure, and he loves it. 

At a pinch of your right nipple, you gasp against Wooyoung’s lips, and drop your head back on the comforter. 

“Baby,” San murmurs from between your legs, his fingers hooked under the sides of your underwear. You look down to him and he continues, “Are you sure you want to do this?” 

Yunho’s hand stills and you look up to him, watching as his features soften. He smooths his hand down your bare stomach gently and meets your eyes, “It’s whatever you want,” he assures you, “but you should say it.” 

You wet your lips and ease up on your elbows to meet Yunho, your mouth connecting with his softly. “I want you to take care of me,” you confess, “I don’t want to stop,” 

Yunho’s eyes harden, a familiar expression of desire and soft aggression that you have come to seek out. He cups your neck with his warm hand, running the pad of his thumb down your throat. “You’ll have to earn it,” his voice is husky and low, and he drags his thumb back up over your throat, up your jaw, and gently presses your lips open, hooking his thumb on your bottom teeth and meeting your eyes. 

You respond instantly, so familiar with this dance. You close your lips around his thumb, sucking lightly, before opening your mouth for more. “Good girl,” he says, pressing another finger against your tongue, watching you eagerly suck his digits, your eyes locked on his. With a low exhale he smiles, “That’s it,” 

For a moment you forget anyone else is in the room, completely focused on Yunho’s gaze, but a labored “Fuck,” from Wooyoung draws both of your attention. 

Yunho’s fingers leave your mouth, and you look to the side. Wooyoung is painfully hard, his hand softly gripping the base of his cock, “I had no idea,” he manages, his surprise at Yunho’s more commanding presence in the bedroom evident.  

Yunho shakes his head and returns his hand to your breast, “try to keep up,” he shoots him a wry smile before turning to San and nodding once. 

That’s all he needs. Before you can blink, your underwear is stripped away and San’s tongue is firmly against your clit, his hands gripping your thighs as he rolls the flat of his tongue on your sensitive bud. You inhale sharply, dropping your head back against the bed again, gripping Wooyoung’s thigh as he kneels by your shoulder. 

San settles your legs over his shoulders again and holds you steady, dragging his tongue up your slit and sucking teasingly on your swollen nub, earning a rush of wetness between your thighs and a desperate whine from your lips. Your nails dig into Wooyoung’s thigh, your other hand searching for purchase in the sheets next to you as San works you. He adds a single finger, opening you up just a little, and you curse, catching Yunho’s hot gaze. His lips are parted as he watches you, his breath steady and low and his eyes devouring you. 

San holds you against his mouth harder and you choke, “God, San,”

He hums pleasantly, the vibrations running straight up your spine, and he adds a second finger, curling upwards to catch against your g-spot and pumping them in time with his mouth’s ministrations. 

Your back arches up off the mattress, your hips jerking, and you press your eyes shut, focused on the feeling of San between your legs and you’re already nothing but a panting mess.

Yunho runs a wide hand down your chest, your stomach, your hips, before leaning closer to murmur, “Sweetheart, don’t be greedy,” 

Your eyes fly open, and you realize Yunho is gesturing to Wooyoung’s prone cock, only inches from your cheek. “Oh, Woo,” you smooth your hand down his leg, “Come here,” 

“Yeah?” He checks and you nod, propping yourself up on your elbows and opening your mouth expectantly as he shuffles forwards on the bed. 

Yunho’s hand settles warmly in the center of your back between your shoulder blades to take some of the pressure your core muscles that are helping hold you up as Wooyoung’s cock connects with your bottom lip. He groans when you softly lick the tip of him, wetting your lips and sliding your mouth down over his hot length. Wooyoung’s hand settles at the back of your head, winding into your hair and he gently guides your head as you start to bob your head against him. 

“Fuck, y/n,” Wooyoung sighs. 

You’re already overwhelmed with the sensations around you, but you take a deep inhale through your nose and settle yourself, sinking down fully on Wooyoung’s cock and opening your throat. You can’t help but gag softly, but you control it much better now and you can’t help but feel proud as you sink him fully in your mouth from tip to base. 

“Oh, fuck, you’re getting good at that, baby,” Wooyoung hisses, and you hum softly against him in response. 

Yunho’s hand shifts slightly on your back and you feel his fingers spread wide, pressing you forwards a little to support you better, and he sighs, “So good, you’re being so good for us, sweetheart,”  

You whine around Wooyoung’s cock at his words, the pleasure rippling through you at his words and the building heat from San’s fingers now pumping more steadily inside you. Wooyoung mutters something above you that you can’t make out, and you realize quickly that he’s not talking to you. 

Yunho responds to him, “Mhm,” and you can almost picture the smile on his face, “she loves it when you tell her how she’s doing,” 

“Yeah?” Wooyoung looks down at you, his cock slipping free from your mouth so he can meet your eyes, smiling. 

“Watch,” Yunho leans in close, at your ear startlingly quick, “I think you deserve a reward,” 

You whine in affirmation, “Please, please,” 

Wooyoung’s eyes widen watching you beg, he’s never seen it quite like this and his hand in your hair tightens. 

San lifts his mouth away and looks up at you, breathless, “Are you close, baby?” 

Your thighs are trembling around him, and by now he knows your body’s responses like clockwork, knows you’re close, but he likes it when you say it. “So close,” you pant. 

“Woo,” Yunho nods towards him, gesturing for him to get involved again, and Wooyoung nods before eagerly pressing his cock back in your mouth. 

San’s lips close over your clit again, his fingers now hitting the perfect pace, and your orgasm starts to build, your ability to properly focus on properly sucking Wooyoung falling by the wayside and you moan around him. He catches on quickly though, and starts to thrust into your mouth, holding you steady and letting you take him the way he needs. 

Your free hand searches blindly for Yunho, your fingers closing over the fabric of the thin white t-shirt he’s still wearing, and you clutch the garment tightly. He hums pleasantly at your desperation before he makes you see stars. Running his hand firmly down your stomach, he presses the heel of his hand down against the sweet, soft spot above your public bone that he knows makes you dizzy, and you snap. The combination of the pressure, San’s fingers, and the return of his tongue against your clit breaks the dam and you whine, muffled and messy as you start to crest into coming, your body shaking beneath them. “There you go,” Yunho croons close to your ear, “that’s it,” 

Wooyoung collapses over you then, supporting himself with his free arm and thrusting faster, chasing his own orgasm with abandon.  “Fuck, fuck,” he groans above you, and you have the wherewithal to run your tongue along the underside of his shaft, hollowing out our cheeks and adding just that perfect bit of extra pressure. He comes with a gasp, his release spilling hot and sudden down your throat and as soon as you can you pull your head back sharply and Wooyoung lets you go. 

Your mouth finally unobstructed, you cry out and arch back, your head against Yunho’s thigh as he supports you, coming hard and fast against San’s mouth. As you blink your eyes open, you see Wooyoung above you, leaning heavily on Yunho’s broad shoulder still, his eyes on you. 

You’re shuddering, and Yunho’s hand relaxes, adjusting to stoke your skin softly, lovingly. 

“Pretty baby,” San murmurs, kissing the insides of your thighs softly as you come down.

Wooyoung finally rocks back on his heels, pushing away from Yunho and looking down at you. “That was incredible,” he grins, cupping your cheek and gently massaging your scalp where moments before he had gripped your hair so tightly. 

“I don’t,” you stutter, still trying to regain air and some semblance of what is up and what is down. 

“Shh,” Yunho murmurs, “you okay?” 

You nod and steady your breathing, assessing yourself, but what you really are desperate for is San. Flopped back on the mattress, you catch your breath and Yunho slips your hand free from his shirt so he can press his palm against yours. He squeezes your hand once, and you squeeze him back – you’re fine, you just need a minute. 

San’s hand is running a steady, comforting line up your leg, waiting for you to recover when he hears you. 

“I need it,” you manage, “baby, please,” your hand outstretched to San. 

Yunho grins next to you, “You want more?” 

You look down to San, his position resting still between your knees, and he smiles up at you, a little wolfishly, “What do you need, baby?” 

“Sannie,” you open and close your outstretched hand to him, trying to communicate even through your brain is still foggy, “you, now, please,” 

“Mm,” he hums, “You need me where?” 

“San, please,” you beg. 

“Tell us what you need,” Wooyoung offers, and the sound of his voice being assertive and direct melts you. It clears your brain just enough for you to beg once, “Inside me, please,” 

“That wasn’t so hard,” Yunho chuckles, his fingers softly stroking along your side. 

“God,” you sigh as San stands up to undo his jeans and slip them and his boxers off, “All three of you are teases,” 

“You love it,” Wooyoung shoots back, and you grin, the banter with him something you were used to. 

“You and your mouth,” you crane your neck to press a kiss to his bare thigh, the closest skin of his you can reach. 

“Always make you come?” He drags his thumb over your nipple playfully and you bat back his hand. 

“That was all me this time,” San interjects, kneeling on the bed and moving between your open legs. 

You’re about to open your mouth to respond, but Yunho cuts in, “Do it again then,” 

“Love to,” San hauls your hips up off the bed fast and you yelp in surprise, gasping as he presses into you suddenly. The angle of your hips up like this makes the push of him inside you delicious. You’re soaked, and he slides in easily, his warm length running a wave of pleasure across your body and making you shiver. 

“You feel so good,” San groans as he begins to move, rolling his hips against yours and working himself in deeper. 

“Fuck yes,” you breathe, relaxing into the sensations, the way San has you held leaves you little room to your hips on your own and he likes it that way. 

Yunho gathers your wrists in one hand and raises your arms up over your head to pin them down to the mattress, and he watches your face twist up in pleasure. 

Usually, San loves to take his time with you, drag things out for as long as possible, but something in his eyes today is starving and consuming, and his hands on your hips tighten so hard you know you’ll have bruises. You watch him as he thrusts into you, mouth parted softly, the muscles of his arms and shoulders tensing, and the feeling of his hips knocking firmly with yours, the sound of wet skin on skin. 

You don’t notice at first that Wooyoung has left your side, you’re so singularly focused on the way San is making you feel, and the way Yunho is holding you down, his free hand dragging up and down your body softly with his nails, heightening the sensations. Wooyoung stands by San, his jeans fastened again but still shirtless, and you feel San tense in surprise when Wooyoung runs a hand down his back. “Oh,” San breathes, glancing to the side at his best friend. 

Yunho looks up at the sound, smiles at them briefly and refocuses on you, but you keep watching. 

“You look so good making her come,” Wooyoung admits, “so fucking hot,” 

“Oh fuck,” you manage, moaning tightly and squirming your hips back against San’s, desperately shifting to try and hit the right spot, floored by how good the two of them look together between your thighs. 

Yunho makes a sound to your side, and you snap your head over to look at him, through your haze you realize how neglected he’s been, so focused on you and your pleasure, and you crane your neck to catch his eye better. “Baby,” your voice catching, “Yunho, let me help you,” 

You can see the strain of his cock against his sweatpants, tenting them, but he shakes his head and tightens his grip on your wrists, “Soon,” he says. 

“y/n,” Wooyoung says, a smile in his voice, and you turn to look. He bites his lip, his eyes trained you, “you take his cock so fucking well,” he says, and drops a kiss on San’s bare shoulder. 

You curse softly and groan, and you hear Yunho chuckle at your side. 

“I’m not going to last,” San chokes out, and when you look back you can barely breathe, the sight of Wooyoung’s lips on San’s neck and the way his eyes have slipped shut, head lolling back. 

“Let me help,” Wooyoung reaches around for you and slides his fingers directly over your clit, rubbing firm and frantic circles that normally wouldn’t hit the right pace, but suddenly have you crying out and arching up, your body moving on its own. 

San clings to you, biting out a curse as he starts to come, and the combination of his frantic thrusts and Wooyoung’s fingers push you straight over the edge again. With your wrists held down and your hips held in place you stain against the three of them as they hold you down to ride out your orgasm. 

“Good,” Yunho breathes, but you can hear the strain in his voice, and you know he must be desperate for someone to touch him too. 

San eases your hips down to the mattress again, slipping his softening cock out of you and letting your legs drop open. You catch the shared look between San and Wooyoung easily, but thankfully there’s no discomfort there, just easy trust and a little open curiosity in their eyes. 

You press up against Yunho’s hold on your wrists and turn to him, “Yun,” 

He releases you immediately, and you reach up for him, bringing his face closer to catch his lips in a kiss. He inhales sharply, but responds immediately, his tongue dipping into your mouth against yours. You moan softly against him, and he breaks away, his forehead still resting on yours. He runs a hand down your front to cup your soaked cunt, “Can you take me, baby?” His voice is just him this time, no extra edge, and you know he’s just checking in with you. 

“God, yes,” you nod against him, and rock your hips up into the flat of his hand, “I need you,” 

He hums softly, pleased, and kisses you softly before pulling away entirely and moving off the bed to stand, “Let’s move up,” 

You ease yourself up on your elbows, but after the amount they’ve already put you through you’re pretty sure your legs aren’t working right. Quickly sensing your dilemma, Yunho scoops you up with ease and shifts you up, closer to the center of the mattress. As you settle in the new position, you watch as he pulls off his shirt, running a hand through his dark hair before gesturing for Wooyoung, “Come over here and get behind her,” 

He complies quickly, climbing back onto the bed and when Yunho pulls you up to a sitting position, Wooyoung slides in behind you with one leg on either side of you. “Like this?” He checks. 

“Yeah,” Yunho eases you back down so that your back connects with Wooyoung’s slick chest, “support her,” 

Wooyoung shifts, getting comfortable leaning against the headboard and letting you recline back onto him. You rest your hands on his thighs and allow yourself to relax fully into his touch as he drops soft kisses to your hairline. San moves to follow, and settles at your side, cupping one of your breasts softly and kneading it gently. You look up to him and he smiles, “Hi, baby,” 

“Hey,” you sigh. 

“Feeling good?” San checks, cupping your cheek for a moment. 

“Really, really good,” you nod, and he smiles. 

Yunho shucks off his sweatpants and boxers and kicks them to the side, and just like every other time before, his size sends a rush of nervous anticipation through you. He kneels on the bed between your legs and eases forwards to catch one of Wooyoung’s hands, placing it against your throat. 

You nod eagerly and Yunho gives you a half smile, but refocuses on Wooyoung, laying his hand on top of his and showing him where to hold and how to press. Your mouth drops open with a gasp when he tries on his own, flexing his hand around your neck experimentally. 

“Good,” Yunho nods. 

“This okay?” Wooyoung flexes his hand again and checks with you. 

You nod immediately against him, and feel yourself getting wet and needy again, your eyes back on Yunho who’s watching you hungrily. He runs his thumb across your abused clit softly, flicking it gently and making you whine, before shifting over you. He dwarfs you like always, and his large hands grip you tightly. 

He directs his cock to your entrance and presses in, sliding in an inch at a time. “Fuck, tiny,” he groans, his brows tight together. 

“Slow, slow,” you jerk your hips back, “please, Yunho,” 

“Shh, shh,” he murmurs, keeping it slow and controlled as he moves into you, “I’ve got you sweetheart, I know you take me,” 

Wooyoung’s fingers twitch tighter, and you can’t stop the desperate whimpers that bubble over as Yunho slowly works himself in until he’s fully seated inside you. It burns to stretch for him, it always does, but after a few moments and gentle rocks of his hips back and forth your muscles relax and accommodate him with ease. 

“Yunho, God,” you stutter out. 

He dips low and kisses you, leaving his hips dropped down against yours, and he murmurs a quick, “Okay?” 

“Move, please,” you nod, and he shifts back up to start rolling his hips. 

Your body feels sharp, every inch of your skin buzzing and your head dizzy, and despite the knot of tense pleasure building up again, every press of his body forwards connects your hips and runs a sharp spike of pain up your body from every shift against your overused clit. 

Yunho shifts himself back to kneel, holding your hips tightly in his hands and thrusts in, hitting you as deeply as he can and from this angle the light bulge of his cock presses up visibly in your lower stomach. The sight of it makes you squirm, the slide of him against your soft spot making your hips jerk against him. 

“Fuck, Yunho,” San manages, seeing the ripple in your stomach and watching you come apart at the seams. 

Yunho ignores him, focused entirely on the way your head has dropped to the side, looking like you’ve been fucked dumb with your mouth hanging open and your eyes pressed tightly shut. You groan when San drips to catch a nipple in his mouth, sucking sharply and flicking it with his tongue, Wooyoung using his free hand to tweak your other nipple, and Yunho watches as you whine against them. 

You’re fully caught between them all now, and you can barely keep up with the way you were falling apart, the feeling of Yunho filling you to an almost painful proportion combined with the heady loss of air and their sharp ministrations almost too much to handle. 

“Fuck, baby,” Yunho pants above you, “you take me so well every time,” 

You whine softly, and your hips jerk on their own, pressing up into him and Yunho mistakes it for you silently pleading for more. “Harder?” he says, his voice teasing, “look at you, you’re so full, tiny,” 

At the words your brain somersaults, but then his thrusts become faster, needier, and harder into you. The sound of his panting and soft groans in your ear suddenly drowned out by your own heartbeat. The raw feeling from being thoroughly fucked doubles, and when the head of Yunho’s cock gently connects with your cervix, you jerk. Wooyoung’s hand on your throat stifles your voice, and you try to swim up but are struggling for your words. Black spots dance across your vision, no amount of blinking clearing them, hot tears rolling down your temples. When Yunho hits the spot again, you know you have to get out. 

Frantically you tap Wooyoung’s thigh with your available hand, striking him firmly and his grip on your throat releases, letting you suck in a gulp of air, the feeling dizzying. "Treasure!” You choke out, reaching back in your mind for the safe word you’ve never used before, the word crystal clear in the air in this moment of your striking panic. 

Yunho rocks back immediately, he’s been waiting for this moment, always knowing that with his level of intensity and obvious size difference there was always a chance it would be too much. Wooyoung’s hand drops away from your throat and San looks up at you, studying your face to see what could be wrong. 

You stay collapsed against Wooyoung’s chest, your breathing shaky and you blink to try and clear your vision. Yunho reaches for you, pulling your face gently up to meet his eyes, “y/n? Hey,” he cups your cheeks, “y/n, talk to me,” 

Your vision finally clears and the first thing you realize is that Yunho is directly in your eyeline, clearly panicked, “I’m okay,” you manage, clearing your throat gently, “I’m okay,” 

Yunho looks relieved, leaning away a little to give you more space. San brushes his fingers down your hair softly, “What happened, baby?”

You shake your head against Wooyoung and take another raspy breath, “I got scared,” 

Yunho’s eyes soften instantly, his expression crumbling and he shakes his head, “I’m so sorry,” 

“No, no,” you protest, “it’s okay, it was just a lot all at once, I was afraid I might pass out,” but when you shift against Wooyoung Yunho watches the way you wince and lifts his hands off you. 

Wooyoung wraps an arm around you and kisses your head, lips against your hair when he says, “I was too rough with you, I’m so sorry,” 

Tears gather in your eyes, and you try to swallow back the knot in your throat, knowing that crying will only make them more terrified, but you’re suddenly emotionally overwhelmed and Yunho’s not touching you now, and that fact combined with the look on his face makes your chest tight.  

The sound of San pulling on his jeans draws your attention and you shift to look at him, “Where are you going?” The idea that he might leave you now of all times is more upsetting than anything. 

“Hey,” he notices you’re fighting off tears instantly and pulls you into his arms, cradling you close, “I’ve got you; I was just going to get you water, that’s it. I’m not going anywhere,” 

“I have to,” Yunho starts behind you, but his words trail off, and when you turn you see that he’s tugged his sweats back on and he drags his hands through his hair, his eyes faraway. 

“Yunho, don’t,” Wooyoung shakes his head, “Sit down.” 

Tears spill over, and there’s a sharp noise when you take an inhale. Yunho’s eyes snap to you, and you shake your head, “Don’t go, please don’t go,” 

He shakes his head, and finally reaches for you. San passes you over carefully, and Yunho settles back down to sit on the bed, cradling you now in his lap. 

“I’m getting that water,” San says. 

“Wait,” Yunho stops him, tearing his eyes away from you, “get something with sugar, and toss me that sheet,” 

San and Wooyoung both yank the sheet up and hand it over, and Yunho tucks it around you, before gently holding your cheek in his hand, brushing tears away, “Did I hurt you?” His voice is raw. 

Wooyoung watches quietly, up and on his knees, ready to do something but not knowing what. 

“It’s not that,” you assure Yunho and take a deep breath, able to control yourself better now that you are in his arms, and you know he’s not leaving. 

“Don’t lie,” he murmurs quietly, “not to me,” 

Before you can answer, San’s back, water bottles tucked under his arm and fistfuls of candy, gummy ropes and chocolates. He tosses everything down on the bed and Wooyoung snaps up a water bottle to crack open the seal and pass it over to you. Yunho leans back and gives you a little space to drink the water and choke down some of the gummy candy before he runs his hand up and down your arm, nodding at you to answer his question. 

“It’s never hurt before,” you admit. 

His fingers tighten on you, “but it did today?” 

“A little,” 

“Fuck,” he breathes, and the look on his face is too much.

“Yunho, no,” you protest, reaching for him, “it was just everything all at once. I’m okay, I’m not hurt, I’m not upset, I just needed to stop, and you stopped.” 

He pulls you to him, dropping his face down onto your shoulder, “I never want to hurt you,” he whispers, and you hear the tense crackle in his voice. 

“I know,” you squeeze his hand, “and you didn’t. You did what I needed, you all did,” 

He nods against you, and you feel Wooyoung and San shuffle closer on either side of you, finding some patch of skin to stroke and soothe you. They watch the moment between you and Yunho carefully, knowing they’d feel exactly the same, and Wooyoung reaches out to squeeze Yunho’s shoulder and offer a bit of silent comfort. 

After a few minutes, Wooyoung breaks the silence, “Is there anything we can do?” His fingers knead comforting circles in your extended palm. 

You sigh, leaning back from Yunho a bit to look up at them, “Something more substantial to eat maybe?” 

Wooyoung nods immediately, “Food, on it,” 

“Actually,” you stop him from running off and lean back from Yunho a little more so you can swipe at your eyes and take a deep breath, your head finally feeling clear, “if someone can help me get cleaned up, I say we meet back on the couch for food and something to watch?” 

San brushes your hair behind your ear and nods, “Of course,” he says, “we’ve got you, we’ll always take care of you.” 

Wooyoung nods and squeezes your hand again. 

Yunho kisses your temple, “Let’s get you cleaned up then,” 

He stands with you still in his arms, angling towards the door, but quickly checking with San, “Is anyone else home yet?” 

“Nobody,” he confirms. 

Yunho moves you into the bathroom and sets you down on the counter softly, and Wooyoung leaps up, rushing ahead of you both to turn on the warm shower and lay out some towels. 

“I’m going to start some food,” Wooyoung makes sure you know where he’ll be, before looking up to Yunho, “you got this?” 

“Yeah,” he says, his voice still a little hoarse. 

“I’ll see you in twenty, babe,” Wooyoung gives you a quick kiss, trying to lighten the mood a little already and giving you and Yunho some space. 

San watches Yunho check the heat of the shower, and steps close to you, “You’re alright?” 

“I promise,” you tell him, and he runs his hand along your thigh. 

“I should help Woo,” he murmurs, kissing you tenderly before stepping away, “and I’ll give you some space.” 

“Thank you,” you say quietly, and with a last look he slips out the door. 

“Ready?” Yunho kicks off his sweats again and reaches for you. 

You nod and ease yourself off the bathroom counter to stand on your own two feet, despite how shaky your legs are. He catches your forearm for support, and you lean on him as you both climb into the warm spray. From behind you, he holds you against him again and dips his head to rest against yours, “You mean so much to me,” he confesses, the tension still evident in his voice, “I never want to cause you pain.”

“I know,” you run your hand along his arm wrapped around you, “but you didn’t, I just got overwhelmed.”

“I’m sorry,” he says again, and you shake your head. 

“There’s nothing to be sorry for,” you lean back against his chest, “you made sure I picked a safe word for a reason, and I know we never wanted to use it, but we did it right.” 

He’s quiet, holding you close. 

“Yunho,” you turn your head to the side and kiss his arm, “you made me feel so safe,” 

“Safe?” you hear the tone of his voice, and you shake your head. 

“You listened,” you insist softly, repeating yourself and intent on making him understand that the problem isn’t a moment of discomfort, it would have been a dismissal of your boundaries, “you heard me, and you stopped, and you stayed with me. That’s all I could have asked for.” 

He doesn’t respond but wraps you tightly in his arms and says everything in his soft embrace and gentle rocking. He helps you shower, easing you through the process and wraps you in an oversized fluffy towel at the end. San had grabbed a comfortable change of clothes for you from your room, and you slip into them happily and braid back your wet hair. 

In the living room you gather back together, wrapped up in each other’s laps as you rest, keeping as much skin on skin contact as possible. Yunho’s starts to relax by the time you're midway through eating, and it releases any lingering tension about the night, leaving you just in the middle of a movie night with your boys. 

When the first movie of the night rolls its credits, you shift in San’s embrace, “I want you to know,” addressing them all now, “I liked what we did. I want,” you pause and collect your thoughts, “I want to do it again. Maybe just less passing out next time, we can take water breaks,” you smile. 

“I would love to,” Wooyoung says first, and you don’t miss the quick flick of his eyes to San, “as long as you feel comfortable.

“I do,” you nod.

“Okay,” San nods, “then we’ll try again sometime, but for tonight let’s just take it easy.” 

“Definitely,” you agree. 

Yunho’s still quiet for a few moments, but when you look to him, he nods, “Next time we’ll be more careful,” 

You sigh in relief, taking his hand in yours, “Next time.”

#into the aurora fic #ateez #ateez fic #ateez series #hongjoong #seonghwa #yunho #yeosang #san #mingi #wooyoung #jongho #hongjoong x reader #seonghwa x reader #yunho x reader #yeosang x reader #san x reader #mingi x reader #wooyoung x reader #jongho x reader #ateez x reader #ot8 #ot8 x reader #honeyhotteoks fics #kim hongjoong #park seonghwa #jeong yunho #kang yeosang #choi san #song mingi

[gnpwdrnwhiskey]

Conversations with a Movie Star

Chapter 3 - And HBO

Pairing- Dieter Bravo x ofc!Ava

Word Count- 2.1K-ish

Warnings- I'm really not aware of any for this chapter? A little bit of foul language, one food mention, let me know if I missed anything

Author's Note- Technically still on hiatus but surprise!!, I finished something lol! I struggled a lot looking for connective tissue writing this and decided screw it, I'm just gonna put a bunch of scenes together and hope they still flow.....if this chapter had a theme song, it would be Myrtle Beach by Sunny Ledfurd and it would deserve it's own warnings, so I leave it to you to decide if you want to look it up, lol! Big thanks as always to @wildemaven for listening to me whine and supporting me as I figure out what I'm doing 💕

Ava falls into a routine over the next few days, one that as best as Dieter can tell is designed solely to drive him nuts. She's up early and over to the lobby, banging on the inner office door and yelling at him that the coffee's ready. When he manages to get off the couch- he really needs to stop crashing down here- and stumbles out to the lobby, she nags him about the whole lack of breakfast options situation.

And then she disappears for a few hours every day and Dieter goes back to sleep. Like a normal human being. It's like the goddamn Energizer bunny has infiltrated his space. She's just always doing something. It's exhausting.

He has brief moments where he misses the way Anika just worked around him and let him be and even if that was less tiring, he realizes it probably wasn't very healthy either. Ava is slowly breaking him out of the funk he's wasted the last two years of his life in and he'd be lying to himself if he didn't admit that part of him, a larger part than he maybe realized, enjoys having a purpose again. Even a small one.

She's already bullied him into cleaning up the back office, moving furniture and desks and filing cabinets for fucks sake, like he's used to this kind of manual labor all because she thinks it should be a functional space and not just his own personal little man cave.

"You can keep your big squishy sofa and your precious tv and your absolutely ridiculous hippo coffee table. But we're gonna keep them over there," gesturing to one half of the room. "And then over here, people can work."

And then she'd proceeded to go through all seven million filing cabinets she'd made him move- full of old tax records, and licenses and invoices and God only knows what else and then she hit paydirt, if you're into that kinda thing, which apparently she is. Scrapbooks and photographs and the original blueprints for the hotel.

"They always wanted a pool," Dieter muses, looking at the blueprints. "It was never in the budget. And they wouldn't take my money."

"You could do it now. In the off season if you wanted. Nothing stopping you," Ava shrugs.

She's right. He could. He tucks that thought away for later.

"Hey, Miss Rose?" Dieter asks from the doorway of Ava's room. "That woman staying here, the reporter, she bothering you?"

"No, baby, she just asked me some questions and took my picture. Said she's writing a book."

"A book?"

"Not about you, baby. She called it slice of life. Whatever that means," Rose laughs.

"Oh," Dieter relaxes a little bit but makes a mental note to ask Ava about that later. "What do you think of her?"

"You know the rules, baby. You wanna talk, you have to help me work."

Dieter does know the rules. Rose has been working at the motel since before his mom dumped him here and it's always been the same, if he wanted to hang around and pester her or any of the other housekeeping staff, he had to make himself useful.

Dieter sighs but he dutifully steps into the room and grabs the other side of the sheet she's just tossed on the bed.

"So, Ava?"

"You like her, baby?" Rose grins. She's always been able to read him like an open book and this time is no exception.

"Maybe," he admits sheepishly as they finish making the bed. "Which is just dumb right? It's not like she's staying, she's only here a couple weeks."

"Oh, I think you could sway her if you wanted to. That girl's looking for roots. She'd be a good fit for you, baby. Keep you on your toes."

"You think so?" He asks absently as he picks up various perfume bottles and lotions on her dresser, giving them all a sniff before sitting them back down and moving on to the next thing. He opens a drawer full of silky lacy underthings and his brain short circuits. Is this the kind of thing she's wearing under those tiny shorts he spends way too much time imagining peeling her out of? Good Lord.

"I did," Rose says, reaching over him to slam the drawer closed, barely giving him time to get his fingers out of the way. "But if you don't stop going through her underwear, I'm going to tell her you're a creep and she should stay away from you. What is wrong with you, Dieter Anthony! I swear you were raised better than to snoop through a guests things."

Dieter holds his hands up in surrender and starts backing out of the room, he knows when he's been beaten.

"Hey, DB, come play tourist with me."

"What?"

"You never leave the hotel, come play tourist with me. It'll be fun. We'll go to Peaches, get some hot dogs first."

"I was getting ready to watch Harvey," he whines.

"We can watch Harvey tonight. For the seven thousandth time. Please, Dieter?"

"We can't just leave the place unattended."

"It won't be unattended, Austin's here."

"Who the fuck is Austin?"

"Your new afternoon front desk help. You're welcome."

Dieter scrambles off the sofa and peeks out at the reservation desk and the scrawny sun-bleached blonde currently chilling with his feet up on the counter before turning back to Ava.

"You can't just go around hiring people and he looks like a bum!" He stage whispers.

"You're one to talk," Ava snorts. "He's not a bum. He's a lifeguard. And someone has to hire people around here."

"What do you even know about this person?"

"A lot. We hang out. He's saving up so he can go work at a ski resort this winter. Teach kids how to snowboard. He's cool. And smarter than he looks." Ava grabs Dieter's hand and drags him out of the office. "Now let's go."

Dieter reluctantly shuffles along behind her, glaring at Austin the whole time and the kid offers him a big bright white smile.

"Hey, Ava, check it!" Austin yells as they pass, pointing at the computer screen. "Spider solitaire! I can play, right?"

"Myrtle Beach, Myrtle Beach, Myrtle Beach. Goddamn, I love Myrtle Beach!" Ava sings as they walk along the boardwalk and Dieter laughs.

"No, do not get that stuck in my head, Ava. I'm begging you."

"Ha! But you know it, don't you? C'mon. It's so appropriate. You might've passed on the airbrushed tee-shirt but I saw you grab the saltwater taffy and it's bike week and we're missing the Pavilion."

"Everyone will always miss the Pavilion," Dieter agrees, looking towards the empty space that his mind's eye still fills in with the large sand-colored building that had stood there for most of his life. The shade and cool relief it offered from the scorching sun, the sounds of the arcade and the million games of skeeball played, tickets won and traded in for silly trinkets.

"Can I tell you a secret?" Dieter asks and Ava nods, leaning against the boardwalk railing and giving him her full attention. "I flew in to watch the demolition and cried like a baby the whole flight back to LA. No one knows that, I didn't tell anyone I was here. Not even my grandparents. I just....I didn't have a lot of friends growing up here, I was always the weird kid. But the couple I did have, we spent so much time at the arcade or the amusement park. The rickety ass roller coasters and the ancient carousel. Even just sitting at the fucking organ shooting the shit. I know they moved some of it, but it's not the same. It'll never be the same."

Ava studies him, lost in his thoughts, staring at an empty lot and seeing only the past. She likes this side of him. She likes how real he's been with her about things, not just today, but his willingness in general to humor her and answer all her questions about himself and his family and the motel and she impulsively leans in and kisses his cheek bringing his attention back to her.

"What was that for?" He grins.

"Just a thank you. For sharing that with me. So one secret deserves another, right?" She laces her fingers through his and pulls him a little ways down the boardwalk, stopping in front of the Gay Dolphin. "Behold- my most favorite place at the beach."

"Ava, no," he laughs. "Why here?"

"It's an institution, right? A testament to all that is cheap and tacky. The ultimate tourist trap," she smiles at him as they walk inside and Dieter swears his knees actually go weak. "It's cluttered and messy and an absolutely delightful maze of levels to get lost in and you never know what's around the next corner. Will it be novelty ashtrays shaped like sandcastles or porcelain clown figurines for some insane reason? You just never know! It's an adventure!"

Dieter's toying with the shark tooth necklace Ava insisted he just had to have- one of many "treasures" they left the Gay Dolphin loaded down with- running his fingers along the soft leather cord, feeling the rough edges and point of the tooth and then back up the cord while the credits for Harvey play out on the television screen and he knows any second now Ava will lift her head off his shoulder, stretch, and tell him she should go and he realizes he doesn't want her to.

He never really does, but it's different today, it's more than not wanting to be alone, left to his own devices. It's her. He wants her company. He wants her bright eyes and warm laughter, the way she teases him and banters without giving a shit about who he is, or who the rest of the world thinks he is. This whole ridiculous day of playing tourist with her has been the best day he's had in a long time and he's not ready for it to end.

"Hey, Ava, do you wanna have sex with me?" He blurts it out of a long ingrained habit but it's not really what he means and he struggles to explain. "I mean....just like you don't have to go....do you want to stay?"

Ava picks her head up to study him and then she grins, turning to slide a leg over him and settling herself squarely in his lap. Dieter trails his hands up her thighs, the way he's imagined countless times, tucking his fingertips right under the ragged hem of her shorts while she wraps her arms around his neck, fingers tangling in his hair and holy shit, he didn't ever imagine that would actually work on her.

"I really had a lot of fun today, but not tonight, movie star," Ava laughs. And then she kisses him. Soft. Sweet. Testing the waters. And God yes, is he receptive. And then she's pulling away way entirely too soon to suit him and he kinda hates the groan of disappointment that escapes him as she gathers her things and leaves the office.

Seems like she's always walking away and he's just sitting here like a dumb ass watching her.

"That's not a hard no?" He yells after her and the sound of her laughter floats back to him. He'll take it.

#dieter bravo #dieter bravo x ofc #dieter bravo fanfiction #dieter bravo fanfic #dieter x ofc!Ava #dieter & ava #cwams #pedro pascal character fanfiction

[fairytale-poll]

ROUND 2A, MATCH 6 OUT OF 8!

Propaganda Under the Cut:

Queen Cinderella Charming:

She's kind, she's funny, she learns to use a sword, and she's related to Snow White, Sleeping Beauty, and Red Riding Hood. She helps the protagonists any chance she gets and even hosts their mother and step-father's wedding. She never gives up and  never lets her fear stop her. Absolute queen (literally) &lt;3

While she isn't hugely relevant in the story itself, she is always down to help out the protagonists where she can. When they need one of her slippers, she sneaks it into their bag without them noticing. She calls them family. She loves her daughter too, and is a badass mom.

When the main characters need her glass slipper for a spell, she snuggled it into their bag, and she has a daughter named Hope &lt;3

I think she’s a minor character in the first book, but she’d really nice and stuff!

Because I LOVE HER!! also she has a daughter called Hope who got kidnapped by rumplestiltskin at one point but that is besides the point. She is a strong independent woman and we love those she was NOT about to sit around doing nothing and i love her for that

Vote Land of Stories Cinderella because she's the best!!!

Elegance "Ella" Coach:

Ella fights for labor reform! I just reread the book intentionally so I could make propaganda for her but now my head is empty only LOVE FOR ELLA. She has two (gay) fairy godfathers, she worked in a sweatshop where her mother died, she has a well-developed with her prince, Dash Charming. The glass slippers are a very important motif even though she doesn’t actually get a pair herself because she was a secret fairy godparent case because the fairy godparent organization had become corrupt and wasn’t helping needy children, only the rich. It’s a sequel to Grounded which is a Rapunzel story, but Disenchanted stands alone in the same world and it’s my most favorite of the two!! She’s so kind and helps institute kingdom wide labor reform and ahhhhhhhh

Former child laborer who wants to use her family's newfound privilege to fight for workers' rights. Brave, smart, and compassionate, although she can also be reckless, because she's just a kid and she deserves BETTER. Actually has a good relationship to her step-family, who are badass and Black like her, and there's this really touching moment at the end that recontextualizes things a lot and it's very sweet and cool worldbuilding. Her fairy godmother is two gay contractors who overthrow their boss for being complicit in a corporate espionage/coup scheme. She has a nice and believable relationship with her prince, who is a fucking dork that learns to be less of a privileged idiot and would absolutely put his ass on the line for her in return. She's just so GOOD and Disenchanted is UNDERRATED, everyone go read it.

Her goal is to improve workers rights, directly inspired by the 19th century textile industry, right down to child labor and workers getting locked in factories. Her mother died working in a sweatshop. She struggles with her working class upbringing and her new upper class status after her father's invention made them rich. Not afraid of breaking the law. She's so cool and her book is so good.

#cinderpoll #round 2 #round 2a #queen cinderella charming #cinderella charming #queen cinderella #the land of stories #chris colfer #elegance coach #elegance ella coach #ella coach #disenchanted #disenchanted: the trials of cinderella #megan morrison #fairytale #cinderella #poll tournament #poll bracket #character polls #polls

[moonliteve]

My headcanons for the deadly alliance before being recruited by Damashi

cw suicide mention

some of these r inspired by my friends' hcs ily cicada and leonarnd!!! <33

SHANG TSUNG

born in an impoverished village near the seaside

his mother had him at a pretty young age

she wasn't the best nor the most loving but she did care about him, she tried to be the best for him even though it was really difficult to do so on her own

mama shang had to teach him basic survival skills

however she committed suicide when he was around 16-17

shang wasn't left with much but in his late teenage years he had gained an interest in alchemy along with some biology

sold what he had to get his caravan, he knew he wouldn't be able to survive if he stayed in one place

at first he did try to plan out an honest living but he realized that he could just. cheat and lie? so he came up with the whole hack salesman thing

"a living? it is barely survival" so what if it doesn't work. so what if he kills a few people. as long as he's getting by

he stays in his caravan a lot and doesn't go outside unless he absolutely has to (eg to gather ingredients n stuff). the inside is a complete mess, it's not like he doesn't want to clean it he just doesn't see the point if everything is just going to revert to a mess once again

he does not care if he's gonna die tomorrow and doesn't care for any consequences

and of course he longs for more but in the conditions he's in right now? don't even think about it

until damashi steps in and offers him a chance

QUAN CHI

born in the mines to parents who didn't want him, was a complete accident

his father died in a mining accident shortly after he turned 5

grew up to resent the world since his mother almost didn't care at all and barely treated him like her son

started working w/ the rest of the miners around 13

autistic + really awkward + no confidence at all

barely interacted with anyone else, not like he wanted to anyways

always just went about doing his job everyday even though it fucking sucks

the others always thought he was an odd one since he almost never talks and just stares and observes a lot

resulted in him always being picked on and nobody really put a stop to it until it gets out of hand

outside of work he would rather spend his time alone

killed his mom when he was around 17. He thought about taking the easy way out and just bash her head in or smth at first but he didn't want to raise any suspicion since ppl knew about the mutual disdain him and his mother had for each other

eventually ended up poisoning her

that was when he first piqued damashi's interest, he doesn't approach him yet though as he wants to observe him more

around the same time he discovered he had an aptitude for magic and had been practicing it in his own time in secret, he couldn't do any crazy stuff yet though

possibly inherited from his father? maybe he was some kind of mage who was thrown into the mines because of some hard labor sentence

and liu kang let him keep this power as he wished for him to use it to aid the slave revolt

when he first heard about his fellow miners planning a revolt he didn't think much of it. he didn't want to have anything to do with them anyways

had he actually had a good relationship with the others he might've had considered helping, but as time passed he decided to snitch. not only to raise his station but also out of spite for how he was treated

late at night the same group of ppl tried to kill him a few days after he ratted them out, although he was strong and had a bit of magic to defend himself he was overpowered until damashi intervened and saved him

he made a complete mess out of the others, blood everywhere

it terrified quan chi at first. he had never seen such power before and he was almost certain he was next before damashi offered him his aid and power

he was hesitant to trust this stranger at first but having seen what he could do it was impossible to refuse

and that's how the alliance came to be :) tysm for reading!

#additional thoughts here #to me damashi only decided to intervene when they were on the verge of death #im almost certain shang was about to commit suicide #damashi timed it so that he could perfectly manipulate them #it's a simple question. do you want to live or die? #and provided what their lives were like it was almost impossible to say no to what damashi was offering them #mk1 #mortal kombat #mortal kombat 1 #shang tsung #mk1 shang tsung #quan chi #mk1 quan chi #deadly alliance #mk headcanons #mortal kombat headcanons #mk1 headcanons