#get bent scum | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

twjournals · 2 years

Text

summary: you're drunk at the club and Stiles takes you home

word count: over 1.4k

warning: two besties in love but neither will make the first move, drunken kiss, protective Stiles

"Think she's even good to drive?" Scott leaned into Stiles to talk over the music.

Stiles' eyes never left your as he shook his head. "Not a chance."

He had watched you nearly all night, between dragging Lydia to the dance floor with you every time your song come in (who knew you had so many) and nursing your drinks. He watched mainly because he wanted to make sure your night wasn't ruined by some scum. Or at least that's what he told himself. Either way, he was only looking out for you.

Lydia dragged you back to the bar with her arm around your waist. "Come on, Y/n, help a girl out." She huffed which caused you to giggle.

You propped yourself up against the bar, leaning your head against Stiles' shoulder with a sigh. His arm protectively rested around your waist to keep you up and though you were damn near wasted, you noticed.

"Keep an eye on her please. I need to use the bathroom." She says as she's already walking in the direction on the bathroom.

Stiles watched as you nuzzled your face in his neck for a moment. He wondered if you even knew who he was after that many shots. You were his best friend, aside from Scott, and he was in love with you. As much as he hated to admit it. Maybe he shouldn't hate it so much because you were after all his best friend. You knew each other in and out. No one could truly love you for everything you are like him, but it was also because you were his best friend that he hated to admit it. He feared even risking your friendship especially over his feelings.

"We should get you home." Stiles suggested.

You grumbled a noise as you started to sit up on the stool properly. Your hands held the bar for support. "I'm not ready to go though." You probably should go before you embarrassed yourself more, but right now, you had no shame.

You started to call the bartender over again, lifting yourself over the bar. Nevermind the way your dress was riding up, nor the fact that people could see your underwear. You had to get that man's attention. Just one more drink. That's what you kept telling yourself.

"Y/n," Stiles grumbled in your ear, feeling his chest quickly pressed against your back. He used his body to block everyone else from the show they would get. You weren't making this easy for him. "Sit down."

"Or what?" You shivered at the feeling of him pressed against your bare back, his warm breath against your ear. But you must stay focused.

"Where are your keys? I'm taking you home." He proceeded. You wondered if he was even listening.

"Stiles, I- I can take myself." You could feel your skin getting hot having him so close, or maybe that was the alcohol.

"Not a chance. Where are your keys?"

"No, I'm not leaving yet- that tickles-" You giggled as his hands tickled your sides while trying to reach your bag. "Nooo, I don't wanna go yet, Stiles-" You push yourself further into the counter, nearly throwing yourself over it in attempt to get out of his reach.

You're bent over the bar with a grin on your lips, your hands clinging onto his arms to keep him from getting your keys.

"You leave me no choice." He mumbled as he slips the bartender money to pay your tab just as you were about to order again.

You didn't have much time to ponder what he mean't by that before he was picking you up suddenly, pulling you over his shoulder. His hand shielded your ass to keep people from seeing up your dress as he carried out of the club.

"Stiles, put me down!" You protest.

You hear the door to the jeep open before he's putting you in passenger seat. He pointed a finger at you as he blocked you in. "You're drunk and I want you getting home safe." He stood still to make sure you didn't try to jump out on him. "Stay."

Your eyes lingered on him for a moment, the soft look at his eyes easing any emotion of anger. He shut the door before walking around to the driver side.

You could feel his eyes on you as you gazed out the window at your car still parked in the parking lot. "What about my car?" You hiccuped.

"It'll be okay. We'll come back for it tomorrow." He assured as he started to drive you home.

The car ride was quiet aside from your hiccups. Stiles glanced in your direction when your hiccups died down, hoping he might find you asleep, but you were still awake with your stare lingering out the window. He worried he might have pissed you off for carrying you out of the club, but then again he knew you would thank him in the morning.

He pulled the door open while you were in front of your place.

"Mad at me?" He couldn't help but to question.

You shook your head though, reaching your arms out for him to pick you up. He smiled, scooping you up in his arms and carrying you bridal style up the sidewalk toward your apartment building.

You listened to his heart beating against his chest and how it increased when your hand rubbed across it. You really couldn't ask for a better best friend. No one had ever looked out for you like Stiles did, cared for you the way he did. You almost laughed at the thought of Lydia trying to get you up to your apartment.

Stiles sat you down when you finally reached your bed, taking a moment to help you out of your heels so you could get into bed. "Before I go, can I get you any-" You caught him off guard when your lips pressed to his suddenly. Maybe you shouldn't have, but given how much liquor you had consumed, nothing was stopping you now. In fact, it only made the craving worse.

His lips were still against yours, processing what was happening. You were kissing him. This was really happening.

His arms wrapped around your body when he finally kissed you back. Your hands gripping the back of his neck to pull him further on the bed with you until his hands met the mattress.

"Wait-" He mumbled against your lips.

You parted from the kiss to look at him, still holding the back of his neck.

He closed his eyes with a frown. "Not like this." He started as he pushed himself up on the bed.

"Oh." You sat up on the bed, awkwardly crossing your legs as you adjusted your dress.

"No, I didn't mean it like that- I just Fuck.. You're perfect. Really you are. I have wanted this for so long, but I can't do it like this."

"Stiles.."

You watched the way he ran his hand down his face in frustration. You crawled closer to him on the bed, rubbing your hand in soothing circles against his back in attempt to calm him through his panic.

"You didn't do anything wrong." You assured.

"You're drunk-"

You interrupted him with a giggle. "To be fair, I kissed you first."

And yet he still couldn't stop himself from feeling this way. Not because it happened but more because he wanted to do it again. Just to pull you into his arms and kiss your lips all over again. He had no shame in kissing you, only never wanting to stop.

"I'm sorry for kissing you." You apologized.

He watched you lay back on the bed and sighed as he helped you pull the covers over your body. "Don't apologize."

"I don't want you upset."

"I'm not upset." He assured.

"Then I'm not sorry." You admitted honestly, quickly taking back your apology. Despite how much you had to drink, you would never be able to drown out the feelings you truly had for Stiles.

His eyes widened slightly in surprise before letting out a chuckle. "Well next time, would you mind doing it sober?"

Next time. Silly boy. It would be tempting. There was no doubt about it. You smiled instantly against the covers, turning over to get comfortable on the bed with your back facing him. You only hoped you would have the courage you do now to do it again sober.

"Goodnight, Stiles." You finally answered.

Though you couldn't see him, you could feel his eyes lingering on you. It was nowhere near the answer he was hoping for, but it was the answer he settled for. "Goodnight, Y/n."

#stiles stilinski imagine #stiles stilinski imagines #stiles stilinski x you #stiles stilinski x y/n #stiles stilinski x reader #stiles stilinski fanfiction #this is probably a cringe but this man is too cute

2K notes · View notes

therobotmonster · 3 months

Text

Chosen for What?

A short tale about chosen ones.

"There it is."

Johann's voice was barely a whisper but in the unnatural silence of the forest it might as well have been a shout. The knight took a step forward, oblivious to the crunch of his footsteps on the dry leaves or the sharp, almost metallic smell of the coming snow.

His focus was entirely upon the spear. It's shaft was made of white wood, polished so smooth he had mistaken it for marble, and the bronze spearhead was shaped like a elegantly stylized shark.

It was presently stuck within the ribcage of an obscenely oversized humanlike skeleton, which was itself entangled in the gnarled roots of a tree the size of a watchtower. The giant's bones were twice the size of a man's. More remarkably, they were made of pitted, rust-flecked iron.

Johann reached forward.

"HOLD!"

Johann froze. Even though the salvation of his people was mere inches away from his outstreched hand, he dared not ignore the voice behind him. He felt the wizard's hand grip him by the shoulder.

"You know it is not meant for you." Aldara said. She squeezed hard enough for Johann to feel it through his mail shirt. He remembered her saying that wizards aged only on the outside. He had no reason to doubt her on that point.

"And who is it for?" Johann hissed under his breath. "That scum?"

The scum in question was already walking toward the spear. Galen VonZent, the cutpurse and murderer. Galen VonZent, the spoiled, cruel son of a merchant house who killed his own father and nearly bought his way to freedom. Galen VonZent, who Alex 'sacrificed himself to save.'

"Galan, take the spear. You're ready." Aldara said, her voice heavy with the import of the moment. When Galan moved to obey, she slowly pulled Johann back away from the spear, step-by-step.

The tall, golden-haired man grabbed the spear with both hands, and began slowly pulling it free of the iron skeleton. To Johann's shock and disgust, the shark-shaped spearhead bent this way and that in a swaying motion, aiding in its release.

"The gods must be insane, or cruel beyond reasoning. If that beast is their chosen one."

"You aren't incorrect." The old woman chuckled. "But why say that now? Why not when we found him?"

"I had faith the gods had chosen well, that he'd grow into the role. But since we saved him from the gallows he has done nothing but confirm that he was right to be there. He has been cruel, selfish, cowardly, and petty at every turn." Johann's voice was a barely subdued growl. "And even if you do not believe me, he murdered Alex."

"I told you to give him a chance." Aldara said. Johann braced to be lectured about some hidden goodness or potential for redemption. "I'm glad you took my advice."

"What? You agree with me?" Johann gritted his teeth. "You should have let me at least try to pull the spear free. If he can do it, I certainly can!"

"Why is a prophecy like a worm on a line?"

"Again with your riddles! I don't know!" Johann barely managed to suppress a shout. "Is that why I am unworthy? A riddle?"

Aldara sighed. She smiled in that way that made Johann think of his grandmother, and his anger faltered. She spoke, clear and gentle. "Do you think the Gods would leave something this important up to chance?"

"Obviously not, that's why the prophecy-"

She squeezed again.

"Tell me, how do you ensure that a chosen hero isn't killed before they can save the world?"

Johann glanced back at Galan. The brute had managed to free the spear halfway, and was taking a self-congratulatory break. "Whisk him away as a child to be raised in safety? Assign a wizard to watch over him? Place other heroes along the path to help him?"

"So many moving parts." The wizard laughed. "The gods can try and play us like puppets, but free will is a wildcat in a burlap sack-"

"-you can take it wherever you want until the sack tears." Johann continued the adage. "And you'll get cut along the way regardless."

"The task gets no easier by adding more cats."

"Then how?" Johann asked, somewhere between sullen and frustrated.

"If you need to make sure only someone who is worthy can take the spear, you make the spear ensure that anyone who takes it-"

The wizard paused, a wide satisfied smile on her face. It was not the smile she had worn when they were joyously feasting with the elf-folk five days into the quest. It was the smile she had worn when she made Vorn the Destroyer's blood turn to water in his veins.

Johann's gaze was thusly occupied when the sound of Galan's sharp, anguished scream ripped through the air.

"-is worthy."

Johann turned slowly. As a knight he had heard enough death rattles and screams to know that he didn't want to witness the cause Galan's banshee-like shriek.

When he finally did turn fully, his gaze did not meet a horrifying eldritch mutilation as he expected. Instead, there stood Galan, holding the spear reverently with both hands.

Though nothing outward had changed, every aspect that Johann had found lacking was now plainly there in the lines of his face and posture of his body: compassion, thoughtfulness, maturity, competence, sincerity... even hope. Everything was there behind those eyes.

Everything except Galan VonZent.

#short story #mini-fiction #free will #chosen ones #fantasy story #drabble #tropes

198 notes · View notes

sub4dominant · 4 months

Text

Truly Owned

That moment when your mind and body go to a whole other place.

There’s been a gradual build up, your skilful Master adding layer upon layer of pain and degradation to endure.

it started after being strapped into position with the verbal abuse, reminding you what you are, what you are for, a quick way to get you focused. ‘dick-bitch’ ‘cunt’ fag-slut’ ‘piece of shit’ ‘inferior scum’….’YES SIR, it is just a hole for abuse, SIR!’

Then brutally untied before being thrown over Master’s knee, the spanking was a gentle warm-up, bare handed, humiliating, bad boy. Then bent over, grabbing ankles…10 with the belt, followed by 10 with the crop…’Thank You SIR, Please may i have another SIR?!’

He bites, He, squeezes, clamps and abrades before you willingly put your hands behind your back for the application of the pegs…cock, balls, tits, nose, eyelids, septum, ears. The pain slowly building, burning, endured.

The bondage is simple enough but totally debilitating, ankles and wrists bound together, no chance of escape now.

He rapes your mouth with His tongue, panting, greedy. His teeth tear at your tongue, His eyes terrify you, excite you, possess you. you are His. Takes the facial pegs off with His teeth, tears, tugs. the pain as the blood rushes back into the tender body parts is enough to make you scream…time for the gag.

Now you are panting, 2 hours in and your ass is throbbing, the pegs ever growing agony, helpless, sweating, struggling, drooling, no longer human, just a horny animal, panting, begging, every sensation controlled and still He whispers in your ear…’nasty little pig, grovelling worm, slutty puppy’.

He easily pulls you back onto His lap, hole exposed for the world to see, the online world, the cam positioned perfectly, public humiliation added to the list, another emotion to comprehend, deal with. your renewed struggling and muffled begging will please the viewers, pleases Master.

Brown bottle held to your nose, countdown from 10….then again….then again. Head spins, eyes widen as the baseball bat is slowly presented to you. End placed on your forehead and then slowly traced down to the waiting hole, pink and open. your sweat providing some lube.

He teases you stroking the opening, pressure then withdrawl. More poppers then as one hand rips off a trio of pegs the other pushes, forces until the bat penetrates your tight pussy. He bites down on your ear and thats when it happens….sensory overload. you fly, go to another place, ecstatic, overwhelmed, pain, pleasure. you want to hurt more, you want to feel more, you are part of Master, He owns you, you are His, you are connected, He has the power to change you, to possess you, to take you over. He is everywhere, He is here. You feel everything, you feel nothing.

He is pumping the bat, in and out, every stroke taking more out of you, feeding on you. More pegs are ripped off, you grow weak, compliant, a rag doll, mindless, murmuring, thanking, praising, exploding. the gag is removed and you feel His tongue again, softer, the bat is slowly withdrawn. He holds you, you sob into his chest. your cum is running down your leg, forming a huge puddle on the floor between His feet.

Untied, He lets you slip to the floor, you are still lost, tongue out, panting, worshipping. He knows, He knows what He can do to you, what He can do for you. He pushes your head into the puddle, clean up. The task helps you to regain a little bit of focus, lap, lap, lap and swallow. As you come up, His cock is there waiting, you will spend the next hour worshipping it, pleasing it. Your mind is now completely focused on Him, you will make sure this is the best head you have ever given, nothing matters but the cock, nothing matters but Master. He has proved yet again that He truly owns you.

197 notes · View notes

haunting-venus · 4 months

Text

wolf in sheep's clothing ↳ jake sully x fem!omatikaya!reader

content warnings | smut ( minors dni ), predator / prey play ( but pretty mild ), oral ( m ), masturbation ( f ), dirty talk, praise, knife play if you squint, facial, accidental stimulation

word count: 3587

notes | here i am for day four of romancing pandora: predator / prey ! first time writing for the man who got me into this fandom and who doesn't love some 2009! jake. these just keep getting longer, its a blessing and a curse

na'vi dictionary | ikran — banshee ; mawey — be calm ; pa'li — direhorse ; tewng — loincloth

Jake’s breath came out in shallow pants, calves burning with exertion as he carried himself as quickly and quietly as he could through the dense foliage of the forest. It was nearing eclipse, the shine of the sun becoming dimmer through the canopies of the massive trees, the more obscured fauna already beginning to glow lightly with bioluminescent colors.

He was a bit embarrassed of how winded he was, taking a pause to put his hands above his head and inhale deep breaths. He did his best to keep in shape after his discharge, but there was only so much cardio you could do while you were planted in a wheelchair.

Luckily, his avatar was quick to build stamina, the lean body adapted to the harsh climate and terrain of the Forest Na’vi. The pads of his feet were rough and strong, thighs tight with muscle to plant himself firmly while climbing trees, lats and biceps sturdy and taut in preparation to swing across vines or scale mountainsides. It was new, weird, and ultimately awesome.

Still, all his physiological adaptations of his new form (his body, he reminded himself, this was his body now) did little to ease the burn in his chest. He’d been running for a while now, ducking down and between trees and vines in ways that his mind remembered but his body was still slowly readapting to.

It was a simple exercise, really. A test to make sure he had adapted to moving and hunting like a Na’vi rather than a Sky Person. He’d become better—learning to quiet his steps, hear the sounds of nature and the wind that could carry his scent and sound, and he was at least trying to feel the energy of the world around. Still, you had wanted to be sure before you brought him on an official hunt, to prevent him from embarrassing both you and him.

You’d begun right after lunch, riding Jake out on your ikran to the far reaches of the forest, miles from Hometree. He’d gotten a head start of about thirty minutes and directions to the general location of Hometree before you’d sent him away with a pat on the back and a knowing smirk.

The task had two rules—1) make it back to Hometree before the eclipse set fully for the night, and 2) don’t get caught.

He’s beginning to recognize the landscape surrounding Hometree, bark marked with knife symbols and stray arrows that preceded the training grounds. He couldn’t be far now.

He knew firsthand how many predators lie in the forest, and they all seemed hell-bent on getting a chunk of his tasty blue flesh, so he wasn’t eager to see one of them again. Then again, there was little in the forest that set his nerves on end more than you.

Your relationship was strange, dancing between the line of ‘absolutely hating each other’ and ‘begrudging friends due to circumstance’. It seemed like you teeteered between them each day depending on your mood or how shitty he was doing in his training.

You’d taken up the mantle of helping Jake with extra training whenever Neytiri was pulled away for her duties as tsakarem, something that was becoming more and more common with the steady invasion of the Sky Demons. You were a strong hunter, more patient than Neytiri was but also twice as demanding. You knew what you wanted done and how, and knew exactly how to get it, even if it meant keeping Jake awake all night practicing his bow stance.

There were times you looked at Jake like he was the scum that stuck to the bottom of your shoe (well, if you wore shoes), like he had single-handedly arrived to make your life difficult. Then, there were the other times. The times when you let your gaze soften as you taught him the words of your people—words like love, and hope and friendship that felt like more than just words when they passed your lips so sweetly. The times when your grip tightens on the bulge of his muscles to adjust his stance, or when your eyes linger a little too long on the exposed skin of his stomach.

It was in those times he felt his mind wander somewhere beyond the defined boundaries of your relationship, to slip into something a little softer, a little hotter. It was starting to become a problem, how ingrained your moods and touches were into the etches of his being, how he was becoming more and more certain that you wanted him just as bad.

Fuck, he could be imagining it, probably was imagining it, but it didn’t matter when you wouldn’t get out of his damn head. You were steady, and tough and so fucking sexy it made his head spin.

He couldn’t help the wandering thoughts as he trailed through the forest, body and mind exhausted from the hours he’d spent watching his every step, craning his head to every sound. His ears twitched up and out, picking up on the low hum of insects and scuffles of small game across the forest floor. He’d been antsy for a while now, the skin rising on the back of his neck and blood thumping through his veins. It felt like he was being watched, that strange dread of being small and targeted creeping up his spine.

The tackle takes him by surprise, the full weight of your body emerging from a low-hanging branch to throw him off balance. He’s a lot bigger than you, stronger too, but this was your terrain and you were definitely in control. He stumbles over vines and rocks as he tumbles back, the impact of the hard ground knocking the breath from his already exhausted lungs.

You’re able to roll off him with grace, readjusting your stance to crouch lowly over him with a mild hiss. Your knife is at his throat before he even has a chance to get his bearings.

“Dead.” Your hot breath hisses over his ear, the cool edge of your knife pressing lightly to his carotid artery.

The blood pounding in his head quickly rushes elsewhere when he’s finally able to take note of your positions. Your face is close enough he can feel your lightly heaving breaths next to his ear, your tail flicking mildly against his thigh as you hold your barely covered sex just above his own. It’s dumb and wrong and he can’t believe he is sporting a halfie right now because what the hell happened to him in life that this gets him hot?

Your gaze softens as he struggles to catch his breath, relaxing your crouch position into a sit on the area just above his loincloth, making him huff. He hopes to whatever god there is on Pandora that you take his flushed cheeks and heavy breathing as anger at being caught and not the mind-bending arousal that was flooding his system.

“You did well, Jake. Most children don’t get nearly this far on their first trial.” You lean back on his lap, knife still dangling from one hand. You clearly don’t seem too bothered with the proximity of your ass to his cock, giving him a teasing look as you praise him. He knew the Na’vi were more open with their sexuality, more casual with touching and feeling than humans but this had to be raising some kind of flags for you.

“Yeah, well, maybe if I had a better teacher…” His voice sounds strained to his own ears, desperate to move the conversation to something, anything, to distract him and get that damn sexy look off your face, like you’ve just won a prize.

Your grin is wide and teasing, easily brushing off his jab. You let your sharp-edged blade trace precariously against the skin of his stomach, voice thick in accented English. “Oh, don’t be a sore sport, Jake. I’m being nice, even though your footsteps are like thunder.”

"Oh, come on. It wasn’t that bad.” He huffed, leaning a hand behind his head to catch his breath and avoid your piercing gaze.

“Oh, it was. You were moving around like a baby pa’li, just stomp, stomp, stomp.” Your giggles were relentless as you teased him, thumping your feet and tail in loud smacks to drive home your point.

Jake usually would have found it childish, just pushing you off himself and brushing off his shame. Except, your hips swayed dangerously low to the tent in his loincloth with each of your stomping movements, eventually brushing against his sensitive skin and causing heat to shoot through his stomach and up his spine.

“Fuck, don’t move, darling.” His voice was heavier than he meant it to be, his hands instinctively grasping your hips to stop you from moving any further.

Your eyes trail from the flush high on his cheeks to the twitching of his ears, a slow realization coming over your face. Your eyes dilate, tail twitching behind you as you purposefully push your hips back against the growing bulge of his cock. He lets out a groan, fingers tightening against the curve of your hips as he forces his own to stay still.

“I did this to you?” Your expression is unreadable, eyes darting over his face in question.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” Jake rubs a hand over his eyes, obviously embarrassed. You tackled him, got on his lap and put a damn knife to his neck, and he popped a boner like a goddamn teenager. Grace is gonna murder him when she finds out this is what gets him finally kicked out of the village. “You just looked so pretty, and my adrenaline was going. It-it’s really natural-”

“Mawey, Jake, it is ok.” You grasp one of his hands, your fingers soft but insistent as you lead him to the dip between your legs. He looks up with questioning eyes, waiting for your permission, before dipping his fingers underneath the soft fabric. He bites his lip as he lets his fingers explore the valleys of your pussy, coming away hot and slick from your arousal.

Your eyes are still focused only on his face, moving your hips idly against his exploring touch as your breath quickens. “It is the same for me. I want you, Jake, all of you, if you will have me.”

He sits up at the waist, letting the fingers from his free hand trace along the edges of your hips and the base of your tail, relishing in the shivers you let out against his chest. He thinks for a moment he must have hit his head too hard since there was no way this strong warrior, this beautiful being so far from anything he had ever known, was offering herself to him.

Except he can feel every breath that huffs from your chest, each twitch of your thighs against his hip, each tremor that wracks your frame when his fingers roll your clit. It makes any rational thought in his head sweep away, pushing his forehead to yours to breathe in this moment.

“Yes, I want you, of course I want you.”

You reached a hand to his face and he could smell the hot musk of your arousal so strongly it made his hips twitch. He leaned his face into your hand, feeling the soft touch of your fingers before pushing his lips to yours impatiently. You sunk into his embrace as he pulled you close, chests brushing one another as you explored the feel of each other for the first time.

Your tongue slipped between your teeth, teasing the edge of Jake’s lips as you opened yourself up to him, letting the sensations of his fingers dipping into your cunt roll over you.

You’d had a few lovers before, fleeting encounters in the night throughout your life, but none had lit your skin aflame like Jake. He was different and a little forbidden, a strong man who threw himself wholeheartedly into the ways of your people and, fuck, you wanted him like no one before.

His hand trails up the length of your ribs, feeling each dip and curve of your figure as your body moves into him. You let out a shaky gasp that borders on a moan when he grips your tit, thumb moving teasingly along the stiff bud of your nipple. You’re trying so hard to keep yourself together, to be the one in control, but can feel yourself crumbling at each press of his fingers against your hot flesh.

Jake groans against your lips, keeping his thumb rubbing against your tit. “Fuck, I love that sound. Let me hear it again, sweet girl.”

“Me first.” You trail your fingers under the hem of his tewng,pulling the fabric down with a tug to the strings. Jake can see the focus of your eyes, almost grounding yourself like you’re trying to regain some sort of control over your body.

Jake’s touch made you feel like you were falling, an exhilarating and nerve-wracking loss of control that had you shaking. You let your fingers slip over the head of his cock, already wet with precum and decorated with little tanhì on the lavender skin. Jake grunts as you let your fingers slide repeatedly over the wet slit, the confident look from earlier returning to your features as you drink in the sounds he makes with each pass of your hand.

“Oh, come on, darling, let me make you feel good. I was just getting started.” His grin is wicked sharp, as dangerous and enticing as he is, his alien fingers rubbing firmly over your clit to prove his point.

“Come now, I successfully got my prey. Shouldn’t I get to reap a hunter’s reward?” Your lips are swollen as you pant the words into his mouth, moving both your hands to twist around the length of his cock. He hardly muffles a moan at the overwhelming stimulation, brows furrowed in pleasure as you let a grin sneak over your lips.

And fuck that shouldn’t make heat run through him like it does, setting his ears aflame as his hips twitch unwittingly into your grasp. Your prey. He certainly felt like it with the coy way your fingers grasped around his cock, each muscle in his body plying to the sweet friction of your touch.

He lets himself relax back against the dirt and moss of the ground, feeling a pang of need go through him at the look in your eyes as you run your fingers along him, imprinting yourself onto him, declaring him as your bounty in the depths of the woods. “God, darling, you look so pretty, wanna feel your lips on my cock so bad.”

“Being quiet was never your strength, was it?” You tease, flicking your tongue out to run along the bumps on his shaft. They glowed lightly in the dim evening, pulsing a bit as he leaked precum onto your tongue with hitched breath.

“Yeah, well, we all have our flaws.”

You hum against the shaft of his cock, vibrations making his thighs tense under you. “Not a flaw, let me hear how good I make you feel.”

With that, you wrap your lips around the darker tip of his cock, letting your mouth fall over the tip and running your tongue along the sensitive underside of his head. Jake leans up on his elbows to get a good look, pushing stray strands of hair from your face to admire how your lips stretch around him.

Your eyes are glassy as you take what you want from him desperately, tongue playing on each edge of his cock you can reach to see what has him keening into your touch. His cock is wide enough to stretch your lips, a bit of drool edging from the corner of your mouth.

His tail flicks frantically behind him, restless against the dirt ground before coiling itself around the top of your thigh. He struggles to keep his hips still, near panting as you ease your lips down his cock, taking a little more each time your head bobs. Your throat spasms a bit as you get halfway down his length, muscles tightening around his cock as you breathe heavily through your nose.

He lets out a startled grunt, brows pinched in pleasure as he looks down at you with half-lidded eyes. “Oh, shit, just like that, darling, doing so good.”

You look almost proud as you gaze up at him from between his legs, leaving one hand at the base of his cock to stroke what you can’t fit in your mouth. He vaguely notices your other hand moving between your legs.

“Fuck, are you touching yourself? All wet just from sucking my cock? Fuck, I bet it’s so pretty, all stretched out around your little fingers.”

The moan you let out reverberates up his cock and into his spine, making his fingers clench in your hair. He can hear the wet slide of your fingers now, rolling inside yourself at the same pace your mouth is falling down his cock. He wishes he could see better, the way your cunt stretches around your own touch, how you stroke yourself in the ways that make you feel the best, he wants to learn it all and ingrain it in his memory forever.

“Fuck, I wanna feel you moan on my cock when you cum, don’t stop-”

He groans as your fingers increase their pace between your legs, your body swaying with each of your thrusts into yourself, pushing your mouth back onto his cock with each movement. He can feel his resolve running thin, mouth lulling open in panting breaths as he lightly moves his hips to chase the movement of your tongue.

You breathe heavily through your nose as the pace of his hips increase, restless against the ground as you suckle hard at the head of his cock. Your moans are incessant now, high and vibrating against the sensitive skin of his tip as you ride your own high. Your eyes are glassy with tears, tightening your grip on his cock as he feels you tremble against him.

He’s still getting used to the whole idea of this Eywa thing, but fuck, the way you look on your knees has to be some kind of divine omen if he’s ever seen one.

He can barely see your body from here, the peaks of your breasts barely poking from the decorative weaving of your top, but the feeling of your hard nipples brushing against his thighs as you move against him has him reeling. He can’t help every little thought he’s had of you in that moment surface—of his cock between your tits, teasing the hard nubs until you're shaking under him, of the look on your face as you ride him relentlessly for your own pleasure, of your eyes rolling as he fucks his cum back into you.

He can feel his self-control slipping, hips inching up into your throat and causing it to spasm around him. You let him move his hips against you, looking up with teary eyes as you run short on breath. After a few strokes, you pull off his cock, panting and shaking with need.

“Jake, Jake, I-yes, yes” your grip on his cock is messy and wet, slick with his own precum and your saliva. His hips jump at the rawness of your voice, breathy and wanting just for him. It’s been a while since he’s been in the game but fuck, he knows you’re close, whining and grinding against your own fingers as you struggle to keep your hand on rhythm.

“Oh fuck, that’s it, come for me baby, I’m almost there-”

He can feel the moment you fall apart on your own fingers, breath catching as you still yourself at the head of his cock, suckling hard as your eyes squeeze shut in ecstasy. You end up easing yourself off to pant into the meat of his thigh, chest panting and fingers quivering as they work his cock.

“Cum, Jake, let me have it.” Your lips ghost over his length as you move both hands to grip tight around his cock, twisting your fingers at the base as you rub at the sensitive spot below his head. The grunt he lets out is near animalistic, hips pushing desperately up into your slick grip as he chases the edge of release.

The vibration of your voice and the haze of pleasure in your eyes has him hurtling over the edge, stars painting the blackness behind his eyes. Thick strands of cum paint your cheeks and lips, streaks of pearly white on your beautiful blue-skinned complexion.

A sense of pride and possessiveness swells in him at the sight, like he was the one who got to claim you now, covered in his scent and his seed so everyone would know just what happened in the woods. The idea of you flaunting around, a strong and capable warrior, reeking of the alien intruder as you went about his duties had the dimming heat in his loins flaring as he came down from his high.

He pants as aftershocks thrum through his muscles, exhaustion seeping into his bones as you cradle up beside him. He can vaguely feel a contented purr coming from you, tickling his ribs as he pulls you close to put his nose in your hair. “Next time, I’m the one doing the tracking.”

tags: @eywaite @tallulah477 @neteyamsoare @torukmaktoskxawng

#romancingpandora2024 #avatar 2009 #avatar fanfiction #avatar the way of water #avatar #jake sully #jake sully x reader #jake sully smut #jake sully x you #venus writes #avatar x reader

252 notes · View notes

forthechubbies · 4 months

Text

Stowaway°One Piece Drabble I II

Zoro X Chubby!Reader

Your words were stolen from your lips as you were forcefully lifted onto the man's shoulders, your heart pounding with fear as you were carried towards the captain.

Your pathetic attempt seems to have no effect on the wretched creature. "Release me this instant!" "Filthy scum, remove your repulsive hands off me!" His monstrous grip held your feeble legs captive, restricting any chance of escape.

"Captain!" He bellowed, causing everyone to freeze in terror. "Stop!" A fiery lash scorched your backside. "You kick me again, and I swear to God-"

"What's the matter?" Luffy mumbled, his voice heavy with sleep.

"Then what's that slab of meat stuck to your cheek." Usopp murmured out of suspicion from his Captain.

"Ooh, looks like we've got ourselves a little stowaway," He purred, a sly grin spreading across his face. Zoro pulled you close, his strong arms wrapping around your body. "She's an imperial, and she's got the power to bring the whole damn navy down on us." His voice was low and dangerous, sending shivers down your spine.

"Ouch..." you groaned, rolling your eyes at the agony shooting through your wrists from his death grip. "Oh, spare me the drama, darling. I swear, I have zero intentions of harming your precious little boat... or its oh-so-charming crew, especially the lovely brute who seems hell-bent on snapping my wrists like twigs." You emphasized the word "lovely" with a sarcastic smirk, even daring to wriggle free from his clutches.

It wasn't til two girls and a man appeared where things started to get interesting; Nami took the liberty of informing the uneducated of your bloodline...and your wealth.

Nami was the first person to realize the trouble their in. "Zoro, Let her go! Right now!"

"Yea!" Sanji added. " You heard,Nami Swan,Let her go, Block head." Sanji bellowed, unleashing a insult mocking his pathetic excuse for a love life and his habit of manhandling stunning women.

In response, Zoro shot back with a devilish grin, " They can barely catch their breath, let alone complain." His words oozed with a shocking confidence, leaving no doubt about his ability to satisfy any woman lucky enough to cross his path.

The flames of the dispute ignited swiftly, ensnaring you to be caught between two rugged men. They were nothing but wild beasts, you mused, as you pressed yourself closer against Zoro, feeling the intoxicating rush of danger coursing through your veins. The confrontation escalated, teetering on the edge of violence.

You skillfully maneuvered your way out of the treacherous territory, evading the watchful eyes of the two pirates. Just as you were about to catch your breath, a tantalizingly long rubber band coiled around your voluptuous waist, forcefully yanking you towards the captain's commanding presence.

A rapid realization hit you like a ton of bricks. It's his arm!

"Luffy, No!"

"Damn it, Luffy!"

"LUFFY!"

You heard some stuff before bumping into the captain's arms. But Luffy didn't seem to care much - "Are you a real princess?" His eyes twinkled as he hugged your soft toy-like body.

You stood there, utterly astounded by his mind-boggling talent. A gasp escaped your lips, mingling with a sense of horror that coursed through your veins. "What on earth are you?" you whispered, your curiosity piqued to its very limits. And then, with an audacity that defied all reason, you reached out and pinched his cheeks, unraveling his skin stretched like mochi. "Oh my goodness... You're a rubber man?" It seemed utterly and completely... impossible.

Luffy giggled and pulled his arms back to his sides. "Hey, I asked you something first, so you gotta wait for my answer!"

You nervously cleared your trembling throat, a feeble attempt to steady your quivering voice. "Y-yes," you stammered, desperately trying to adjust your disheveled nightgown, hoping to salvage even a shred of regal composure that remained. "Tell me, do you truly bear the mark of a pirate?"

Fearlessly, He smiles. "I'm gonna be the pirate king."

Of course , you don't believe him but that light in his eyes showed his determination.

Pirates are real? The maids often would fill your brain with these nightmare inducing stories of cut throat pirates slaughtering anyone in their way.

Trembling with terror, you couldn't bear to stay put any longer. Without a second thought, you darted further into the ship, seeking refuge behind a sturdy, locked wooden door.

#roronoa zoro x reader #zoro x reader #one piece zoro #zoro x you #zoro x chubby reader #one piece x reader #one piece x chubby reader #one piece #one piece x y/n

225 notes · View notes

hellsites-an-understatement · 1 month

Text

oh yeah, nearly forgot lmao

#anti prat #anti radqueer #anti transid #fuck radqueers #get bent scum

9 notes · View notes

frankenstein-ate-my-left-shoe · 6 months

Text

@steddiemas Day 5 - Grumpy vs. Sunshine

pairing: pre-steddie | word count: 830 | rated: T

“Ugh this is the worst, why is everyone playing Christmas music already? First Melvald’s, then Johnston’s record store, now even the damn arcade is playing this god-awful music.” Eddie grouses, flinging a hand toward the ceiling in general.

“Oh, I see,” Steve laughs, following slowly behind their herd of nerds at Eddie’s side, “It’s fine if I decorate my whole house already, but god forbid anyone else start celebrating?”

“Duh.”

“And why’s that?”

“‘Cause I actually like you, obviously.”

Steve’s heart squeezes in his chest, but he continues to rile up the other man. “Got it, got it; so you don’t like the record store anymore? Don’t like the arcade anymore?”

“I see where you’re going with this and I’m not falling for it. Yes Stevie, Johnston’s and Hawkins’ only arcade have fallen completely out of favor with I, Eddie Munson, for the rest of my days.”

“Okay, so leave.” Steve deadpans, having expected this outcome.

“Also, a declaration like that only works with your full name, Eddie.” Dustin calls back to them.

“Yeah, yeah, shut up you dork.” Eddie waves him off, then changes gears, “So, Steven, what frivolities shall we partake in whilst our hellions engage in their own chaos?”

Steve huffs a laugh, “Okay, okay, hold on, give me a second to try and figure that one out.” he says, pretending to sort through Eddie’s words as if he hasn’t spent enough time around the lot of them to understand what he’d said immediately... “I was going to hit the pinball machine, how about you?” “Ooh perfect!” Eddie rubs his hands together as if that’s something he should be mischievous about. “That SOB S.O.H. is going down today, Stevie. I can feel it.”

So, Steve watches Eddie cajole and smack and tilt and praise the Star Wars branded machine in one of the far corners of the place for the next hour, never getting close to his “sworn arch nemesis” S.O.H.’s high score on the machine.

“Damn that jerkward!” Eddie complains, kicking one leg of the machine in frustration after his last quarter is gone.

“Jerkwad?” Steve splutters, “No ‘Terrible Archduke bent on World Domination’? ‘Hellbound scum of the earth’? ‘Rancid-breath-having Satan’s-asscrack-smelling bitch of the highest degree’? C’mon man, Eddie Munson can hurl better insults than ‘jerkwad’.”

Eddie just stares at him, mouth agape.

“What? You act like I’ve never spent time around you, Eds. Now get out of the way,” he nudges Eddie out of the way of his machine, and drops a new quarter into the slot. “It’s my turn.”

For the next four hours, Eddie stands rooted to the spot as he watches Steve use a whole three quarters on the machine. The first two times, he beats Eddie’s score, then his own again, stealing the second place spot first from him, then from himself, entering E.M. into the machine each time.

The last quarter however, the longest game he’s seen yet, Steve manages to beat S.O.H.’s high score.

“Holy shit!! Steve, you did it! Take that you sonofabitch!” he exclaims, pointing accusatively at the small display scrolling “NEW HIGH SCORE!” in orange letters across it. “You gotta actually put in your initials this time, Stevie.”

Steve just gives him a crooked smile, then shrugs, turning back to the machine to enter an S, an O, and a H into the field.

“No..No, Steve! You can’t let that asshole take the credit! That was your win, Harrington! That wa—” Eddie cuts himself off in realization.

Steve’s still smirking at him. “Yeah, Eds?”

Asshole.

“Hey Steve?”

“Yeah, Eds?” he repeats.

“What’s your middle name?”

Steve grins wider. “Otis. Why? What’s your middle name, Eddie?”

The bastard.

“I…hate you.”

“Aw c’mon Eddie, don’t be like that!” Steve laughs, following him back through the arcade and out the front door.

“I don’t wanna talk to you, I don’t wanna look at you, I don’t wanna—oh gOD fucking damn it!!”

There’s snow falling softly to the wet cement at his feet.

“It’s snowing.”

“Yeah, Steve, thanks for pointing that out.”

“You’re welcome, Eddie.”

Eddie shoots him a glare, only to find the smug bastard smiling at him still. His cheeks are flushed, there’s big clumps of snow in his hair, and he looks so goddamn pretty it hurts.

“Awe, sweet! Snow!” Lucas’ exclamation from behind them breaks Eddie’s reverie of Steve’s unfairly attractive face.

The rest of the party troops out from behind him, each expressing their own excitement about the weather.

“Oh gross, it’s snowing.”

“Thank you, Mike,” Eddie agrees, pointing at the teen, “At least someone here has some sense.”

There’s a sudden warmth over his shoulder as Steve leans close, “I’ll get you to like Christmas somehow, Eds.” The warmth is gone just as soon as it arrives, Steve peeling away nonchalantly to give him a quick wink before starting to herd the cats.

As improbable as that is, Eddie can’t help but believe him.

steve being a whiz at pinball comes from this post by @findafight

#steddie #steddiemas #steve harrington #eddie munson #pre-steddie #<- technically #but you all know where this is going lmao #steve harrington x eddie munson #st #steddie ficlet #st ficlet #stranger things #the party #dustin henderson #lucas sinclair #mike wheeler #max mayfield #will byers #noelle writes

224 notes · View notes

pricklenettle · 6 months

Text

Parent's Ghost

This is my fic for @ecto-implosion! I wrote it based on the art by the talented @jackalspine

The little ectoblobs are made of the emotional residue of the creatures around them like dust bunnies. The Fenton house is full of both ectoplasm and emotional residue. So what happens after Danny is injured by his parents?

WC: 4,795

AO3 link

_______

Danny walked along the power lines. Not on the ground, that was for people who liked getting doused with rain water everytime a car came by. It was way cooler strolling along, way above the headlights cutting blindly through the splintery drizzle that made this evening’s twilight so dim. Danny adroitly floated around a buzzing insulator that snapped testilly at every rain drop. He continued his stroll, placing his feet just a finger’s breadth above the black wire.

He supposed he should be grateful for the drizzle, and the quiet evening that was proof of the apparent absence of ghosts to hunt. But really, he was bored. Bored, and his brain was starting to prickle with dread as calculus equations and handwritten paragraphs echoed sinisterly in the back of his mind. The image of the homework he’d left piled in his room loomed closer over the horizon. On top was the English paper Lancer had assigned him.

He’d written two sentences for the paper’s intro before flying out his window to patrol. So far it was disappointing him. He’d found a wisp of a ghost bear rooting around in the Nasty Burger dumpster and an old granny who wasn’t bothering anybody except the park’s population of stray cats. It was getting uncomfortably more obvious that tonight his biggest responsibility was going to be his homework.

Danny wrinkled his face. Figures, the one night he wanted a distraction, Amity decided it was time for peaceful quiet.

Even though he knew he should be heading home he just kept walking along the wire. He folded his arms behind his head and kept an eye upward, hoping the clouds would break up.

It was just on the edge of too cold. The drops that hit his shoulders and head were like needling icy fingers, prodding him to go home and take cover inside six warm walls. Leave the world to the rain to whom it belonged. He stuck his tongue out at the sky and pulled his phone out of his belt pouch.

The cracked screen pulsed unhappily at him with aberrant colors. He tilted it forward, trying to shield it from the beads of water that rolled off it with bent light. There were no new messages from Sam, but Tucker was asking about that English assignment. Danny groaned and scrubbed his fingers through his hair in frustration. He knew what he should be doing, the universe knew what he should be doing, he’d cut off his toes and feed it to the resident ghost cats before he wrote one more word tonight. He locked his ankles together, drifting a little higher over the powerline while he texted back.

“Hey, Ghost scum!” was his only warning before something exploded off to his left. The acid green light of ecto-based ammunition froze the rain in the air in a single flash. It competed and instantly won against the dim sky, lighting up the undersides of tree limbs and throwing everything into a sharp lime light.

Danny automatically threw his hands over his face, then flew up, searching the ground through the spots in his vision for the interrupters.

“Damn it, Mads, I missed him again,” came the only slightly quieter voice. Danny’s grin spread sharply when he spotted his mom and dad crouched behind some bushes.

He floated tauntingly lower. “Hey, I was walking there. How’d you like it if I threw missiles at you when you were on an evening stroll?”

“I’d say you were showing off your true nature, ghost,” Jack cried, pointing a finger at him. The shiny black rubber of his gloves reflected the yellow globe of the streetlight that hummed, lonely in the rain. The single illumination of the deserted road. “An evil, mindless blob of ectoplasmic residue that’s grown too comfortable in the mortal plane.”

Danny hovered in place, daring on whatever happened next. “At least I’d be able to hit you, in that way I am pretty good.”

Maddy was scrambling to quickly reload the gun. It looked like pretty heavy artillery. It might be strong enough to blow him to pieces if the spots still dancing in his vision were anything to believe. Of course, it would have to hit him first. Lucky for him, it looked like it was going to take Maddy a while, and Danny had plenty of time to antagonize his parents. He floated lower, leaning back in the air and crossing his legs. “Don’t you two have somewhere better to be than out in the rain following an innocent ghost around?”

“No such thing,” Maddy hissed, still fighting over the guts of the big gun.

“Menace to society you mean,” Jack shouted up.

Danny stuck his tongue out at them and raised his arms with limp wrists like the classic ghost. “Boo.”

“You won’t be saying boo when my wife reloads and splatters your ectoplasm– er,”

Maddy threw down her new rocket launcher in disgust.

“No good, Mad’s?”

Danny looked on in utter delight as Maddie began riffling through the duffle bag at their feet. “I can’t get the damn thing to work with this rain.”

“My bad, Honey. In mark two, I’ll prioritize simplification and ease of use.”

“You can’t have everything in one gun, dear, your design is wonderful just as it is. Only a little tweaking I think.” Danny gagged overtop of them before they could get really sappy. They whipped back around, on guard again. Maddy stood up from the duffle bag this time with the net gun in her hands. She braced herself to fire.

Danny sighed and shook his head. “You folks need to figure out when it’s time to pack up and save it for another day.” He accumulated a ball of ectoplasm between his fingers and lobbed it at Maddie’s feet. She dived to the side and came up on her knees. They locked eyes and she pulled the trigger. The net burst out with a puff of gunpowder.

Danny flew to the side, but a corner of the net collided with his leg. The cords snapped around his boot, quickly tangling when he tried to shake it off. He grumbled, annoyed. But still, no problem. The cord was treated to be anti ghost so he couldn’t phase out, but he had a lot of energy humming in his chest that had gone unused all day long. He smiled grimly. So, they wanted to catch a ghost? This was going to be fun. He twisted around and propelled himself up above the treeline. Maddy yelped beneath him. He glanced back to see her feet were dragging in the ground and she was barely holding onto the gun over her head. He put on another burst of speed and her toes lifted off the ground.

Jack leaped to grab it from her. He braced his feet and grunted with the strain of holding Danny earthward. She let him have it and ran back for the duffel bag. Danny wasn’t quite strong enough to lift Jack off his feet, not without phasing the big man partly out of the physical world. Danny soon found himself fighting just to stay in the air.

Jack clung onto the rope doggedly. They both seemed pretty determined today to reel him in. No matter how he flew Jack was stubbornly holding on. As though he actually believed he and the phase-proof line could reassert the laws of gravity that Danny had gotten so used to ignoring.

He was starting to feel a little too much like a toy kite for his liking. Careful to keep the line taut, he bent over his leg to tug at the tangled cords of the net. He was just starting to make progress, a pile of freed loops dropping to hang form his boot, when he heard a pop from below. An instant later a bolt screamed through his arm. He recoiled, grabbing his arm tight.

The ectoplasm of his arm had been sheered away and hollowed out like a stick of butter in a microwave. Beads of ectoplasm rolled over the creases of his white gloves.

Looked like Maddy had finally got the gun to work again.

“Hey,” he yelled down. “You missed my vital organs. For all the time you spend hunting me, I’d expect you’d at least be good at it!” He aimed down along the perfectly straight line drawn between him and his dad. As perfect as a math equation, from point a to point b. He didn’t even have to aim.

Jack dropped backward, electric green smoldering in his orange jumpsuit. Danny buoyed up into the air, cord and gun and all. He would have gotten away then, and he was already thinking about what in hell he was going to write for his damned English paper.

Maddy dropped the gun and leaped over Jack. She jumped for the cord before it could get away from her. Her fingers wrapped around the handle of the gun, jerking Danny back down. She’d pulled something out of her jumpsuit. Danny saw the flash of the Fenton Ghost Taser™ an instant before she pressed it against the taut cord.

Danny cried out. His body instantly seized up, all his muscles vibrating, making his teeth chatter together. The searing pain that traced the path of the electricity came as a secondary thunder clap. He dropped out of the air.

He hit the first branches like a second shock. Thousands of tiny twigs crackled under his descent. As he traveled lower he hit branches that bent, then broke. He caught a glimpse of the ground. All scattered with brown, lance shaped leaves. Then he hit.

***

“Ow,” he groaned, pushing himself up. He batted bits of dead leaves out of his hair and suit, making sure he was all still there. He felt like his parents had hit him with the earth like a wrecking ball. He looked up, staggering a little with the tilt in perspective, up through the hole he’d smashed through the perfectly nice canopy the tree had been working on for who knew how long. Maybe he’d been the wrecking ball.

He had to sit down a moment, his entire body felt burned and achy from the taser. He fished one spikey piece of branch out of the side of his boot. He’d taken bigger hits and farther falls, but when he couldn’t catch himself the stupid part of him still expected to die everytime. He looked up again, ignoring the ringing in his head. He’d fallen into a damn thick patch of alders and bushes— honestly amazing he’d found any flat hard ground to hit at all.

The phase-proof cord— one end still tangled around his leg, wandered off into the underbrush. He could hear his parents thrashing around in the distance.

Danny quickly shook off his distraction and jammed his fingers into the knotted mess around his leg. He worked and pulled at the strands, brow furrowed into determined concentration. If he turned human he could slip out in an instant, but he didn’t want to risk one of his parents spotting it through the bushes. He kept glancing up to check how close they’d gotten before returning to the net. Of all the things, why did he not keep a knife on him? His parents had made a ghost thermos and laser lipstick. Why not a Fenton Knife™?

Their crashing was getting closer. He stubbornly kept his head down, focused on his scrambling fingers and ignoring the loud sounds of Jack and Maddy following the anti-ghost cord right to him. He just needed to figure out where it had gotten tangled. A careless movement reminded him of the hole seared into his arm. Oh, ow. He’d almost forgotten about that.

There, he’d found an edge. He freed it from a few misplaced cords, then twisted it, wrapped it back, passed it under his leg, and finally he could pull his leg free. He kicked the limp coil of net away and climbed to his feet. He could see patches of orange jumpsuit through the trees now. He gritted his teeth, pushing down the temper he could feel rearing up. They didn’t know— no. They didn’t care. He’d turned into a ghost under their noses, in their own workshop, and they’d never even noticed.

He tested his arm with a hand. He still could barely feel it but he could already tell it was going to hurt when he got home and slipped back into his human skin. He winced when his fingers came away green.

Danny stepped up into the air, flickering out of the visible spectrum.

***

The drizzle was still hesitant to turn into an actual rain when Danny floated outside his home. The neon sign buzzed faintly, briefly illuminating the drops that fell from the sky green, as though it was raining ectoplasm.

Carefully, Danny pulled open his window and slipped inside. He let go of his invisibility and dropped heavily to the floor. A blanket he’d kicked off the bed bunched uncomfortably under his back and elbow, and his boot was chewing up the pages of a book he’d left open in the middle of the room, but right now he didn’t care.

He stared up at his ceiling, at the sickly plastic of his glow-in-the-dark stars. It wasn’t dark enough yet for them to light up. The drizzle patted softly against the roof, like the Fenton building was a strange and unusual cat it didn’t quite know how to stroke. His arm ached dreadfully but he ignored it. A glancing thought reminded him of the English paper he’d sworn he’d finish tonight. He turned over, squeezing his fingers into his torn up arm. He scowled into the dark shadows that clung to the floor of his room. He’d do it tomorrow.

***

He came out of a dull fog with something nudging his leg. He hissed and kicked at it, then groaned. He was so sore from the electricity that had pulsed through ever fiber of muscle he owned. He cracked an eye open. It was dark. Rain shadows mottled the dim light from the neon sign outside that the window cast onto the floor beside him. The constant buzz of rain on the roof made him realize he was still cold and damp. He curled tighter into himself, closing his eyes to try and go back to sleep. Well, it had decided to rain after all.

Another nudge against his leg made him open his eyes in annoyance. It was a tiny blob ghost, apparently small enough to get past his parents' sensors and definitely too small to cause real trouble. It sat in a ball by his foot, gazing him down with softly glowing red eyes.

“Shoo,” he said crossly. “I’m trying to sleep.”

Instead of going away, it drifted up closer to his face. It was certainly brazen in the face of a much stronger ghost. Danny drew himself up into a half crouch, unwilling to let even this mindless blob catch him down and out. “You should get going, you don’t want my parents to see you hanging around.”

Instead of listening to him, the blob rolled up to his hand. The surface of its ectoplasm rippled and then it plopped up a wet wad of bandages.

“Eeew, that’s gross.” But it did make Danny think to look at his injured arm. He grimaced. That gun was seriously concentrated. His arm was still hollowed out and dripping with green slime. He’d been slowly leaking as he slept and it had left a dark, wet spot on his twisted blanket that gleamed dully in the low light. “Shoot.”

The small blob made a tiny murmuring chirp. He looked back down at it and it nudged his hand. He’d never met a blob ghost so friendly. The ones he occasionally spotted in the house seemed peaceable enough, but he never let them get close. They were like fruit flies, they just appeared where their sustenance was. Normally they coalesced after fights, drawn to the spilled ectoplasm like ramora to sharks. Or maybe they were created by it. Who knows. They were skittish, unfriendly, and prone to hurting pets. He didn’t really know how to react to this one trying to cuddle up to him.

When its insistent bumps got no reaction, the blob instead snagged his sleeve. It bobbed up in the air, tugging him to stand up.

Suddenly there was another blob. It floated out from under his bed and tugged on his pant leg, seemingly for the same purpose.

Bemused, Danny stood. The room tilted. For a moment he couldn’t move except to sway on his legs. He almost jumped out of his skin when a third blob ghost appeared over his shoulder. It settled as solidly as a blob could on its perch and hummed and chirped in his ear. Its firm press reminded him of when his dad would clap him on the shoulder, his big warm hand a steadying weight.

The blob ghosts were still tugging on his clothes. So, Danny obeyed. He tottered tiredly toward his bed. He made the bed every day, but the blob ghosts must have been rifling through his room before they woke him up because all the blankets were half off.

Irritated, he fell into bed. He sighed as his pillow recieved his head with a puff. His ssense of gravity became even looser as the pillow cradled his skull. He might have been floating as unmoored as he felt. How he’d missed it. Did it seem poofier today or was he just really happy to be in bed?

He shivered at the cold sheets and shifted to curl into a ball, but the blob ghost was still holding onto his sleeve. He lifted his head to show a threatening row of teeth, but he didn’t have the energy for much else. He flared the energy of his core. It had never failed to to send blobs darting away like frightened mice. These ones didn’t.

The big one that had sat on his shoulder floated through the air, a long trail of white bandage fluttering beneath it like a tail. Danny was starting to be amused. At least this bandage wasn’t already sopping with ectoplasm.

The big blob hovered over the bed, edging the bandage closer to his wound. He didn’t know how to tell these things that you were supposed to disinfect stuff first. Whatever, at least it would stop him from soaking the mattress. He could deal with things properly tomorrow. In the morning when he felt less like a dead boy barely filling in his human skin. Yeah, whenever that happened.

***

He’d figured out how to scare them off the night he’d been following the trail of a giant, mutant ghost snake. He’d been chasing it for most of the night and the snake had left it’s mark on him and a large chunk of Amity Park. He’d been pretty sure it was dead but he didn’t want that one coming back to life to bite him in the ass. Again.

He’d found it in an old alleyway, its coils half hidden by mounds of trash. The huge snake had stopped moving. It was losing clarity fast and its scales were melting into the broken asphalt. The ambient ectoplasm its blood had added to the air made a glowing haze over the alley. It was also swarming with blobs. Like busy ants they flocked from one wound to the next, soaking it in like sugar water.

Danny had taken a step back, just like anyone who turned over a log and found it crawling with maggots. Danny blinked at them, squinting with one eye crusted half shut from the fight and the other rubbery with exhaustion. The way the blobs swarmed over the ghost’s corpse before it had even bled away out of their physical world made shivers prickle all over his shoulders. Slowly he backed away. He’d confirmed the snake wouldn’t be a threat anymore, his job was done.

He’d intended to leave the scene and creep away to finally go home, when his leg gave out and he slipped on the pavement. all the milling pairs of red eyes snapped to him. They hissed like a multi-tongued hoard of snakes. Automatically, Danny flared his core. He’d gritted his teeth, staring them down, thinking very hard about how much bigger and fiercer he was, how easy to squish them and fight them off his prey. The hand in front of him gained an unnatural edge, like a glowing afterimage. All the ghosts immediately fled, abandoning their immense feast.

After that he’d never had much trouble with the smaller ghosts. It didn’t make sense that these ones weren’t bothered about it.

Danny took the bandage from the bigger blob and pinched it to his arm, intending to wind it around with his teeth. Instead, the three blob ghosts seized it from him, letting him hold it in place while they passed it back and forth around his arm. Danny didn’t have to do anything before he was looking at a tidily wrapped bandage. He wasn’t even seeping through them yet.

“Thank you.” Uneasily he settled back onto his pillow, warily watching the blobs flit around like alien lights through half closed eyes.

The blob ghosts drifted like flotsam, their cool glow sliding over his freezing sheets to the glistening wood of his bedpost, then back again to bead on the dark wetness he’d spread on the floor and under his dry eyelids. His sight blurred and he realized again how tired he was, but now he’d been roused twice. He couldn’t relax with the huge, cold night huddling in the space of his bedroom. Especially not with the strange ghosts, mindless and helpful though they seemed to be.

The blobs didn’t seem to realize. They briefly floated down out of sight then reappeared holding up a blanket between them. As gently and softly as could be, they drew it over him. Two of them churred soothingly and patted the blanket around him as though they were trying to tuck him in. Danny wanted to laugh but instead he found himself sinking into his pillow, eyes blinking shut. After all, why shoo them off, he could defend himself from a couple of blobs. He yawned broadly. The third blob ghost drifted down to alight on his forehead, unexpectedly similar to the softness of a cool hand against a fever. Danny sighed and let it stay there. He already felt warmth spreading over him from the blankets, he was afraid to move or it would go away.

The other blob ghosts settled onto his blanket around his legs. Their light dimmed as though they were going to sleep. He finally relaxed enough for the transformation to slip over his head and down his legs. He shivered furiously for a moment, like the first steps out of a cold pool where he’d acclimated to a chill sort-of-comfort and then into biting wind. Before long real warmth stole over him.

The blob resting on his forehead began to hum. Even through his sleep drenched brain he recognised it. It was a silly song that his parents had liked and turned into a lullaby, just like every parent does. Whenever this one came onto the radio Danny was jolted back to when he was a kid and soothed into a warm bed on a close and sleepy evening. When he was a kid he’d practically vibrated with too much energy. When he couldn’t sleep Maddie would hold him wrapped in a blanket in her lap, singing that song and rocking back and forth, sometimes flubbing and making up her own words.

They needed the lullaby a lot when he was a kid. Some nights it was the only way to keep him in bed. It was a song for a too long road trip when he’d sent the entire car into seismic shifts from his carseat while the windshield wipers worked madly and Jazz was yelling at him for kicking her seat. The song was for a hospital visit where the cold room and unfamiliar walls was more disturbing than the pain in his broken arm. In the past it had never failed to lull him to sleep.

Somehow he hadn’t heard it in a long time. He didn’t miss it, it was just one of those things you naturally left behind as time passed. He wasn’t a baby anymore and Maddie didn’t need to sing it to get him to shut up for five seconds. He didn’t even remember the funny words she’d made up for it. His eyes drifted closed as he tried to mumble them and somehow dredge them up from deep in his mind. He’d almost completely forgotten it. He wondered where this blob had picked it up.

All the wondering he could do ran away from him quickly. His consciousness spun out like a ball of yarn leading him to sleep. The tune dropped him back into those years of falling asleep with his mom’s cheek next to his and finally his brain stopped thinking and let him drift off into deep dreamless sleep.

***

Jack and Maddie came home in the stillness of the hour between night and morning. It had stopped raining but they were drenched and stuck all over with orange pineneedles and other forest detritus. They were tired and trudged heavily through the door, not wanting to wake anyone up. There were twigs and leaves in Jack’s hair and a spray of thorns caught in the weave of Maddie’s suit. She smiled working it free but there was no real mirth behind it. Just tiredness.

They’d found no ghost in their net. But they’d been so sure a ghost couldn’t escape it, and a hit from Maddie’s new gun, on top of a shock from the Fenton Taser™ without being seriously damaged and power drained. So they’d combed the area again. They’d found not a sign of the ghost. They supposed that they’d never know until the next dogfight if that one had survived or had dissolved into whatever aether the scraps of human consciousness were bound for.

They dumped their tangled and scraped up gear in a pile. Neither of them said anything. Without a word they left it there and took the stairs. Jack looked at the back of his wife’s neck. He might not be good at reading people but he’d known her long enough. All these ghosts were fascinating, they’d never had more work. But the rest of Amity didn’t exactly agree with their glee. Some nights the sheer amount of ghostly activity was overwhelming. And they were strong enough to be actually capable of real property damage! Who knew what else. The sooner they could stuff these spooks back where they came from the better. But this wasn’t what was bothering Maddy. Jack knew the problem that was puzzling her now was Danny. It was frustrating. Life would be so much easier if people could just say what they were thinking.

If only he could figure out the problem.

Again, without words, they stopped in front of Danny’s door. Dread was boiling in Maddie’s stomach, there’d been so many nights she’d known he’d snuck out. Some nights he just never came home. Jack’s large arm reached past her to press against the door. He eased it open with both hands, For once he payed special attention to not bump anything thoughtlessly. Danny’s room was dark, the only light inside came from the warm stripes that escaped from the hallway lamp around their legs and the dim stick on stars that littered the ceiling. It was messy, as usual. Leaves of homework were layered over his desk and books lay open all over the floor. Drifts of clothes made sedimentary layers in the corners of the room. Jack couldn’t help his well of fondness at the sight. Danny was a still form on the bed. Silent asleep, as he should be.

Jack sniffed, was the ectoplasm smell stronger here? He glanced around briefly; bed, desk, floor— then shrugged. It was everywhere in the house. It was their fault really, always mixing work and family life.

Jack looked down and realized neither of them had pushed one toe over the carpet line into his room. It was just as good as a wall.

Maddie’s mouth worked as though she was chewing over a mouthful of words that needed to be said, no matter how silently. She finally whispered. “Good night, Danny.”

And then they left as carefully as they had come.

#danny phantom #dp #dp fic #danny fenton #maddie fenton #jack fenton #ectoimplosion2023 #my writing #hurt/comfort #minor injury #minor electricution #fluff #blob ghosts

234 notes · View notes

xxgoblin-dumplingxx · 11 months

Note

Speaking of getting bent over a table by Jason...

"Mine."

Teeth sank into the delicate skin of your breast. Sharp teeth. Not hard enough to break the skin but hard enough to make you squeal and squirm under him.

"Say it," he taunted. "Say you're mine and I'll-"

Shit

Jason sat up, still sweating and still panting. His face burning.

He'd not had dreams like that since he was 14. He'd thought he was over it. But, apparently not. He got up and tried not to think about the shame cooling on his thigh as he lumbered into the bathroom.

And he tried not to think about you.

He shouldn't think about you like that. It wasn't fair. Even if the beast in his chest decided otherwise. He started the tap and threw his boxers into the hamper with a groan.

The memory of your scent tickled his nose and he rubbed it against the washcloth before he ran it under the warm water. Hoping the scent of detergent and the chemicals would drown it out but it didn't.

Your eyes were barely open. You still needed help to eat. And the last full moon had nearly destroyed any progress you had made. The change and it's violence leaving you in a heap on the floor, unable to answer the call of the hunt. To revel in the freedom of running wild.

Weak and weary, your howl answering his had been feeble and mournful.

He's never seen you in your full glory. Fierce and feral. The way he'd gotten to feel the last two moons. Even in the city. Scaring the scum out of their skin and leaving them cowering. It was satisfying. Men like Jeff. Like the captors who'd caged you. You'd like that.

He cleaned himself up and threw the cloth back into the sink. Snatching a clean pair of boxers off the laundry basket and pulling them on before flopping back down on his bed.

He should not be thinking of you that way. He should not. Not now. Not ever. Whatever they'd tried to tell him about your duty to produce more of your kind. You weren't chattel. Or breeding stock. You were a woman. A kindergarten teacher who missed Rocky Road ice cream and kayaking. You wanted an Irish Wolf Hound and to learn to rock climb.

They'd taken your life away. From you. From all of you. And he needed you to better. He needed to go back to your life.

#jason todd x reader #jason todd #ask answered #minors dni #reader insert #werewolf!jason

393 notes · View notes

grandlinedreams · 7 months

Note

Hii!!! Could you maybe write about if reader was captured and how Law would rescue them??

Thank you❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

Ooh, back to the angst! I absolutely can do my best!! and I hope that this is to your liking bb!!

[heads up!: a touch of angst, mentions canon-typical violence]

As far as cells go, this one is appropriately depressing. There's the distant drip of water, the low moan of someone in the cell next to yours, the rattle of chains ㅡ all in all, not a place full of hope.

Your body aches, made worse for the weight of the shackles around your wrists that keep you upright and against the wall ㅡ sea prism stone, no doubt.

Above the morbid din that comes with imprisonment, you can hear voices ㅡ marines. Your stomach twists as you listen to footsteps descending, the low muttering growing louder ㅡ are they coming to collect you?

When a pair of marines halt in front of your cell, your stomach sinks further. "We told you to just turn in your crew," one informs you as there's the turn of a key, the groan of hinges as the door opens, "and maybe you could have been pardoned."

"I'd rather die," you answer flatly, and one of them has the audacity to laugh at you as he approaches.

"Well then, you're in luck."

The shackles keeping you against the wall are exchanged for a set keeping your arms bent behind you, two hands on either side to drag you up the steps.

You're going to die. And oddly, you're at peace with it ㅡ at least you didn't betray your crew. The abrupt shift from the damp darkness of your cell to blazing sunlight makes you squint, listening to the dull chatter around you.

There's no real fanfare to an execution like this, the bounty on your head not high enough to elicit more of a show ㅡ and despite your earlier peace with the idea of death, your heart hammers as your knees hit worn wood.

There's the rough connect of a fist against your jaw, making your ears ring and your teeth clench as a hand fists into your hair, dragging you upright with the jingle of chain. "Any last words, pirate scum? Last chance to save your own skin."

Your tongue slides around your teeth, sharp canines and the taste of copper before you spit, eyes blazing. "Go to hell."

It's not a wanted answer, judging for the foot that lands squarely against your ribs before you're shoved forward, the grate of sharpened metal that follows.

You study the woodgrain, wonder how many have been here before you, how many will be after. Betweeen one blink and the next, there's abrupt slide of a familiar blue aura over you, the low hum of energy ㅡ and you grin despite the sting of your split lip.

Finally.

The rush of cool air is the only warning you get as the world spins, the smell of steel and blood swapped for something more medicinal, soft clothing and familiar arms locking around you. "About time."

Lips brush your temple, against damp hair and dried blood. "I know. Sorry I'm late."

#ㅡmine.#one piece x reader #one piece scenario #law x reader #trafalgar law x reader #ㅡanswered.#anonymous

247 notes · View notes

bearw-me · 28 days

Note

Hey there, Could you maybe Write a fic of Lute with a sinner reader who is actually really good at fighting her, but eventually gets killed by her during an extermination while the reader is protecting a friend. Only Lute starts really missing the reader afterwards, but what Lute doesn't realize is that the reader's actions caused them to get redeemed and she bumps into them in heaven. Thanks in advance!

sorry it took so long anon! you don't know how many times i rewrote this until i was satisfied! REALLY hope this lives up to the request lol

𝐁𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐀𝐫𝐞 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐖𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐝 — 𝐋𝐮𝐭𝐞

𐐒 includes : lute x redeemed!reader (enemies to ?), roommate mentioned 𐐒 cw : mentions of death/killing/blood, readers a major badass, mentions of reader trying to behead lute, there's fluff i swear 𐐒 summary : she hates you. she hates you. . . and yet, exterminations just don't feel the same without you anymore. 𐐒 word count : 986 𐐒 note : love this dynamic sm!

She hated you, with every fiber of her holy being, she hated you.

Every extermination was the same.

The portal to hell opened like a volcano, spewing up steam from hell's fire and the smell of brimstone. Lute cast her spear down, signaling for the exterminators to begin their descent on the red sky.

Like many times before, hell watched in horror as the horizon spilled forth thousands of dark angels, slaughtering bloody paths through the city.

Lute stared into the abyss, the lovely screams of sinners like music to her ears. She sighed, a soft, sinister smile crawling across her lips.

Her foot stepped into the empty air of hell, free falling over Pentagram City.

Like the other times, she did her duties as the lieutenant of heaven's army. Running her path like a woman possessed. Duty and adrenaline coursing through her wings.

And just like all those times before, you laid between her path.

"I'll kill you," You warned with a huff, the sword in your hand trembling, but never falling. "Don't come any closer!"

Lute looked you up and down this time, drinking in your appearance.

Not much to look at, at first. Not much muscle on your arms, trembling legs. . . a dark glint in your eye. The same one all sinners possessed.

You were in hell for a reason, and Lute would make you pay for it.

She pointed her mighty spear at you with one arm, the holy weapon nearly crossing the distance between your two bodies. "This is what you deserve scum," she hissed.

You shook, like you were afraid in her presence, but never looked away. . . never stepped back.

She liked it.

Or at least, it was admirable. . . for a sniveling sinner.

"You're not getting away this time," Lute promised, dropping her spear to her side and standing square with you, her wings unravelling from her back, fluttering and hissing like the mighty angel she promised she was.

That's when recognition hit you "Your... You're that angel." Then a soft, uncharacteristic smile appeared on your face "Was last time not enough of a fight for you!"

Lute fist tightened into a white-knuckle grip around her spear, her other hand absentmindedly shooting up to her neck.

You could see it written all over her face: the fear of being beheaded this time by your blade.

With no warning, she burst straight-forward, spear pointed at your chest in fury.

With every hit, every punch and broken knuckle, you kept standing. Not relenting to her power in the slightest, but pushing her back. The fight like an intricate dance between enemies bent on destruction.

Lute screamed, wielding her spear high above her head and bringing it down onto you, your sword blocking the blow.

The angel used her wings to push down harder against you, the wind of her might kicking up dust and feathers in attempts to crush more than just your body.

You didn't even have the power to make a sound, holding the blade up with trembling arms.

The scream Lute heard wasn't yours.

Someone called your name, a loud sob "Please don't die!" they begged you.

You shoved Lute off your sword, the force enough to send her flying back with a snap, spear clattering against the asphalt. Before you could run to your roommate, you swung at Lute.

All she could hear was ringing, her head spinning violently as she willed herself to open her eyes.

Lute blinked blearily, realizing with horror that her mask had cracked in half, the vision on her left eye plain and exposed to the horrors of hell. With wide eyes she rose uneasily to her feet like a zombie.

"You," she mumbled, "YOU!"

You turned just in time to bring your sword up in defense, Lute once again raising her spear above her halo.

You didn't even know angels could fly with a broken wing.

As if time stopped, Lute's attacked shifted to the trembling girl behind you, your best friend who craved escape. . . you're best friend who deserved safety.

Four months after the extermination, Lute found herself prepping the raid on hell with less enthusiasm than before.

Adam's shoulder punches of excitement bordered on annoying now.

And the Seraphim's wishes seemed pointless.

More like the order's that they were than a fun task to undertake herself. The days just seemed to blend into the next. No excitement, no real challenge.

Was that what you were to her?

She sighed.

All the millennia that had passed. . . she had never felt so- so empty, so void?

Was that the right word? She thought to herself uneasily, moping in her thoughts as she walked the promenade.

All she knew was that it happened the extermination she had finally prevailed over you.

And she didn't even know what your name was. . .

That was a weird thing to think wasn't it?

The thought made her heart feel heavy. It wasn't guilt. No. . . it was.

Without looking where she was going-or you for that matter, the two of you collided, the force sending you backward.

Before you could fall, Lute caught your wrist, steadying you.

"I'm so sorry!" You apologized quickly, a blush creeping its way across the bridge of your nose.

Lute could only stare, mouth parted in awe.

"I wasn't watching where I was going! I'm sorry, I'm not used to this place. . . uh the promenade I mean." You explained messily, trying to cover up your mistakes as you fumbled over your words.

Lute's wings jumped from her back in surprise, only to recoil from the shooting pain her broken wing caused.

And recognition hit you both like a truck.

Lute's eye, unmasked that night, paired with the broken wing.

And you were the same, besides the fact that you traded your horns for a bright golden halo.

116 notes · View notes