#I want to put him in a plastic bag with water and shake him around like a goldfish

[ifwebefriends]

He is SO babygirl puppydog I ADORE him 💖💘💓🩷💕❤️❤️‍🔥

[all-purpose-dish-soap]

ok, i know it’s not may any more, but could we please have more mer au. ghost preferably, i just want to shake him around in a bag like that one little girl from finding nemo.

hands you a carnival prize plastic bag with a goldfish-sized mer Ghost inside. feed him twice a day. plastic shipwreck not included. he might look lonely but don't let him convince you to put your fingers in the bowl :)

take the first half of this thing too:

36 / 1k / shark mer Ghost tolerating remora mer reader

...

Ghost doesn’t look back at you as you swim meekly after him. You have to whip your smaller tail twice as fast just to keep up, and you're getting winded already. He makes it look so easy to glide through the water.

"What now?" he mutters.

"Nothing. I didn't say anything."

“You’re thinking it.”

"I was just--" A huge yawn overtakes your reply. You sink in the water for a moment, scrunching your eyes closed, before huffing and darting after him again. "--Just going this way, too."

He knows you've been following behind him since dusk. You should’ve given up some time ago, but you never learn. He slows imperceptibly, just long enough for your catatonic ass to catch up, and then veers to the side so that you--rubbing your eyes with sleep--bump into him. You rest your hand against his tail instinctively and stick to him with the suction pads on your palm.

Satisfied having you in tow, he speeds back up. "You’re not a very good liar, sweetheart."

You mumble under your breath and hand-climb up his back until you're nestled between his shoulder blades instead.

Lazy little thing. Pain in his ass.

Despite grumbling, he does nothing to dislodge you from your spot. You seem to be having a difficult day, and he’s primed to make it worse. You’re the perfect target. When he has the energy--like now, at night--bullying you is his small pleasure of choice.

Then again, he can feel the way you’re pressing up against him, small and clingy and cute as hell. It takes all his willpower not to roll over and stow you against his chest instead.

You remain blissfully unaware of his inner turmoil. You’re more concerned about the emptiness in your stomach.

"You're going hunting, right?" you mumble against his shoulder.

 “Trying to,” he says.

You’ve been tagging along on hunts for days, but you haven’t managed to snag any good scraps in a long while. But maybe tonight, when it’s just you and Ghost. "Mkay."

He keeps waiting for you to get in the way and then pout when he inevitably brushes you off. Instead, you’re silent. It’s bugging him.

Then, scanning the coral, he catches sight of a perfectly tasty-looking snapper. He puts your attitude out of his mind and instead tenses up to begin his hunt. You’re with him, so why worry. Watch and learn.

You peer past his shoulder curiously to see him work. His back muscles tense and shift as his eyes track every one of the fish’s movements. Then he bolts forward faster than the fish can dart away. It whips around in reflexive panic right as he snatches it in one fluid movement.

You watch over his shoulder as he kills it with a practical snap of the spine and begins to disassemble the creature piece by piece, eating the flesh and letting the bones and fins fall to the ocean floor below.

His focus is intense: attention trained on the task, his fingers work as precisely to strip flesh from bone as his jaw works on shredding the pieces of snapper he tears off into his mouth. The muscles in his shoulders ripple beneath your coiled-up body. As always, he moves with efficiency and a certain brutal grace, never wasting a single movement. It's the lethal behavior of a predator, yes, but falling into the repetitive, methodical habit seems to satisfy him.

You unfasten yourself from his back while he's absorbed in his task. The bones and bits of uneaten flesh sinking to seafloor have your interest. You swim after them.

“Don’t go far,” he warns after you. He’s not worried. There’s nowhere you could venture out here that he couldn’t find you within minutes.

You collect the scraps and eat what you can--mostly skin and fins, and they leave you feeling almost as hungry, but you're used to it. Ghost needs the food more than you do, anyway. You glide lazily over the sea floor to comb the sand with your fingers in hopes of finding another snack. Maybe a snail. A crab if you're lucky.

The search leads you to the edge of a long sandbar. It’s about a thousand minnow-lengths at its widest, and there are various shells and bits of debris scattered across the surface. You start to prowl the sandy floor for food, fingers stirring up soft sand into the water.

Ghost’s voice calls out somewhere behind you, but your exhausted brain isn't as reactive as it should be. If you could just find one or two more bites to eat, you think. You tug what looks like a crab carapace out of the sand, but it's just a strawberry-colored plastic bottle. You keep searching. Keep finding nothing of value. You come across a pile of barnacles, shards of coral, small rocks, a stray fishing lure you gnaw on just to be sure...

But no, nothing worth eating.

Your stomach rumbles again. You’re too tired and unfocused. Your movements are slow and clumsy, your senses dulled. You barely hear a sound until a hand comes down on your tail from behind and grabs you.

You jerk and dart away in surprise.

Your movement wrenches a sound from Ghost--a gruff huff of annoyance as he lunges after you. You're fast, but not fast enough. He catches your tail again immediately, dragging you back into his control.

"Idiot," he scolds. "I told you not to go far. If I had been a predator, you'd be dead meat right now."

You relax into his grip instantly. "Oh. Yeah."

He looks at you in that unamused way that says of course I was right. He looks you over with a critical eye. Your eyes are half-open and your muscles are slack. You must be exhausted.

He turns and heads for home with you still in hand. "Right, then."

You see what's happening and wriggle in his grip, hunger gnawing at you again. "Wait, aren't you hunting?"

"No." He's quick and harsh with his response. He doesn't appreciate unnecessary questions. "You're going home. Hunting can wait."

…

[part 1] / part 2

more mer au / more Ghost / masterlist tag

[sergeantbarnessdoll]

Bucky treating you like a princess when you’re on your period

Pairings: Boyfriend!Bucky Barnes x Girlfriend!Reader

Summary: Bucky takes care of you when you’re on your period.

Warnings: Fluff, language, Bucky being the best boyfriend ever, periods, crying, hugs and kisses, cuddling, pet names

Written on my phone. I’m sorry for any mistakes.

Header made by @buckys-wintersoldier

GIF IS NOT MINE! Credit goes to the creators. I found it on Pinterest.

Bucky heard a whiny groan come from the bathroom. He knows that groan. That’s the noise you make when you get your period. He watched as you walked out of the bathroom and got back in bed with tears brimming your eyes. Bucky wrapped his arms around you and pulled you closer to him.

“Is it your time of the month?” Bucky asks softly.

You nodded your head and sniffled. He pulled you onto his lap and rubbed your back with his vibranium hand.

“How about I go get us something to eat, ok?” He says.

“Yes please.” You say quietly, loud enough for him to hear.

Bucky kissed your lips softly and gently maneuvered you to lay on the bed. He covered you up with a blanket and kissed your forehead, making you giggle.

“Get some rest, doll. I’ll be home in a little bit.” He says softly.

You watched as Bucky grabbed his keys and wallet before drifting off to sleep. Your nap was short lived when you woke up to a bad cramp in your lower abdomen. You whimpered at the pain and slowly sat up. You went in the bathroom and rummaged through the medicine cabinet for aspirin, but couldn’t find any. You whined and went back to yours and Bucky’s bedroom. You seen one of Bucky’s shirts on the floor. You picked it up and changed out of the shirt you’re wearing and put on Bucky’s shirt. You smiled to yourself, smelling Bucky’s scent on it.

You walked out of the bedroom and went to the kitchen for some water. You made yourself comfortable on the couch and scrolled through Netflix. You found your favorite movie and played it. You fell asleep about halfway through it. Bucky came home around the same time. He put the grocery bags in the kitchen before going to the bedroom, thinking you were in there, but you weren’t. Bucky frowned and went to the living room, hearing soft snores coming from the couch. He smiled when he seen you. He paused your movie and sat down next to you on the couch. He noticed tears on your face and you mumbling something in your sleep.

“Doll, wake up. You’re dreaming.” Bucky says softly, gently shaking you.

You jumped and sat up, immediately throwing yourself in Bucky’s arms and started crying. He pulled you onto his lap and rubbed your back to soothe you.

“You’re ok, babydoll.” He coos. “Do you want to tell me what happened in your dream?” He says.

“You left me cause you didn’t love me anymore.” You tell him.

Bucky gently cupped your cheeks, getting you to look him in the eye.

“I want you to listen to me when I say this.” He starts. “I love you with all of my heart, babydoll. You’re the love of my life. I’m never going to leave you.” He says.

“Promise?” You asked with a pout.

“I promise.” He almost whispers.

Bucky kissed you with so much passion. He made you feel like you were the only girl in the world in that moment.

“I love you so much, doll.” He says.

“I love you more, Bucky.” You say with a smile.

Bucky played your movie while he held you on his lap. You weren’t really paying attention to the movie. You got distracted with Bucky’s dog tags.

“Do you want to see what I got at the store?” Bucky asks, breaking the silence.

“Yes please.” You say.

You got off of Bucky’s lap and stood up. Bucky took your hand in his, leading you to the kitchen. You watched as Bucky took everything out of the plastic bags, showing you what he bought. Your emotions got the best of you and you started tearing up.

“What’s wrong, my sweet doll?” Bucky asks with concern in his voice.

“I feel like a shitty girlfriend.” You say.

“No you’re not.” He says.

“Yes I am.” Tears rolled down your cheeks. “I didn’t realize you love me this much.” You say.

“I always confess my love to you. You know that.” He says, hugging you.

After a moment, Bucky wiped your tears away and you looked at what he bought with a smile on your face.

“You always treat me like a princess.” You say, looking up at him.

“That’s because you’re my princess.” He says, softly pecking your lips.

“I thought I was your doll.” You say with a playful pout.

“You are. You’re my princess doll.” He says, smiling down at you.

You giggled and stood on your tippy toes to kiss him.

“Can we cuddle and watch movies while we eat what you bought?” You asked.

“Of course we can, babydoll.” He says, kissing you once more.

You and Bucky got the snacks and went back to the living room to watch movies. When you’re on your period and when you’re not, Bucky always treats you like a princess.

🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵

-Bucky’s Doll

[bonny-kookoo]

Jungkook

𝙁𝙞𝙣𝙞𝙨𝙝 𝙇𝙞𝙣𝙚 | 🔞 Main Work

He's one of the best, no race too tough to handle, every track a new challenge he takes on- especially when it's you who's waiting at the finish line for him.

Tags/Warnings: Racer!Jungkook, established relationship, romance, suggestive themes, heavy flirting, adult content, mentions of online hate, only minor angst, they're a power couple, this MC is now my spirit animal, smut

Length: ~5k words

There is no taglist for this fic.

-> Masterlist

A/N: I know nothing about actual car racing. Pls don't take it too seriously, thanks haha 💗

▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄

"But be real here-" A fellow driver asks, sitting down at the side now to pick up a water bottle. "-I always wondered, are you like, actually a couple?" He asks, taking a sip of his water, replenishing what he's sweat out during the training session with Jungkook and the other drivers.

Jungkook sighs to himself, before he gets into a sitting position, tapping the timer on his phone to a stop. He gets these questions a lot- whether or not you're in if for the right reasons, how good your pussy must be to have him put up with your annoying attitude all the time, or how someone like him isn't hooking up with models and actresses left and right. He's not sure why it's such an outrageous thing apparently to have a stable relationship, but somehow, if he just went by what magazines and online gossip-blogs report, it's apparently absolutely unthinkable to be in a normal loving relationship in his position.

But he is. And he intends to keep it that way for as long as you'll have him.

He loves you, dearly so. Your 'bad habits' and flaws are just as endearing to him as the rest of you, mainly because you were also there when he was just starting out, bank account almost always empty at every end of the month, rent barely being paid. You stayed even when he was at his lowest, you cheered him on when he won his first major race, and you consistently keep supporting him at every event you can. And to him, you're prettier than any model he could ever come across anyways.

"We're an actual couple indeed." Jungkook affirms, locking his phone before he screws open a plastic bottle of water himself.

"But like, isn't it a bit disappointing sometimes?" Jake asks him. "Like, I heard you never go to afterparties, and if you do it's always with her. You could have anyone, man." He laughs.

"You'll get there too, maybe." Jungkook chuckles simply, when the door opens, and familiar jingles of jewelry make him smile to turn around- and there you are, meeting his eyes with a smile, as he instantly moves to stand up.

"I bought you all your favorite snacks, and there's like, one of those electrolyte drinks there too." You say after pecking his lips with your strawberry flavored lipbalm, putting the white plastic bag into his hands. "You're not overdoing it, right?" You ask, and he grins, shaking his head.

"I'm almost finished anyways. You wanna wait up here? We can go back to the hotel together then." He asks you, gently pulling your hair out of your long earrings where some of it had gotten tangled. You let him, and wait for him to lean back as a sign that he's finished, before you answer.

"If it's not too much of a bother? There's already a bunch of paparazzi outside, I think someone might've leaked your location online.." You tell him, and he grows serious at that.

"Then you'll wait. I don't want you going back to the hotel alone if they're outside." He tells you now, not giving you another option. He remembers the last time you almost got mobbed at the airport, simply because you flew out the country a day after he did- and of course it created rumors and the wildest theories as to why that might've been the case. It's what happens to him constantly due to his status as the 'hottest race driver of his generation'.

One magazine reported that you apparently have been spotted fighting by someone at a restaurant, and that that could explain why you had sunglasses on during the airport walk- because you two probably broke up, and your eyes must've been swollen from crying. In reality, you always wore shades or shielded your eyes, because you're sensitive to the camera lights and the masses of people make you anxious, so you always try and blur them out somewhat.

Another online forum speculated that you two definitely broke up, and that it was long coming, because the hate must've gotten to you finally. That there's just no way you both could've ever worked out, and that it was just pushed by your parents so you'd have the most comfortable life imaginable. Your father allegedly introduced you to Jungkook at a press conference, which made Jungkook laugh.

True, your parents know each other- but only because you're a couple, and obviously became closer over the years of dating. It didn't make sense that you both just became a couple so you'd have it easy, when he's mentioned multiple times that you both have been dating for way longer than the span of his career.

And then, that one gossip site that pushed the narrative that he cheated on you at the last afterparty. That there's images from the event where he can be seen with a woman with long dark hair that's definitely not you, and that you most likely found out and kicked him out- and just flew out to start a new life in a different country.

That one made him angry.

The woman he'd been seen with was Mingyu's mother- his best friend whom he'd helped out the burning wreck of his car after he'd crashed into the side barriers. She'd simply been there to thank him, and he'd hugged her just as a way of reassuring her that he'd always be there for any of his teammates, no matter what. And that specific website constantly stirred up cheating allegations- either at him, or you, it didn't matter. Clearly edited photos, alleged video evidence that didn't even show you both at all, it was stupid, really.

He's lucky that you don't instantly believe anything you see. Up until now, you always confronted him first if there was anything you were concerned about. And you trusted him, just as much as he trusted you.

Finishing up his workout, he takes the towel you offer with a thanks, deciding to ignore Jake's stares at your tits for now, since it doesn't appear to bother you at all. And honestly, he can understand. They do look great.

And they feel even better- but that's only for him to know.

The moment you both exit the gym they're all there- and he instantly moves you slightly behind him to properly shield you from anyone trying to reach out to you, which has happened often enough before to make him now hyperaware of it. But you somehow make it into the car waiting to take him back to the hotel without anything happening- though the questions hurled at you both from every side do annoy him to high heavens.

Jungkook are you still together?

Jungkook did you both talk things out?

Jungkook did you really cheat on her?

Jungkook-

"Jungkook." You ask him, and he moves his head to you now. "I asked you if we wanted to take a bath at the hotel? The tub is huge!" You beam at him, and at the sight of you all genuinely happy and carefree, he smiles, nodding, before he takes your hand to hold.

As long as you're still there, everything's fine.

▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄

"Oh god-" You breath out, hand in his hair while he's gripping your thighs over his shoulders to keep them open.

Your panties are still hanging from one of your ankles, toes curled as he licks and swallows over your core, orgasm rapidly approaching you as he places a teasing kiss to your sensitive pearl. He moves around with ease, slips out of his pants rather quickly before he pushes your legs towards you once more, aligning himself with your entrance after lubing himself up shamelessly with your arousal he's gathered with his hand.

He doesn't need to rid you of any clothes- he's done that already.

You always joke that the secret to your happy relationship is back-breaking sex and good cooking- but sometimes, you actually believe it.

It's his main way of relieving stress- he's told you as much before. And he also enjoys the more romantic and sensual aspects of it, the closeness to you, and the knowledge that it's something special just between the two of you. It's always a little playful, unserious, light and relaxing, especially afterwards- the shared afterglow you both experience always something special where you both reconnect and bond once more. It's like you grow closer every time you're together like this.

Even though, according to him, that's impossible.

"Gonna.. wanna take you to the movies..!" He grits out, leaning back while while he holds your legs by the backs of your knees, thrusting his hips steadily into you. "Ah, fuck.."

"Can I- can I choose?" you giggle in pleasure, hands over your head grabbing the pillows while he watches your chest swing in the rhythm of his pace.

"Hm, I don't know.." He mumbles, leaning over you now after letting go of your legs to peck your cheek. "What do you wanna watch?" He wonders, before mouthing at your neck.

"Right now?" You hum dreamily, closing your eyes at the sensations of it all. "Wanna watch you." You say, and he chuckles against your skin, hands next to your head steadying him as he slows down a bit to a more sensual rhythm, though he presses himself deeper at the same time, making you arch your back as your legs hook together over his back.

"You're so cute." He teases, one of his hands moving to run over your chest, playfully smacking one of them once to earn a squeak from you- and laughter from him.

"Kook-!" You whine, and he mimics your tone a little, before his hand moves over your body between your legs where you're currently connected, fingers toying around with you. "Yes-!" You beg, thighs pressing together against his body, before you reach your high, muscles twitching from the feeling, while he becomes a bit more erratic now with your core clenching around his length.

He cums a little afterwards, pulling out before he spills his seed over your lower abdomen, the sight always doing something to him.

"You know, I really wanna go to that premiere that I was invited to with you." He says after taking a deep breath and running a hand through his hair, getting up after leaning over you to peck your lips twice- because once is never really enough for him.

"Heh, you know I'll always be at your side if you want me there." You sing-song, stretching your limbs while he turns on the water in the bathtub, door open to be able to hear you. "So, if you wanna take me, of course I'll be your arm-candy!" You chirp, and he smiles as he returns with some babywipes in his hands to wipe down your skin.

"I always want you at my side." He tells you gently, careful with the rather cold wipes on your skin. "And I'm glad you're still willing to put up with me and this whole thing." He shrugs, throwing the tissues away in the trashcan.

"Why wouldn't I?" You wonder up at him as he hooks his hands underneath your back and legs to carry you into the bathroom of the hotel room you're staying at, to help you into the tub.

"Why would you?" He sighs, getting into the tub as well, unscrewing the small bottle of soap offered by the hotel to pour it into the water. "I sometimes really wonder how.. strong you must be to just constantly put up with all the things said about you and me." He says, pulling you closer to him as the bubbles form with the water pouring in. "…I was really scared, you know." He mumbles onto your skin before he kisses your shoulder.

"Of what?" You ask, unsure.

"When the rumor spread of me cheating. I always.. get worried you might become doubtful of me when things like these are said." He admits to you, before you turn around in his arms, his hands immediately on your hips.

"I'm not worried though." You simply tell him, running your hands through his hair before they settle around his neck. "I trust you." You shrug, and he moves his hands up to hold your cheeks, pulling you closer to kiss you until you giggle, pushing against his pecks to get him away. "Kook no-" You laugh, but he whines.

"But I want to love my girlfriend!" He complains.

"You just did!" You argue back, and he plays with his lip rings for a second.

"But you deserve more." He purrs, trying a little more.

"And my pussy needs a break!" You respond back, making him laugh. This is why he loves you so much- why he loves your relationship so much. Living with you is easy, it's relaxing, it's light and it takes his mind off of all the worries he has.

Because when he's with you, it's like none of it matters. He can just fall into your arms and trust you to catch him every single time.

And you do. Just like right now, as you kiss him until the water cools down, and the bubbles are all gone.

▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄

Something he's never really told you is the amount of people trying to get to you- through him of all people.

Mainly because everyone still somewhat believes the most common rumor that you're just a sugar baby kind of situation- that you're up for anyone, as long as the numbers fit your standards. It's infuriating really, makes his blood boil because what else does he have to do to make people take you both seriously? It's not even just the fact that they apparently don't take him seriously as your partner- but that they really think you'd be someone to use others for money, just because you're not the quiet sweet person in the background who they can bully around.

But he has a plan. Foolproof, really, and he's wanted to do that this year anyways.

"I need my good-luck-kiss.." He teases, keeping you close to him.

"Well if we had enough time I'd give you the whole good-luck-menu, but you gotta go get ready now." You giggle while he bites at your neck.

"Not yet.." He complains, already in his overalls, helmet on the bench close by. You're hiding behind a corner like schoolkids attempting not to get caught skipping class, and he admits that you both do this a lot. He just can't get enough, and today especially, he just wants to make sure the cameras can see his marks on you, and know that they're his. "Will you watch the race?" He asks, and you giggle.

"Of course. I always do." You promise, and he grins, before he pecks your lips one last time, finally getting ready.

You're standing in the VIP spots, watching closely how he starts the race, seemingly a bit behind. But he's pushy, he always is, competitiveness not letting him lose without a fight. And fighting he does, quickly catching up as he squeezes past several other competitors, making your pulse rise quite a bit. Truth be told, you always worry- especially after his friend's last accident that you witnessed that day. The race had been interrupted because of it, and had been decided to be re-started at a later date once Mingyu had fully recovered.

He only sustained minor injuries, cracked a rib and a minor concussion, but nothing else. But the sight of the car will stay in your head for quite a while.

You have nightmares, sometimes. Of Jungkook being in a wreck like that, flames swallowing his broken body whole, and you can't do anything to save him. That's most likely the biggest reason you're always a little on edge whenever he drives. You know he's a good driver, of course he is- but still. You can't help but worry.

Not that you'll ever tell him. He doesn't need about something stupid like that.

It's not even half an hour in, and a black flag is waved at a blue car lagging behind. There's smoke coming from the back wheels- so he's asked to leave the tracks and drive into his pit box, which he promptly does to get his vehicle inspected. It seems to be a more serious issue however- because the announcer suddenly explains that the racer named Jake Pitcher won't return to the tracks.

Time passes by, and the race goes on without much interruption. Everyone follows the rules, flags are waved left and right to navigate things happening, and your eyes occasionally lose sight of the mainly red and black hyundai Jungkook is driving, though you always find him again at the very top, leading the race. It's after the second pit stop that a driver in a sky-blue Toyota is becoming visibly more aggressive, especially towards Jungkook.

It's alright to be a bit pushy, you've learned that that's the norm- but this guy is putting other drivers in danger with just how close he's pressing himself against Jungkook's back and another's side.

But this is the sport. It's an aggressive one, and the rules about how to race are pretty grey.

Someone crashes, a yellow and green racecar you've seen earlier. The vehicle spins on the ground in donuts a few times before it comes to a stop on the grass, and the team is visibly running around to sort things out. It's announced that the driver is awake and alert, and doesn't seem injured- and the car is towed safely away, one lane closed until everything is cleared once more, caution in place for now causing everyone to slow down a little until the track is cleared again.

Jungkook had crashed before. Multiple times, even. He's cracked ribs, bruised his body, broken bones. Never anything too serious- but enough to remind you every time how dangerous his career is. You hate that side of it, and sometimes you really wish he would just call it quits- but you also understand that he's passionate about this, that this is his dream.

You'll always remember his worst crash- the way his car had flown through the air rolling around like it was nothing but a toy, front wheels almost pulled off entirely- and your fear inside your bones as it took him ages it felt like to climb out of the wreck, surprisingly unscathed, only bruised badly in some spots.

He was on a stretcher that day, a safety precaution even though he turned out mostly fine. You remember not even having the energy to scold him in hospital, crying at his side for hours it felt like until he'd managed to calm you down enough, his laugh teasing as he'd helped you wipe off your ruined makeup before going back to the hotel later to sleep- your body even clingier than ever before.

It's his fourth pit stop. Things are looking good- this time the car seems to be holding up a lot better than last time when he only made the third place, and the commenters seem to recognize that too. Jungkook is the only one bringing a car of his type on the track after all- it's basically the talk of town every time he participates. He went from being a joke to a true competitor nowadays- finally being taken seriously on the tracks, and you know Jungkook relishes in the feeling of it.

He loves to win, after all. Even if it's just the respect of others.

Suddenly, something happens in the front. The toyota pushes too hard, too far to the side, and it breaks the current leader completely into the barriers as the car loses control, dragging several cars with him- And as your eyes search for the familiar red and black car with white font written all over it, you find it.

There's a lot of smoke, several cars unable to continue, a driver exits his own on the grassy spot in the middle, throwing his helmet in frustration. Jungkook's car is scratched, badly, a slight crack in front, but he's still driving- seemingly having escaped with nothing but some minor damage. He's slowed down just like everyone else now, entire track under major caution as the damage to a lot of other car's is being inspected, several people now left out with their cars damaged too hard to compete any longer.

Jungkook seems just a bit out of breath from the shock from what you can see on the screens, now in the pit box where tape is placed over a break in the front over the scratches, car being refueled and inspected just to make sure. He gives a thumbs up when asked if he's alright- a nod given to other questions. According to a commenter, he's asking for any serious injuries in other drivers- but there are none, so he's reassured that everyone's alright and up walking around.

Caution is lifted, green flag waved. The fight is back on, speed increasing as they once more go back full force, pushing and mixing up the order in which they're making their way towards the finish line.

It's the last stretch now, and things are getting clearly heated on the tracks. From clear pushing to forceful passing, scratches and bumps can probably be found on every car after this race is done. There's a fight happening now, and Jungkook is not backing down from anyone- now doubling down, and pressing himself towards the front. He's not as impolite as some other drivers further back, but he still bites, clearly so- currently passing another car, the white flag waved as he presses himself against his competitor.

One round left.

You can practically feel the tension now, pulse racing just as quickly as his car drives as he pushes himself further and further up front. He's in second place. That's most likely the spot he'll make.

Or?

It's almost in the last second it seems like when he manages to outrun the Chevrolet he's been pushing against next to- the black and white checkered flag waved, Jungkook's name being called as everyone cheers.

He made it. His team cheers- but you're frozen in time.

Because this is also a win for you, every singe time. Your prize is the fact that he's unscathed, that he's okay, that nothing happened. Fireworks light up the sky, when suddenly, he turns the car, covers the track in white smoke from his wheels, a full on spin one of his by now signature winning gestures.

His team runs towards him, pulls down the window gate to congratulate him as he climbs out, pulling his gloves off before he takes off his helmet and climbs on the roof of his car, clearly excited over the win. The interview is easy, as he answers questions thanks his team, before he becomes nervous, visibly, shaking his hands a little. "You still seem rather emotional from the race!" The interviewer jokes, and Jungkook nods, before he runs a hand over his face, bracing himself it seems like.

"Yeah that too, but uh- I made myself a little challenge too, you know?" He laughs. "I promised myself if I won this race, I'd.. do something I've been chickening out of for quite a while now." He explains, and you become a bit nervous now, unsure what he's trying to say. You're making your way down now to where his team is too, now closer and in sight as Jungkook grins to himself.. almost shy?

A member of his crew gives him something, and you become suspicious when he walks towards you now, because that stupid grin he has on his face just spells trouble in bold capital letters.

"You put up with so much shit, you know?" Jungkook tells you over the sound of people cheering and the commentator telling the crowd what's happening- everyone now curious. "You really do- and I don't think there's anyone out here in this world that can really love me like you do." He offers, and you laugh to yourself. "Don't laugh! I'm serious!" He complains, making some crewmembers laugh. "Either way, I might've won the race, but do you know what prize I'd really like instead?" He wonders, before he moves to drop to one knee.

"You, as my wife." He tells you, slightly dirty black box containing a ring.

And suddenly, the world seems to quiet down entirely as you nod, watching in fascination as he puts the ring on your finger in front of thousands.

▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄

"Jungkook you're speeding!" You whine as he laughs in the driver's seat, sunglasses shielding his eyes from the weather.

"Babe I'm actually way below the limit, what're you talking about?" He chuckles, always a little amused by the irony of your fear of him driving- him, a professional racecar driver. "It's an RV, not a racecar. Relax a bit." He says, taking your hand to kiss the back of it before he continues to hold it.

He's taking some time off- spending a vacation in europe with you, having rented an RV for some quality camping that he's always wanted to do with you. Now that his relationship status had been officially upgraded so to speak, rumors have died down- the thrill seemingly left now that he's made it more than clear that he's taking it seriously with you, even though he always has.

"Still, can't you drive a bit slower?" You worry, and he shakes his head.

"No can do darling. But we only have half an hour to go anyways, so we're almost there." He tells you.

"Half an hour can feel like a lifetime though.." You pout quietly, and at that, he runs his thumb over the back of your hand.

"Were you scared when they all crashed?" He asks, and you nod.

"I searched for your car right away. You can't believe how I felt when I saw you come through that cloud of smoke and car-parts almost unharmed." You whine. "I hate that I'm always so scared. I don't want you to feel bad when you drive-" You worry, and he laughs.

"You're not making me feel bad, don't worry." He shakes his head. "I can understand how hard that must be to watch though. Just like I said, I'll never understand how you put up with me and my shit." He offers, and you shrug.

"I don't know either." You huff. "You constantly bully me." You complain.

"I don't bully you!" Jungkook argues scandalized.

"You constantly make fun of my height, and you laugh when I'm scared, and you slap my ass in front of everyone no matter who!" You say, and he shrugs.

"It's a nice ass, what can I say?" He defends himself, making you glare at him. "Hey come on, you can't possibly blame me, you slap my ass too!" He argues back to you.

"That's cause you deserve it!" You respond.

"And you don't?" He wonders.

"Absolutely not. I'm an angel!" You state, and he laughs theatrically.

"You might get down on your knees regularly but you're not a saint-" He jokes, making you roll your eyes. "-see? And a brat too.!" He teases.

"Yeah well if you're not nice to me I won't suck your dick for the entire trip." You threaten. "Not even once." You state, making him pout playfully.

"Not even the tip?"

"Won't even touch your balls." You respond, and he whines.

"Oh no! Anything but that!" He complains, finally driving towards the entrance of the camping spot. "What do I have to do to gain back the sacred touch of my soon-to-be-wife?" He asks, having parked the RV now, and taken off his glasses.

"..you can start by giving her a nice kiss." You tell him. "But a good one. With feelings and all- the whole menu." You demand, and at that he leans over the middle, careful not to touch anything and cause an accident, pulling you closer by your neck.

"Well-" He smiles warmly at you. "-that's easy."

▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄

"So how have you always dealt with all the hate and rumors about you both? That must've been pressuring!" A paparazzi asks you as you stand right next to your by now husband, who's just made the second place in his latest race.

"Oh, I just look at him naked to remind myself why it's all worth it in the end!" You beam happily at them, Jungkook laughing loudly next to him.

Yeah- you're really one of a kind.

And he doesn't mind spending the rest of his life with you.

▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄

[hallietblr]

So my conrad request is basically the scene in season 1 where they (jeremiah and conrad) go to pick up the girls after they go skinny dipping but reader is there too and drives home with conrad?and smut but it could also just be fluff if you want

i’ve got you, always | c.fisher x reader

a/n: yay!! another conrad fic :) <3 thank you so much for the request, i loved writing it and i hope you enjoy. i had it super fluffy at first but it kind of took its own turn so i hope it’s ok. also, thank you to everyone for all the support for my writing recently — you guys make my day and i can never thank you enough. i love you all truly!

warnings: slight angst, mentions of anxiety, panic attacks, and swearing.

—

“are you fucking kidding me?!” taylor screams, putting her forearms onto the dock and searching, “i knew those girls were fucking bitches!”

belly and i swim towards her, “what happened?” belly asks,

“your fucking snake friends took our clothes and ran off, that’s what!” taylor hisses, “all that’s left are our phones.”

“they did what?” belly panics, lifting her high high enough to see the dock, “oh my god.”

i feel my heart drop to the bottom of my stomach and the colour in my face drain away. i didn’t even want to go skinny dipping in hopper’s cove but i did it anyways since taylor and belly along with belly’s friends were going.

“what do we do?” belly asks us, frantically looking around for a possible solution, “there’s a boat cover we could use!”

“are you fucking joking?” taylor scoffs, shaking her head, “absolutely not.”

“i’m calling conrad,” i tell them, grabbing my phone and clicking his name on speed dial.

i hear the girls bicker by me as my hands shake, bringing my phone to my ear, “c- conrad? i need you.”

“where are you?” he asks, concern laced into his voice. i briefly explain the situation as my lip quivers, “please hurry”

“i’ll be there as soon as i can, lovie. hang tight.” he promises before hanging up.

i turn to the girls and tell them that conrad is on his way while belly says that jeremiah is also coming. we patiently wait for what feels like hours in the water. i could feel my hands shaking as i keep myself propped up on the small dock since my legs were exhausted. my eyes were welling up with tears from anxiety — only hoping conrad will get here soon.

after what felt like hours, we heard a car’s engine running and then stop. he’s here.

“bells, n/n, oh my god,” jeremiah pants out, “i came as soon as you hung up.” he tells belly, “conrad is here too.”

on cue, conrad comes up behind jeremiah while holding a plastic bag of clothes, “nicole gave these to me. i hope everything’s in this.”

“thanks guys,” belly says sheepishly, “do you mind turning around?”

their eyes go widen in embarrassment but quickly turn around while taylor, belly, and i climb up onto the dock. we sift through the plastic bag, handing each other our clothes.

i quickly pull on my dry clothes onto my wet, water dripping body. i pull my drenched hair into a messy bun, with water droplets crawling down the back of my neck. the night breeze was freezing on my body. i shiver and close my hands into tight fists in attempt to stop the shaking.

taylor and belly are soon fully dressed again, in somewhat the same state as i was but much more collected than my embarrassed self.

“okay, you can turn around,” taylor tells the two brothers. they face us and motion us to follow them towards the cars.

“i can’t believe that they did that” jeremiah says, his arms crossed over his chest.

taylor scoffs, “i do, i literally called it that they were all bitches.”

conrad lets belly and taylor pass him to follow jeremiah, he gives me a small sympathetic smile and puts a comforting arm around me, “come on.”

we reach the two cars, belly and taylor whispering to each other, “we’ll ride with you, jere.” belly tells him before herself and taylor climb into the jeep. taylor gives me a quick wink before closing her door.

“see you two at home?” jeremiah asks conrad, who nods. the jeep soon pulls away onto the pitch black road and heads towards the fisher summer home.

“you okay?” conrad asks, facing me, “i’m sorry that happened, you didn’t deserve that.”

his hand is on my shoulder, his thumb slowly rubbing circles against the material of my shirt. i couldn’t even focus, and not in the typical sense when i’m around him. it’s usually butterflies, racing heart rate, heat on my cheeks, but this felt nearly the exact opposite.

it felt like my heart was being squeezed, my stomach was churning, and my stupid hands wouldn’t stop shaking. my vision was slightly blurry from the tears that were threatening to fall.

“you’re freezing,” he breathes out, “hold on”

he turns away and rummages around in the backseats of his car. conrad turns back to me and hands me a grey hoodie, his hoodie, “take this.”

i slowly take it from his hands, trying with every ounce of my strength to stop the shakiness of my hands. i didn’t want him to see the anxious state that i was in. it was such a stupid reason to be anxious anyways, taylor and belly were completely fine after getting their clothes. pissed off maybe, but not acting the way i was.

i have his hoodie in my hands but i don’t put it on.

“lets get you home, love.” he says but i can barely hear him with the ringing in my ears.

conrad starts walking towards his side of the car, assuming that i was also getting into the vehicle — but i feel frozen. stuck in one place.

why was it getting harder to breathe?

conrad’s hand is on the small of my back and my heart rate spikes up to an unbelievable high level, but not in that way. something is wrong, and my chest is hurting.

my hand goes to my sternum of my chest, slowing rubbing it as my breathing picks up. my body was trembling and my chest was rising and falling at a concerning pace.

“babe?” he stands up from his seat. my legs felt weak yet everything else felt heavy, why is it heavy? i feel myself collapse towards the gravel, but i don’t fall.

conrad was able to get to my side quick enough to prevent me from falling. his strong arms wrapped around me, “hey… hey, what’s wrong?”

i shake my head repeatedly, “i- i-” i stutter out and it’s hard to speak, my throat feels dry and it hurts.

he cradles me on the side of the road, “sh, it’s okay. nice and slow, what’s going on?”

“i c- can’t breathe” i tell him, his finger interlace with my shaking ones. he brings my hand to his lips, placing a gentle kiss on them,

“you’re okay, love,” he says softly, “you’re having a panic attack.”

my eyes widen, i’ve never had one of those before. i shut my eyes in fear. my breathing doesn’t slow down for a moment, if anything, it feels like it’s going even faster now.

“look at me,” he whispers, tucking a fallen strand of hair behind my ear, “baby, look at me please.”

i open my eyes to look into his blue ones, “breathe with me, okay? nice and slow.”

i watch as conrad takes a deep breath, i try to but i don’t think it’s even possible to breathe.

“in,” he inhales, i attempt at copying his actions by taking a breath of air in, “and out.”

exhale.

my breath trembles out of my lips, he slowly nods, “just like that, in…. and out.”

we take a few more deep breaths together, until mine regulates again. conrad smiles at me, “there you go, now do you wanna tell me what’s going on?”

i swallow, “i didn’t even want to go skinny dipping with the girls, i don’t fit in with them. they’re all so pretty and fun and everyone loves them. i’m nothing like them.”

a tear slips from the corner of my eye, conrad is quick to wipe it away, “so, i thought if i did it then maybe i’ll be like them. i thought they liked me too, fuck’s sake i’m so gullible. they all left! with me naked in some stupid cove.” i cry out, burying my face into my hands.

“oh, baby,” conrad coos, “sh…” he places a kiss on my hair.

he pulls me closer, wrapping his arms around my torso and placing his chin on my head, “you don’t deserve that, and you’re perfect the way you are. i don’t want to hear any of that ‘no one likes me’ shit, ok? because i do.”

“wh- what?” i ask, looking at him with watery eyes.

“i think you’re amazing just as you are,” he repeats, “you’re my y/n, i don’t want you to be one of those debutante sheep. i love you as y/n.”

my heart fills with so much love, i reach up to pull him into a kiss. he kisses me back immediately, his hands trailing up from my waist to cup my face.

“lets go home, yeah?” he asks after pulling away, “lets get you showered and into some comfy, warm, and dry clothes. we can cuddle and watch a movie. sounds good?”

“sounds perfect.” i blush, i finally pull on his grey hoodie. it falls to my mid thigh and it smells like him; cologne, cigarettes, and ocean water.

conrad helps me to my feet and opens the car door for me, “oh, and conrad?”

he looks down at me and hums, “thank you for coming to get me.” i say to him.

“i’ve got you baby, always.” conrad responds with a kiss before closing the car door.

[celandeline]

I'm thinking about Carl being insecure about his eye. y/n found a way to comfort him. Imagine what comic Lydia did, LOL. But just write whatever you like

i got a little carried away with this one, so it's going to be a two-parter (sorry)

also- comic Lydia sticking her tongue in his eye socket haunts me like the plague because i can't decide if it's disgusting, or i too, would do that given the opportunity

Believe Me

Carl Grimes X Reader [part two]

You always make a point to see Aaron off when he’s about to leave to go recruiting. You know that he can handle himself, that he’s done this a million times before, that Daryl would never leave him behind, even if things got sticky - but you never know. Coming back alive is never guaranteed. 

You hold his bag for him while he fumbles with the car keys until it unlocks. “You’re sure you don’t want to take anything else? Another water bottle? More protein bars?”

He turns around to take his pack from you with a smile. “We’re only going to be gone for two days, I think I’ll be alright with just this.”

The rumble of Daryls bike announces his presence before he rolls up beside the car, stopping. “Y’ready?” He gruffs. 

“Almost.” He tosses his bag into the passenger seat before turning to back to you with open arms. “Give me a hug.”

You squish yourself into his chest, and squeeze him as tight as you can. “Bye Dad. Be safe.” 

You feel him swallow, and hold you a little tighter. Calling him Dad is still a little new, and it makes him tear up a little more often than not. He’s not your biological father - no, your biological parents died years ago at this point - but he has become a father to you, ever since you started living with him and Eric. 

“You too.” He says, pulling back to look you in the eye. “And make sure Eric doesn’t try the stairs alone again please. He’s not as good at maneuvering in that boot as he thinks he is.”

You grin, and jokingly salute. “Yes sir.”

He slips into the driver's seat, and then he and Daryl are pulling away, heading towards the gates. You watch them go until they round the corner, and try to put your nerves to rest. The sound of plastic wheels on the sidewalk is a welcome distraction, and you turn around to see Carl pushing Judith along in the stroller.

He smiles when you turn around, and you return the gesture. “They’re going out again?” He asks, nodding in the direction your dad and Daryl went. 

“Yeah.” You say. “Only for a couple days this time, but you know.” You never really know when you’re coming back. If you’re coming back. 

He nods, and Judith gurgles happily in her stroller, reaching for the hem of your shirt. “You wanna join?” He asks. “M’ just taking her around the cul de sac before I bring her home for her nap.”

“Sure.” You say, welcoming the distraction from worrying about if this is the time that Aaron doesn’t come back. You fall into step beside Carl as he pushes the stroller along, following the sidewalk, passing by the houses of friends and neighbors. It’s quiet, the middle of the day with most of the adults at work - whatever that may be. It almost feels like you, Carl, and Judith are the only people in this whole town. 

“You think you’re gonna do that?” Carl asks. “Go recruiting with Aaron when they decide we’re old enough for real jobs?”

“I don’t know.” You say, honestly. “I mean, I guess I wouldn’t worry so much if I was with him, but then Eric would worry twice as much. And I don’t have a whole lot of experience out there - I was only on my own for a couple of months before Aaron found me and brought me here. You’d be good though,” You glance over at him. “I mean, you’ve got loads of experience out in the real world.”

He shakes his head. “Nah- I mean, yeah I’m experienced, but I don’t think they want the kid with the mangled face being the one to go make first impressions on new people.” He grins, halfheartedly joking, “Don’t want to scare ‘em off.”

“Huh?” You laugh, looking over at him. “What’re you talking about?”

He rolls his eye. “C’mon.” He says. “I know what I look like. Sending the ugly guy out there to try and recruit people probably isn’t the best image for our group.”

“Carl.” You say, brow furrowing. “Do you know what you look like?” You’re so confused - sure, he’s missing an eye, but he’s still the prettiest boy you’ve ever seen. The eye that he still has is the kind of blue that makes you think of the sky on a sunny day, and you’d kill for hair like his - long and silky and a dark brown that makes his blue eye stand out even more. He looks like a fairy tale prince. 

He glances at you. “You’re looking at me like I’m stupid.”

You laugh. “I mean how could you not be, when-” 

“Wow, thanks.” He snarks, cutting you off. 

“Shut up.” You say, knocking your shoulder into his. “I was trying to say that you’re the prettiest boy I’ve ever seen, before you interrupted me.”

You words hang in the air, and he looks steadfastly ahead. The only sounds are the plastic stroller wheels rolling on the sidewalk, and Judith’s occasional little noises. You can see a blush rising to his cheeks, and bite your lip to stop yourself from smiling, lest he think you’re making fun of him. 

“You’re just saying that ‘cause we’re friends, and you’re trying to be nice.” He says. 

“‘M not.” You insist. “It’s true - you’re really pretty, Carl.”

He still won’t look at you. “Half my face is just a hole.”

“Which just makes you look cool and badass.” You say, trying to peer around his curtain of hair to get him to look at you. He still won’t look at you, and the redness on his face has only gotten worse. “You still don’t believe me.”

He shakes his head, slowing as you reach the steps up to the porch of his house. He walks around to the front of the stroller to unbuckle Judith and lift her out of the seat. She slumps against his shoulder, obviously ready for her nap. “Um.” Carl looks down at the stroller. “Could you-?”

“Gotcha.” You say, folding up the stroller and carrying it up the porch steps after Carl. He opens the door and you follow him inside, gently kicking it shut behind you. “Where-?”

“Uh, we usually just leave it by the door.” He says over his shoulder as he starts up the stairs. “Let me just put her down-” He disappears around the bend in the landing, and you prop the folded stroller against the wall next to the door. You loiter at the bottom of the stairs until Carl appears at the top again, still a little pink. 

He comes down the steps and leads the way into the living room, towards the couch. You plop down onto the sofa, turned to face him next to you. “So-”

“Can we talk about something else?”

“No.” You grin. “Not until you believe me.”

He rolls his eye. “Fine. I believe you.”

“I mean really believe me.” You say. “What’s it going to take?”

“I don’t know.”

“Fine.” You say. “Where’s the nearest mirror?”

“Are you serious?”

“Yes.”

He pauses for a moment before responding. “I have one in my room.”

You get up from the couch and creep upstairs, careful to keep quiet so as to not wake Judith, Carl a reluctant half step behind you. He points you in the direction of his room, and you slip inside, holding the door open for him before shutting it quietly. The mirror isn’t anything special, just a rectangle of glass hanging above the dresser, but you grin at the sight of it anyway. 

Grabbing him by the shoulders, you steer him in front of the mirror, watching over his shoulder. “See?”

“Yup.” He says, unenthused. “I see this every day, actually.”

“Apparently not.” You say, moving a hand from his shoulder to gently play with his hair. “I mean, look at this.” You hold the lock up in front of his gaze. “Your hair is gorgeous. And-” You drop his hair in favor of softly holding his jaw, turning his head so that his jawline is more prominent. “This.” You run a finger along the line of his jaw. “This too.” You turn his head again so that you can sweep your touch over the bridge of his nose. “And of course,” You thumb over his cheek, tapping each of his freckles. Your hand still on his cheek, you grin at him in the mirror. “You’re blushing.”

“What are you doing?” He asks, soft. 

“Showing you.” You say. 

“Why?”

“Because you should know.” You say. “And it’s personally offensive when you say you’re ugly, because that means you think the guy I’ve been flirting with is a total dud.”

It takes him a minute to process it, and you can see it in his eye when he puts it together. “You’ve been flirting with me?”

“Maybe you are stupid.” You muse. 

You didn’t think it was possible, but he turns even more red. “I don’t- really? Me? Why?”

“Jesus Christ Carl, how far am I going to have to go before you believe that I like you.” You laugh. 

He makes eye contact with you through the mirror. “As far as you want.”

[frankenstein-ate-my-left-shoe]

@steddiemas week 1 - Snowman, Cabin, Cold, Fireplace

rating: T | words: 1,958

i decided to craft a fic again this year, each chap for each week with each of the prompts in the chap somewhere.. see y'all next week for chap 2!

Thanksgiving of 1986 blusters in with record lows for the season, and a whole foot of powdery white snow along with it.

And if Eddie and Wayne hadn’t been invited to dinner with the rest of the Hopper-Byers clan, he’d’ve stayed right where he was, thank you. Bless whoever invented flannel sheets; May they be revered in Valhalla for their continued heroic victories over the ever present cold seasons.

A knock at his door interrupts his attempts at going back to sleep. “C’mon son, get goin’. It’s nearly two and we gotta get out to the Chief’s without dyin’.”

“Mmmurgh.”

“G’mornin’ to you too, sleepin’ beauty. Now, Up.”

The sound of Wayne’s footsteps creaking back down the hall, the squeak of the oven door hinges, the rumble of water in their ancient kettle, all the sounds of home and warmth and.. Surely he can close his eyes for just a minute lon—-

“Up, Ed!”

“‘Lrigh’, alright, I’m up!”

Being so brave about the cold, he flings off his sheets all at once, and hurriedly starts pulling on the clothes he laid out the night before. Non-ripped jeans, a thermal undershirt, his flannel, thick socks, jacket.. 

He stops as he’s about to pull on his shoes, kicked off haphazardly the night before, when he notices how bright everything seems behind the blanket he tacked up over the window. He pulls back a corner..

“Jesus H. Christ.. “

Snow.

He shakes his head and grabs his other shoe, “Wayne, we have plastic bags, right?”

–

Again, being so brave about the cold, Eddie shuffles the dish around in his lap carefully as he opens the door and lowers himself out of Wayne’s truck once they arrive.

“Careful now, that butter’s hot.”

“I know, I know,” Eddie says, looking at where he’s putting his feet. It looks like someone shoveled out the area, but better safe than sorry.

“Oh look at that, yer boyfriend’s here.”

Eddie’s head snaps up immediately. Wayne’s eyes are crinkled up mischievously as he glances up towards the snow-spattered burgundy BMW parked closer to the cabin.

“Shut up old man, he’s not my boyfriend.” Eddie grumbles, tilting his burning face back down to the snow scheming up his demise. 

“Oh, right, my mistake..you only wish he was.” Wayne chuckles, following him up the few steps to the front door.

Sure, he’d been actively flirting with Steve since before he was even out of the hospital, sometimes even in earshot of Wayne (to his utter embarrassment), but that doesn’t mean he particularly wants his uncle teasing him about it, or that Steve’s even been receptive to it.

(Well, he’s blushed a couple times, and rolled his eyes seemingly fondly… and he’s not asking Eddie to stop…)

“He’ll get there, kiddo,” Wayne says as he pats Eddie's back, then turns to give the door two solid knocks.

Eddie’s face burns, “I said, shut up. You’re the worst.”

There’s a couple steps from inside, then the door opens on a still thin, but slowly filling out, Former Chief Hopper.

“Glad you guys made it, wasn’t expecting snow.” Hopper says, reaching a hand out to shake Wayne’s.

“Thanks for havin’ us Chief, cozy place you got here.”

Hopper grunts in a facsimile of appreciation for the compliment as he ushers them in. “Did some work to it since bein’ back, fireplace is finally fixed, added a couple rooms and a half bath…”

“You’re kiddin’, and you didn’t invite me over? You know I use’ta be a SeaBee.”

Hopper waves him off as Eddie tunes them out, taking the few steps into the kitchen to drop his about-to-start-burning-him dish on the stove top, and turning away toward the back door.

“What’re we lookin’ at?”

Steve and Robin both startle at Eddie’s voice coming from between their heads, both of them focused out the back door’s big window.

“Shit, Eddie, you’re gonna give me a heart attack.” Steve says at the same time Robin smacks his shoulder with an “Asshole.”

“We’re waiting for Nance to get back from Indy with the boys,” Steve explains, “Jon and Argyle’s plane landed at noon.”

“And Joyce took the open shift at Melvald’s, they close here soon and we’ll be able to eat after that.” Robin adds on., turning back toward the snow. 

“And you two didn’t bring your snowpants?”

“Wish I did,” Steve grumbles.

“I haven’t had snowpants since I was 11.”

Eddie taps the side of his nose at her, then pushes out the back door, “Well, I didn’t put these bags on my feet for nothin’.” He hops down off the cleared top step and nearly wipes out as his heels hit the completely snow-covered bottom step. 

“You’re gonna freeze in those jeans!”

“Hopper’s got a fireplace, don’t he?” Eddie calls back at Steve as the door squeaks shut behind him. “Never fear children, your beloved leader has arri—”

The cold wet smack of snow in his face (and mouth) stops him in his tracks.

The door squeaks open behind him immediately. “Dustin, I told you not in the face!”

Dustin, the little asshole, just laughs.

The snow drops from his face just as Steve finishes trudging through the snow to him, “You okay Eddie?”

“Stevie dear, care to join me in a shithead hunt? It’s happening later in the year than I thought, but,” he shrugs, stooping low for a swipe of snow and straightening up again, “better late than never, right?”

Lucas, Will, Mike, and Dustin tear off into the woods, abandoning their half-built snowman and calling commands at one another that have no hope in sticking.

“Mike! Go right! Will, left!”

“Hurry up and start making a wall!”

“You make the wall! El, help me make snowballs!”

El, still sitting up at the house and adding snow to an actually surprisingly well-crafted throne for Max (who’s already sitting in it, mind you), simply says, “No.”

Eddie’s fingers are already numb, but this perfectly shaped sphere of snow’s really gonna pack a punch.

“None of you shitheads better hit Max I swear to god!” Steve yells toward the boys.

A snowball smacks into Steve’s chest.

“Hey! Who said I was getting involved?”

Eddie barely contains his laugh, “Sorry Stevie, all’s fair in love and war.” Eddie shrugs, then turns on his heel and snaps his snowball into Lucas’ right shoulder.

He cries out, “AHH He got me!” and flops back into the drifts.

Steve starts spluttering again, “Holy shi— what the fuck?”

Wincing minutely, thinking he’s about to get his ass handed to him by Steve for hurting one of his goblins, Eddie turns back, “Sorry…?”

Steve just stares at him in apparent awe. He’s still got snow on his chest, his cheeks red with the cold… damn he’s pretty.

“Where in the hell did you learn to throw like that?”

Oh.

“Oh, uh..” Eddie just shrugs. “I’ve always been good at throwing things.”

A snowball smacks against the side of the house behind them.

“And you weren’t on the varsity team?? Baseball’s one of Hawkins’ worst performing teams, you could’ve made us great!”

Another plops pathetically into the snow at their feet. Three of the boys’ cackles echo up the hill.

Eddie snorts a laugh, “Yeah, no. I had better things to do than go to practice, let alone…” he shudders dramatically, “Games.” and Steve rolls his eyes, but smirks.

Someone finally manages to hit Eddie again, this time in the leg.

“Besides,” he says to Steve as he scoops up another handful of snow, “I prefer catching.”

Steve’s face blazes red when Eddie gives him a wink, then turns again and sends his snowball flying right into Mike’s stomach.

“Blugh,” he says, ever the eloquent one, as he doubles over.

“Ah! He’s coming down here!” Will cries as Eddie bounds down the hill after his last projectile.

The boys abandon their half-built wall and move deeper into the trees, and Eddie ducks behind it and the tree it’s built against.

He listens to their shouts, doing his best to locate them, when the squeaky crunch of snow comes from behind him.

“Will and Mike went right, Dustin and Lucas went back and to the left, who do you want to go after first? Lucas has the arm, of course, but Will is the stealthy one..”

A not-at-all-new rush of affection for Steve floods his chest with warmth, and Eddie cringes internally at how sappy that is.

“Stevie, you and your brain are my favorite things in the world right now.”

His cheeks flush again, “Shut up man, lets just take these assholes down a peg, huh?”

Eddie grins at him, and opens his mouth to say something when something cold and wet and solid smacks into the side of his face.

He and Steve whip their heads around back toward the house only to find El and Max grinning down at them.

“Aw shit.”

-

A scarce 10 minutes later, Eddie and Steve are scrambling up the hill yelling “Uncle, Uncle!”

Steve’s at the door first, holding it wide to usher Eddie in before him. Immediately, Eddie’s skin starts to prickle with the change in temperature.

“Jesus Christ, those kids are ruthless.” Eddie says as he strips his shoes off, flicking away the clumps of snow that have adhered to the ends of his laces.

“You’re telling me,” Steve shudders, then has to raise his arms to protect himself from the spray of water coming off Eddie as he shakes his head around like a dog. “Aw what, are you kidding me??”

Steve toes off his shoes as Eddie cackles, then he starts to nudge Eddie forward, shoo-ing him towards the fireplace.

“That wasn’t very smart of you, was it?” Robin remarks, not looking up from the paperback she’s reading.

“What’d that book ever do to you?” Eddie asks, affronted at the way she’s got the front cover curled back around the spine.

Robin opens her mouth to respond, but is cut off by Steve, “Don’t start; Eddie, floor now.”

This time Eddie is the one cut off, “I’m not letting either of us get Hopper’s couch all wet. Now, sit.”

Steve pushes down on his shoulder and Eddie goes, plopping onto the floor in front of the fireplace.

He sheds his jacket, and joins Eddie on the floor, stretching his legs out in front of him, his toes toward the flames.

Sighing, Steve drops his head back into Robin’s lap and closes his eyes. “That was fun, huh?”

Eddie similarly drops his head back onto the couch behind him and listens to the kids screaming outside. Sounds like Max and El are in the thick of it now. Eddie smiles, “Yeah, it was.”

Next thing he knows, he’s startling awake to the telltale post-snapshot whine of a camera.

He blinks up at the blurry-but-getting-clearer form standing over him, “Rise and shine, dorks, food’s ready.” Robin says, grabbing the picture printing from the camera and giving it a couple good shakes. She wanders off then, calling “Hey Chief, do you have a marker?”

“Whas’ happen’n?” Steve groans from beside him, rubbing his eyes, frankly, way too hard.

“Food!” Dustin yells from somewhere behind the couch.

Eddie turns onto one knee and pushes himself off the floor with the help of the sagging couch, “Urrgh, that’s not going anywhere anytime soon,” he groans to himself with the stretch of his back, “C’mon, Stevie, let’s scrounge up some sustenance.” 

He holds a hand out for Steve to take, hauls him up, and, under the guise of making sure he’s stable, holds onto Steve’s hand for just that much longer. 

“You good?”

“Great, Ed,” Steve smiles, “Let’s eat.” he gives Eddie’s hand a barely-there squeeze, then drops it, winding around the couch to the kitchen.

dividers from here! | buy me a coffee? ☕

[luveline]

Hiii if ur not sick of the fainting requests yet would love on for our bf remus <3

and thank uuu for all ur writing and time <3

thank u sm lovely ♡ fem!reader, 1.1k

cw blood + fainting

"No! That's not what happened, and you know it isn't," Remus says with a laugh big enough to shake his shoulders.

The stomach of his t-shirt is dark with water, splattered by the colander as he rinses the celery he's sliced. 

"It is what happened," you say, peeling the lid back from your plastic container of hummus. "You have a selective memory, Remus." 

He tips the clean celery into a bowl atop carrots shining with wet, his disagreement obvious and entertaining. James did help Remus ask you out the first time, but Remus might not remember it because it was largely done behind his head, James mouthing clearly, My friend thinks you're stunning. 

"Did you cut up any green apples?" you ask. 

They're James' favourite. Tonight, you and Remus are celebrating five months as a couple, but you hadn't realised movie night (pre-negotiated) was the same day until a half hour ago, hence your rushed preparations. You wouldn't be here to celebrate if it weren't for James. He deserves them. 

Having to rush hasn't put a damper on how happy you both are. "No," Remus says, clasping your hand loosely on the way to the fridge. "Did you want to get changed?" 

"We have," —you check your watch, eyes flaring— "about eight minutes until six. Plenty of time." 

Remus laughs at your joking and takes three apples from the fruit and vegetable drawer. You slide in the fridge behind him to eye your drinks selection and start to fret. "You know, I'm gonna put my shoes on and nip to the Spar. We don't have any coke zero for Sirius–" 

"He can get his own coke zero." 

"Then what's the point of hosting? It's only across the road." 

The sound of Remus peeling an apple follows you down the hallway, a quick shush shush shush. You put your fingers at the back of your converse as a makeshift shoe horn and force your foot into it to save time. Your fingertips hurt afterward, but you're ready in less than a minute. Your purse in your back pocket, you shout, "Did you want anything?" 

"Not that I can think– Ow." A sharp hiss. "Fuck." 

You walk briskly back to the kitchen. "What?" 

Remus turns to you with blood dribbling down his arm and you can't remember a thing after that. 

— 

"You've murdered her?" Sirius asks, staring down at Remus with wide-eyed surprise. "I thought you were getting on well." 

"Can you help, please?" he asks. He's using his t-shirt to stem the frankly worrying amount of blood that drips from his cut finger, the pain a stinging but luckily bearable constant. Remus is more concerned by your limp weight in his lap. He's dripped blood onto your sleeve. It's a mess. 

Sirius shoves his bag on the kitchen table and sits down on the floor, easing your head from Remus lap and into his own. "Mate, what the fuck happened?" 

"She fainted when she saw the blood." 

"I thought that only happened on telly?" 

"It's quite real," Remus says, standing up to take care of things. "Can you give her a little shake? I tried tapping her cheek but she didn't feel it." 

Sirius pokes at your eyelids. Remus hates that he's had to relinquish what's clearly a boyfriend duty, but he imagines that if the blood shocked you that badly the first time, it'll get you a second. He's lucky he managed to grab you under the arms before you smashed your head open. 

He washes his arms clean in the sink and wraps a tea towel around his thumb. Swift, he reaches for the first aid kit on top of the cupboard and opens it one handed over the stove top. He puts a plaster on his cut, then a second, like a hat. 

Fully covered, Remus turns around and sighs. There's blood like a spattering of concentrated rain in a line to your prone body. 

Sirius continues to poke at you like a science experiment, but he isn't mean. "Helloooo," he sing-songs, blowing air in your ear. You jump and your eyelashes flutter, and for once, Remus can endorse his friend's antagonising. 

"Hey, there you are," Remus says, kneeling by your head. He helps you up from Sirius thigh, angling your gaze to the hallway rather than the bloody kitchen. "That's never happened before. Do you usually do that?" 

"Do what?" you ask, blinking like you've weights sewn into your eyelids. 

"You fainted," Sirius interjects. "Keep your eyes on Moony, doll. I'll clean up this mess. Consider it my charity for the year." 

"What?" you ask, trying to look around Remus. 

He takes your face into his hands, drawing your gaze. "Do you feel okay? Haven't bruised anything?" 

"No?" 

He nods, relieved. "Come on, lovely. Let's sit you on the sofa." 

Remus helps you stand and directs you into your living room. It's beautifully clean awaiting company, giving you ample room to lay down again. You don't complain aloud but Remus can tell you're feeling weird still from the way you frown, your bottom lip pouted ever so slightly. He perches on the end of the seat. 

"What the fuck, where are the dish cloths?" Sirius asks himself. 

You laugh into your shoulder, the sound like a beacon. Remus knows you'll be alright, but he'd quite like to hammer it home. He puts his hand on your forehead to stroke along your hairline with his uninjured thumb. 

"Are you okay?" you ask. 

"I'm fine, you're the one who almost broke her neck," he says, the tip of his pinky racing down your cheek to your chin. He tilts your head up. "Since when do you faint at the sight of blood? Bit dramatic." 

"I don't know. Never happened before. Since when do you cut yourself with a seventy pence peeler? That's ridiculous." 

He presses his smile into your lips. "You weren't supervising me." 

"It's my fault, then. Typical." 

Remus kisses you, the corner of your mouth, your cheek. A loving line. You relax under his touch, laughing softly at his tickling stubble. He pulls away as the front door clatters in, but whoever it is ignores the living room completely, bursting into your kitchen. 

"Sirius, what have you done, mate?" James asks, plastic bags rustling. 

"I don't want to talk about it. Why's it always me on my knees? Not like that." 

[evilslushy]

i really like ur ff ! it was so good . could u maybe write about hotboxing hamzahs car by the beach or something like that ?

HotBox Challenge ᯓᡣ𐭩

Hamzah x f!reader

Warning: a little suggestive! MDNI :)

(A/N): barely proofread this… but this is my first ever request outside of people I know!! I hope you like this anon,, I know I didn’t exactly let them hotbox the car but I hope you forgive me for that <3 MWAH (i luv ur request btw, truly challenged my writing #unique)

w: 1.4k

You shivered. Droplets of water dripping down your neck, leaving prints of a darker color on the fabric of Hamzah's dark green jacket. You licked your lips, savoring the salty coating on them as you rolled the windows up to block the breeze from blowing on you. You guys weren’t planning to get this wet but one thing led to another leading back to Hamzah (accidentally) aggressively pushing you into the beach. It wasn’t fully his fault, you kind of started it when nudged him for saying something you didn’t like.

Sighing, you pouted as you looked at the driver’s seat beside you. Your boyfriend’s guilt gnawed at him, pushing him toward a nearby supermarket for god knows what. “Hamzah, it’s fine!” You told him right before he sat you down on the passenger seat. “Just stay here for a second.” He cut you off, taking off his dark green jacket and putting it over you.

It’s been a few minutes since and he hasn’t been back, you wonder what he’s even looking for. Regardless, you hug yourself tighter—seeking warmth within yourself. Humming a song as you waited for his imminent arrival.

Your humming must’ve been loud enough to block out the sound of Hamzah’s footsteps. A knock on the window snapping you out your own trace, turning to be greeted by your boyfriend’s half smile; ushering you to unlock the doors. You smile back, shaking your head left and right. Hamzah’s smile dropped, a muffled: “babe, open. Please.” Heard by his window.

Obviously you weren’t actually planning to serve him hypothermia on a silver platter. Leaning over to push the lock open for him. Hamzah immediately opened the door to set a plastic bag on his seat, his hand rummaging through it to give you whatever took him so long to grab.

You raised an eyebrow as he pulled out a packet from the bag. A packet containing a small item—something you'd typically find inside a box with several others alike. Hamzah held it out to you with a sheepish grin, as if it were some kind of treasure he’d unearthed from a hidden aisle. “Self heating pads” he informs, “I didn’t realize it was this small when I bought them… if this isn’t enough I got a box.” His murmurs go unheard when you take it away from his hand, ripping it out of its plastic wrap—revealing a piece of fabric, seamed on its sides—so it’ll start warming up.

“Your jacket was warm enough, you didn’t have to.”

“I don’t know, I kinda just freaked out. It’s cold out. You might catch a cold.” He placed the plastic bag that contained the box of heating pads towards your lap. Sitting down and closing the car door behind him.

You didn’t know if it was because someone else was in the car now, or maybe the heating pads work like magic. Your body warmed up by the second, eyes shifting from the heating pad between your palms to the ocean waves crashing down—the only visible reflection on them being the bright full moon. So bright you could see the shoreline racing upwards as the waves came to an end, pulling backwards—the wet sand now richer in color.

Hamzah’s hands shifted around, from his thighs to the steering wheel. Lips twisting to refrain from asking what he wanted to ask. And if there’s anyone that can feel his awkwardness more than you… it would be Martin. Though regardless of that. You turned to look at him, Hamzah side-eyeing you with the same twist on his lip—slowly turning into a weak smile. “You look like you want to say something…” you softly noted.

Hamzah tilting his head, finally facing your gaze. He simply shook his head. Making you lay back against your seat with a sigh. You knew that look on his face. “Light it.” You mumble.

You guys were supposed to share a joint by the beach until he pushed you, then you got stuck in the car to warm up. You didn’t know that in his mind the joint was the main part of this rushed ‘date.’

Your excited boyfriend is not wasting any second to pull the joint out and light it. Chuckling at his urgency, you comment: “damn, I didn’t know you were that excited about it.”

Hamzah closed his eyes as the smoke filled his lung, sighing it out while resting his head back on the headrest. “Long week.” Was all he said in response. Passing you the joint without looking. “Tell me about it.” You held it between your thumb and index, bringing it closer to your lips. “Long year at this point.” Finally taking a drag.

Your boyfriend hummed in agreement.

You shifted the joint between your fingers, the motion fluid, almost like a second nature—you moved it between your index and middle finger—making it more convenient for both of you. Your hand hovered near Hamzah’s lips. As you brought it closer, your fingers brushed softly against his lips—just a brief touch, but enough to send a quiet jolt through you. His lips parted slightly as he took a slow drag, his eyes fluttering open to meet yours for a moment. When he was done, he tapped your hand, the gesture almost careless, but the way his fingers lingered on yours said more than the action itself.

The sudden sensualness in the air must’ve been pent up. Maybe it was the fact that you haven’t kissed him today at all, or your body was still in need of additional warmth. Or maybe… you were making excuses because no one can resist your boyfriend; especially post hair-wash day when his curls are that defined.

His hand hesitated for a split second, just enough to make your heart skip. Then, with a subtle shift, his fingers grazed yours again—only this time, they lingered longer, almost deliberately. Slowly, he wrapped his hand around your wrist, gently but firmly guiding it away, as if it took everything in him not to harshly pull you closer. He leaned in, his presence warm against your aura, his lips meeting yours in a slow, sweet kiss. His lips hugging yours perfectly, that aroma of weed stuck to be tasted between you both. You pulled away, a bit knocked out of breath from the kiss. Hamzah chased your lips for a second before noticing that you were stopping to take it in, foggy smoke escaping his lips. “What about the joint?” You took the time to tease.

“Fuck the joint.” He could almost go unheard, not wasting any time to crash his lip against yours again. This time a little harsher, hungrier. You wanted to fight back, argue that you guys need to finish this joint that cost Hamzah money. Except it seemed like a lost cause to argue with him.

The way he was kissing you bubbled a giggle in your chest, slowly breaking away to let it out. Hamzah looking at you, a puzzled love dazed gaze falling from his eyes. His lips plumper than before, a pink hue reaching the top of his ears.

“Hamzah.” You say in between your giggles. “What… what?” He asked, a breathless laugh to mirror your expression. Smiling, your hands go up to cup his face. “I think this is our worst attempt in hotbox-ing a car.”

“Isn’t it better to do it later with Martin and Mandy?” He didn’t waste any time, kissing you after. You kissed back, your smile felt against his lips. You liked when he gets like this—it was rare but once you bent him up enough (not kissing him good morning) he can’t stop.

Your fingers curled the hair on the back of his head, opening your mouth slightly, Hamzah softly entering his tongue—groaning at the warmth of your mouth. Again, you pulled away, a string of saliva still connecting you both. You turn your head, turning off the joint by putting it in an open water bottle snuggled in the cup holder.

Hamzah looked at you when you turned back, expecting you to continue on. But you slipped your hands away from him, sitting back in your seat.

“Go back home, I need to change.”

Hamzah snarked, “leaving me hanging is not cool.”

“Your clothes are now wet too!”

“I don’t care!”

“Shut up. Home. Now.” Your tone was demanding but your smile held a shortsighted smile. Feeling a bit guilty for leaving him hanging, you kissed his cheek. “Sorry, baby. Promise I won’t leave you hanging when we’re at home.”

He reversed the car to pull out of the parking lot, a shy smile on his face. Humming to show his understanding.

Hotbox challenge: failed.

[lowkeycasanova]

baby it's hot out here

sanji x f!reader

plot: sanji seeing you innocently suck on a popsicle gives him inappropriate thoughts

warning: smut (18+)

It was hot.

Brutally hot.

The weather in the New World was unpredictable. From boulder sized hail, lighting rain, and now scorching rays. The relentless sun beat down on the Thousand Sunny. The air felt thick and stifling, as if nature conspired to make taking each breath a conscious effort.

The cool breeze of the ocean seemed to have abandoned the ship, leaving you all subject to the oppressive heat.

Amidst the sweltering conditions, everyone sought refuge where they could find it.

Luffy was sprawled out on the deck, his hat covering his face. Zoro was in the shadow of the ship's mast, still practicing his swordsmanship with beads of sweat running down his face, with Franky and Brook sitting close by. Usopp leaning over the edge of the ship in an attempt to catch whatever breeze was sent his way.

You, Nami, Robin, and Chopper, who diligently tried to cool himself with a handheld fan, laid in the shadows on the deckchairs.

"It's so hot, I'm sweating cola." Franky announces.

"You know," you heard Brook say as he flexed his arm and leaned on it like a pillar for support. "If you pretend it's a sauna, it's actually not so bad."

Sanji was in the kitchen, determined to whip up a refreshing drink for you ladies. Everyone else can get their own.

Bringing the drinks out, he makes his way over to you, Nami, and Robin, leaning down like a gentleman, offering the glasses.

"Thank you Sanji." Robin says politely and his heart skips a beat.

Nami takes one as she continues to examine her log pose.

"Thanks but, can I get one of those popsicles we just got?" You asked him, lifting up your sunglasses. It was at the last island the crew was at where you were gifted with a bag of these treats called popsicles that you never had before and had the desire to try.

"Of course, love. Anything you want." He replied with a suave grin. He made his way back to the kitchen, pulling out the bag from the freezer, ready to present it to you in a flourish.

You squeal in delight as you rummage through the assortment, Sanji watching with a lazy grin. You waste no time tearing the plastic wrap off a blue raspberry flavored one, bringing it to your lips. And it's so hot that it seemingly starts to melt already.

Sanji eyes a cherry one, but decides against taking it. He didn't need the sugar.

He puts the rest back in the freezer and walks back out on the deck with his own glass of ice water. He momentarily takes his cigarette out of his mouth to take a sip of water and he glances back at the beautiful ladies laid out adjacent from him.

Right then, you hold the treat in your mouth, as you take of your shirt, leaving you clad in a bikini top and shorts, leaving little to the imagination.

That alone would send Sanji over the edge, but now paired with the fact that your lips are stretched around the popsicle, sinking lower to the base and back up again, eyes fluttering closed.

His eyes go wide and his throat dry. He watches you slowly pull back off it, a sweet hum coming from your mouth and the wet noise pierces his ears.

His mind is going crazy. His cock is getting hard. Your eyes are closed and Sanji knows it's in part because it's hot and because you're enjoying the sweet treat, but part of him wonders if that's what you'd look like after getting fucked by him.

He tries to shake the thoughts away. He can't have one of his episodes right now. But the more he thinks, the more he can see it play out.

Him sitting on the bed, you kneeling down on the floor in front of him while you suck him off.

He's brought back to reality. You're in conversation with Nami, laughing at something she said, while using your tongue sweep over the length of the popsicle. Then using your thump to wipe away some of the stickiness from your lips.

Sanji was hanging by a thread. He abruptly sticks the cigarette back in his mouth and storms off, ignoring Franky's call.

"What's the matter bro?"

Luffy lifts his hat up and shrugs. "Maybe he has a stomach ache."

His cock gets harder with every step he takes. Making a beeline for the bathroom, he rushes in and immediately locks the door. He undos his belt, tugs his pants down, and frees the part of his shirt that was tucked in.

His back is pressed against the wall, head thrown back. His chest heaves with heavy breaths as he squeezes his length. He feels the pangs of a sinful conscious. Nami would punch him into next week if she found out that he had gotten off to the thought of you like this.

Maybe that's what makes it more exhilarating.

His eyes flutter closed and the cig is long gone. It must have fell out when he was coming here. But no matter. His thumbs his tip, spreading his arousal over himself.

"Fuck, love." he breathes. He can see it now. You on your knees with your delicate little hand around his throbbing dick. He feels himself spasm in his hand.

A groan escapes his mouth as his clenched fist begins to move up and down his thick shaft.

He imagines you wrapping your mouth around him. The soft feeling of your cheeks as his tip nudges that little dangly thing in the back of your throat. "Yes, mhm, take it. Such a good girl." he sighs. "Keep sucking for me, just like that. You know how to do it."

His knees are shaking and his dick is throbbing and leaking. He's soaked from his own arousal but so badly wants it to be from your own.

Your pussy. Oh god.

Now he can't stop picturing your swollen lips and pulsing clit. His imagination will be the death of him. The idea of you laying back for him, propping yourself up on your elbows so you can see him, and spreading your thighs.

He gets comfortable and puts a finger in between your soft folds. You're dripping for him. Him.

His hand picks up the pace and feels this tingly sensation in his stomach.

He slaps his tip against your clit a few times. That makes you arch your back as he pushes his way in. The feeling of being stretched makes your walls tighten. He gulps, trying to compose himself. "So fucking tight."

Your pussy squelches with every thrust, breasts are bouncing and nipples erect. You're desperate, begging him for more.

The veins in his head and the muscles in his neck pop. He's a grunting mess. Gritting his teeth, using the stamia he has left to focus. He is too far gone to tease himself.

He now sees you still laying on your back, but you're giving him a handjob. Milking him for all he's got.

"Ugh, fuck!" he cried out, slamming his back against the wall as he cums. It's thick and white and he imagines cumming all over your chest. But in reality, the sticky arousal is all over his hand.

His cock softens in his hand and he breathes to try to calm down. Sanji takes a look at the mess he made, letting out a blissed, fucked out laugh, not even trying to hide the smile on his face.

[leeknow-thoughts]

୨୧ DRAG ME DOWN TO HELL/YOU'LL HOLD MY HAND

𝝑𝝔 cw : silly!mimo, fluff!, one joke about sewerslide, slice of life

𝝑𝝔 a/n : guys I love mimo he's so sweetieful to me

"Jagi, look at it!" Minho teases you as he holds the fish that is flopping around in his hands.

You do your best not to gag at the sight as your face falls in disgust, "that is so... gross."

"Oh hush, you won't be complaining tonight when you're eating it," Minho grumbles at your disgust and puts the fish in the cooler.

"Yeah, I will be, I'll be thinking about that fish and it's family that it could have had before you murdered it," you huff and take a seat in one of the chairs at the campsite.

"You take the girl out of the city not the city out of the girl," Minho supposes as he rebaits the fishing line.

"I'm happy with being a city girl if it means not murdering innocent fish and shit like that," you cross your arms.

"You know we can go back home right, you're the one who wanted to go camping with me," Minho reminds you.

"Yeah, whatever," you roll your eyes, "honestly I'd choose bear."

"What?" he looks at you with disbelief.

"Like being stuck in the woods with a man or a bear," you watch as he walks behind your chair to grab a different type of bait, "I would choose bear for obvious reasons and at least the bear would keep me some what entertained!"

You feel Minho's hands suddenly wrap around you tickling your sides, while you swat at his hands but can't help the smile that breaks across your face, "I'm sure they'd keep you very entertained, jagi," Minho chuckles and lets you go.

"I can't believe you just touched me with lake water! Lee Minho!" you exclaim and sit up as you try to shake the water off you.

You have a new focus as you lunge at Minho, he is faster though, swiftly evading your capture. Which leads to a game of tag as you run around trying to capture him.

You accidentally slip though, no big deal if it wasn't into the lake. Straight into the freezing cold, dirty water.

When your head pops out of the water you watch as Minho stares down at you and you can see that he is doing his best not to laugh, biting his tongue in order to keep himself from laughing. "Ja-Jagi," he almost laughs, before cupping his hand over his mouth, doubling over in laughter.

"Minho!" you shriek, splashing him with lake water.

"I-I'm sorry!" he chuckles, "you look like a s-soaked cat!"

"I feel like one too! Help me out!" you cry and have to bite your tongue to prevent tears from escaping your eyes.

Minho reaches over and helps pull you up, out of the water. "J-jagi, you're shivering," Minho points out.

"No fucking shit!" you exclaim as you try to warm yourself up.

Minho can't help the yelp-like laugh that escapes his lips before he's completely doubling over, practically rolling on the ground with laughter. "Ugh, fuck you!" you huff before marching off to the large tent you both would be sharing.

Luckily the tent had it's own shower, Minho opting for one because you would be joining him. The shower was small though, and there was no hot water, but at least it was something. You stripped off your dirty clothes, throwing them in a plastic bag before stepping under the freezing water.

You can't help but letting tears fall from your eyes as you try to gulp down the uncomfortable feeling that resonates all over your body.

"Little love?" Minho calls out to you, and you hear him step into the shower room.

He pulls back the shower curtain and takes one look at your teary-eyed state before his face falls. "Oh, jagi," Minho sighs, he reaches his hand out to you, "don't cry jagi, I'm sorry I laughed at you earlier," he coos.

"Was mean," you sniffle.

"It was mean," he agrees, gently cupping your face, "let me make it up to you. How can I make it up to you?"

"Go jump in the pond," you request.

"Jagi, I can't swim," he reminds you, "unless you're telling me to kill myself."

"That's so embarrassing, I hope you know," you sigh, shampooing your hair, "not being able to fucking swim."

Minho stifles his laughter before he begins stripping off his clothes, "what are you doing?" you question.

"Jumping in the pond," he answers.

"Naked?"

"It's not like anyone will see me," he hums.

He runs outside before you hear a splash, a moment after that Minho is running into the shower, he smells just like pond water, and he's drenched from head to toe. "Ew, you smell like pond water!" you shriek.

"Yeah," Minho sniffs you, "so do you."

"I can't believe you did that, how did you not drown?"

"Went in the shallow part," he explains as he kisses your shoulder.

You turn around, facing him. The limited shower space means you and Minho are practically pushed right against each other. "You're crazy you know?" you hum as you place a kiss on his lips.

"I'm fully aware, jagi," he hums against your lips, "also when did you get this?" he taps your inner thigh, the scar from a recent incident being what he was talking about.

"Oh, it's nothing," you brush off, "honestly didn't think you'd notice it."

"I know every inch of your body, obviously I'd notice a scar I haven't seen before," he sighs like it's obvious.

"You're sexy like this," you confess.

"Like how? Soaked in lake water?"

"Naked," you giggle, pressing a kiss to his lips.

A kiss that he happily returns.

After the shower you laid in bed while Minho began frying the fish he had caught earlier. "You should wear that shirt more often," you comment from your huddle of blankets on the cozy bed.

"Yeah?" Minho teases without looking at you, "you like it?"

"Yeah," you can't help but bite your lip.

"It's just a black compression shirt, jagi," he taunts.

You look over his form again, baggy jeans paired with a long sleeve black compression shirt with his long brown hair a mess on his head. "Still," you mumble, "looks fucking good."

"I bet it does," Minho agrees, making you whimper in frustration.

"You're confident today," you mumble as you turn over, looking at him.

"It's cause I'm around you," he smirks, looking back at you.

"What's that supposed to mean!?" you slap your forehead, tears of embarrassment threatening to fall.

"It means," he drags out the word while turning back to look at you, he notices your almost teary embarrassed face, "that you're the best," he hums turning back, "and you shouldn't be embarrassed about falling in the lake, or finding me sexy."

"I don't find you sexy!" you shriek.

"That's a fucking lie," Minho muses, "you said it yourself!"

"Shut up!" You slam your face into a pillow.

"You like me this way, jagi," he giggles before turning back to look at you.

"Loud and obnoxious," you raise your eyebrow,

"Yeouch, you're mean today, jagi," Minho hums before turning back to the food.

"Yeah yeah," you murmur before laying your head back down on the pillows.

"It's okay," Minho hums, "I like you a tiny bit mean."

You rise up out of the bed and join him in the small kitchenette area of the tent, wrapping your arms around his middle. Your chest to his back while he stands over a grill, rotating the salmon, making sure it's evenly cooked on both sides. "Your hands look good," you compliment, burying your head into his back with flushed cheeks.

"Mhm," he hums, "thank you, jagi. You know I think that's the nicest thing you've said to me today," he teases.

"I'm sure it is," you agree.

Minho flips around, now facing you, gently cupping your face, pulling you in for a kiss, "I'm glad you decided to come along, jagi," he mumbles through kisses planted on your lips.

"Me too, even if I did fall in the lake," you murmur.

You both eat over a campfire, no words exchanged between the two of you. Always preferring the silence that came with meals over talking with food in your mouths.

"Y'know," Minho starts, cutting through the silence like a knife to butter, "I'd let you drag me to hell if it means you'll hold my hand."

"I hope you know what an off putting thing that is to say over dinner," you tease.

"I'm aware, that's why I said it."

"You're very peculiar, I hope you know," you say through bites of salmon and vegetables.

Minho smirks, "it's okay, you're peculiar, just like me."

"I prefer to be called unique, thank you," you retort.

Later that night the two of you laid in bed together, Minho's fingers tracing that new scar on your thigh while you read a book. "You're perfect," Minho whispers in your ear.

"You're one to talk," you hum, putting your book on the nightstand and running your fingers through Minho's hair.

"Hell yeah I am, I'm the only person who gets the privilege of calling you perfect," he laughs.

"Yes you are, yes you are," you affirm.

[mattsobvimyfav]

roommates (matthew sturniolo)

pt 11-

TRIGGER- smut

a/n - this one is LONG

The next morning, I was dead to the world. After staying up late with Matt, Chris, and Nick, I couldn’t bring myself out of bed for their game. When Nick shaked me awake asking if I was coming, I mumbled something about being exhausted and pulled the blanket over my head.

“Fine bitch,” he said, shutting the door.

I slept until the afternoon, waking only when I heard the sound of keys jingling and the door opening. Matt and Chris were back from their game, voices low as they recapped the highlights.

I yawned, stretching as I rolled out of bed. Matt looked up from the couch, his damp hair still sticking to his forehead.

“You sleep all day?” he asked, a smirk tugging at his lips.

“Pretty much,” I said, grabbing a bottle of water from the mini-fridge.

He stood up, grabbing his keys off his desk. “Come for a ride with me before the party tonight?”

I blinked, caught off guard. Matt never asked me to do anything with him, let alone spend time one-on-one. “Yeah sure”

“Good. Let’s go,” he said, heading for the door without waiting for a proper response.

The car ride was quiet but not awkward. Matt played some music, the bass thumping lightly as the wind rushed through the cracked windows. I couldn’t help but wonder why he’d invited me along. He’d been spending a lot more time with me lately, and I wasn’t sure what to make of it.

After about ten minutes, he turned onto a narrow street and pulled up in front of a small, run-down house.

“What are we doing here?” I asked, glancing around.

“Business,” he said vaguely, turning the car off.

Before I could ask for details, the front door swung open, and a girl came bounding out. She was tall and lean, dressed in nothing but tiny shorts and a lace bra, her blonde hair cascading down her back. Her face lit up when she saw Matt, but the second her eyes landed on me, her smile twisted into a scowl.

“Who’s this?” she asked, glaring at me as she leaned against Matt’s window.

“No one,” Matt said flatly, reaching into his hoodie pocket and pulling out a small plastic bag.

My eyebrows shot up, and I crossed my arms, leaning back in my seat. The girl was clearly trying to get his attention, twirling her hair and giggling as she handed him some cash, but Matt was all business. He took the money, handed over the bag, and didn’t say a word as she leaned further into his window, practically shoving her chest in his face.

“You should come inside for a bit,” she purred, running her fingers along the edge of the car door.

“Can’t,” Matt said curtly, starting the engine.

Her eyes flicked back to me, narrowing. “Right. You’re busy with… this.”

I opened my mouth to respond, but Matt didn’t give me the chance. He pulled away from the curb without so much as a goodbye, leaving her standing in the street.

The car was silent for a moment before I finally spoke. “So, that’s your ‘business’?”

“Don’t start,” he muttered, his knuckles tightening on the steering wheel.

“I didn’t say anything.”

“Good,” he said, glancing at me briefly before turning his focus back on the road.

When we got back to campus, I still wasn’t sure what to make of the whole thing. Matt didn’t bother explaining, and I didn’t push. He parked the car, and we walked back to the dorms in silence.

Whatever that was, it was just another layer to the enigma that was Matt.

After getting back to the dorms, I started getting ready for the party. I wasn’t about to half-ass it tonight. The energy between me, Matt, and Chris had been different lately, and if I was going to keep their attention—especially Matt’s—I wanted to look good.

I rummaged through my closet and finally settled on a sheer red tank top with a black bralette underneath, paired with a leather mini skirt and my favorite black leather boots. The outfit hugged my curves perfectly, and when I looked in the mirror, I couldn’t help but smirk. I put on minimal makeup and curled my hair into loose waves.

As I finished up, I heard the door swing open and the loud chatter of Nick, Chris, and Matt filtering into the dorm. Nick, always the most extra of the group, immediately gasped as he saw me.

“Damn, girl,” he said, leaning on the doorframe with a grin. “You’re getting fucked tonight.”

I laughed, adjusting my skirt. “You think?”

“Oh, for sure. Hell, I’m even thinking about it,” Nick replied. “Come on, we need to take pictures before we head out.”

I rolled my eyes, finally turning to where Chris and Matt were lounging, both freshly showered and dressed. Chris had his usual easygoing smirk, but Matt gave me a once-over, his expression unreadable as his eyes lingered on my outfit.

“You good?” I asked, raising an eyebrow at him.

“Yeah,” he said shortly, looking away as Nick grabbed his phone.

“Stand up bitch, I want to leave soon” Nick commanded, waving us into position.

Nick started with group shots. Chris slung an arm around my shoulders, grinning like an idiot, while Matt stood on my other side, his left hand snaked around my lower back and waist.

After a few shots of all three of us, Nick directed Chris and me to take some photos together. Chris was all about the camera, pulling me into playful poses that had me laughing and trying not to trip over myself.

“Now you and Matt,” Nick said, motioning for Chris to step aside.

I glanced at Matt, who sighed but stepped closer anyway. Unlike Chris, Matt wasn’t as playful. He just stood there, his expression a little softer than usual.

“Come on, Matt, loosen up!” Nick teased.

Matt rolled his eyes but managed a small smirk, pulling me into his side by my waist.

“This ok?” he leaned over and whispered in my ear.

I simply nodded, too caught off guard and flustered to form a response. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to make my heart race.

After that, Nick insisted on taking solo shots of me. He hyped me up the whole time, positioning me in different angles and making me laugh.

“Yes bitch! You’re serving cunt,” he said, snapping away.

“Yeah, yeah,” I said, but I couldn’t help smiling.

By the time Nick was satisfied, we were all laughing and ready to head out. The photos turned out sexy as fuck and I was satisifed as we headed for the door. Tonight was going to be interesting—I could feel it.

The party had already started and the music was loud enough to feel in my chest. It was in a house a little further off campus, so Matt had offered to be the designated driver, leaving Chris, Nick, and me free to let loose.

As soon as we got inside, Chris handed me a shot, and Nick grabbed one for himself.

“Shot for shot?” Nick challenged, raising an eyebrow.

“Bet,” I said with a grin, clinking my glass against theirs before tossing it back.

It didn’t take long for the drinks to kick in. The three of us were a mess of laughter and downing shots until the burn barely registered anymore. Chris eventually found himself a seat on the couch next to Matt, who was content to just sit back and smoke, watching the chaos unfold.

Nick, on the other hand, dragged me to the middle of the living room, where the makeshift dance floor was packed with people.

“Dance bitch,” he said sarcastically, spinning me around.

I laughed, swaying my hips to the beat as Nick danced around me, hyping me up like only he could. We were surrounded by other college students, but it felt like I was in my own world.

From the corner of my eye, I could see Matt and Chris watching us. Chris was grinning, clearly amused, but Matt just sat there as he passed the joint between his fingers.

And then it happened.

I was mid-spin when I felt someone shove me from behind, hard enough to make me stumble.

“What the fuck?” I turned, only to come face-to-face with a girl I hadn’t seen in years, or so I thought.

It took a second for it to click, but when it did, my stomach dropped. It was her. The girl from earlier, the one Matt had sold to. Only now, I realized why she looked so familiar—she’d gone to my high school.

“You really think you can just waltz in and take Matt from me?” she snapped, her voice loud enough to draw attention. “I’ve been after him for over a year, and now you think you’re something special?”

I blinked, stunned for a moment before finding my voice. “Take him from you? I don’t even—what are you talking about?”

“Don’t play dumb,” she sneered, stepping closer. “I saw the way he looks at you. You’re pathetic.”

I wasn’t about to back down, especially not to her. “And you’re embarrassing yourself,” I shot back. “Maybe focus less on Matt and more on getting a personality.”

I felt the rage bubbling up before I could stop it. The second she walked off, I yelled after her, “You’re just mad because he doesn’t want you, you desperate whore!”

The music wasn’t loud enough to cover my outburst, and people started turning their heads. My voice carried through the room, venom dripping from every word.

Suddenly, Matt was there. I didn’t even see him get up from the couch, but he was standing right in front of me, his hand gripping my shoulder firmly, his other hand quickly covering my mouth.

“Shut up,” he muttered lowly, leaning down until our faces were inches apart.

His hand on my face didn’t hurt—it wasn’t rough—but it was enough to catch me off guard and silence me. His fingers lightly brushed my cheek, and his intense eyes locked onto mine.

“Don’t do this,” he said quietly, his voice low and steady. “I’ll handle it. Stay out of it.”

For some reason, the way he looked at me—calm but dominant, with that rough edge only Matt had—did something to me. My anger melted away, replaced with a heat I wasn’t ready to admit to.

Matt straightened, his hand dropping from my face as he turned around, his whole demeanor shifting. His jaw was tight, and his light eyes zeroed in on the girl, who was still throwing daggers at me with her glare.

“Listen,” Matt started, his voice sharp, loud, and cutting. “I’m not anyone’s property. Not yours, not hers, not anybody’s. So why don’t you fuck off before I make you leave?”

Her mouth opened to argue, but Matt didn’t give her the chance.

“And another thing—Y/N is my roommate. She’s off-limits to all you psychos. So leave her the fuck alone. Got it?”

The room was dead silent, tension so thick you could cut it with a knife. His jaw still tight, and shot one last glare at the girl before heading back toward the couch.

I stood there, stunned, my heart racing from the spectacle he’d just caused. My mind was spinning,

The party was buzzing again, but I couldn’t focus on anything except Matt’s outburst earlier. The way he’d shut that girl down, stood up for me, and then made it clear to everyone that I wasn’t to be messed with—it had my head spinning. And if I was honest, it wasn’t just my head.

After grabbing another drink, I found myself wandering back to the couch where Matt and Chris were sitting. Chris had some girl perched on his lap, laughing at whatever stupid joke he’d just told. Matt, on the other hand, was leaning back, his usual brooding self, passing the blunt lazily between his fingers as if the whole scene earlier hadn’t even happened.

I didn’t say anything as I walked over. I just plopped myself down on Matt’s lap, settling in like I belonged there.

His body stiffened for a second. “What are you doing?”

I shrugged, leaning back slightly into his chest. “Sitting.”

“You’ve got your own seat,” he muttered, taking another hit from the blunt, the smoke curling around his lips.

I smirked, reaching up and plucking it from his fingers before he could pass it to Chris. “This one’s better.”

Matt exhaled sharply, a mix of annoyance and amusement flickering across his face. “You’re drunk.”

“Not as drunk as you think,” I said, taking a drag and handing it back to him.

Chris glanced over, the girl still giggling in his lap, and raised an eyebrow. “The fuck? Y/N and Matt playing nice for once?”

“Shut up, Chris,” Matt said flatly, taking the blunt from my hand and pulling another slow hit.

I smiled, settling more comfortably against him. Matt didn’t push me off or tell me to move, and his hand eventually rested on my thigh, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Chris chuckled, shaking his head. “Whatever, kid. Just don’t kill each other before the end of the night.”

I leaned my head back slightly, turning to look up at Matt. “You’re not mad at me, are you?”

His eyes flicked down to mine, the corner of his mouth twitching. “Should I be?”

I held his gaze, feeling that familiar pull between us. “Nope.”

“Then stop overthinking it and sit still,” he muttered, grabbing my hips “Your moving to much and your not gonna like where that leads you” He whispered into my ear sending a shiver down my spine.

If Matt was letting me sit here without a fight, I wasn’t about to question it.

When we got back to the dorm, Nick immediately claimed Chris’s room, muttering something about needing a good night’s sleep after dealing with “party chaos.” Chris just rolled his eyes and doordashed a late-night snack, leaving Matt and me alone in our dorm.

As I kicked off my boots and flopped onto the couch, Matt hovered by the door for a moment before finally speaking.

“You wanna watch a movie or something?” he asked, his voice casual but not dismissive.

I glanced up at him, a little surprised. “Yeah, sure. What are we watching?”

He shrugged, already flipping through the streaming options. “Whatever you want.”

We settled on a horror movie neither of us had seen before. Matt grabbed a blanket from his bed and threw it over us as he took the spot next to me on the couch.

Maybe it was the leftover buzz from the party, or maybe it was how he’d stood up for me earlier, but I couldn’t shake the electricity between us.

About halfway through the movie, I couldn’t focus anymore. I was too aware of the way his arm brushed mine every time he shifted or how his jaw tightened during a tense scene.

Without thinking, I turned to look at him. His eyes were locked on the screen, his face unreadable as always. Something about his calm, controlled demeanor drove me insane.

And then I did it.

I leaned over and kissed him.

It wasn’t planned, wasn’t calculated—I just went for it. My lips pressed softly against his, and for a moment, he didn’t move. I froze, suddenly wondering if I’d made a mistake.

But then, his hand moved to my cheek, and he kissed me back. Slowly, deliberately, like he wanted to make sure I felt every second of it. His lips were warm and soft, and when he pulled back, his thumb lingered on my skin, tracing a gentle line along my jaw.

“What the hell was that?” he asked, his voice low and gruff, but there was no anger in it.

I shrugged, trying to play it cool even though my heart was racing. “I felt like it.”

He smirked faintly, his hand still on my face. “You’re unbelievable.”

“And yet you kissed me back,” I shot back, leaning in again.

This time, he didn’t hesitate. His hand slid to the back of my neck, pulling me closer as our lips met again, deeper, more intense. The movie played on in the background, forgotten, as we stayed there on the couch, lost in the moment.

I waste no time opening my mouth and letting his tongue explore every corner and crevice. He kissed me desperately and with such passion that had me curling my toes while I moaned into his mouth.

His hands leave my cheeks and travel down my body; feeling up every curve as if he was trying to memorize it. At last, his hands find their place on my hips and pulls me on top of him. The only thing between us was our sweatpants and hoodies and I wanted nothing more in that moment than to rip it off.

I bring my own hands up and thread them through his wavy and dark locks. I tug at his hair slightly and he groans into my mouth, sending vibrations down my throat. I press against him even closer.

At this point, every part of me that could be touching him, was touching. But it still wasn’t enough. I wanted to feel him on every single inch of my bare and aching body.

Matt is the first to pull away. Both of us gasp for air without breaking eye contact. The movie had ended and the credits were rolling so I could barely see him at first but my eyes had adjusted to the dark and I could now make out every beautiful and delicate feature he had.

Before I had any time to really admire him, Matt stood up, carrying me with him and pushes me back gently against his bed.

I fall onto it and he leans on top of me; forearms placed and holding him up on both sides of my head. He leans down but instead of kissing my lips, he kisses my jaw. He leaves sweet kisses around my cheeks and under my ear.

As he got closer to my neck his tongue started lighting grazing it. I arch my back and curl my toes when he sucks on my sweet spot.

He continues to suck and bite; certain to leave marks. He took his time savoring the moans I was letting out just for him.

My stomach and lower abdomen were pressed against his core from my arched back and I could feel his imprint pressing against me through his sweatpants. It was driving me insane. I bring my hands up and weave them through his hair; pulling at it again.

I let out a whimper when I feel his length twitch against my stomach. My whimpers quickly turn into moans as he starts to slightly move against my lower abdomen and core; creating the desperately needed friction.

I throw my head back and cry out when he pushes against me with such force that my body jolts. He lets out a throaty groan at the same time.

We both lift our heads and look at each other. If that's how we were reacting from simply grinding on each other then I couldn’t begin to imagine how incredible it was going to feel when he was inside me.

He seemed to have the same thought as me because one look into his eyes sends sparks tingling through my body.

“Please, Matt. I need this.” I beg “I need you.”

Whatever chain he was holding himself back on had offically snapped. He strips us both down quickly, leaving me in my bra and underwear and him in his boxers. He grinds against me with the same force and dips his heads down to my neck; sucking and biting even rougher than before.

I moan even louder and arch my hips into him even higher; desperate for any sort of friction that can help relieve the painful desire between my legs. His kisses trail down from my neck to my chest, leaving marks in his wake.

Once he reaches the strap of my black bra, he lifts his head to look at me; a silent request.

I nod even though I know there would be no returning to what we used to be after tonight.

He slowly pulls off the right strap and then the left, making sure to run his fingertips down my body while he did it. Not once did his eyes leave mine until his mouth attached around my peaked breast and he closed his eyes, groaning around me. I clench around nothing as he flicks his tongue over my hardened bud; sucking and grazing his teeth over my nipple.

I squirm underneath him due to the pleasure being so good. He lets go of my left breast and brings his face back up to my jaw; leaving sweet kisses all around that area.

“I can’t tell you how long I’ve wanted to do this” he mumbles into my neck and I whimper at his confession.

If only he knew how badly I had wanted it too- needed it.

Shit, I didn’t even know how badly I had needed it until now.

My core throbs as I feel his erection brush up against my inner thigh. He was so big; practically stretching through his swim shorts. I couldn’t stop myself as I reached down and grabbed his length in my hand, slowly palming it. He let out a raspy moan and one of his arms buckles underneath him.

“S-stop” he stumbles over his words, trying to gain his composure. “I’ll finish way too fast”

Heat starts profusely pooling at my core again. I give it another stroke with my palm and this time he completely drops his head into the crevice of my neck. The only part that wasn’t entirely against me was his hips which he kept raised so my hand could fit in the space between us two.

I was getting more and more turned on every second about how he was becoming so unraveled beneath me.

I had to have more of this.

I lightly brush the tips of my fingernails up his erection through the cloth, earning a loud and shameless groan from the back of his throat.

I was going to explode.

I could feel every one of his groans against my neck as I palmed him slowly. Watching him become undone by my touch was one of the most magnificent things I have ever experienced.

I push him off me and flip over, causing me to straddle him on the bed. His wide eyes and parted lips were enough to suppress my self-consciousness and continue. I trail my fingers down my body gradually, making sure to watch his expressions as I got closer to my entrance.

Just as I was about to reach the hem of my underwear, I stop and run my fingers back up my body and toward my breasts. Matt groans in irritation and throws his head back.

I giggle at his impatience but waste no time lifting a leg and slowly and sensually removing my panties then dropping it onto his lap. Matt is quick to put one hand under my arm and raise me slightly. He grabs my disregarded underwear off of him and throws them across our room.

And now here I was, completely naked and straddling him. I could already feel the hickeys bruising and forming on my breasts and neck. In this position, I was beginning to feel a little insecure so I avert my eyes from the boy underneath me and look straight ahead.

I shiver when I feel Matt’s large palm on my lower stomach. I look back down and see his warm eyes peering up at me, flickering with reassurance. I smile down at him and he smiles back. With new confidence flowing through my veins, I sit up on my knees and begin to pull down his boxers. He throws his head back as the air hits his newly exposed crotch.

A breathless sigh escapes my lips when I pull his shorts completely down, revealing the thick and intimidating length of him.

How is that supposed to fit inside me?

Matt must’ve seen the surprised and slightly panicked look on my face because he chuckles lightly and flips the positions; I'm back on the mattress and he’s on top. I squeeze my eyes in anticipation when I feel the tip brush between my folds.

He does this a couple of times before neither of us could take it anymore, the sexual tension eating away at both of us.

“I’ll go slow, okay?” he whispers. I nod in approval and open my eyes to see him hovering only inches above me. My eyes instantly close again and my mouth gapes open when he pushes the tip in. I desperately grind my hips lower in need of friction. He continues to push into me at an agonizingly slow pace.

I needed more.

“Please, Matt” I whimper “more”

He pauses; hesitating for a moment before sighing and slamming all eleven inches into me with no mercy. I scream out as my walls pulsate and stretch vigorously around him, trying to adapt quickly. He stills inside me, letting me get used to him. Once I get comfortable he pulls out a couple of inches before colliding back into me with the same force.

He almost instantly hits my cervix and I cry out in pain. He was so big that it was unavoidable for him not to hit it but God, it hurt so bad in the best way possible.

He continues to slowly thrust in and out of me with gentle strokes but I didn’t want that. I wanted all of him, everything he had to offer. I wanted to feel him in every corner and crevice of my body. I wanted him so bad and in ways that were so disgusting that there weren’t even words to explain it.

“Don’t hold back,” I moan into his ear and I feel him groan lightly under his breath.

He begins to pick up his pace and my cries grow even louder. I try to contain myself since there are hundreds of other people in the building but I couldn’t control it. Matt brings his hand up to my face and pushes his palm over my mouth; shushing me.

My body rocks with each forceful stroke and I could feel my climax coming soon. I didn’t want this to end. Not yet.

I whisper to him to switch positions which ends up sounding more like a mumble of gibberish. Somehow he hears it and stops immediately. He grabs my back and flips me around onto my hands and knees. He pulls back and without any warning, he smashes every inch of him inside of me again.

“Fuck- oh my god!” I cry out, Matt letting out a gasp while I grip tightly onto the sheets. My eyes water and I clench my jaw. This time it was a little less painful but the strech still hurt. He gives me a second to adjust to his size before pulling nearly all the way out and slowly pushing himself back in even deeper.

My back arches as he brings one of his hands to my head, pushing it into the pillows. The pain quickly is outdone by pleasure. In this position I could feel myself tighten around him.

“Fuck” he groaned, throwing his head back and I was sure he could feel it too. His pace begins to speed up as he brings both his hands to my hips to hold me in place from moving.

The room was filled with the sound of skin slapping and both of our moans and groans. He reaches over me and grabs my neck, pulling me up so my back is flush against his chest. He continues to fuck hard into me as he points to the vanity mirror on my desk across the room.

Once I see it I automatically close my eyes and look down. He leans forward and whispers in my ear “Look at how good you’re taking me”

When I still don't open my eyes he uses the hand around my neck and moves it to my jaw. He grabs it and forces me to look up.

I reluctantly open my eyes and what a sight. I watch through the mirror as Matt takes his other hand and places it between my breasts. He slowly and sensually drags it down my stomach and lower abdomen until reaching my clit. He starts off with slow circles, barely any pressure. My thighs threaten to close at the teasing but he thrusts in and out of me harder, making me spread them even wider. He begins to add more pressure against my clit, still continuing with the slow pace. My whole body shudders and I release a loudy and raspy moan

“You like that?” he groans against my neck. I could only whimper in response. I’ve never seen this side of Matt before but god was I enjoying it. I never wanted it to stop.

Right as I could've sworn that I felt his cock twitch, he abruptly pulls out and flips me over onto my back again. He drops down and shoves himself back inside me while reaching up and grabbing one leg to hold over his shoulder, hitting even deeper in me than before.

I scream out as he thrusts harder and faster into me, so overwhelmed by the pleasure.

“Matt” I choke out between moans.

“Chris make you feel this good?” he asks from above me, looking at me dead in the eyes.

I shake my head from side to side as I squeeze my eyes shut.

“No? Tell me then. Let me hear you say it, Y/N.” He commanded and even with my eyes closed I could hear the smirk in his voice.

“Chris couldn’t make me feel this good.”

His pace picks up and your core tightens. “Yeah? Who does?”

You moan, opening your eyes and peer up into his. “You, Matt.”

His smile is devilish when he responds. “Yeah and thats why he couldn’t make you cum until you saw me, right?”

I nod as I tighten around him at his words.

“Yeah thats what I thought. Fuckin’ pathetic.” He kept fucking his hips into me. Beads of sweat ran along his neck and the veins in his arms were popping out. His dark brown hair was disheveled and his lips were parted in pleasure. His cheeks were red and flustered and his alluring blue eyes were fixed on mine, clouded with lust and I couldn’t help when the knot in my stomach snapped.

Before I could warn him, I let out a loud moan while my nails dig into his back and my legs shake as I finish. But he doesn’t stop there, he keeps at the same pace, thrusting just as rough and deep into my newly sensitive core.

“Matt,” I cry out “Its too much, I can’t”

“Yes you fuckin’ can” He breathed out heavily. I nod through the tears in my eyes due to the pleasure being too good.

He loops his arms around my back and pulls me towards the edge of the bed in a sitting position. I straddle him with him still inside me. He looks at me for a second before shaking his head and pulling me off him.

He takes my hips and flips me around so my back is to him now. He slowly pushes me back down on his throbbing cock. My walls immediately suck him back in and I let out a cry of both pain and pleasure as he hits my cervix.

“That's good baby, you’re doing so good” he comforts and kisses my shoulder as I sit down fully on him, back against his chest.

Normally this would have had me whipping around in confusion since he never would say something like that, but I was too cockdrunk to even fully register it.

Once he’s completely inside me, he brings his hands to my hips and pushes me forward a little. He begins to move my hips up and down as I bounce on him. The pain slowly disappears as he makes gentle thrusts in and out, letting me adjust. Once I become comfortable he starts to go faster and much harder, hitting so deep inside me. He brings one of his hands off my hips and presses on my lower abdomen.

I can feel him grin against my shoulder. “I can feel myself inside you”

This must’ve boosted his confidence because he starts going even harder. At this point I didn’t even need to bounce because of the strength he put behind his thrusts. My whole body jolted with each powerful stroke.

The hand that was on my abdomen comes up and begins to fondle with my breast while the other was positioned at my waist, holding me in place while he fucks into me with no mercy.

I started to tighten around him. Since I was already sensitive from cuming already, it didn't take long for me to get there again. His thrusts become sloppy and slower and he begins to start groaning louder.

My eyes squeezed shut, his name falling from my lips as I released on his cock. The most magnificent and sexual groans leave his mouth and his eyebrows furrow as he twitches and cums inside me.

“God,” he breathes heavily against my neck. Matt was still inside me but I didn't make an effort to move or stand up. I fell back onto him, the back of my head resting in the crook of his neck. Neither of us spoke a word as we were both trying to catch our breaths and recover from our highs.

Slowly, he shifted, pulling out of me with deliberate care, and I winced faintly at the sensation. He didn’t say a word as he sat up, his movements quiet and purposeful. I expected him to just fall back into bed, to leave us tangled in the mess we’d made, but instead, I felt the mattress dip as he stood.

I turned my head slightly to watch him move toward the bathroom, his frame illuminated briefly by the dim light spilling through the doorway. When he came back, he had a warm, damp cloth in his hand. Still silent, his expression unreadable, he knelt beside me and started cleaning me up. His touch was gentle, almost reverent, as if he was afraid of breaking the fragile quiet between us.

My cheeks burned, but I didn’t say anything, too overwhelmed and embarrassed. Once he was done, he discarded the cloth and turned to his dresser, pulling out one of his oversized shirts. Without meeting my gaze, he slipped it over my head, the soft fabric falling around me like a blanket. The shirt smelled like him—warm, clean, comforting—and for some reason, it made my chest tighten.

I sat up slowly, unsure of what to do or say. The weight of the moment hung heavy in the air, and I didn’t want to overstay my welcome, to push past whatever unspoken boundary he might have.

So, I swung my legs over the edge of the bed, intending to slip out quietly and retreat to my own bed. But before I could even take a step, his hand shot out, firm and decisive, grabbing my waist. My breath hitched as he pulled me back toward him, his grip unyielding yet gentle.

“Matt—” I started, but he didn’t let me finish. Without a word, he tugged me back onto the bed, guiding me to lay down beside him. His arm wrapped around my waist, anchoring me to him, and the warmth of his body against mine was impossible to ignore.

I blinked up at him, searching his face for an explanation, but his eyes were soft, his features relaxed, as if this was the most natural thing in the world. He didn’t say anything, and neither did I. Instead, I took his silence as a sign to stay.

Slowly, I let myself sink into the mattress, into him, and his hold on me tightened just slightly, as if to make sure I wouldn’t try to leave again.

The exhaustion from everything we’d just shared began to weigh on me, my eyelids growing heavier by the second. I shifted slightly, nuzzling into the crook of his neck, and his breath hitched against my skin. He exhaled quietly, his voice rough and low.

That was the last thing I heard before sleep claimed me.

tags -

@namelesssav @hanta-seros-wifey @chrisstopherfilmed @larnieboox88 @sturnrc @christmastreecake @tbfaptbfae @emma-sturniolo @2muchofaslvt @sturnioloshottiekay @rockstarchr1s @simply-a-simper

editor -

@ch0llies

[carolperkinsexgirlfriend]

Steddie Upside-down AU Part 4

Part 1 Part 3

We should go to the store,” Steve says. 

He says it mostly to get Munson’s blood up. The silence is digging into his head, making every breath the other takes sound like the ragged wail of that fucking monster.

The longer he stays there, crouched in the trees, the harder it is to tell how much of the ache in his stomach is fear, and how much is hunger. They should find food, water, shelter, a way out of this bullshit.

Munson scoffs. “Looks like you’re getting your way, huh King Steve?”

Steve stands, legs unsteady. His feet are cold and bare in the dirt, gone numb around the ants under his skin. His hand aches from clutching the other boys. He drops it, shaking out the clenched nerves. “Yeah,” he says, channeling all the bitchiness Carol had hammered into his head over pseudo girls nights, “I summoned that thing into my bedroom just because I really wanted to go on a shopping date with you Munson.”

He starts through the woods in the general direction of the store, smiling at the sound of Munson sputtering incoherently behind him before the other boys jogs to catch back up.

“Careful there, big boy.” Muson leans into his space, smile saccharine around all its cracks. “I might just go and catch feelings.”

Steve rolls his eyes, shoving the other boy a few steps away. He can’t stop looking around for a threat, or some tear in the air that’ll lead them back home. He wants to be warm.

The rest of the trip to Melvald’s is quiet, but every time Steve glances his way, Eddie’s biting his lip against the words practically bursting from him.

He’s always been a talker. In the hallways, on cafeteria tables, even beneath the bleachers when he’s trying to keep a low profile. His voice carries. It’s almost painful to watch him try and suppress it. 

No wonder teachers are always cursing his name.

Prying the door open is louder than Steve wants—metal creaking on hinges aged decades in a matter of hours. It echoes off the vacant shops loud enough that both boys stop, staring into each other’s panicked eyes as they wait for a sign that something is coming. The silence echoes around them, bouncing off the storefronts like a physical force.

Nothing stirs.

Steve pries the door open a tiny bit more, gesturing Munson inside. He does a dorky little curtsy on the way, pulling the gaping knees of his jeans like they’re the hems of a skirt. Steve rolls his eyes, but follows him in.

The door resists closing, but Steve pulls it shut, around the sounds of its own groans. The illusion of safety and all that. Munson must feel the same because he immediately starts chattering.

“Is this how you feel, all the time, Harrington?” he asks, bounding over to the cereal aisle and pulling a luridly orange box down from the shelf. He pries the box open, pulling at the seams of the bag like an impatient child on Christmas morning. “No budget, no coupons, just—shit.”

He drops the box around his startled expletive before immediately ripping into a new one.

“What?” Steve asks, but he’s already following in Munson’s wake and reaching down for the abandoned box. Before he even pulls the plastic bag out, he can smell the stench of food gone off. He pulls it out anyway.

Just like the door, and the street, and the water in his tap—the cereal in the bag has seemingly aged years in a matter of hours. Each wheaty bite has shriveled into itself, turning an off-putting grey and smelling like a stack of cardboard left to mold in the rain.

Munson’s still picking up and discarding boxes, movements growing more frantic with each new discovery.

In a state beyond horror, Steve wanders over to the water aisle. There’s no light on in the store, but the bottles almost seem to glow—an unholy green, murky and brackish in their pristine bottles, still lined up like it was opening day. It looks like some sort of gone-wrong science experiment from those science fiction movies Carol pretends she doesn’t like to watch. They look just like the sludge in his pipes back home.

Munson is cursing up a storm as he rounds the aisle, but he goes quiet when he sees Steve. He’s not sure what he looks like, but Munson’s hand reaches out and lands on his shoulder. Steve can barely feel its warm squeeze—can’t bear to tear his eyes away from those bottles.

It’s becoming a pattern, the way they’re always stuck together in horrified silence. It’s also becoming a pattern that one of them breaks said silence with some convoluted bullshit.

“Where’s your shoes,  man?” Munson asks, like he’s only just noticed the flesh beyond the caked-on mud.

Steve sighs, shrugging off the other boy’s hand. His toes are numbed past the point of pain as he limps to the first-aid aisle, Munson trailing in his wake.

He ends up on the ground, clutching a roll of bandages, staring down at the bottoms of his feet. The bandages are soft and spongy. Clean. But he can’t even see the abrasions on the bottoms of his feet past the dirt and mud. There’s no water. There’s nothing. So, he just sits there, feeling nothing.

He’s still on the ground. Time must be passing but he doesn’t feel it, can’t see it in the dank light of the store.

He blinks and Munson’s sitting in front of him, Steve’s right foot in his lap. There’s a crumpled pile of used wet wipes beside the other boy’s hip, the brown and red from his own feet smudged across their normally pristine white surfaces.

The package crinkles as Munson pulls the plastic lid open to tear off a fresh wipe. He’s gentle enough that it tickles slightly between the toes and on the arch of his foot as Munson scrubs the last of the dirt away.

Steve clears his throat.

Munson snaps his gaze up, fingers twitching flightily on his foot, but doesn’t stop his ministrations. “You back with me?”

Steve nods. He wants to ask where he was before but can’t force the words past his constricting throat. He feels alarmingly close to tears.

He feels like he’s been sucked out of his body and into a very small tube, compressed until his breaths come in short, punched-out bursts that never fully enter his lungs.

“I think you’re having a panic attack,” Munson says, voice even. He’s looking down at Steve’s foot again, stroking it almost soothingly with the dirtied towelette. “I need you to breath with me, okay?”

Munson’s breathing gets loud and purposeful—long breaths in through his nose, longer breaths out through his mouth. Steve stares, enraptured, and gasps along.

Time passes. Steve’s shoulders slump. His fingers are tingling like they do sometimes at the end of a long basketball game. Sweat dripping down his face, body buzzing with excited adrenaline, fingers buzzing with the need for the ball.

The squeeze of Munson’s hand around his ankle catapults him out of the tube and back into Melvald’s.

Embarrassment crashes into Steve. He crawls to his feet, using the shelving behind him to steady himself. He stands, with creaking knees and hobbles stiff-legged out of the aisle, tossing “I’m going to to find some shoes,” over his shoulder.

“Okay,” Munson replies, so quietly Steve can barely hear it. 

There’s a thank you stuffed deep in Steve’s throat, trying to crawl its way past his mortification. There’s gauze wrapped around the soles of his feet, containing the damage. He’s not sure when Munson even did it.

There’s not a single fucking shoe in any of the aisles–not even a fucking pair of slippers. He’s three seconds away from duct taping the bottom of his feet and calling it good when there’s a tap on his shoulder. He whirls, slipping as his gauze, covered feet try to keep traction. Munson steadies him with a hand to his elbow.

There’s a pair of ratty sneakers clutched in his other hand, and he’s smiling dimples popping. 

“Where’d you get those?” 

Munson beams, skipping in place like a kid playing hopscotch. “Found them in the breakroom,” he says. “Do you think your highness can lower himself to wear a poor, lowly worker man’s shoes?”

His eyes are fucking twinkling. Steve’s heart fucking twitches. This whole thing is too fucking derranged for him to handle.

“What size?”

Munson cackles tossing the shoes into Steve’s chest. 

Steve bends down, pushing his feet into the shoes sockless, hoping the gauze will do enough to keep blisters at bay. They’re a little loose, so Steve ties the crumbling shoelaces tight, hoping against Munson’s fucking dimples that they don’t break. He double knots them. They hold.

“Thanks,” he says, still looking down at the ratty things. 

“Gotta clothe our knights properly for battle!” Munson says. Steve looks up just in time to see that same goofy curtsey.

“I thought I was the King?” he asks. “Have I been demoted?”

Munson laughs again, bringing a curl to his face, as if to hide his grin. “I don’t see any of your subjects around,” he says. It should be mocking, but the elbow he drives into Steve’s side is good-natured. Playful. “Besides, knights are way cooler.”

Steve sighs, can’t believe he’s devolved to playing along with this level of nerdom. “Where’s my sword then, huh Munson?”

Munson sweeps his arms wide encompassing the entirety of Melvald’s in his gesture. “You’re down on your luck, Sir Harrington. You’ve lost your noble steed and your enchanted sword to a suductress from a rival kingdom. Now you’re on a perilous quest to reclaim your property, and regain your rightful place by the King’s side!”

“And where are you in this whole mess?” Steve asks, already kicking himself for playing along.

“Well, I, Sir Steve, as the King’s devoted jester, am on this quest with you to save you from a fate worse than death.”

“Oh, yeah?” Steve asks, inching closer to Munson, unsure of why. “What’s that?”

“Boredom, of course!”

Munson’s hair is a mess. It’s more fly-away than contained. His skin looks a little oily around his forehead, and he looks absolutely ridiculous with Steve’s clothes on. But his eyes are shining, and his smile is beaming, and Steve wonders how someone can be that bright in the literal bowels of hell. 

“Shove off, Munson,” Steve laughs, shoving his shoulder lightly as he walks past.

Munson skips up to keep in pace. “Now, what, my liege?”

“So what, I’m the King again?”

Munson puts a hand over his heart, gasping dramatically. “You’ll always be a King to me.”

Steve feels warmth in his cheeks, pushes it down, doesn’t think about it. What now, he says. What now? 

“Now,” he says, thinking aloud as he eyes the aisles around them. “We collect anything useful around here and go.”

“But–”

“We’re not going to last much longer without water, man.” he replies.

Munson sighs. “The quarry?” he asks, sounding like he’d rather say anything else.

“The quarry,” Steve agrees, feeling just the same. 

Part 5

[chrispleasure]

MASCARA STAIN, m.s

the cold october breeze fills your room, your efforts to close the window denied. it's around 5pm, you said you'd make dinner for you and matt earlier, but you couldn't be bothered so you sent him a quick text telling him to get takeaway instead.

work had been becoming overwhelming, needing to take more hours to stay afloat on the bills. each bill was going up, electricity was the worst one. you were too scared to admit to matt that you were struggling to keep the house.

currently your sat at your desk swamped in papers of notices of eviction, bills, rent, everything. your computer tab opened onto your bank account, showing how much money, you currently have. '1220.' is what was on the screen. sure, it may seem like alot, but houses in la were expensive. not to mention the food, water, electricity and gas.

your eyes read the same money count over fifty times, hoping the numbers would magically get bigger, enough to pay all the debt. but nothing, of course.

the more you started at the screen, the more tears flowed down your cheeks, ruining the mascara you tried hours trying to perfect. your sobs got louder and louder, the once calm atmosphere turnt dark and miserable.

you put your head in your hands, as if trying to hide yourself from the word. "pull yourself together." you repeated quietly, pulling away from your face and beginning to slam your fight against the desk repeatedly.

fear fills your body once the sound of a car pulling into the driveway is heard. you immediately silence yourself, taking deep breaths to try compose yourself. soft hiccups left your lips at the attempt of stopping your sobs immediately.

luckily, you were able to calm yourself. you put all the papers in a neat pile and switch computer tabs to make it seem like you were doing something else.

you heard the front door swing open, "I'm home!" matt called about, closing the door behind himself. he jogs upstairs and walks towards the master bedroom door. he opens the door, met with your back bent over, endorsed in whatever you were doing on the computer.

"hey baby." matt says, walking towards you. he places his hands on your hips and places his lips on your shoulder, pressing a few pecks of kisses. you composed yourself enough to speak, "hi." you spoke quietly, the quiver in your voice slipping.

you blew your cover. he turns your chair around, immediately met with your face, lines of mascara dripping down your cheeks. "you- um, you got a little mascara stain... do you want to talk about it?" matt asks, dropping the plastic bag which held the takeaway food he bought for dinner.

straight away you shake your head, standing up. as you tried to dodge the situation, he placed his hands on your hips gently. "i understand you don't want to talk about it with me, but don't hide. ill hug you until death if i have to, just to see your smile once more." matt spoke, slowly pulling you closer until your chest bumped his.

he hugs you, his arms going around your waist. you rest your head on his shoulder, sniffling. you weren't ready to explain what was going on, how it was taking a toll on your mentally health.

you stay silent, letting him envelop you in a warm embrace. "im always here for you." matt reminds you, moving your hair to your back so there's an available place on your neck to kiss. at first his kisses were soft, warm. the kisses began to get sloppier and more passionate.

your tears slowly fade, and you pull away. "i think i should go take a bath." you mumble, rubbing your cheeks which causes your mascara to smudge more. "yeah, love. you probably should. could i join?" he asks gently.

you nod, and the both of you head to the bathroom. after both getting undressed, you proceed to enter the bath. you sit down, the warm water calming your tense body. matt gets into the water behind you.

he grabs the shampoo, beginning to scrub it through your locks. he makes sure to be slow and gentle, not wanting to hurt you in such a vulnerable state. matt then grabs a cup from the floor and fills it with warm water from the tub, running it through your hair, washing out all the shampoo.

time passed, matt had got you dressed into some comfortable clothes, got you into bed and fed you some of the takeaway food from before.

in a blink of an eye you were asleep, leaving matt alone with his thoughts. he goes to your desk, shutting down your computer. matt finds himself looking through the papers, his calm face turning upset and worried. was this what you were worried about? he thought.

all the bills for food and water, not to mention the rent bills which had skyrocketed since the last on he saw. matt sat down, sorting through each piece of paper, each amount of money he saw on a piece of paper made him feel worse, knowing most the reason they were so high was because of him.

after a few minutes of sitting with the papers, he calculated how much money everything was and sent you money for half. he felt guilty that your bills have went up alot since he had been around. once he finishes, he cleans up your desk. putting the papers in a neat pile.

he then stands up and makes his way to your bed, stripping from his pants and joining you beneath the covers. carefully, matt moved his body closer, one arm draping over your waist. he presses a gentle kiss to your temple, his thumb moving a stand of your hair behind your ear.

when he begins to hear you stir, he speaks. “shh, baby. m’ going to sleep now too, ‘kay?” matt mumbles, getting comfortable beside you and drifting into a comfortable slumber.

writers note: i felt bad that i havent published something proper in a little, so here’s something.

[holylulusworld]

The inventor

Summary: You try to make the hunter’s life easier.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x GN!Reader

Warnings: crack!fic, fun, grumpy Dean

A/N: I saw the idea with a hula-hoop on social media and had to turn it into a fic.

“I got a new idea!” You exclaim as you run inside the library. Since Dean and Sam saved you from a werewolf and took you in, you try to help them. You are their research buddy and their personal inventor.

“Not again,” Dean groans. He rolls his eyes as you carry your invention book, your laptop, and a plastic bag filled with God knows inside the library. “I try to drink in silence. Please don’t let anything explode again.”

“Oopsie!” You giggle. “Dean, that was an accident. It was your fault, though. You tickled me, and I dropped the liquid fire I invented.”

“You didn’t invent anything, Y/N!” Dean mutters under his breath. He wanted to celebrate another successful hunt with booze and watching porn. Now you are placing a construction plan in front of him. “What's this again?”

“A salt-filled hula-hoop ring! You know, like a salt ring, but you can carry it around because it’s inside a hula-hoop!” You excitedly tell Dean about your newest invention. “You can put it around a person and keep them safe from ghosts while you gank the monster. “Oh, it will work with demons too.”

Dean snorts. “I don’t think this will work. The hula-hoop will weaken the effect. We don’t put a box of salt in front of a person to protect them, either.”

“But—” You harrumph. Dean just had to ruin yet another idea to improve their hunting arsenal. “A box is not the same as a hula-hoop!”

“I won’t carry that thing around.” Dean points at the construction plan. “We will stick to salt rings.”

“Water—wind—spit. Anything can break a salt ring, but not my hula-hoop salt ring!” You won’t give up. “Maybe we can try it out on the next hunt! OR WAIT!!!” You gasp as the next idea floods your mind. “Let’s summon Crowley. We can check if he can break the salt ring!”

“No.” Dean cuts you off. “This is not handy, and just stupid!”

“Your face is stupid!” You grab your construction plan and storm out of the library, cursing Dean’s birth.

“SAMMY!” You’re panting while chasing after Sam. He tried to enter the library for research, and now you are hot on his heels. “What do you think about wearing silver rings on every finger to punch werewolves and ghouls in the face? I could make you some. Maybe secret compartment rings. I can put salt inside.”

“You want us to wear rings on every finger? We can’t do anything with rings on our fingers. What if we want to shoot a werewolf, and the huge secret compartment rings get in our way?”

You sigh. Damnit. You worked on the first ring for days and didn’t think about using a gun while wearing it. A fine inventor you are…

“How about car mats with a devil’s trap? This way, no demon can enter your car,” you proudly point at Baby stand in the garage. “That’s a good idea, right?”

“Uh—I hate to tell you so, but we already have a devil’s trap painted to the roof of the trunk. And trust me, no dirty demon will enter my car on my watch.”

You purse your lips. “Fine, let any demon sneak into your car, Winchester.” You storm off, cursing loudly as you decide to never help them again.

“DEAN! I got an idea!” You run inside the kitchen, a water gun in your hands. “LOOK! A water gun filled with holy water and some salt!” You grin proudly. This is it, the idea of the century. Even Dean must see this is the only way to defeat demons.

“Hmm…” He grumbles. Dean eyes the colorful water gun. He shakes his head and turns to walk out of the kitchen. “That looks like Barbie’s gun. I won’t use it.”

“I can spray it black,” you offer. “It will look cool. Dean! Wait!” You chase after Dean, determined to convince him to use the water gun from now on. “It will work!”

“Nope,” he shrugs when you tell him he’s a jerk. “I won’t use your toy gun. Just stop inventing shit.”

“One day, I will invent something to shrink your dick!” You yell after Dean, making him chuckle. “You’ll see Winchester. One day you will wake up and whimper, oh no, my dick is tiny, and I need a magnifying glass to find it!”

Dean laughs while walking toward the library. You follow him, telling the hunter how much better all your inventions would make his life.

“If you invent something to turn dust into a pie, I’m game.” He grins when you look at him with glassy eyes. Dean wants you to invent something.

“I’ll turn every dust mouse into the most delicious pie!” You exclaim before storming out of the library. “You’ll beg me to give you a slice.”

Dean watches you leave the library; he cocks a brow, wondering if you can turn dirt into a pie.

Tags in reblog.

[mydarlingclaudia]

tags : @lottiies @withonly-sweetheart wc : 479

ok uhmmmmm my stomach was killing me and it was partly my period so here this is just really short period comfort this is for meeeeeeeee. Chris is ooc dw abt it, re5Chris, fem!reader

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Every time your period rolls around, it’s like Hell on earth.

There’s at least one day out of the whole week where you have to strip and lay in the tub for a few hours when you get back from work, sometimes you don’t even turn on the tub, just lay there and bleed with a warm compress pressed onto your stomach, trying to distract yourself by watching something on your phone.

Your boyfriend is always there to keep you company, Chris is at your beck and call, willing to do anything for you whenever you ask him for it no matter what time it may be. You wish he was here right now, he always somehow knows what to do. You want him to come home already and give you a massage, wash your hair and kiss your face until the cramps in your abdomen came to a stop.

But your mind stops for a second when you hear the front door open followed by bags being set down in the kitchen before finally leading to the bathroom and opening the door. There stands Chris, plastic bag in hand, shoes still on but his jacket has been taken off, an apologetic smile being worn on his lips. You sit with your arms wrapped around your legs and your chin resting on top of your knees with the compress pressed between your stomach and thighs, you groan and lazily lift one arm to wave Chris over.

"You feeling any better?" He asks you, closing the door and coming to sit on the edge of the tub. You shake your head and hear him 'tsk', Chris's free hand comes out to smooth over your hair. "Want me to turn the water on?"

"Yeah," You mumble, not moving while he puts the bath plug in and turns on the warm water. "What'd you get me?"

"Tampons, chocolate, midol, the basics." Chris makes work of rolling his sleeves up and you scoot yourself closer to him, pulling your compress away from your stomach and setting it on the floor next to the bath tub. You press your forehead against his hip and his hand settles on the back of your neck, the feeling of the warm water slowly filling the tub makes you sigh.

"I love you," You say softly, resting your chin on his thigh and wrapping your arms around his waist. "Thank you for buying me things."

"Don't worry about it, I love you, too." Soothing circles are rubbed over your spine while he shuts the water off as soon as it's high enough, you squeeze Chris a bit tighter.

"Can I have a kiss?" Chris doesn't say anything, just cups your face and dips your head back a tiny bit to press a few short kisses to your lips until you're smiling against him.

"C'mon, I'll wash your hair."