#IT'S SO DUMB but it makes me laugh and I feel like I am this blog's primary readership

[kooqitas]

#pairing: best.friend!mingyu x reader ♡ #rough sex, humiliation, unprotected sex,

you always imagined that mingyu had feelings for you even though he was one of your best friends, and even if it was a little wrong maybe that was why you knocked on his door when your fertile period arrived.

it was actually easy, you always knew that mingyu was a 'pussy drunk' and that when it came to YOUR pussy he would be even more necessary. you arrived at his apartment with pizza and wine, you ate, drank, watched movies and before you knew it you were telling him how much the wine changed you! how 'easy' you became when the drink hit and made you feel unbearably horny.

maybe you were making fun of his feelings and no, you wouldn't be proud of it, but the horniness makes you so dumb that soon you started saying that your fingers weren't long and thick enough, that since you finished you relationship you hadn't been able to cum and that frustrated you, and you saw every gulp of saliva that mingyu made, every grip on your thigh that he gave in an attempt to control himself. and there you knew you would end the night exactly where you wanted: in his bed.

"you should try a vibrator," he suggested, a little uncomfortable, trying to pretend he wasn't imagining you fucking yourself with the toy.

"it's not funny... i want someone to fuck me hard."

you saw mingyu swallow again... "do it for me, gyu, fuck me!"

things happened in a complicated way, one second mingyu was on top of you and the next he was saying he couldn't, that you were too drunk. but he gave in, slid his hand into your panties, cursing how wet you were, and put one, two, three fingers inside you.

mingyu looked like a puppy, completely bewildered by the whole situation, he just needed to make you cum. his left hand went to your breasts, pinching the tip of your nipple while he continued fucking you with all three fingers.

"you are a bitch!" he said, still pushing his thick fingers against you, you couldn't tell if it was desire or anger, but whatever, it felt fucking good. "you're a fucking slut destroying our friendship over an orgasm"

"you say that but you keep fingering me… am i the bitch or are you a pathetic puppy?"

mingyu didn't answer, he just hit you, his heavy hand hitting your face without any hint of remorse, and then hitting your clit next, making you moan loudly.

"don't you dare make fun of me, not when you're a slut humiliating yourself to be fucked"

mingyu wanted to get up and tell you to leave, but all he could do was put your legs on his shoulder and start eating you out, his hot tongue going down all over your folds, making you squirm as he seemed to want to devour you. mingyu was agile, he made it clear how much experience he had and damn all you could think about was why you hadn't given yourself to him before

"i-im gonna-" you moaned, but mingyu stopped you before you could finish your sentence. "why did you stop?"

he laughed, machiavellian, the smile tugging at the corners, making you a little worried.

"what? you come to my house, act like a good girl, drink, act like a poor thing, beg me to eat this pussy and think that's enough?"

"but gyu, i-"

"shut the fuck up! you're a pathetic bitch"

you even wanted to argue, to say no, the only pathetic one there was him, but when you saw him, he had answered something very different.

"yes, i am!"

mingyu smiled, making you realize what you had said out loud, you thought about taking it back, but damn, he was so attractive and you wanted to cum so badly… maybe the best thing would be to just go with his flow.

"fuck me, gyu! make me your pathetic bitch… your cum dump…"

"you're sick…"

"please, gyu, i need you so much!"

he pushed you against the couch, not giving you a second to think as he thrust his thick cock inside you, making you whimper from the slight suffocation that the pillow beneath you offered you.

"is this what you want? to be fucked like a bitch in heat? a slut? do you want me to eat you and leave you here alone leaking my cum? i can do that, bitch!"

"g-gyu." You moaned. "s-slowly." you teased, making a sly little voice to irritate him.

"didn't you want this shit? didn't you want to end our fucking friendship just to feel a thick cock inside that disgusting pussy? do now take this shit."

mingyu pulled your head down, pushing your head even further against the pillow at the same time he gave your ass a loud slap, making you moan and lower your hips. and then he hit you again.

"don't be useless, keep that fucking hot ass up for me."

he continued to thrust hard, now pulling your hair hard with the intention of making you look at him and fuck, and god, looking at mingyu through the shoulders, sweaty, naked, with a pissed off look while he fucked you was simply the first wonder of the world

"stop screaming fuck, you begged so much for dick and you can't hold out a little without looking desperate?"

you didn't know THIS mingyu, and it was a surprise to discover that he was not only exactly how you wanted but much better. he kept thrusting hard, scratching your things, pulling your hair and your neck, and you came when his thumb ended up on your clit, you came embarrassingly, closing your legs as he kept fucking you until he finally filled you.

of course you wanted it, but you never thought you would be able to feel mingyu's cum dripping out of you, but more than an orgasm, it felt like a personal satisfaction…

he pulled away from you, still half dazed, his head dizzy from what they had just done, damn, it was a five-year friendship…

"gyu…"

"no. shut up, holy shit, what the hell did we do?"

and reality hit the door, damn, mingyu was one of your best friends… what the hell had happened.

"i… i'm in my fertile period, okay? i'm sorry!"

"fuck, and then you chose ME to deal with you like a dog in heat?"

"gyu…"

"no 'gyu'… fuck, you crossed the line… and you know the worst part? i liked that shit!"

"so we can do it again… hm? in your bed? your kitchen? balcony?"

"don't test my patience…"

"gyu…"

"fuck, i hate you!"

and yes… you came in his bed, and also in the bathroom, in the kitchen, on the balcony, you even tested the building's elevator afterwards…

[onlyangel4]

kayfabe. cm punk. part four.

dark!cm punk x superstar!reader

synopsis: you and punk are placed into a long-term onscreen pairing. a storyline romance meant to boost ratings. the chemistry is undeniable, but offscreen, punk is distant. until he’s not. he begins texting late at night. watching. testing boundaries. you realise he’s not method acting. the possessiveness, the tension, the jealousy, it’s all real. and if the storyline ends, he won’t take it well.

part one // part two // part three // part four // part five

you weren’t sure why you said yes.

maybe it was the ache in your chest. maybe it was the sleepless night. or maybe you just needed something familiar, a moment untouched by eyes, promos, or shadowed messages.

so when bron asked if you wanted to grab breakfast before the arena call, you nodded without hesitation.

the place was quiet. some hole in the wall diner off the highway. vinyl booths and chipped mugs. country music playing low from a corner speaker.

you wrapped your hands around a mug of lukewarm coffee and tried to breathe like it wasn’t the first time you’d felt safe in days.

bron sat across from you, hair messy, hoodie pulled up, smiling like he had nothing to prove. like he hadn’t watched you spiral just beneath the surface since last week.

"you gonna tell me what’s going on", he asked, "or am i gonna have to start guessing?"

you raised an eyebrow. "what do you think is going on?"

"i think", he said, stabbing at his pancakes with theatrical frustration, "you’re spending way too much time with that guy, and you’re getting weird."

you laughed. It was forced, but you tried. "it’s a storyline."

"yeah?" he looked at you. really looked. "you sure he knows that?"

"that hit a nerve. you looked away, sipping your coffee.

bron softened. "hey. sorry. i didn’t mean it like that."

"no", you said, voice quiet. "you’re not wrong."

he didn’t push. that was what you loved about him, what made him safe. he didn’t need to fix you. just sit there. steady. solid.

you pulled out your phone eventually. checked it.

no new texts.

relief flickered, strange and unsatisfying.

"god", bron said, mock-offended, "am i boring you already?"

you rolled your eyes, grinning. "just making sure I’m not missing my call time, jackass."

he leaned across the table and snapped a quick selfie before you could stop him. you groaned.

"seriously?"

he grinned at the screen. "smile for the internet. let ‘em know we eat carbs and have feelings."

you were still laughing when he posted it.

and hours later, when the fallout came, you’d regret ever smiling at all.

∘•···············•∘ʚ ♡ ɞ∘•················•∘

the selfie went up around noon.

by the time you arrived at the arena, it had over sixty thousand likes.

the caption was harmless, something dumb Bron wrote about pancakes and caffeine and "trying to keep her sane before raw eats her alive."

no tags. no digs. no mention of him.

but you felt the shift the second you stepped backstage.

the crew greeted you like usual. security, camera ops, wardrobe, all smiles and nods. seth passed you with a small wave. becky called your name and pointed you toward the updated run sheet. and bron, already in gear, threw you a wink from across the hall.

but he wasn’t there.

not in gorilla. not outside production. not at the board where tonight’s promos were listed.

and when you asked one of the pas if punk had arrived yet, she just nodded. "yeah, he’s been here an hour. think he’s in his locker."

he wasn’t avoiding the building.

just you.

you found him eventually. sitting in the far corner of the locker room, lacing his boots, hoodie pulled low over his head. alone.

you walked in. waited. didn’t speak yet.

he didn’t look up.

you stepped closer. "hey. did you see the-"

"I’m not in the mood", he said flatly.

you blinked. "okay."

he stood, slow and deliberate. rolled his wrists. still didn’t meet your eyes.

"i’ll be at ringside for your segment", he said. "stick to the script."

you tilted your head. "what’s this about?"

"nothing."

but it wasn’t nothing. it never was.

"punk-"

his eyes snapped up, and finally, finally, they locked on yours.

"i said i’m not in the mood."

the words weren’t shouted.

that’s what made them worse.

you stood there for a beat, frozen. then you turned and walked out faster than you meant to. jaw clenched. breathing sharp.

when you reached the hallway, you checked your phone again. the message was already there.

you looked happiest with him.but he won’t touch you like i will.

you stared at it until the letters blurred.

and for a second, you weren’t sure what made your stomach sink more:

the threat behind it.

or the part of you that felt it wasn’t a threat at all.

just a promise.

∘•···············•∘ʚ ♡ ɞ∘•················•∘

you weren’t supposed to be part of the segment tonight.

originally, it was just meant to be a run-in. maybe a backstage shot. nothing live.

but when the updated script was handed to you twenty minutes before airtime, the new match graphic was staring back at you from the board:

NEXT WEEK ON RAW – MIXED TAG MATCHCM PUNK & Y/N vs. BRON BREAKKER & BECKY LYNCH

you froze. looked at the board. then back at the pa.

"this is real?", you asked.

she nodded. "just added. they think the numbers’ll pop. four fan favourites. plus… the heat."

you didn’t need her to say whose heat.

you already felt it burning behind you.

punk hadn’t spoken to you all night. not since the locker room. and now, you’d be paired again, standing side by side in front of thousands… while every raw nerve sat exposed on live television.

you stood just off-camera as becky and bron made their way to the ring. she winked at you before stepping through the curtain. bron gave you a look. protective. quietly annoyed that this was even happening.

you didn’t blame him.

when your cue came, you hit your mark. punk was already at the top of the ramp, waiting.

he didn’t look at you. just walked ahead, hands in fists.

the promo started with Becky.

she was fire, controlled, cool, biting. dragged you for "hiding behind men like punk." called bron "the muscle and the conscience." the crowd ate it up.

then it was bron’s turn. voice sharp. smiling, but only just.

"you’ve been acting different", he said to you, pacing the ring. "letting someone else pull your strings. but next week, we remind you who you are. not who he wants you to be."

another pop.

you held the mic tight.

and when you spoke, it was the most real you’d sounded in weeks. "no one pulls my strings."

the crowd roared.

then punk stepped forward.

his mic raised, posture loose, but his eyes never once left bron.

"see, i used to think you were just a threat", he said slowly. "but threats are sharp. dangerous. you?", he tilted his head. "you’re noise. and when noise gets in the way… it gets cut."

you didn’t know if that was scripted.

the tension was instant.

bron took a step forward. becky’s arm went out across his chest. your hand instinctively touched punk’s forearm, not to hold him back. just to connect. to anchor.

he turned to you at that. slowly.

and into the mic, clear, cold, and unforgiving, he said:

"don’t touch me if you don’t mean it."

the arena fell silent.

for a beat.

then the crowd screamed.

it wasn’t in the script. you knew it. so did becky. so did bron. you saw it in their faces.

but punk? he didn’t look at them. or the crowd.

only at you.

when you left the ring, your heart wouldn’t stop hammering. you didn’t know if it was fear.

or adrenaline.

or the creeping realization that next week’s match would be more dangerous than any storyline ever written.

∘•···············•∘ʚ ♡ ɞ∘•················•∘

you didn’t go straight back to the locker room.

you needed a second. just one second where the world wasn’t spinning out from under you. you found it backstage, tucked between a stack of road cases, where the sound of the crowd dimmed to a distant pulse in the concrete.

you barely had a moment to exhale before bron appeared beside you.

"hey" his voice was soft. careful. "you okay?"

you nodded, too quickly.

he didn’t believe it. not for a second.

"i didn’t know about the match until right before", you said quietly.

bron leaned against the wall beside you. "it’s not the match i’m worried about."

you looked at him. he didn’t flinch.

"you feel it too, don’t you?" he asked. "how weird this has gotten?"

you swallowed hard. "it’s just part of the angle. he’s intense."

"that wasn’t intensity out there." bron’s voice sharpened. "that was something else."

you didn’t answer. because you didn’t have to.

footsteps approached from down the hall and becky appeared, unwrapping tape from her wrists. she clocked your expression instantly.

"you look like you’ve been hit by a fucking truck" she said, coming to a stop. "you want to tell me what that was out there?"

"i don’t know", you said.

that was the truth.

becky crossed her arms. "he went off script."

you nodded.

"and you didn’t flinch."

that part caught you off guard. "what?"

"you didn’t flinch", she repeated. "not like someone surprised. more like someone expecting it."

bron’s silence beside you said enough.

you were unravelling, and they both saw it.

"i’m fine", you said, too fast, too soft.

becky didn’t press. but she gave you a look. firm. grounded.

"you don’t have to let it get worse to prove you can handle it."

then she turned and walked away.

bron lingered for a second longer.

"you know where i stand", he said, voice low. "he crosses the line again, you come to me. i don’t care about scripts."

you nodded.

but you didn’t promise.

you couldn’t.

because even as they walked away, and you stood alone again

you felt him.

waiting.

watching.

and you were already walking toward him.

∘•···············•∘ʚ ♡ ɞ∘•················•∘

you found him alone.

same spot as always, back of the locker room, away from the others, hoodie still on, head low like the arena noise couldn’t touch him. but you knew better now.

he was waiting.

when you stepped in, he didn’t look up right away. just pulled off his tape, slow and deliberate. the silence coiled tight between you.

you shut the door behind you. you didn’t know why.

"was that necessary?", you asked.

still no eye contact. he peeled the last strip from his wrist and dropped it into the bin.

"what part?" he said eventually. "the line? the match? or the part where your best friends stared at me like they were about to call security?"

you folded your arms. "you went off script."

he laughed once. dry. humourless. "so did you."

that wasn’t true. but the way he said it, you almost believed it.

you took a step closer. "what’s going on with you?"

finally, he looked at you.

and what you saw there made your breath catch.

not anger.

possession.

"you posted a photo with him", he said. calm. terrifyingly calm. "smiling. sitting close. like you wanted people to see it."

"it was breakfast, punk."

his jaw flexed. "it was a message."

you stared at him, disbelieving. "what are you even talking about?"

he stood slowly. walked toward you, not fast, not threatening. just intentional. like every movement was designed to shorten the distance in your head as well as the room.

"you don’t get it yet, do you?" he murmured.

he was close now. too close. the door was behind you, and his shadow was over you.

"i know the way you look at me backstage", he continued. "the way you lean in when we promo. how your breath hitches when i touch your wrist. don’t pretend i imagined that."

your throat tightened. "this isn’t real."

he reached out.

fingers brushed your jaw, barely there. Just enough to make you freeze.

"but it feels real", he whispered. "doesn’t it?"

you should’ve moved. said something. pushed his hand away.

but for one second, one stupid, dangerous second you didn’t.

his thumb dragged across your bottom lip. the touch was featherlight. it burned anyway.

"say the word", he said, voice low. "tell me to stop. mean it."

your heart was pounding too loud to think.

"i-" you started.

he leaned closer.

you turned your face, broke contact, stepped back like the floor burned beneath you.

"no", you said, sharper this time. "not like this."

he let his hand fall.

didn’t chase you.

but his eyes never left yours.

"you’ll come back", he said, quiet. "they always do."

you didn’t answer.

just left the room, door clicking shut behind you.

and even then, even as your hands shook and your chest ached

you weren’t sure if it was fear you felt.

or want.

or both.

[strawb3rry-hon3y]

Figure You Out

Pairing: Na Baek-jin/Park Hu-min’s x Fem!Reader (told from Park Hu-min’s POV.) Requested: No

Summary: Based loosely on “Figure You Out” by VOILÀ: Park Hu-min quietly falls for his childhood friend, now dating Na Baek-jin. When a fight drives her into Hu-min’s arms, one kiss changes everything… and nothing at all.

Length: Genre: Angst, Drama, Slow Burn, Forbidden Love, Emotional Hurt/Comfort.

Warnings: Toxic relationship dynamics, Verbal arguments, Unrequited love/love triangle, Feelings of worthlessness/insecurity. Status: Complete!

I heard he bought her a designer clutch last weekend.

One of those limited-edition ones, the kind you’d only see in some influencer’s hands online. Gold hardware, flashy enough to catch the light even when it’s overcast. He posted a picture of her the next day. She wasn’t even looking at the camera. Just standing beside him, fingers wrapped around the strap like it didn’t quite belong there. Like she didn’t quite belong there and I knew.

I knew the moment I saw her face in that photo. A tight smile, the kind she only wore when she was trying not to be ungrateful, that she hated it.

She told me once, years ago, that she hated carrying bags at all. Said they slowed her down. She liked to keep her hands free for snacks, for balance, for pointing out dumb clouds shaped like cats. So why would he buy her something she’d never use if it wasn’t for the look of it? For the image?

Because that’s what she is to Baek-jin now, an accessory. A status piece. A quiet, pretty thing to place beside him while his friends clap him on the back. But I remember her before all this.

I remember scraped knees and summer popsicles. Her tugging my sleeve when Baek-jin was being a brat and whispering “He’s impossible.” I remember how she used to laugh full belly, no filter, wild like the world couldn’t touch her. I still hear that laugh sometimes, when she forgets to be composed around me.

She’s different with me, Not the version they want. Not polished and packaged. With me, she’s soft again. Real. I hate that I’m the only one who notices.

It burns watching him parade her around like she’s his prize. Touching her lower back in front of everyone like he owns her, not like he loves her. He doesn’t know she hates PDA. That she only lets him hold her hand in public because she doesn’t want to make a scene. That she flinches, just barely, when he kisses her too long in front of his friends.

He doesn’t know her like I do. But he has her, and that’s what kills me.

I should be happy just being near her. Sometimes I convince myself that I am, that friendship is enough. She still messages me, still visits when she’s nearby. She shows up with snacks in her hoodie pocket, the way she used to, and we sit on the stairs outside my dad's house and talk about dumb things. School, weather, our favorite songs from middle school.

And the whole time I’m thinking, This could’ve been us. It should’ve been. But I keep quiet. Because what we have now: this fragile thing, it’s better than nothing. If I say something, if I ruin it, I don’t know if I’ll ever get her back. Even as just a friend.

So I let myself hurt. Quietly. Let myself love her the only way I can: in silence, in stolen glances, in the space between words. And he keeps giving her things that glitter. While I’m still holding all the pieces of her he never bothered to learn, and I hate that.

Sometimes, I think I could love her with my eyes closed.

Even with the distance: different schools, different circles. She’s still the one I see most clearly. It’s strange how people can live separate lives and still feel stitched to someone. Like no matter how far we drift, there’s always this invisible thread pulling me back to her.

She texts me before bed sometimes, usually about nothing—a picture of her cat curled up in her lap, a dumb meme, a rant about her math teacher. I save every one. I replay her voice notes when the days feel too quiet.

She still comes by the corner store near my place on Thursdays, the one with the old vending machine that barely works. I wait around those days, pretending I just happened to be there too, and she pretends not to notice that I never have anything in my hands to buy. Every time she smiles at me, really smiles, I feel like I’m thirteen again and she’s the only person in the room.

He’s got her, but he doesn’t get her. I see it in the way she sighs when she tells me about another expensive thing he bought her, like that designer necklace last week—the one she left in her bag all day because she said it was “too heavy.” She’d rather spend a weekend painting old flower pots or biking along the Han River than showing off some stupid necklace at a Union event.

She told me once, years ago in that park we used to sneak off to, that she hates people who try to fix everything with money. She said love should feel like being known, not bought. I’ve never forgotten that. I don’t think I ever will.

She looked at me once, after a particularly bad fight with him, and said, “Sometimes I think you understand me better than he ever will.” I didn’t say anything then. I didn’t want to ruin the moment, or maybe I was just scared of what it would mean if I said how I felt.

But the truth is, I could love her in the dark and still recognize every piece of her. I’m not trying to be her rescue. I’m not waiting around with some fantasy that she’ll leave him for me. I just..I don’t want to lose what little of her I still have. Because every time we talk every Thursday at that store, every time she texts me instead of him, I feel like I’m this close to figuring her out all over again.

I heard he started calling them her friends too. Guys who hang off his shoulders like shadows. Big names in the Union. Bigger egos. They don’t know a damn thing about her, but he parades them around like they’re hers now, like he’s giving her something special. When will he learn she doesn’t need anyone to give her a future? She already built one for herself.

Tonight, when she showed up at my door, her eyes were already red. No words, no explanation, just a plastic bag full of snacks, trembling hands, and that look in her eyes like she was trying not to fall apart.

She didn’t speak at first. Just kicked her shoes off quietly, curled up on the couch like it was the only place left in the world that didn’t hurt. I sat beside her, close enough for her to know I was here, but not close enough to make her flinch. I didn’t ask. Not right away. We sat in silence for what felt like forever. The soft rustle of chip bags and the quiet hum of the fan filling the space between us. Then I asked softly, “Do you wanna tell me what happened?”

She blinked a few times, like the question startled her. Then it all came out. “He said they were our friends. Ours. But I don’t even know them, Hu-min. They make jokes about stuff I don’t find funny. They talk about the Union like it’s a game… like people aren’t getting hurt.”

Her voice cracked, and she looked away. “I told him I wanted nothing to do with any of it. That I didn’t want to be dragged into the crap he and the Union are doing. And then he—” She stopped herself, lips trembling. “He said some things. Things I didn’t think he ever would.”

Tears welled in her eyes, and then she was crying again. Fast and silent, the way she always did when she didn’t want anyone to know she was hurting. I moved without thinking, wrapping one arm around her, pulling her gently against my chest. She didn’t resist. She curled into me like she belonged there, and for a long moment, she just cried.

Then, in between soft sobs, she laughed. This weak, broken thing that made my chest ache. “If I would've known it would be like this, I would’ve rejected his idea. I mean… I know it was our parents. I know this was their whole big plan, but…” She shook her head. “I was hoping, Hu-min. Just hoping maybe it would be nice. That he’d care. I’m so stupid.”

“You’re not stupid,” I said immediately, tightening my hold on her. “You just wanted something good. That’s not stupid. That’s human.” She went quiet. Her breath slowed, but her eyes stayed damp. From under my arm, I felt her shift slightly. When I looked down, she was already looking up at me.

Big, tear-filled eyes. That half-sad, half-sweet smile she always wore when she was trying to be strong. I didn’t realize how close we were until I felt her breath on my neck. Then, without a word, she leaned up and kissed me. It was quick. Like she was afraid she’d change her mind if she waited. Soft, warm lips pressed to mine, trembling just enough for me to know how scared she was. But I kissed her back. Desperately. Like I’d been holding my breath for years and she was the air.

There was so much in that kiss. Every unsaid word, every hidden glance, every Thursday afternoon at the corner store when I wanted to tell her but didn’t. I poured it all into her in that moment.

Then, like something shattered inside her, she pulled back. Eyes wide. Panic. “I—I’m sorry,” she whispered. She stood up so fast the snacks nearly spilled off the table. “I shouldn’t have— That was a mistake. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

“Wait,” I said, standing too. But she was already halfway to the door. “I shouldn’t have come,” she choked out. “I just— I’m sorry, Hu-min. I’m sorry—” The door closed behind her before I could stop her. I stood there in the empty silence, heart still pounding, lips still warm from hers. All I could do was whisper her name into the space she left behind.

It had been four days since the kiss.

Four days of silence. No replies. Not even a single “seen.”

My fingers hovered over the keyboard more times than I could count. Messages typed, deleted, rewritten, unsent. Hey, are you okay?I’m not mad.I just want to talk to you. Please.

But nothing came back. No double check marks. No bubbles. Just a blank screen and the sharp ache in my chest every time I opened our thread. She wasn’t mine to miss. Then Baek-jin called.

“Come by the bowling alley,” he said, his voice cocky and casual like always. “We’re regrouping. I’ve got some moves in the works. Could use you” I almost laughed. But then, like a damn idiot: I thought of her. Maybe she’d be there. Maybe I’d get one second to see her. To explain.

So I went.

I pulled my black hoodie over my head, stuffed my hands into the pocket to hide how bad they were shaking, and walked the same streets I used to take with him, back when things made sense. Before money and pride and the Union started to rot him from the inside out.

The moment I stepped into the bowling alley, it hit me like a wall.

The air was thick with smoke, laughter that felt too loud, like it was covering something ugly, and the clinking of bottles and cheap music blaring through busted speakers. The scent of stale beer soaked into the cracked vinyl booths and warped wooden lanes. Half the guys here didn’t even bowl they just sat around, played cards, and acted like kings in a crumbling castle.

I kept my head low, eyes scanning the dim lights, the shadows. Every girl made my stomach flip until they turned around and it wasn’t her.

My heart was racing by the time I got to the hallway in the back. Flickering light overhead. Dirty walls. My footsteps felt heavier with every step. I didn’t know if I wanted to see Baek-jin or if I just wanted one glimpse of her. 

Then I saw her.

She was sitting on the couch, tucked in the corner of Baek-jin’s office, legs crossed, shoulders hunched like she was trying to disappear. Her phone sat loosely in her hands, screen dark. Her eyes were distant, tired, and that soft pout to her lips told me everything I needed to know. She wasn’t okay.

Baek-jin’s voice cut through the fog. “Hu-min.” She looked up. Fast. Like the sound of my name had jolted her awake. Her gaze hit mine, and for a split second, it was just us. Before Her eyes glanced away, worried I’d see something in them.

My throat closed. Her expression didn’t change still sad, still closed off. But I saw that flicker of something. Recognition, Pain. She stood slowly, not saying a word, still not looking me in the eye. “I’ll give you two space,” she murmured, brushing past me.

Instinct kicked in. My hand reached out, catching her wrist gently. She stopped in her tracks, her gaze falling on the hand on her wrist. I didn’t say anything. Just looked at her, silently begging: Don’t go, Not like this.

Her eyes met mine. Finally and it was like someone ripped a breath from my lungs. There was so much swimming in those eyes. Confusion. Hurt. Guilt. Something else she didn’t want to name.

She looked over my shoulder at Baek-jin. He was watching us, head tilted, brows creased in suspicion. It was only a second, but it was enough for her to make up her mind. She pulled her hand from mine. “See you around, Hu-min…”

It hit like a punch. She turned and walked away, back stiff, pace fast. But just before the hallway swallowed her, I saw her do it. She smiled at him. Small. Forced. Like she was trying to prove something.

I was still standing there when Baek-jin scoffed. “Didn’t know you and my girlfriend were still so close.” I didn’t look at him right away. I couldn’t. My gaze was stuck on that hallway, the space she used to fill, now empty again.

When I finally turned, I wasn’t angry. Not the way I thought I’d be. I was tired. There was no point in fighting over something I never had in the first place. Hands in my pockets, I stepped toward his desk. His throne. The place where he played king of a kingdom built on fear and fake loyalty. “What do you want?” I asked, my voice flat.

Taglist: N/A Header Creator’s: @saradika-graphics

[sunsetsandsunshine]

REQUEEEEEEEESTS LETS GOOOOOOOOO-wow I am nervous lols

Can I request mutant mayhem with Lee!Leo and Ler!April, please? (If ur wondering I am in fact that one anon that sent that long add-on idea I had spinning in my head after reading your MM Lee!Leo, Ler!Raph fic, hello! Glad you liked my ramblings ^^) no pressure if you don't feel like it tho!!

~ 𝙶𝚒𝚟𝚎 𝚖𝚎 𝚖𝚢 𝚙𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚒𝚕! ~

💛💙 𝙵𝚒𝚌 𝚛𝚎𝚚𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚋𝚢: 𝙰𝚗𝚘𝚗 𝙽𝚘𝚗𝚗𝚒𝚎 💛💙

·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚𝙰𝙷𝙷𝙷𝙷 𝙽𝙾𝙽𝙽𝙸𝙴 𝚃𝙷𝙴𝚁𝙴’𝚂 𝙽𝙾 𝙽𝙴𝙴𝙳 𝚃𝙾 𝙱𝙴 𝙽𝙴𝚁𝚅𝙾𝚄𝚂, 𝙱𝚁𝙾 🥹🫶🏾💖!!! 𝚆𝚎’𝚛𝚎 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚝𝚒𝚌𝚔𝚕𝚎 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚙𝚊𝚍𝚛𝚎𝚜 𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 🕺🏾✨💕! 𝙱𝚞𝚝 𝚊𝚜 𝚜𝚘𝚘𝚗 𝚊𝚜 𝙸 𝚜𝚊𝚠 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚊𝚜𝚔, 𝙸 𝚍𝚒𝚍 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚊 𝚜𝚖𝚒𝚍𝚐𝚎 𝚐𝚞𝚝 𝚏𝚎𝚎𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚠𝚎’𝚟𝚎 𝚝𝚊𝚕𝚔𝚎𝚍 𝚋𝚎𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙸’𝚖 𝚜𝚘 𝚐𝚕𝚊𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎𝚍 𝚖𝚢 𝚏𝚒𝚌𝚜 𝚎𝚗𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑 𝚝𝚘 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔 💝! 𝚈𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚌𝚊𝚗𝚘𝚗 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚊𝚋𝚜𝚘𝚕𝚞𝚝𝚎𝚕𝚢 𝚂𝚃𝚄𝙽𝙽𝙸𝙽𝙶 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙸 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝚒𝚝 𝚜𝚖 🫨💘! 𝙵𝚎𝚎𝚕 𝚏𝚛𝚎𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚛𝚊𝚖𝚋𝚕𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚖𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚢𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎— 𝙸 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚙𝚎𝚘𝚙𝚕𝚎’𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚊𝚜 🤩💓˚*• ̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*＊·̩̩̥͙

𝙶𝚎𝚗𝚛𝚎: 𝙵𝚕𝚞𝚏𝚏

𝚆𝚘𝚛𝚍𝚜: 𝟹,𝟷𝟹𝟾

𝙻𝚎𝚎: 𝙻𝚎𝚘 🐢💙

𝙻𝚎𝚛: 𝙰𝚙𝚛𝚒𝚕 👩🏾‍🦱💛

𝚂𝚞𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚢: 𝙻𝚎𝚘 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙰𝚙𝚛𝚒𝚕 𝚙𝚊𝚒𝚛 𝚞𝚙 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚎𝚊𝚌𝚑 𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚘 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚙𝚎𝚝𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚝𝚎 𝚊 𝙼𝚊𝚝𝚑 𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚟𝚒𝚝𝚢. 𝙽𝚘𝚝 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚏𝚞𝚗, 𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑 (𝚘𝚋𝚟𝚒𝚘𝚞𝚜𝚕𝚢). 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚒𝚗𝚗𝚎𝚛’𝚜 𝚐𝚎𝚝 𝚕𝚘𝚕𝚕𝚒𝚙𝚘𝚙’𝚜 𝚊𝚜 𝚊 𝚛𝚎𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚍 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙰𝚙𝚛𝚒𝚕 𝚑𝚊𝚜 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢 𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚕𝚎 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚘𝚏 𝚠𝚒𝚗𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐. 𝙱𝚢 𝚊𝚗𝚢 𝚖𝚎𝚊𝚗𝚜 𝚗𝚎𝚌𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚊𝚛𝚢.

(𝙰/𝙽: 𝙵𝚘𝚛 𝙻𝚎𝚘 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙰𝚙𝚛𝚒𝚕, 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚏𝚒𝚌 𝚌𝚊𝚗 𝚋𝚎 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚊𝚜 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚘𝚗𝚒𝚌 𝚘𝚛 𝚛𝚘𝚖𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚌— 𝙸 𝚍𝚘𝚗’𝚝 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚍 𝚘𝚛 𝚌𝚊𝚛𝚎. 𝙹𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝙸 𝚍𝚘𝚗’𝚝 𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚘𝚗𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚙 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚝𝚠𝚘. 𝙱𝚞𝚝 𝚒𝚏 𝚊𝚗𝚢𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐: 𝙳𝚘𝚗’𝚝 𝚋𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚐𝚞𝚢! 𝚃*𝚌𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙺𝚒𝚗𝚔/𝙽𝚂𝙵𝚆 𝚋𝚕𝚘𝚐𝚜 𝙳𝙽𝙸!!!)

T𝚊𝚐𝚐𝚐𝚜𝚜𝚜𝚜: @shut-up-jo @someone1348  @itzsana-kiddingmenow 

@saturnzskyzz  @giggly-cloud  @savemeafruitjuice 

@rice-cake-teen10 @titters-and-tingles @veryblushyswitch

@tmntalways @pocky-dragon @jamiesgotchu @my-l0v3r-v3rse

𝚆𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜: 𝚃𝚒𝚌𝚔𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚋𝚎𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚒𝚗 𝚜𝚌𝚑𝚘𝚘𝚕 (𝚎𝚠.) 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚘𝚛 𝚍𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚑 𝚓𝚘𝚔𝚎𝚜. 𝙸𝚏 𝚊𝚗𝚢 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚜𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜 𝚜𝚎𝚎𝚖 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚚𝚞𝚒𝚝𝚎 𝚞𝚙 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢, 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚗 𝚠𝚎𝚕𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚌𝚛𝚘𝚕𝚕 𝚊𝚠𝚊𝚢 😌🫶🏾!

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚𝙷𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚏𝚞𝚗 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙸 𝚑𝚘𝚙𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚎𝚗𝚓𝚘𝚢!!!˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙

School is what you make of it.

It could be absolute hell wrapped in a box to make it seem entertaining, or it could be a box full of oppurtunities and dreams awaiting you…but end up being hell either way. Do with that information as you will. 

And for April right now? School was definetly becoming a living hell…more than it already was anyway. 

It was near the end of school. Like— the very last week of school. The students have cleaned their lockers, they were done with finals and basically everything was completed in order to leave. 

So it still raises the question as to why April was still obligated to be here. She had one more week left of this torture called school, but it was starting to feel like an eternity!

And her last period class wasn’t making it any better either. 

It was Math.

Fucking. Math. 

And if you knew anything about Math periods…they took a century to finish. Plus, it was always so boring because their teacher would never. stop. yapping. 

“I want to go home.” April grumbled quietly, resting her cheek on her palm at her desk as their teacher— Ms. Miller— explained bullshit she didn’t know nor care about. Leo snorted in amusement at the comment, turning his head slightly at his friend who was beside him.

“Oh? Are you not enjoying Ms. Miller’s wonderful insight?” The teen in blue asked teasingly. Although, it was abundantly clear he too was not enjoying their teacher’s well known yap-sesh. 

The older teen just sighed in response, slouching in her chair as she crossed her arms across her chest, “This class is going to be on my suicide note.” She muttered under her breath. Leonardo put his hand over his mouth at her grumbled comment, looking down on his desk as he was trying not to laugh. 

Ms. Miller, who was at the front of the room smacked the whiteboard sternly with her ruler, causing the whole class to stiffen in surprise and look at her. 

“She goin' get me…” Mikey mumbled under his breath, causing the entire class to try and hold in their giggles the best they could. 

The teacher sighed tiredly, rubbing her eyes before looking at the class, “Since it’s the end of the school year and I literally cannot wait to not see any of you for a good two to three months, let’s just do a Math activity for the remainder of class.”

“Awe!!! Your letting us play a game because you love us???” Mikey asked.

“No. I’m not giving you all a 'game' because I don’t feel like grading anything.” She responded. 

“Fair enough.” The turtle in orange mused as the teacher passed around sheet’s of paper with equations on it. “You can partner up with someone to complete all thirty questions. The first pair to answer all thirty questions and get them all right gets Dum-Dum lolipops.” She finished explaining as the kids gave knowing looks to each other, telepathically communicating with one another who would partner up with who. 

“…I feel like you’re trying to imply something with those lollipops, Ms. Miller…” Raph said as he raised a brow. The teacher let out a small laugh in response, sitting down at her desk as she went on her phone.

Okay…so perhaps this day wouldn’t turn out as bad as April initially thought. 

The girl in glasses gave her blue cladded mutant friend a knowing look, which he gladly reciprocated as she scooted closer to him and started to work on the problems together. 

“We are going to absolutely dominate every single fucking person in this classroom and win that candy.” The older teen said as she cracked her knuckles, taking out her pencil case and taking out a pencil. 

Which was the Ticonderoga No. 2 pencil of course. 

“…Are you sure?” The hazel eyed mutant asked as he looked over the problems, “I’m not that good in Geometry…”

“Pff— am I sure? Sure I’m sure! Your girl right here got an A in Geometry.” April smiled as she slung an arm over the other’s shoulders, “Don’t worry your pretty little head, Leo Lazilee. I’m going to absolutely carry our team to sugary sweet VICTORY!” 

The younger slightly blushed at the nickname, rolling his eyes fondly, “I told you to stop calling me that…” He mumbled out but the other could tell he did not mean it one bit. 

The girl in glasses grabbed her pencil, ready to start solving the problems before really and truly looking as to what was in front of her. 

“The fuck is this shit?” The girl questioned, looking at the paper as if it grew ten heads out of nowhere. Leo mentally facepalmed, looking at the sheet alongside his best friend as they both looked at it in confusion. 

“…Why does the Math problem have shapes…?” The leader in blue mumbled to his friend beside him. 

“…Okahay, we’re both officially stupid.” The girl in glasses chuckled out, putting the pencil on the table as she leaned back on the chair.

The hazel eyed teen rolled his eyes at the automatic acceptance of defeat from his teammate, “Your no help.” He huffed out, turning around in his seat to face the person behind him.

Which, if you’re wondering, was none other than his big beautiful brained little brother Donnie. 

Oh, and Raph was here too, I guess. 

“Psst, Don! PSST!!!” The leader in blue whispered to his brother although he was literally a centimeter away from him. The purple cladded turtle in question looked up from the worksheet to meet his older brother’s gaze, “Nardo, why are you whispering so loudly?” He questioned. 

“I need your answers for the worksheet thingie!” Leo said.

“Are you crazy?” The hoodie wearing turtle asked as he huffed out a laugh, “Me? Dona Tello? Give you my answers? HA! Sorry, dear brother of mine…you expect waaaay too much.” 

Raph was sitting next to Donnie as the two teammates went shoulder to shoulder and barricaded the worksheet with their arms so Leo couldn’t see the paper. At all. The eldest huffed, turning back around and slumping in his chair with his arms crossed. 

Well, since his brain and brawn brother’s did not want to help him and April through these dire times, perhaps his youngest brother would be of aid. 

Leonardo got up, walking a couple seats down to where Mikey and Mondo were. The two friends were just telling jokes to each other and doodling all over the back of the paper. The hazel eyed teen did nothave the patience and/or stamina to even ask the two if they knew it was a worksheet in the first place and not some coloring page.  

Besides, from what Leo heard, the two seemed to be having a meaningful convo about the Trump vs. Biden presidential debate, MLP, Helluva Boss, amusement parks and…grass. 

How do those topics all correlate in a conversation? Leonardo has absolutely no clue! 

But the two were making it work, so he wouldn’t question it. 

The eldest turtle went back to his seat, letting out a defeated sigh as April patted him on the shell comfortingly. “Seems like we’re going to have to do this the old fashioned way...” The leader in blue muttered out as he sat up straight,  looking over the problems again.

After a couple minutes of Leonardo just aimlessly staring at the paper, April got impaitent and just grabbed the worksheet, looking at the problems for a split second before jotting down random answers. 

“Uh…Prill? You know I never question your unorthodox way of doing things…but I am 100% questioning it right now.” The younger teen said as he peeked over to look at the questions— which April was halfway done with.

“Trust the process, Nerdo. I’ll have us swimming in candy in no time!” The girl grinned, going into her pencil case to sharpen her pencil. The blue cladded turtle took one more good look at the paper and examined it thouroughly. 

Look, Leo’s only been in school for about a year now, but he’s 99.9% positive Geometry answers should not be just question marks. 

As the chocolate brown eyed teen was ready to write down another answer to the worksheet, the other snatched the pencil away from her quickly, glaring at her playfully as she glared playfully back. 

“Oho, Leo~!” The girl sang in a sing-song voice, “I would be ever-so grateful if you could give me back my pencil. My Ticonderoga No. 2 pencil to be exact.” She exclaimed with emphasis and whimsy. 

“Soho yohou can wrihite quehestion marks ahall over the paper? Yeheah…noho...” The mutant remarked. 

“Juhust gihive me my pehencil!”

“Noho!” 

April almost automatically poked Leo in the side due to his statement, causing the turtle to shriek in surprise as he flinched slightly from the touch. The random noise that escaped his mouth got a couple of concerned looks from his other classmates but they soon deflected and went back to doing their own thing. 

The slightly taller teen clutched the pencil to his chest like it was the last piece of pizza on Earth and he was fighting for it with every single fiber in his body. He scooted his chair slightly away from his friend but she easily and gladly followed, raising a brow in amusement and delight. 

“Why are you so nervous all of a sudden~?” She asked innocently as the other avoided her gaze, looking to the side of him as he was trying not to literally grab his backpack and sprint all the way back to the lair in complete terror. 

“Nardo~! My pencil, please!” The other smiled sweetly as she extended her hand, awaiting her fellow teammate to give back what was rightfully her’s. “Ahand ihif Ihi dohohon’t…?” Leo meekly asked, letting out a soft and tiny squeal as the older pinched his side again. 

“You know what’s going to happen, you goof. I have no problem doing this in front of everyone.” April said as she now squeezed Leo’s sides with her fingers. The slightly taller teen snorted, slightly sliding down in the chair as he tried to avoid his best friend’s attacks. 

“S-Stahahap!!” The blue cladded turtle giggled, batting at April’s arms with his arms weakly. The girl chuckled at the adorable sight, booping Leo’s nose before squeezing his sides once more. “You don’t really want me to stop though, do you?” She mused as the younger stomped his legs on the floor, trying his absolute best to keep his reaction to a minimum.

“Your brother and April need to get a room, brah…” Mondo chuckled in amusement as him and Mikey watched the scene unfold. The youngest turtle sighed knowingly, leaning back on his chair, “Tell me about it…”

The leader in blue weakly thrashed in his seat, hugging his middles whilst still having the pencil in his right hand. “Aha— *snort* AhaHAPRIHIL!” He giggly said.

The girl just smirked in response, sneaking her hands to the other’s underarms and resulting him to let out loud giddy cackles and snorts. “Oho~? Snorting already?” She asked.

The mutant shook his head back and forth, covering his mouth with his hands to try and muffle his laugh. The glasses wielding teen scoffed lightly at the action, digging harder into the other’s underarms. “Ohhhh no you don’t, Leo Lazilee. I am not allowing you to hide your precious giggles from me! Drop your hands~!” 

“FAHAH— *snort* *snort* MAHAKE MEEHEE!!” 

“Have it your way.” The elder teen said casually, effortlessly holding the leader in blue’s arms up as her fingers scribbled all over his stomach and sides. 

Leonardo threw his head back, stomping his feet on the ground as he tried to squirm away from April. “Tickle tickle tickle~!” 

“PFFT— *snort* NAHAHA!! D-DOHON’T EHEHEVEN *snort* *snort* DOHON’T *snort* SAHAHAY THAHAT!!!” 

“Hm? Don’t say what, Lee-o~? Tickle~?” April teased as the mutant’s laughter raised an octave. “NAHA— *snort* NOHOHO STAHAP IHIT!” 

“How about…no? Tickletickletickletickletickletickle~!” The girl continued to tease as she watched her best friend turn into a giggly puddle of snorts and squeals. “Is someone too tickle tickle ticklish~? Does this…tickletickletickletickletickle~?” 

The hazel eyed teen snorted loudly, “PRIHIHILLIE!!! PLEHEHEASE STAHA— *snort* NONONOHOHO— *snort* *snort* NAHAHAH!!!” 

“No what~? Are you too ticklish for this~?”

“SHUHUT *snort* UHUHAHAP!!” 

The chocolate brown eyed girl stopped her attack altogether at the sudden and very rude comment, glaring teasingly at her friend as if to say: 'Your about to get it.'

Raphael shook his head in mock dissapointment, eating a bag of Doritos as he was watching the one sided tickle fight right in front of him “Saying 'shut up' to April is absolutley wild. And doing that literaly four months after Women’s History month?! For shame, brother. For. shame.” The tallest turtle said dramatically. 

“Anyways, try aiming for his lower stomach. It drives him batshit crazy.” The second oldest turtle casually said, grinning as he saw the eldest giving him the nastiest stink eye. 

The girl smiled in awaiting triumph, “Okay then. Thanks— wait a sec. Raph, where the hell did you get Doritos from?!”

“My…backpack?” The red cladded turtle said as if his answer should’ve been obvious. 

“Dude, this is literally our last period.” Donnie laughed, still solving the last couple of problems on the worksheet.

“So? Last time I checked, this was a free country. I’ll eat Doritos any time and at any class period. Period.” Raphael announced as he ate more of the Dorito chips from the bag. The girl in glasses just rolled her eyes fondly, keeping her friend’s wrists in a hold as the other hand wiggled slowly to his lower stomach.

“N-NAHAH— *snort* *snort* NOHOHOH!!!”

“Gihive me my pehehencil yohou buffoon!” 

“IHIHI’LL *snort* STAHAB *snort* YOHOHOU *snort *snort* WIHITH IHIHIHIT!!!”

“You wanna see how that’ll end~?” 

“N-NOHO! NONOHOHO WAHA— *snort* WAHAIT IM SORRY!!” Leo cried out, being too tired to writhe or pry so he was just stuck laughing his shell off. The slightly older teenager payed him no mind, raising his arms a bit higher as she scribbled her nails all over his plastron and lower plastron. 

But ladies and gentlemen? Nothing…absolutely nothing could have prepared anyone in that classroom for what unfolded. 

The leader in blue let out a loud, genuine scream before descending into screechy cackles. April soon bursted into loud laughter along with Leo, wondering just how insanely ticklish a ninja turtle could possibly be. 

“EEEEEHEHEHAHAH!!! PLEHA— *snort* *snort* *snort* STAHAHAP!!! IHI CAHAN’T TAHAKE IHI— *snort*!!” Leonardo squealed as his laughter went up an octave or two. April was honestly genuinely surprised no teacher from the classrooms came to check up on them to make sure no one was fatally dying. 

The teachers aren’t really payed enough to care that much but still!

“TAHAKE IHIT! TAHAHAHAKE *snort* *snort* *snort* IHIHIT! PRIHIHILLIE PLEHAHA— *snort* *snort* PLEHEASE!” As the blue cladded mutant’s laugh and gasps became more frantic, the slightly smaller teen stopped tickling him, grabbing the pencil from his hands as she pat his shoulder comfortingly.

“I just wanted my pencil back. You took my property and I used self defense.” April said teasingly, reaching for the paper and erasing her previous answers to start again. “Ihi’m *snort* gohoing to fihile aha *snort* *snort* complaint…”

“Oho yeah? To who?” 

“To Daharth Vahader soho he cahan use thehe force on your ahashy ahass…” Leo grumbled through his giggles, sitting up in his chair as his best friend continued to finish the last of the problems. 

As the chocolate eyed teen finished up with the remainder of the problems, her and Leo got up to give the worksheet to the teacher. “Here you go, Ms. Miller! All thirty problems 101% completed.” The girl grinned. 

Their teacher raised a brow, pulling up the answer key on her computer as she looked over the two’s work.

“That’s incorrect.” Ms. Miller said.

“Ms. Miller…exactly what’s incorrect?” Leonardo asked. 

“…All of it.” The teacher explained. But before she could give the two partners some insight on whatthey did wrong and how they could improve, the two were pushed aside by Donnie and Raph. 

“Eat shit, suckers.” Raphael snickered as he handed their teacher the paper (he had sanitized his hands prior due to him eating Doritos earlier. He wasn’t an animal). 

“I don’t get paid enough for this…” Ms. Miller sighed, looking over the brain and brawn’s worksheet as she compared it with the answer key, “Good job you two. Everything is correct.” She said, pulling out one of the drawers on her desk to take out a big jar just full of Dum-Dum lollipops. 

She handed the huge jar to Raph who gladly accepted it, sticking his tongue out at Leo and April teasingly before directing his attention back to their teacher. “Thanks, teach.” He smiled, going back to his desk. 

Donnie on the other hand, started crying from pure joy, dramatically wiping a tear, “Ms. Miller…? Can you get my fellow classmate’s attention? I need to say something important.” He mumbled out meekly. “Here we go…” The leader in blue grumbled as him and April went back to their seats in defeat.

"If you don't like your destiny, don't accept it. Instead, have the courage to change it the way you want it to be." The purple cladded turtle said whenthe class settled down.

“THAT’S A QUOTE FROM NARUTO, YOU COPYCAT!!!” A kid in the class shouted. 

“SHUT UP, BRANDON!!! NOBODY ASKED YOU!!!” Donnie basically screeched at his classmate, his voice rising and being similar to the noise of nails on a chalk board. The whole class cringed at the voice crack but no one dared mention it. 

“A-And I just wanted to thank my manager! A-And my parents and colleagues…” The purple cladded mutant listed. 

“…Donnie has a manager…?” Mondo whispered to Mikey who merely just shrugged, “I’m just as confused as you are, broski…”

“And like big-mouthed Brandon over there mentioned, Naruto says you need to change things the way you want it to be.” The hoodie wearing turtle said wisely.

“So you guys should change the wires in your brains because there was an answer key to the worksheet at the back. But none of you imbeciles noticed.” He grinned, his smile widening as his classmates jaw’s dropped.

“Anyways, thank you all and to all a good night.” The purple cladded teen announced as he bowed dramatically, going back to his seat as him and Raph fist bumped, immediately digging into the lollipop jar.  

“I hope they get diabetes.” Leonardo grumbled as the bell rang. The quintet (group of five people in case you’re wondering :3) packing their bookbags and leaving the classroom along with their classmates.

This day definitely didn’t turn out as bad as April initially thought. 

She still would’ve appreciated winning, though.

·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚𝙵𝙸𝙽˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙ 

(𝙿.𝚂.: 𝙸𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚎𝚗𝚓𝚘𝚢𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚏𝚒𝚌, 𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝚛𝚎𝚋𝚕𝚘𝚐!!!)

[spocksgotemotions]

i gotta move out of this fuckin house

[oh-katsuki]

original pinned!

hello :)) okay so i mentioned this a little bit ago, but i will be moving blogs in the coming days and will be shifting entirely onto the blog @woahjo. i've decided to go by the same pseud i currently use, (because i feel like i'm lying if i don't and i hate that LMFAO) though i considered going by a new one, and my ao3 will be staying the same. i also won't be reposting anything to the new blog just yet (maybe a few of my favorites eventually), but i'll be leaving this blog up! the new blog (ofc) is a writing blog and will function essentially the same way this one does. please come join me over there if you like. i'd feel very honored <3

i'm not sure how many people really care all that much about what i have to say about this, but i'll say a little bit anyway bc i feel a lot of responsibility and big feelings towards this blog.

tldr; i'm switching blogs. it's silly to get emotional but i love it here, i love you, please come say hello over on the new one if you'd like.

i've been feeling this way for a while, and while the recent discourse had an effect, it's mostly a result of my own feelings. i just think it may be time to get a bit of a fresh start. i've had this space for nearly three years now and the community that's been built on this blog is beyond what i ever could have imagined when i first started writing. i know i'm getting a little sappy, but frankly, im shocked people wanted to be here and follow my writing at all. (i never know what to say when people tell me they do) it really humbles me and i hope to continue writing for many many years to come.

i recently took a long look at the way i view fandom culture and space, as well as how it affects me, and i sort of came out on the other side realizing that it might be time for a change of scene. i love this space. i love this community. it's something that i am deeply proud of to a point that i feel very emotional over leaving (clearly lol). in fact, i'm incredibly nervous about posting this. there's a lot of anxiety in posting your art for people to see and it makes me feel vulnerable to type a post like this telling y'all just how much i appreciate you and the part you've all played in this lovely little spot. i'm very emotionally attached to this place.

but!!! i'm excited for the type of creative refresh effect a new blog might have, as well as the ability to get to chat with you guys a little more and make friends. things get lost on here (both because tumblr sucks and because my blog is so messy that it makes me physically nervous to think about) and im hoping to be able to keep my new blog clean and tidy so that everything is easier to find. i've been feeling writer's block for a while now and i feel like having "more space to roam" (for lack of a better phrase) might have a really nice effect.

anyway, all this to say that i love it here. for those of you that choose to follow me to my new blog, please come say hello. and of course the group of old mutuals who are no longer active, i love y'all. if you ever come back to tumblr when ur old and gray, come say hi since i'll probably be writing x reader anime fic still. lol

[kurooh]

bf! toji who fucks you so well on camera that your account skyrockets to the top on onlyfans and pornhub. his face, body, and dirty talk garners thousands—no, millions—of followers and gets the money rolling in faster than you could say his name. of course, he’s not the only reason for all the popularity; you’re sexy in every way possible, fucking him back before you inevitably go dumb on his cock, going so far as to talk right back to him.

“what am i, a whore?” despite his words, toji smirks, clicking his tongue at the incoming comments of new members of the stream. “we’ve been live for two minutes. ‘m not taking my clothes off yet, damn.”

“oh, come on,” you press up against his side, manicured nails lightly raking over his biceps, “give ‘em what they want, toji.”

he huffs, turning his head to the side. still damp from the shower, toji’s dark hair goes along with the movement, bits sticking to his forehead. “what you want or what they want, baby?”

the chat explodes with wild comments, ranging from raw next question to i’m doing it are you, all of which makes you laugh. tips ka-ching on the screen and finally, the clothes fly off in all directions.

toji’s on his back, greedily pulling you on top of his face like he’s starving (dinner was an hour ago). he’s refrained from ripping off your underwear, favoring the idea of teasing you through the fabric instead.

“off, let me take ‘em off,” you whine, squirming as he holds you over his face and takes his sweet goddamn time licking over your dampened panties. “that’s not fair, toji.”

his green eyes narrow at you, a scoff slipping past his lips. so sassy, but at least he doesn’t ignore your pleas this time—maybe toji’s feeling magnanimous. “suck it up.”

perhaps not. another whine, and you go so far as to tug at his hair, hips rocking insistently into his face. “you’re so annoying,” neither of you are looking at your phone, the way the screen’s bursting with colorful tip notifications and comments, “if you aren’t hungry, just say so. don’t waste my time, toji.”

of course toji would never admit it, but he’s got a habit of being easy: always taking your purposeful bait, smug expression melting into a scowl. and oh, maybe that was the wrong thing to say—but it certainly feels so damn right when he yanks your panties to the side and sits you all the way down on his face.

still offended, he grunts, mumbling something intelligible as his lips find your wet cunt. (like, you’ve been together for how long?) slippery arousal coats your skin, slicking up his lips with something bittersweet when he indulges in his favorite dessert.

you’re rocking your hips into his face, eagerly taking everything he’s giving you. a small moan escapes you when your clit bumps into the tip of his nose, sending a delightful bolt of electricity through your entire body.

“t-toji, fuck.”

your virtual audience is nearly enjoying this as much as you are. if his teeth weren’t lightly nibbling at your folds while his tongue pushes inside you inch by inch, you’d be in a state to laugh at the comments. one of his palms falls away from your ass and before you can register the brief loss, a stinging slap cuts through the air.

“oughta watch that mouth, babygirl,” toji ignores the wail that follows the impact, along with the glossy tears that spring to your eyes. “maybe if you didn’t have so much goddamn nerve, i’d..”

it shouldn’t come out as quickly as it does, but you purposefully grind down into his mouth, ignoring the muffled sound of him choking on all the saliva. “you’d what, toji?”

some comments are excited, wondering what’ll happen now that you’re challenging him right back. others are raving about being in your position or toji’s—something along the lines of how difficult it is to choose.

he shoves you up with just one hand, feeling his cock twitch from the softness of your thighs circling his head and the way you use that damn mouth of yours. toji’s never had someone talk back to him as much as you do, and it’s something he’ll never get tired of. it’s something that throws him off while he’s giving you backshots and secretly makes him cum faster, although he pretends to get hamstring cramps just to buy himself some more time.

toji’s almost too blissed out to snap back.

“i’d give you mercy, but what was i jus’ saying? maybe you’d like it a little fuckin’ better if i kept eating this pussy of yours.”

you look down your nose at him. “like you could keep going, old man.”

that strikes a chord, hitting a nerve much faster than it should. so toji drags in a breath and dives in, as filthy and careless as he can be—making a mess, spreading your legs impossibly wider just to find that sweet spot of yours that always gets you arching on his face.

wet noise fills the room, backing the breathless gasps and moans that fall from your lips, along with softer panting of mumbled praises bunching with his name. the way he eats—no, devours—you is akin to someone who’s been both starving and thirsty for days on end, too insatiable to please with just one taste.

ecstasy sparks in all your nerves, chasing its way to the tension pooling in the core of your body. it’s red hot and heavy, begging to be released; but no, toji commands your high with the rough strokes of his tongue and obscene slurping of his lips. he lets it simmer right below the surface until you’re begging, hands on either side of his head as you weakly hump against his face.

“i-i said,” you grit out, ignoring the sticky sheen of sweat covering your face, “make me cum, toji.”

he arches an eyebrow, satisfaction sparkling in his eyes. “and ya still didn’t say please.”

frustration bubbles up in your chest. it’s rare for you to be reduced to a begging mess on live, but there’s supposedly a first time for everything. your lips part, preparing to give him what he wants, when something bratty speaks in the back of your mind. there’s no need to listen to him, is there?

with one hand slipping into his damp hair and the other stabilizing you on the bed, you take what you want from him. like an ocean wave, your hips roll not-so-gently over his face until you finally fall over the edge, convulsing a little as you cum.

the orgasm literally takes your breath away—not to mention his as well—and leaves you whining as you come down from the intense high, stars shooting across your vision. neither of you have been paying much attention to your phone, too engrossed in each other to notice the fact that you’ve met the livestream donation goal or all the new followers you’ve earned.

toji lifts you up, cheeks flushed scarlet. he is simultaneously turned on by you taking control of him and also pissed that you refused to say just one word.

“fucking brat,” toji curses, easily maneuvering your weakened body into a new position that’s got you on your hands and knees, ass all the way up. “you’re gonna face that goddamn camera while i wreck this pretty pussy, got that?”

“‘m still sensi—oh my god. a-ah, fuck—wait a second, i—”

behind you, toji smacks his lips, placing both hands on your ass cheeks and spreading you wide. “no, no. this is what you wanted, right? for me to make you cum again and a-fucking-gain.”

you backpedal, back arching unintentionally when two large fingers slide into your cunt without much resistance. “fuck, tojiii, wait—”

a squeal actually leaves you when he puts a hand on the small of your back and forces you to maintain the arch. toji can be stingy at times, but never when you—he’s got a habit of being too generous, if the right buttons are pushed.

“might wanna think about saying please next time, yeah? fuckin’ thought so.”

[sixeyesonathiel]

what happens when the strongest sorcerer, satoru gojo, meets your strongest period mood swings?

a/n: i teared up writing this. i wish men—real, emotionally available, period-bath-running boyfriends—were real.

you don’t know why you’re crying. again. maybe because the blanket slipped off your shoulder or because the strawberries he cut for you weren’t sweet enough or because the stupid commercial on tv had a puppy in it. whatever the reason, your bottom lip wobbles and you sniffle, clutching the heat pack tighter against your abdomen.

satoru is there in a heartbeat. not because he knows what to do—oh no, he’s scrambling. since this morning when you woke up groaning like a medieval knight struck down in battle, he’s been in full red-alert panic mode. he googled “how to handle girlfriend on period” three times, made a list, burned it, then cried a little in the hallway before gathering the courage to come back in. he even called shoko for backup, only to be met with unhelpful laughter and a “good luck, loverboy.”

now he’s crouched in front of the couch like he’s about to disarm a bomb, blue eyes wide behind his stupidly expensive sunglasses that are now pushed messily into his silvery hair. his lips are pursed like he’s concentrating very hard, but the little twitch at the corner of his mouth betrays his anxiety.

“operation: spoiled princess is officially in action,” he declares, voice light but eyes scanning your face like he’s trying to read the weather. his large hands cradle your cheeks with a gentleness that doesn’t match his usual chaos, thumbs brushing under your eyes like he can physically wipe the emotion away. “what’s wrong, baby? want me to punch the strawberries? i’ll do it. don’t test me.”

your nose scrunches, and despite the tears welling again, a soggy laugh escapes you. “you’re so dumb.”

“and yet so handsome. it’s really unfair to everyone else,” he sighs dramatically. his long legs fold awkwardly as he plops down beside you, then tugs you into his lap like you’re made of glass. your face smushes against the soft cotton of his long-sleeved tee, which smells like laundry detergent and a hint of something sugary—probably from the chocolate he was sneak-eating earlier.

five seconds later, your mood shifts again.

“why would you say that?” your voice rises, sharp. you pull back, brows furrowed. “are you saying other people want you? is that it? am i just some girl to you?”

satoru freezes like someone hit pause on him. “huh? what—no! what are you talking about? i just—i meant it like—baby, no, don’t cry again—”

“i’m not crying because of you,” you snap, already blinking back tears. your arms wrap tighter around your stomach. “i just… i feel gross and my stomach hurts and i hate everyone and nothing helps.”

“okay! okay,” he says quickly, hands held up like he’s facing a wild beast. his tone drops to something soft, coaxing. he leans in, his bangs falling a little into his eyes. “you hate everyone. but not me, right? please don’t hate me, i’ll literally explode.”

you glare. “depends. did you eat the last cookie or not.”

he blinks once. twice. “…i—what? baby, this is not the time for interrogation—”

“answer the question, toru.”

“…no comment.”

you narrow your eyes, pinch his side. he yelps like a kicked puppy.

“okay! okay! i did but i didn’t know it was the last one—wait, don’t look at me like that, please, i’m too young to die—”

satoru’s voice cracks just a little, and he sounds genuinely distressed now. the kind of pitiful panic that only comes from being accused by the person he loves most. “you don’t really hate me, right?” he blurts, blinking rapidly as if he could force an answer out of you by sheer will. “like… not actually? you’re just—y’know—period mad? not ‘i want to leave you and never look back’ mad?”

you sniff, pouting at him with narrowed eyes. the silence stretches just enough to make him squirm. he fidgets with the hem of his sleeve, eyes darting from yours to the pillow, to your hand still fisted in his shirt.

“because if you did, i think i’d just crawl into the washing machine and set it to spin cycle,” he mumbles, only half joking. “you’d forget all about me, but the spin cycle wouldn’t forget.”

you break. again. this time with a teary snort of laughter. your face buries into his neck, the tip of your nose brushing his warm skin as your shoulders tremble with exhausted giggles.

he exhales like a man who’s just been handed a stay of execution. his arms wind tighter around you, holding you like he’s scared you might vanish.

“i got you chocolate,” he whispers hastily, like it’s penance. “and those terrible chips you like. and i prepped a warm bath with the glittery bomb thingy you keep hoarding. also, i may have threatened the delivery guy to get here faster. i said i was a government official. please don’t report me.”

he tries to kiss your forehead, but you shove his face away with a palm.

“you smell like cheap cologne. did you use that stupid body spray again?”

satoru reels back, wounded. “excuse me, this is top-tier scent! the internet called it ‘irresistible alpha energy.’”

“more like teenage boy in a locker room.”

“wow,” he mutters, but there’s no heat in it. his thumb rubs slow circles into your back, his gaze flicking down to your fingers still tangled in his shirt.

finally, you lift your head, your eyes glassy but no longer stormy. your features soften—still tired, but laced with reluctant affection. satoru looks at you like you hung the damn moon.

“you’re the worst,” you whisper.

his grin is crooked, too relieved to be smug. “and you still don’t hate me. noted.”

he bumps his nose against yours, then gently tugs you closer. “c’mon. bath time for my temperamental goddess. i even lit the dumb candle that smells like a bakery.”

he stands, scooping you up with more care than coordination. you press your forehead to his jaw, soaking in the familiar comfort of his scent—minus the cologne.

“your skin glows with divine light… your aura purifies the air… i am but a lowly servant in the temple of your beauty…” he chants dramatically. he slips on your fuzzy socks halfway to the bathroom and nearly eats it, but catches himself just in time, shouting your name like he’s about to perish.

even if he’s overwhelmed, mildly traumatized, and definitely confused by the chaos that is your period mood swings, satoru gojo is nothing if not yours.

[jamiebluewind]

@sharkapologists ah. I see the tism bit me in the ass again. Carry on!

i swear some of the polls on this site look like

[reignpage]

Munchkins

The different ways the JJK men eat pussy

Gojo: like it’s a game

He thinks shit be funny when it’s really not. Fingers spreading your lips apart, he’ll coo at the quivering of your hole. 

“Oh look, she’s talking to me,” he mutters to himself, grinning. “Hi, pretty baby. Whatcha trying to say? ‘You’re so handsome, Satoru?’ And, ‘You’re the best lover I’ve ever had?’”

When he continues his little conversation, you know he’s genuinely getting lost in his own delusions. A whimper of frustration leaves you. That grabs his attention and with a mock gasp of shock, he presses an apologetic kiss right on your clit, sucking as hard as he can to really get his point across. 

“Awwwwww, baby. I’m sorry. Bet you were feeling left out, huh? Okay, okay. Time to get serious.” 

And then a wide tongue is splaying flat against your entire pussy, spreading your wetness around as he motorboats your sloppy cunt, humming a breathy laugh at the juicy sounds that he elicits. “How’s -ha- this? Better? God, you taste so good. Been eating pineapples, haven’t you?”

“S-shut up, Toru,” you groan. 

“Hey, don’t be mean,” he grumbles with no real heat. 

The orgasm that washes over you is powerful and you can’t conjure a single word out even when he quizzes you like an idiot, rubbing in that he's made you feel so good, you're left silent and dumb. “What day is it? No, I don’t think it’s ‘oh fuckkkk.’ Let's try so something easier. Can you recite pi to the one hundredth digit, baby? No? Yeah, me neither. Aw, you look so pretty. I should take a picture, shouldn’t I? Okay, okay, hold that face. Gonna get a camera.”

Geto: like it’s a test

“Come on, pretty.” He pulls away from your cunt, lips glistening with your juices and you have to fight the urge to close your legs from sudden embarrassment. “You’re pulling my hair too hard. How am I supposed to give you all my attention if you’re pulling me away, hmm?”

Lying down on his stomach, he’s placed himself in the most comfortable position for him to do everything it takes to bring you pleasure. And just as he said, locks of his silky black hair pool through your fingers as you tug every time the tip of his tongue rolls your bundle of nerves with expert precision. 

“Sorry, Sugu,” you find the clarity to whimper out. 

His arm reaches out to grip a breast and the weight makes his eyes roll back. As if punishing you for distracting him, he pinches a nipple and shoves his tongue inside your pussy, feeling the gummy walls clench down. Your back arches. “’s okay, pretty girl. Just —mhm so well-behaved— focus on the pleasure, alright?”

"Oh, Suguru, I can't. S-so good, oh yes, right there."

A thumb finds its way onto your clit, rubbing in precise and controlled circles; he knows just how you like it. Your moans get louder and louder. “Close? Tell me what you need. Talk to me,” he pleads. 

The smile that fills your blurry vision after a wonderful orgasm blinds you. His eyes explore your face, seeking every twitch and sigh like it fuels him, and maybe it does because his hard, leaking cock pushes in slowly, massaging every pleat inside your pulsing walls. 

“Let me hear more of your beautiful moans. Fuck, I can’t get enough of you.”

Choso: like an addict

You’re kneeling in the living room, pulling fibres from the plush carpet. Shorts pulled down, you can do nothing to stop the man moaning behind you as he sucks your clit with no technique. His tongue is venturing all the way down and all the way up, chasing after the taste of you. 

“Fuck! Choso, w-what is wrong with you?”

The day had started like normal. On your way to the kitchen, he murmured something about how good you smelt, and, without warning, tackled you onto the ground. This is so typical of him; he eats you out in the shower, against the front door, the window, in the car, in a park, and so on and so forth. And he does it all shamelessly.

“Sorry, I just -mhm- c-couldn’t help -ah so good- myself.”

It’s wet everywhere and not just from the waterfall of juices streaming out of your pulsing hole. Choso’s drooling —no, practically slobbering— all over your thighs, lapping up every drop. Despite all the times he’s tasted you, he can never get enough. 

Most days you have to fight him off, throwing pillows at his face and swatting his wandering hands even when he pouts and asks, “But why?”

And when you cum, mind completely blank as you pant desperately, face firmly planted on the carpet as his hands hold your hips up, his mouth doesn’t stop. 

“Ah, can I have one more?” He presses his cheek to your slit with a squelch and smooshes it, enjoying the heat against his clammy skin. “Please?”

You roll your eyes.

"No, don't crawl away. That's not nice. Oh, do you wanna do it on the kitchen counter? Okay!"

Toji: like a big meanie

“God, she’s talkative today, ain’t she?”

In his defence, you deserve this. He had just come home from a long day being a killer for hire and fell on the bed with just a grunt. You should have let him rest, you knew that, but in your defence, he’s sexy as hell.

Literally walking sex. 

“Y’r soaking the bed like a slut, look at you. Didn’t you grow out of this habit, ma? What kinda example you trying to show to our kid?”

His fingers are pummelling inside your pussy, curling against your G-spot without mercy. The pressure he’s building inside rivals the vacuum of his mouth on your clit. “Just had to climb up and sit on my damn face, didn’t ya? Couldn’t keep it in your pants? What? I don’t give it to ya enough? No, ‘course not, cause this dirty pussy always needs to be stuffed full, doesn’t she?”

There’s no particular rhythm to your grinding, and your desperation makes the corner of his scarred lip tick up. When you look down, your eyes meet his and the wink he sends you drives you over the edge. 

“That’s a new record ha. Must have been pent up, poor baby. Good thinking taking what you want when you need. Proud of ya, kid.”

Out of breath, you ask with a little shame, “You're not mad?”

SMACK!

Your asscheek is burning from the slap and you fall down on the bed with a ‘fuck you!’

“How long have ya known me, dumbass? I could be bleeding from a bullet in the chest and I’d still let you ride my dick.”

Nanami: like a man in love

“Sweetheart, are you sure I’m not distracting you?” 

For whatever reason, your husband still feels guilty about his desire despite all the years you've been together. Watching you slave away at the stove was apparently a stimulating sight. In his own Kento way of saying ‘thank you,’ he had cuddled up behind you, pressing kisses on your neck with his hands wandering down your curves. 

Moaning, you do your best to stir even when his face is shoved in between your thighs, suckling on your pussy from behind. “Ken, you silly man. Of course you’re —ngh!— d-distracting me but it’s a good —oh, Ken— distraction, d-don’t worry.”

“Really? Oh, that makes me so happy, darling, because I really couldn’t hold on any longer.” Even when he’s being absolutely filthy as he forces naughty squelches out of your sensitive pussy, he’s being so sweet — occasionally, he lays kisses on your clit, whispering praises like he’s spell-struck. “My lovely wife. My beautiful wife. My darling love.”

His warm breath and his even warmer words pushes you to the light and you’re spasming in his hands and on his mouth. 

“That’s it, honey. Such a good girl. How did I get so lucky?”

Then, sweaty and elated, he stands to full height and smothers you in a kiss. Distantly, you hear the click of the stove before you’re carried away, bridal-style to your bedroom. Your giggles makes him smile and, when he lays you down gently on the bed, he takes you in with a sparkle in his eyes. 

“You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. Let me show you my sincerity, sweetheart.”

Sukuna: like a liar 

When you had wandered into the garden, you hadn’t expected that you’d get pulled to the side, off the path, and pushed against a tree. Before you can process anything, your lips are being devoured by his — sharp teeth, unforgiving lips, and a growl echoing in your mouth. 

A big hand worms its way through your layers and tears off your flimsy panties with one yank. Just as the cool breeze meets your slit, a palm covers the entire area. 

“Kuna, w-what are you doi—Ah, fuck!”

A long and wet tongue prods its way around, rolling your clit with reckless abandon. You hear both mouths, from his face and his hand, growl in satisfaction at the taste of you. “I could sense your growing need, woman. It was overwhelming. And as your king, I must fulfil my duty and grant you one moment of pleasure. Rejoice in my benevolence.”

That’s definitely not the case since you were thinking of nothing but what to cook for dinner but you know him; he hides his desires with what he knows best. 

Deceit. 

“I’ve barely done anything and look at you, writhing like a worm. How pathetic,” he snarls. Sukuna kisses your lips the way he eats your pussy: like he’s desperate and hungry — positively starved.

Your orgasm is practically forced out of you, taken like it was always his to begin with. Deep in the back of your mind, you hope no servants have wandered near, or hell, stepped foot in the garden at all because your moans and whimpers were unreserved.

“Your moans are grating on the ears. Try to do less squealing like a mouse when you take both of my cocks, woman.”

[happy74827]

Say Yes to Heaven

[Logan Howlett x Female!Reader]

Synopsis: Sometimes all it takes is one look. One gesture. One word. One action. To remind them that not everyone sees them the same, and It's enough to send a person over the edge.

WC: 3690

Category: Fluff, First Kiss, Logan’s POV

Another Grumpy!Logan x Sunshine!Reader because it’s my comfort trope ✨🫶

『••✎••』

He never realized how much he wanted someone to care for.

It was something he didn't know he desired. A year ago, he didn't care for a single thing. He felt nothing. He was so numb. So empty.

He was an angry man. The kind of man people kept their distance from. Wade ruined that; he aggravated him so much that Logan started actually caring about his life. And for as much as he despised his fugly ass, he was internally grateful for him. He started to open up more and more.

Wade had a part in taking him out of rock bottom, as they say, but you… you aggravated him in the most endearing way possible. You were so bright, so happy, and full of life. Logan couldn't understand how someone could be like that, and he hated you for it. He thought it was so ignorant of you.

"I mean, come on, how could she be that happy all the time? It's fucking dumb. She doesn't even know me!"

That's what he said to Wade, but his roommate only laughed. He found his frustration hilarious and made fun of him constantly.

And don’t even get started on the way you spoke. Never once have you raised your voice at anyone. You always talked softly, and even if you were pissed off, you still found a way to make your words sound gentle.

The man couldn’t wrap his mind around the way you acted, you weren’t a mutant, but you damn well could have been with that forever customer service smile you wore every day.

The level of patience and understanding you held for people was insane to him, especially the amount of patience you held with him.

He was constantly telling you to fuck off, and you took no offense; you just returned that stupidly kind smile and told him that if he needed anything, you were there for him.

You had no clue what he’s done, what he's capable of, and yet you treat him with the utmost respect. And being a mutant, respect, and kindness were two things he hadn’t received in a very long time.

It made him realize things—about himself and others. He started noticing you a little more—the way you looked and the way you acted. It started out as simple confusion and disgust… the typical reactions one would have when one sees an overly happy person.

But it evolved slowly into intrigue and curiosity.

Then something else. Something he couldn't describe.

His first instinct was to push it away. To try and convince himself, he was disgusted. He did this with everything he felt, but he couldn’t keep lying to himself.

It wasn't disgust.

He couldn't name it; he wasn't ready to, but he knew it wasn’t that.

Wade had noticed the change in him, the way he looked at you, the way he started being a little less rough with the words he chose to say. He didn’t bring it up, but the shit-eating grin he gave each time Logan walked in and saw you was more than enough proof that he had picked up on it.

Of course, it only resorted to grins because the one time he opened his mouth, Logan didn’t restrain himself. He popped his claws and had to go couch shopping the next day.

Whoops.

So, with Wade keeping his mouth shut after being chewed out by Blind Al and Logan trying his best to push away the foreign feelings, it finally reached a point where he could no longer ignore them.

He didn’t understand why, of all nights, it had to be this one, but it was.

It was 3 am, and his old nightmares had come back to haunt him. He was restless, sweaty, and couldn't take another second of sleep.

It took a rinsing of the bathroom sink and a pitiful glare at his reflection for you to return his gaze.

He froze for a second.

You were wearing a large T-shirt, with a pair of shorts underneath. Your hair was messy, but it looked so soft, and your face was clear of makeup, leaving the imperfections of your skin that made you all the more beautiful.

Always wearing a smile. Always greeting him with a soft voice, sometimes a little raspy if just waking up, butnonetheless soft.

But once he rubbed his eyes and let out a tired yawn, you weren’t there anymore.

Because you were never there, you lived across the street. You were in your apartment, sleeping, with no idea that, at that moment, the man who constantly told you to fuck off realized he couldn't stop thinking about you.

The same man who would grunt, scoff, and throw away every kind gesture now realized he secretly cherished them.

He stood there for a moment, just pondering his thoughts. His eyes were still on the spot he saw you in.

His head turned to the right, seeing the digital clock that rested on the nightstand.

3:02 am.

You were asleep…. most likely asleep. You would be unhappy if he came over and woke you up, wouldn't you?

He looked back at the sink.

You could be upset, but you could also be happy. You could give him that smile. That sweet, warm smile.

It would be worth it, right? Just for that?

3:04 am

He didn’t think about it. Not even for a second. Ironically, it started raining as if to test him, but the man was determined.

He put on a jacket to cover his bare chest, threw on some random shoes, and was out the door before his mind could stop him.

3:13 am

He knocked on your apartment door. He was completely drenched from the rain. His hair was messy, his jacket sticking to his body, and his shoes were so wet that the squelching sound they made was the only thing audible.

He heard shuffling. Soft steps coming closer. He could smell your scent. It shocked him how easy it was for him to recognize it.

You unlocked the door. Your brows furrowed in confusion.

His mental image of you being in sleepwear, messy hair, no makeup, had been confirmed. You were beautiful.

You had a tired look, one of the many looks he wasn’t used to. But it was still a good look, and it still held your signature kindness.

He had a feeling it would.

You didn't look too shocked, just tired and confused.

You spoke. "Logan, is…? Are you okay?"

Your voice was even softer than usual, the raspiness it held only making it more comforting.

You were genuinely worried about him, and it hit him then that he was being an asshole. Making you wake up in the middle of the night, and for what? Just because he wanted to see you?

Just because of that, he should’ve given you a reason. An explanation.

He should've asked. He should have done so many things differently, but he didn’t.

His head was in the clouds, and all he could think about was you.

You. That was all.

But his expression gave away that he was in a daze, and your worry only grew.

"Logan? What's wrong?"

You stepped out into the hallway and reached a hand to him.

His heart jumped a bit when you did so. It was just a gesture—one simple act of compassion.

He wasn't worthy of that, but he couldn't resist. He didn't want to.

Your fingers barely brushed against his upper arm before he moved. He grabbed your wrist.

His grip wasn't hard. His hold was gentle, as he had no intentions of hurting you. You could’ve easily pulled your arm away if you wanted to, but you didn't.

His eyes locked with yours. He wasn't sure what possessed him, but it felt so right, so he followed his instincts.

He tugged at your wrist, causing your body to fall into him. Your chest pressed against his. His arms wrapped around you, one hand cupping the back of your neck, the other resting on the small of your back.

The embrace was so sudden, and he knew the situation was far from ideal, but his senses were overflowed by your presence, your scent, your softness.

His chin rested atop your head, and his eyes fluttered closed.

It wasn’t the first time he ever hugged someone, but it was the first time he hugged someone in such a way. He held onto you tightly, his grip possessive but not painful.

He was afraid to let go.

He felt your hands press against his chest. You were probably going to push him away, he thought, and he tried to prepare himself. He told himself he would let you go because it was the right thing to do, yet he didn’t need to.

You hugged him back, and he almost lost his footing.

How long had it been since he last received a hug? Since the last time, someone held him and showed him affection?

Too long.

Your hands went inside his opened jacket and held onto him. Your fingers pressed against his skin, and your soft, warm breaths caressed his neck.

He could stay like this for eternity, and he would never grow tired of it.

Your voice reached his ears.

"Logan, did something happen?"

He had been standing there for quite a while. He wasn’t aware of how long. Time seemed to freeze around you, but he didn’t mind. He wasn't one to believe in such nonsense, but when it came to you, he was ready to accept it.

Your hand rested on his arm, and he knew you were subtly prompting him to move, and so he did.

He pulled away from the hug just enough to look at you.

Your lips were turned upwards. The corners of your eyes creased.

"Logan?"

It was then that his actions registered—how utterly close the two of you were, how intimately you were holding each other. He was already warm just from genetics alone, but now he felt everything around him heat up.

"I-"

He didn't know what to say. It was like he was back in that bar, drinking away every thought. He couldn't think. There was nothing. Nothing but the feel of your body against his.

But what truly sealed the deal was when he felt your thumb gently caress his knuckles. It was a small movement, barely noticeable, but it was centered exactly on the scars his claws made.

That little movement made his brain short-circuit. His hands twitched. His grip tightened. He held onto you with his entire body as if scared to let you go.

"What happened?"

You were patient with him. The fact that he hadn’t even answered any of your concerns said enough.

But, eventually, he did find some words to respond with. It wasn’t the answer you were searching for, but it was a response.

"Why are you always being so fucking kind?"

It was such a simple question, and yet the amount of pain it carried was overwhelming. He knew you could hear every word behind it. Every word he couldn't bring himself to say.

He didn’t deserve it. He wasn’t a good man. He did horrible things, and sure… he made an attempt to make up for it. To be better, but it couldn’t have been enough, could it?

You were still here, looking at him with those soft eyes.

Why couldn't you look at him the way he deserved to be looked at? Like he was a monster.

Why did you have to look at him with those goddamn beautiful eyes?

"You deserve kindness, Logan. We all do."

And then, your voice became even softer and a little shaky. Your hands went back to massaging his knuckles. His scars.

"Just because you see yourself a certain way doesn’t mean the rest of us do. I see the good in you. Always have since we first met."

You spoke so softly, yet your words were heavy with emotion.

"I know it's not easy, but try to have a little more faith in yourself."

You didn’t deserve the harsh words he always threw at you. You didn’t deserve any of his anger. You didn't deserve him.

"Why?" He repeated his question, his voice strained, and you didn't miss the way his jaw clenched. "Why should I?"

His arms loosened their hold around you; his hands moved down your sides, and his touch feathered light. He wasn’t sure what he was doing, but he couldn’t quite let go just yet.

You paid it no mind. Only staring back into his eyes with the same kindness he was so used to, the one he had grown to treasure.

"You have a right to feel the way you do, Logan. And I can't claim to understand what you've been through. I can't begin to imagine. But you are a good man. A little rough around the edges, maybe, but you’ve shown me time and time again that you're trying."

A smile crept its way onto your face, and a soft giggle escaped past your lips.

Now, to be fair, he was used to hearing your laughter. With your… odd sense of humor, it wasn’t an uncommon occurrence. But, this would be one of the firsts to add to his collection.

The one reserved for him and him only.

Your laughter wasn’t loud, or annoying, or anything like Wade's. It was soft, sweet, and oh-so pleasant.

You were looking at him. Staring up at him with such love and warmth. You didn't even realize it, but he did.

"Besides, who wouldn't be a little grouchy waking up to that handsome face every morning?"

And, now, he was repulsed by the unwelcome vision of a certain masked man making his way into his head. He was so disgusted by the thought he didn’t bother responding. He didn't want to.

So, instead, he moved.

He had a habit of moving on his own and not thinking about it. It went from his hands going to your sides, and now, his hands reaching out to press against the door behind you.

You were pinned against the door, and the way you looked at him didn’t change. Of course, it didn't. Your eyes were always kind. They always were.

You were leaning against the door. Looking at him, waiting.

And he stared back.

He was so close, and he was tempted to pull away. To take a step back and leave. It would be the best for both of you; at least, he thinks so.

He couldn't give you anything.

He had nothing.

There was only himself. His body. His mind. His past.

His claws, too, if that counted for anything.

But, besides those, there was nothing.

He wasn’t a bad man, but he wasn't good either. Not like you were. He couldn’t possibly begin to match you, not even if he tried.

Which is why he had no intention of trying.

Yet, even as he thought that, his body moved even closer. The dog tags he had never taken off since he was given them hung loosely, dangling in front of your face.

One of your hands was on his chest, the other gripping onto the material of his shirt.

"Logan."

You spoke his name so softly. Almost a whisper, and yet, the sound of it was all his senses were focused on.

Your gaze shifted between his eyes and lips, and the hand that had been holding onto his shirt moved, reaching up to his shoulder.

The touch was light, as if hesitant, and it caused him to lean even closer.

It was so close. You were so close. You had been before, but never like this. Never in the way he wanted.

He wanted you so badly.

And you were right there. Looking at him with those eyes, with a soft, tender smile, and with an expression he didn't recognize.

He knew that was an invitation. You were always an open book, and your body language was no different.

And it wasn't the first time you did so.

There were many times when you looked at him. Your eyes trailing over his face. Your gaze went downwards, lingering before you snapped out of it and looked away.

He always saw it, always knew it was there, but he just chose to ignore it. He wasn’t in the right mind, then. He was just another broken man, struggling to get by, trying his best.

Trying to find some meaning in his life.

But, even now, he was still hesitant. Even after coming all the way here and making his intentions clear, he struggled with it.

"Are you sure?"

Because you were so much better than him.

Because he could still remember the day the two of you met. How much of an asshole he was, how rude, how angry.

It wasn’t until the seventh time you approached him that he realized that he had met someone who genuinely, wholeheartedly cared.

It wasn't until the twentieth time you approached him that he finally accepted it.

He could never forget the way you smiled and spoke to him, even though he had given you no reason to.

"Hi, Logan!"

You would say.

"Good morning!"

You would wave.

"Have a nice day, Logan."

You would nod, even though the man himself chose to ignore you. Goddamn it. You were so much better than him.

Much purer. Much more innocent.

You had a heart of gold, and a soul as white as snow. You were so good, so kind, and the thought of soiling you, of ruining your light with his darkness, it scared him.

It was the sole reason he didn't give in, even now, with you offering yourself to him.

He didn't want to ruin you.

"Yes."

No hesitation. No second thoughts.

Your eyes were so kind. So full of love, and the same emotion reflected back in his own.

But, even with the clear sign of assurance, he still felt the need to create one last line of defense.

With the hand against the door, he peeled it back enough to have your eyes catch sight of the fist it made.

In a millisecond, he unleashed his claws and slammed his fist against the door, the sharp adamantium easily slicing through the wood, causing the door to crack.

And, yet, no reaction. Not a single flinch, not a wince, not even a hitch of breath.

You weren't afraid. Not at all. Even as the claws were mere inches from your face, you weren't scared.

The corners of your mouth twitched. Upwards, and it soon bloomed into a bright smile.

He retracted his claws, and gave you another once-over, just to be sure, and you responded by lifting your hand, grasping the metal chain hanging from his neck.

Your fingers grazed against the cool metal, and your smile softened before turning into a small grin.

"For a man who states he isn’t scared of anything, you sure have a lot of defense mechanisms, Logan."

Teasing. That was a new one for you.

He liked it.

"Say it again." Now, finally, you showed a different expression. Confusion mixed with curiosity. You were wondering what he meant. "My name."

"Logan."

For you, his actions were mere seconds. You had no time to process the feeling of his breath against your lips. The feeling of his stubble tickling your skin. The feeling of his warm, dry lips pressed against yours.

But, for him, it was a slow, steady motion. He took his time. He pulled you closer, his hands moving from the door and cupping the back of your head and your waist.

The kiss was soft. Gentle. Nothing rushed.

He held you like you were fragile. Like you were made of porcelain and could break at any moment. He could, theoretically, but he would rather go through Cassandra’s entire repertoire of torture than hurt you.

He lifted you up. Your legs wrapped around his waist, and your arms around his neck, his own pulling you closer, his fingers digging into your skin.

You tasted exactly how you were. Pure. Sweet.

Like heaven.

He was sure he was leaving that of the bitter alcohol he had downed on your lips, but you didn't seem fussy about it.

Not that he could focus on anything else, anyway.

He was too distracted by the way his tongue danced with yours.

Too focused on the taste of your mouth.

Too distracted by the way your hands made themselves a home in his wet hair. They would tug every once in a while, releasing a groan he hadn’t known was there.

He was too distracted to care.

He was too lost in your scent. Wade always called him that character from that shity vampire movie due to his nose.

He always disagreed until you happened to mention the resemblance. Then, and only then, did he see the logic.

And you saw the logic here, too—the logic of how good you melted together. Experiencing it now made him question his decision to stay away.

If it was always going to be this good, this intoxicating, he should’ve done it a long time ago.

He should've taken the chance.

It would've saved the two of you a lot of frustration, and a lot of headaches.

But it didn't matter. He was here now.

And, as his foot broke into the door, mouth still latched onto yours, with him figuring his way about your apartment, he thought:

It doesn't matter.

As long as I’m here.

As long as you’re in my arms.

It doesn't matter.

Fortunately, that meant he didn’t have to wake up to that toupee-stapled face every morning, as he had so dreadfully imagined.

Unfortunately, it also meant that the next time he saw Wade, he would have to deal with him talking his ears off about what had transpired.

But, for now, he could live with that.

He was more focused on the fact on making sure you weren’t regretting your choice.

Because he sure as fuck didn’t.

[nochepsicodelica]

♡ ʕ˶´• ᴥ •`˶ʔ ♡

"Toji, do you love me?" You ask, as if he isn't curled up with you, his head resting on your shoulder so that he can see the stupid videos that pop up on your feed.

"Why would you even ask me that?" He mutters, tilting his head up to look at you.

"You're taking forever to respond. Oh... my heart," you say, your voice forcefully strained while clutching your chest as if you're pained.

"Don't start--"

"It's crumblingggg," you cry out, dramatically. "Oh god, it hurts so much, Toji! How could you? Is this how it feels to have love taken away? I should go outside and tie myself to a pole and see if there are any takers. Maybe, someone will actually want me and give me a warm, safe, and loving home." You give him a hopeful smile. "Yeah... that sounds nice and peaceful."

"Uh-huh, sure. Too bad you're not going anywhere. You get me and our warm, safe, and loving home." You huff, childishly, at that, to which Toji grins. "You know I love your dramatic ass. You keep asking if we can get a dog, but you're basically like if a husky turned human."

You gasp at that, playfully offended, and stare at him in disbelief. "I'll be waiting for your apology," you say, putting your hood on and turning your back to him.

"Baby, come on," he pleads, chuckling. "Come on. You're not mad at me."

"I am. I'm furious," you say, monotonously. "You shouldn't even look at me right now. I'm ferocious," you add, trying not to laugh at your own word choice.

"Yeah? You're a scary thing, right now, 'cause I made you mad?"

"Mhm," you hum, in response, and continue to scroll and watch videos without him.

"Hmm..." He leans over and snatches your phone out of your hands, tossing it towards the end of the bed. You feel helpless as he smoothly pulls your hood off, flips you onto your back, and straddles you. Your arms are pinned beside your head, by his enormous paws. You've been somewhat manhandled into surrender and all you can do is laugh as you look up at him.

"This is your ferociousness?" Toji asks, with a dumb grin on his face when you simply nod and press your lips together, to do a horrible job of stifling your amusement. "I'm so strong and brave, huh?" Again, you nod, unable to contain the giggles that spill out. "What if I... I don't know..." he murmurs, leaning down, closer to you. "Just gave you a little..."

The distance between your lips is closed off by Toji's lips pressing against yours—a slow, savored kiss, that makes your hands go limp beside you. He is utterly disarming, even against your faux grumpiness.

He hums something low against your lips when your laughter begins to bubble up once again. "Mm... You were never mad at me, were you?" Toji asks.

"And if I was?" You say, a gleam of mischief in your eyes and a sly smirk on your face.

"I'll kiss you, again. Is that really what you want?" He says, as if it's a threat.

"You know it. Kiss me, sugar lips," you say, amusedly.

"Why are you like this?" He mutters, rolling off of you and positioning himself beside you on the bed.

"Fine, gravel lips. Rock salt lips, sandpaper lips—is that what you want me to call you instead?" You ask, turning over to face him.

He slings an arm over your waist and pulls you in close. The scent of his body wash smells warmer as it mingles with his body heat. It's relaxing, fitting for the lazy day you've both indulged in. "You don't mean it," he responds, smugly. "I was sugar lips before you decided you wanted to hurt my feelings."

"Whatever," you mutter, rolling your eyes.

"Love you, sassy baby," he says, teasingly. "Don't ever doubt it. Now, where were you going with that question?"

"Well, it was going to be built up to me asking you if you have a Valentine, but then you crapped all over it. Now, it's not cute and it stinks. My plan reeks of failure."

"There's my dramatic girl," Toji utters under his breath, a chuckle rumbling in his chest. "Why don't you try again?" He says, smiling with amusement. "I'll even play along, alright?"

You sigh, as if it's going to take forever to pick up from where you left off, but nonetheless prepare to retry.

"Okay, fine," you start off, a soft sigh leaving your lips. "You love me, Toji?" You ask once more, already trying not to laugh at the focus he holds on you, like he's answering a survey.

"You know I do," he responds.

"Okay. Are you busy on the fourteenth of February?"

"Not that I know of."

"Are you interested in doing something that day?"

"Yeah, you, but go on," he says, smoothly.

"Toji," you chide, with a giggle. "Be serious."

"Fine, fine. Uh, yeah. I am," he answers. "Gotta treat my baby real nice, don't I?" He says, with a smirk.

You press your lips together, and compose yourself before asking the next question. "Do you have a Valentine?"

He tilts his head and deadpans, as if you're playing some sort of joke on him. "Ma."

"Just answer the question, Toji," you whisper, like you're breaking out of the questionnaire you made for him. "Do you have a Valentine?" You repeat, in your normal voice.

"Yeah, I got a Valentine," Toji says, his eyes trailing down your face, to your lips and back up to meet your eyes, again. His hand slides under your sweater and grabs ahold of your bare waist. He loves the layer of goosebumps that rises on your skin when he touches you. You're just so reactive to him. "She's basically an actress with how dramatic she is. It cracks me up, 'cause it's like talking to one of those screaming huskies she's always showing me on her phone." He grins, ready for you to go off, again. "Look at her, look at her. She's about to do it, right now," he says, lowly, his eyes glued to your squinted ones.

"Hmph. If you want me gone, just say so. Here I am, trying to ask you out on a date for Valentine's Day. Trying to show you all my love and affection and... and ugh—you don't care about my effort. You don't care about how romantic I am. So, you know what you're getting instead of wined and dined?"

"What's that, mama?" Toji asks, attempting to stay serious through your little dramatic fit.

"A big pile of nothing. No chocolates, not even a rose. And then at night, i'm gonna make a pillow wall between us, so you can't touch me. I had a gooood surprise for you, too, but you won't get it, until... uhh... I haven't decided, but it won't be on Valentine's Day," you assure.

"Baby," Toji coos, smirking at the light grumpiness in your features.

"No," you grumble, with a huff.

"Pretty baby. My pretty, pretty Valentine," he murmurs, the corners of his lips curling when he sees your facade crumbling. "Oh," he utters, with a soft, barely audible gasp. "Look at that little smile. It's getting bigger... and bigger... and-"

"Stop!" You cry out, through a laugh. Toji takes that as an invitation to pull you in even closer. To see your sunshine-like smile up close and hear more of those uncontrollable giggles as he tries to kiss you.

"Don't turn away from my sugar lips. Kiss 'em," he instructs, reaching for your jaw. With ease, he makes you face him again, soft laughter still spilling past your lips. "Be nice," he says, his voice a low purr. "You're my good girl, right? You'll let me kiss you?"

You sigh, defeated, and stop resisting his affection. "Yeah," you mumble, a confirmation for both statements.

"You're an angel," he murmurs, before connecting your lips once again. You feel his thumb stroking your side, causing your heart to race and goosebumps to surface on your skin all over again. They spread even more when his hand travels towards your back, his fingertips running up and down your spine.

His kisses are soft and slow, yet, still manage to bring heat to your cheeks. You know that if breathing wasn't necessary, he would spend hours on just kissing you, nonstop. Kissing until your lips feel raw and miserably bruised—tender to the touch. Until just the act of him leaning in for a mere peck, has you putting your hands up to his chest to stop him before he gets to your lips, again.

With a soft, final smack of your brushing lips, Toji breaks the kiss. "Say," he drawls, a sly smirk forming on his lips, "do you have a Valentine, sweetness?"

You hum, like you're thinking thoroughly about the question. "No, unfortunately," you respond, wiping the smirk off his face in an instant.

"Baby, you have to answer the question honestly," he whispers, mimicking the way you did before. You crack a grin and nod, compliantly. "So... you got a Valentine, doll?" He repeats, in his normal voice.

"No, I haven't been asked," you respond.

Toji scoffs. "Really?"

"Yeah, you said to answer honestly. I asked you to be my Valentine, but you haven't asked me."

"You asked if I have a Valentine," he corrects. "See, you're not being entirely honest with me," he says, shaking his head and clicking his tongue in disbelief.

"Will you be my Valentine, Toji?" You ask, trying incredibly hard to stay serious, though your lips are quivering, giving away the laughter you're suppressing.

"Yeah, i'll be your Valentine, pretty. Will you be my Valentine?" He asks, in return.

"Yes, i'll be your Valentine," you answer.

"Great. And those plans you made for Valentine's Day... are we still on for that?"

You laugh. He looks like he's genuinely hoping you were joking about shutting it all down.

"Of course we are, baby. The plans were never cancelled. I didn't think you actually believed me."

"You're cold for that, ma. Ice cold," Toji grumbles, earning a chime of your laughter. His hand comes out from under your sweater and travels lower and lower until he's able to grab the back of your thigh and lift your leg over his hip. "Let me warm you up."

[inseobts]

Captain

characters: luffy, law, shanks, kid and ace

inspired by: 'Captain' - Kang Seungyoon || spotify || youtube || apple music

a/n: hope this doesn't suck tbh

words count: around 1.0k - 1.5k each

masterlist || ao3 || ko-fi

── .✦ Luffy:

The sun is hot on your back as you lean over the Sunny’s railing. Waves crash below, sparkling like tiny stars in the ocean.

You sigh, but it’s not a sad sigh, just… tired.

Luffy’s jacket hangs off your shoulders, far too big, smelling faintly of salt and him. He’d dropped it on you earlier without a word, like he always did. Just something that happened now, the way you always saved the last bite of your food for him, or how he tucked your hair behind your ear when you weren’t paying attention.

“Oi! You’re making a weird face!”

You jump a little, turning around fast.

Luffy’s standing behind you, hands on his hips, grinning like he knows something you don’t. Which he usually does.

“I am not” you say.

“You are” he says “That’s your thinking-too-much face. I don’t like that one.”

You squint at him “You don’t like my face?”

Luffy laughs and walks up, grabbing your hand “Nah. I like your laughing face way better.”

Your heart does that stupid flip again. Luffy is always like this… saying small, silly things that hit you like cannonballs. You wonder if he even realizes what they do to you, or if he just lives like this, naturally, saying the exact thing you need to hear without trying.

He tugs your arm “Come eat meat with me.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“You will be when you see Sanji’s new meatball thing. He said he made it just for me. That means it’s good.”

You don’t want to argue, so you follow him. His hand stays in yours as you walk. He doesn’t look at you, doesn’t even think about it, like holding your hand is the most natural thing in the world.

And maybe it is. Maybe with him, all the strange, lovely things you thought you'd never have just… are.

The kitchen is loud. Usopp and Chopper are arguing about who can eat more. Sanji is yelling at Zoro to stop drinking straight from the soup pot. Nami rolls her eyes at everything. And through it all, Luffy’s hand stays in yours until he lets go just to sit.

Luffy sits down at the table and pats the spot next to him “Here. Sit.”

You sit.

Sanji brings over a plate with a small mountain of meatballs.

“Special recipe” he says, setting it down.

“Only for idiots who eat too fast and the people dumb enough to love them.”

“Yay!” Luffy cheers “That’s me!”

You raise an eyebrow at Sanji. He just smirks and walks off.

Luffy hands you a meatball. You take it. You chew slowly. He doesn’t. He shovels in three at once and nearly chokes. You thump his back.

“Maybe you shouldn’t eat too fast” you say.

“Too good,” he says between bites “Can’t stop.”

You laugh a little. He grins at you with his mouth full, face messy, eyes shining.

And somehow, in that moment, you feel more at home than you’ve ever felt on land. You bump your foot lightly against his under the table and don’t pull it away. He nudges back without missing a beat.

Later, when everyone’s tired and full, and the stars are peeking out, Luffy sits on the deck with you again. He lies down and folds his arms behind his head.

“Did you still have the weird face?”

“No” you say softly.

“Good.”

There’s a pause. The wind is gentle tonight. Your fingers inch toward his on the wooden deck until they touch. He doesn’t say anything, just shifts his pinky so it loops around yours.

You look at him and wonder if he knows. If he knows how much he saved you. If he knows that before this ship, before him, life felt so small.

“You’re thinking again” he says without opening his eyes.

“Yeah.”

“I’ll be your captain forever, y’know.”

You blink “What?”

Luffy opens one eye and smiles at you.

“Even if you leave the crew. Even if you fly away like a bird. I’ll still be your captain. Okay?”

Your throat feels tight. You don’t say anything. You just nod and lie down next to him.

The stars look different from here. Brighter. Bigger.

Just like everything since you met him.

That night you have a nightmare... you often dream of fire.

It’s not real, not anymore. But the smoke curls around your chest when you wake up, and your heart races like you’re still running.

You sit up fast, hand on your chest. You're sweating.

The bed is warm beside you, a tangle of blankets and the faint imprint of Luffy’s sleeping form. He must’ve gone when he felt you stir.

Outside, the sea is calm. The ship creaks gently like it’s breathing.

You step outside the bedroom, careful not to wake anyone. The deck is dark, quiet. The kind of quiet that feels too loud when you’re carrying a storm inside.

You lean on the railing, gripping it hard. Trying to stop your hands from shaking.

You don’t hear Luffy approach. You never do.

“Bad dream?” he says softly.

You nod.

He doesn’t ask more. He just sits beside you on the wooden deck, cross-legged like a kid.

You look at him. He’s staring out at the ocean.

You whisper, “I wasn’t a good person before this. I did some things... things I can’t forget.”

Luffy shrugs “That’s okay.”

You blink “Okay?”

“You’re good now.”

Your breath catches “But—”

“I don’t care what you did. I care what you do now. You protect people. You laugh with us. You love this ship.”

You bite your lip “Sometimes I think I don’t deserve to be happy.”

Luffy’s head tilts “Why?”

“Because I hurt people. I made bad choices.”

He frowns, serious now “Everyone hurts people. Even me. You ever see me not punch someone?”

“That’s different.”

“Why?” he says “Because I’m the captain?”

You open your mouth, then close it.

He scoots closer, his leg bumping yours “Listen. I don’t pick people because they’re perfect. I pick people who need a place. You needed one. So I gave you mine.”

Your eyes sting.

“And if you’re scared sometimes... that’s fine. I’ll be scared with you.”

You let out a shaky laugh “That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.”

Luffy grins “Thanks.”

Then he does something rare.

He reaches out and pulls you into a hug.

It’s warm and a little awkward, his chin bumps your shoulder, but his arms are strong. Solid.

Safe.

You lean into him, just for a second. Just long enough to feel like maybe… maybe you can breathe again.

“I still got you,” he says “No matter what.”

The next morning, you’re quiet at breakfast.

Not sad, just full in a way that makes your chest feel warm. Luffy sits beside you like always, stealing half your toast without asking.

You don’t stop him. You just shake your head like you always do and let your knee rest against his under the table.

“Oi, Luffy, chew!” Sanji shouts from the stove “Don’t scare them off with your lizard face.”

Luffy puffs out his cheeks “I am chewing!”

You shake your head “Barely.”

He grins at you with crumbs on his lips “You finally smiled.”

“Huh?”

“You smiled at me,” he says, like it’s some great discovery “I like that.”

You feel your cheeks heat up.

Chopper climbs onto the bench next to you “You look different today,” he says thoughtfully “Lighter.”

“Maybe you finally slept” Nami adds, sipping her coffee.

“Maybe someone got a good hug last night...” Usopp says, wiggling his eyebrows.

You nearly choke on your juice.

Luffy doesn’t react “I give good hugs.”

Zoro snorts from across the table “Not with those rubbery arms.”

You stare down at your plate, smiling to yourself.

Later, you’re helping Robin tie down books in the library when Luffy finds you again. He peeks in like a kid looking for snacks.

“There you are!” he says “Come with me.”

You follow him without asking where. That’s just how it is with Luffy. You trust him.

He takes you to the upper deck where it’s quieter. The sea stretches out endlessly, sky blue and soft.

He sits on the edge and pats the spot next to him. You sit.

“I was thinking,” he says, picking at the brim of his hat “About last night.”

You look at him, curious.

“You said you didn’t deserve to be happy.”

Your chest tightens again.

He leans back on his hands “But you look happy now.”

You nod slowly “I am.”

He grins “Told you. I’m a good captain.”

You laugh a little “You are.”

Then, softly, you say it “This happiness I have right now… it was gained simply by listening to you and following your lead.”

Luffy tilts his head, eyes wide and bright “Really?”

You nod “You gave me a place. You didn’t even know me, and you still let me stay.”

“I knew enough,” he says “You were lost. I don’t leave lost people behind.”

You look down, fiddling with the seam of your shirt “I think I was scared to feel like this. Like I belong.”

“You do.”

You glance up. His face is open, honest—Luffy in his rare, still moments.

“You really think I belong here?” you whisper.

He nods “You belong with me.”

Your breath catches.

Not “with the crew”.

Not “on the ship”.

With him.

── .✦ Law:

The storm isn’t just outside.

It’s in the way Law walks the deck—slow, sharp steps, as if each one might cut the wood beneath his feet.

You watch from where you sit near the stairs, arms tucked around your knees. He hasn’t spoken in hours.

The sky above is black. Thunder grumbles like it’s trying to decide if it wants to scream.

He doesn’t flinch.

“Go inside” he says suddenly, without looking at you.

You stay where you are.

“I said—”

“I heard you.”

Silence again.

Then: “The wind’s picking up.”

“I’m fine.”

He turns his head just enough to glance at you, eyes narrowing “You’re stubborn.”

You shrug “You’re angry.”

“I’m thinking.”

“Loudly.”

He exhales through his nose—one of those short, sharp sounds that’s not quite a laugh, not quite a sigh.

You unfold your legs and stand, walking slowly until you’re beside him. Close, but not touching.

Close enough to feel the heat of him. Close enough that if you leaned in just slightly, your shoulder would brush his. But you don’t. Not yet.

“Is it about the intel?”

“No.”

“Then it’s about the crew.”

“No.”

“Then it’s about you.”

He says nothing.

The waves crash hard against the hull. Somewhere below deck, Bepo is probably pacing, waiting for the worst of the storm to pass.

But Law… Law doesn’t wait for anything. He carries storms inside him and tries to outpace them with silence.

You speak softly “Be at ease.”

He turns to look at you now, not annoyed, just… tired.

Your hand drifts to his arm, fingers barely grazing the fabric of his sleeve. You step in, gently, like approaching a wild thing. Like you’ve done this before—offering comfort without taking anything away.

“Let me watch your back now,” you continue, voice steady “My captain.”

His eyes search your face like he’s reading something in a language he forgot long ago.

“I don’t need—”

“I know.”

You take a step closer, your fingers brushing his coat sleeve.

“I’m not offering because you need it. I’m offering because you deserve it.”

His jaw tightens.

You shift your hand just enough to slide your fingers into his, letting them rest there—quiet and warm.

“Someone has to carry the weight when you can’t,” you add “Let it be me, even if it’s just tonight.”

For a long time, he doesn’t respond.

Then finally, he murmurs, “You talk too much.”

You smile “And yet you’re still listening.”

He doesn’t smile back but his shoulders drop, just slightly. And when the next gust of wind hits, he doesn’t flinch.

Because you’re there.

Because someone’s finally watching his back.

You lean in and press a kiss to his shoulder, not dramatic, just grounding. A promise. You feel him shift slightly toward you, almost imperceptibly.

The storm passes, but the cold stays.

You and Law sit under the overhang near the helm, out of the rain but not the wind. The ship creaks with each wave, but now it’s calmer. The kind of quiet that always feels like something is waiting.

He hasn’t spoken since you told him you’d watch his back.

But he’s still here.

You’re still here.

And that’s something.

You let your head rest lightly against his shoulder. His arm doesn’t move for a long moment, then slowly, tentatively, he curls it behind you, just enough that your bodies lean into one another.

“I thought you’d leave” he says at last, voice low.

You glance at him “When?”

“After Dressrosa. After the Doflamingo fight. Most people would’ve.”

“I’m not most people.”

He makes a soft sound in his throat, something between agreement and disbelief.

Then he says it.

“I didn’t expect you to stay this long.”

You blink “Did you want me to go?”

“No” he says too quickly. Then quieter “I just thought you would.”

You wrap your arms around your knees, watching the wet deck glisten under the moonlight.

“People leave you a lot, don’t they?”

He doesn’t answer.

You don’t need him to.

You reach over and take his hand again, threading your fingers through his with the same steady warmth you always give him. Your thumb traces soft circles over the back of his hand.

You take a slow breath and shift to face him more fully.

“You don’t always have to be the one doing the saving, Law.”

His head tilts, just slightly.

You lean forward but not too close, just enough to be clear.

“I’ll protect you now.”

The wind blows your hair into your face. You don’t move it.

He’s staring at you like he doesn’t understand the words. Like no one’s ever said them to him before and meant it.

“You think I need protection?” he asks, but there’s no bite in it. No challenge.

You smile “I think you’re tired of carrying everything alone.”

For a second, just a second, his expression softens.

Not in a dramatic way. Not like in the stories.

But his eyes lose that sharp edge.

He leans back against the wood behind him, shoulders dropping just a bit more than before. As if, maybe, he’s letting the idea settle.

Letting you settle.

You shift closer again and kiss his cheek, soft and slow, just near the corner of his mouth. He closes his eyes like he’s soaking in the quiet.

You don’t push it. You just sit with him, in the silence, your presence a quiet promise:

He’s not alone anymore.

The cold settles around you both like a second skin, but here, pressed close, there’s a different kind of warmth.

You lean into him slowly, head resting against his chest this time, right where you can hear his heartbeat. At first, he’s stiff. Not resisting, but still wired tight, like his body doesn’t quite remember how to relax.

You wrap your arms around his middle, pulling him into a soft, secure hold.

He lets out a breath against your hair. It’s quiet. Almost disbelieving.

“You don’t have to be alone anymore,” you murmur into his coat “Not with me.”

You feel it when something in him finally begins to loosen. Not all at once. Not dramatically. But like a knot unspooling deep inside.

His hand comes up, hesitant at first, then rests on the back of your head. His fingers thread gently into your hair, and you close your eyes at the feeling.

He doesn’t speak.

You tilt your face up toward him.

His gaze meets yours, wary, but no longer guarded. He’s let you in. At least a little. Enough.

You smile softly “Come here.”

And before he can argue, before he can overthink it, you press your lips to his.

One kiss.

Then another. Then another.

Soft and fast, like raindrops. Like a flurry of promises falling out of you all at once, impossible to hold back.

You kiss the corner of his mouth, his top lip, the edge of his jaw, then back to his mouth again.

With each kiss, you whisper:

“I will protect you now”

“My boss”

“My leader”

“My hero”

“My captain”

“My love.”

And something in him just… gives.

His breath hitches. His hands tighten around you, not pulling you away, but drawing you in. Letting you have him like this.

He exhales like surrender. His voice is barely above a whisper.

“…Fine. Do whatever you want.”

You press your forehead to his, smiling against his skin.

“I already am.”

And he doesn’t push you away. He doesn’t retreat behind silence.

He stays.

Wrapped up in your arms. Your warmth. Your words. Your kisses.

For once, Law lets himself be held.

── .✦ Shanks:

The first time you see him, it’s not on purpose.

You’re in a quiet port town, just passing through. Hiding, really. The kind of hiding that doesn’t involve running, it just means standing still long enough for the world to forget you.

Then the bar door opens.

And he walks in like he owns the ocean.

Red hair. Wide grin. A laugh that fills the room before he even speaks.

“Oi, Benn! I told you I could smell meat from a mile off!”

You glance up once and then away. You know who he is. Of course you do. Red-Haired Shanks. One of the Four Emperors. A name that carries storms.

You sip your drink and try not to look again.

It doesn’t work.

He notices.

You end up at the same table, somehow. He’s charming like that, pulls people in like the tide.

“What’s your story?” he asks casually, swirling his drink.

You shake your head “No story.”

“Everyone has one.”

“Not me.”

He smiles “You’re a terrible liar.”

You laugh despite yourself. It’s small. But he hears it.

“You’ve been drifting,” he says “I can tell.”

You pause “That obvious?”

He shrugs “Only to someone who’s done the same.”

Later, you’re sitting with him by the docks, the sea stretching out like a painting. He’s quieter now. Thoughtful.

You speak without meaning to.

“On a sea called loneliness… I’d come to lose my way.”

He turns toward you slowly, listening.

“My vision was dark. I didn’t know where I was going. I didn’t even know what I was looking for.”

Shanks doesn’t interrupt.

“But a single sailboat came close.”

He smiles faintly.

“And that happy ending became our story.”

He chuckles under his breath “You’re poetic when you’ve had rum.”

You smile, but it doesn’t fade.

“You’re the first person who didn’t ask me to explain why I left. Or who I used to be.”

“I don’t care who you were,” he says gently “Only who you are when you’re with me.”

The sea breeze lifts your hair. His eyes flick to it, and stay there a moment too long.

You don’t speak again for a while. There’s no need.

Two drifters. One sailboat. And, maybe, the start of something that doesn’t have to end in loneliness.

Years Later

The sun hangs low, golden and lazy, casting soft light across the deck of the Red Force.

Shanks is half-asleep in a chair near the railing, hat pulled down over his eyes. You’re sitting not far, feet propped up, notebook balanced on your knee. You don’t write often, at least not like this, but today feels different.

You glance at him. He’s relaxed, arms crossed loosely, the breeze playing with the hem of his coat.

Years ago, he was chaos walking. A whirlwind with a smile.

Now?

He’s still chaos. But he’s yours.

You smile and press your pen to the page.

“On a sea called L-O-V-E,

The sunlight dazzles as it reflects upon the water.

On that sailboat over there, are two people—

Just a captain and a sailor.

And that happy ending is our story.”

You pause.

Then close the notebook, leave it on the small table beside him, and go below deck. You don’t say anything. You don’t need to.

Later, just before dinner, he finds you in the galley. One arm wraps lazily around your waist from behind, pulling you in.

“I read what you wrote” he murmurs near your ear.

“Oh?”

“It was missing one thing.”

You raise a brow, glancing back at him “Yeah?”

He presses his forehead to yours “The part where the sailor becomes captain of the captain.”

You laugh, soft and full.

“In your dreams maybe” you tease.

“In our story” he corrects, grinning.

You shake your head and kiss him anyway.

It’s meant to be quick, teasing, familiar.

But Shanks doesn’t let go. His hand cups the back of your neck, thumb brushing the edge of your jaw as he kisses you again, slower this time. Deeper. Like he’s been waiting all day for this one quiet moment.

You melt into him. The galley fades, the ship fades, even the sea feels quieter.

When you finally pull apart, your forehead rests against his. Neither of you speaks right away. You don’t need to.

He closes his eye, brushing his nose against yours “You still take my breath away, you know that?”

You smile against his lips “Even when I’m just trying to steal your coat?”

“Especially then.”

He leans back, just enough to reach into his coat pocket and pulls out something small, wrapped in an old cloth. He unwraps it with care, revealing a silver ring etched with faint waves.

“Was gonna wait,” he says softly, “but then I read what you wrote.”

Your breath catches.

“It’s not a proposal, not exactly,” he continues, “but it’s a promise. That whatever seas we sail, whatever storm hits… I’m yours. No matter what.”

You stare at the ring, heart swelling in your chest “Shanks…”

He slides it onto your finger, his touch feather-light “You don’t need to wear it if you don’t want. I just... I just wanted you to have something that says what I can’t always say.”

You take his hand in yours, kissing his knuckles “You already say it. Every time you look at me like I’m not just part of your crew, but like I'm part of you.”

He chuckles, a little unsteady “You are.”

The kiss you give him now isn’t playful. It’s reverent. Grateful. Fierce and fragile all at once.

Afterward, you whisper, “My captain. My anchor.”

He kisses the corner of your mouth, then your cheek, then your forehead, murmuring between each one:

“My light. My home. My heart.”

Later, beneath a sky dusted with stars, you lie curled in the hammock together—his coat draped over both your shoulders, his hand resting over yours, thumb absently brushing the ring now on your finger.

He presses a kiss to your temple and murmurs, “I used to chase the horizon. But then I found you.”

You smile into his chest.

“I’ll chase it with you,” you say softly “As long as you want.”

He holds you tighter.

“Forever sounds good to me.”

And with the steady lull of the sea beneath you and the warmth of him around you, you sleep in the safest place you’ve ever known.

── .✦ Kid:

The ship is on fire.

Well, not literally. But that’s what it feels like after the ambush.

Scorched sails. Blood on the deck. Your ribs ache, bruised or maybe cracked, and Killer’s bleeding from his arm, trying to stop Heat from collapsing.

Kid is in the middle of it all, rage and metal, torn coat, growling orders no one can follow fast enough.

“Damn it, where’s WIRE?!”

“Dead if we don’t patch him now!” you shout back, dragging your half-burned jacket off to wrap someone else’s wound.

He doesn’t answer. His jaw is clenched tight, eyes scanning everything like he’s trying to hold the whole crew together with nothing but anger and magnets.

But you’re not afraid.

You’ve seen him like this before. Broken knuckles. Cracked teeth. And still standing. Still fighting.

Still trying.

He doesn’t realize you’re next to him until your hand grabs his shoulder.

“Kid.”

He glances at you, blood across his cheek, chest rising like a storm trying not to explode.

“We’re not dead,” you say “We’re still here.”

He scoffs “Barely.”

You shake your head “You always think surviving means losing.”

“Because it is,” he snarls “Every fight takes something from us.”

“Now just breath” you snap, stepping closer “Look at me.”

His eyes go wide.

You don’t blink.

“I’ll follow you. I’ll follow you ‘til the end of my days.”

The words hit the air like thunder, loud, real, and permanent.

You lift your chin with your biggest smile.

“YES, SIR.”

Something shifts in his face, not softness, not yet. But a crack. A flicker. The kind of look someone gets when they realize they’re not alone.

His voice is low.

“You’re not scared of me?”

You grin.

“I was.”

“And now?”

“I’m yours.”

And for once, Kid doesn’t argue.

He just takes your hand, calloused and shaking, and holds on like it might be the only thing left that doesn’t burn.

The ship’s quiet now.

Not peaceful but quiet. The kind of silence that settles after screaming, after gunfire, after the medics say “He’s gonna make it” and you finally let yourself breathe.

You check on everyone first. Heat’s stable. Killer’s stitches are clean. Wire’s conscious.

Only after you’ve made sure the others are resting you walk down the hall to his door.

It’s half open.

You knock once anyway.

“…It’s open” Kid’s voice grunts from inside.

You step in.

He’s sitting on the edge of his bunk, shirt off, fresh bandages wrapping his torso and arm. His metal hand is still twitching from leftover stress—little sparks crackling at the edges.

He doesn’t look at you at first.

But he doesn’t tell you to leave.

You shut the door and walk over, slow and calm, like approaching a wild thing that might still bite.

“You good?” you ask softly.

“Peachy” he mutters, eyes on the floor.

You eye the bruise on his jaw “Looks like it.”

He grunts, but says nothing more.

You stand there for a few long seconds. Then you exhale, toss your jacket to the side, and without asking, climb onto his lap, straddling him gently.

He stiffens a little “The hell are you—?”

“Shut up.”

He blinks. You settle your weight down, arms looped around his neck, foreheads almost touching.

His breath slows.

“…You’re gonna make me soft” he mutters, voice rough.

“You are soft” you say, brushing his hair back from his face.

He huffs “Right.”

You smile.

Then, quietly, honestly, you speak “My hero.”

His jaw tenses.

“My captain.”

He doesn’t meet your eyes.

“Every day in this world feels like a battle… but you’re the captain who brought me to my victory.”

He looks up at that.

There’s a flicker of pain, disbelief, maybe guilt. He shakes his head.

“We lost.”

You don’t flinch. You bring a hand to his cheek, cupping it firmly.

“We all survived.” You lean in, eyes locked with his “Is it really a loss?”

The words hang between you, heavy and warm.

He stares at you for a long, long moment. Then finally, his voice low, almost gravel, he says “…No.”

You nod.

“Good,” you whisper “Now let me hold you until your stupid brain believes it.”

He lets you.

He even wraps his arms around you, tentative at first, then tight, like maybe you’re the anchor he didn’t know he needed until tonight.

You rest your forehead against his, feeling the tension bleeding out of him inch by inch.

His metal hand settles at your back, warmer than it should be. Steady.

“You always this bossy?” he grumbles, voice low but not annoyed. Almost… fond.

You grin “Only when you’re being dramatic.”

“Dramatic? I got impaled.”

“And still talking,” you say sweetly, brushing your nose against his “Clearly not fatal.”

A quiet sound escapes him, not quite a laugh, but really close. He pulls you closer, jaw pressing to your shoulder, voice muffled against your skin.

“You scare the hell out of me sometimes.”

You smile “Good. Keeps you on your toes.”

You shift slightly, just enough to ghost a kiss across his cheekbone. Then another, soft at the corner of his mouth. Then one more right on his lips, softer and a bit longer.

He exhales, like you’ve stolen all the fire out of him with that one simple touch.

You whisper against his mouth, “I meant what I said.”

“I know.”

“My hero.”

He groans lightly “You’re gonna kill me with that shit.”

“My captain” you say again, this time planting a kiss under his jaw.

“I’ll throw you overboard” he warns half-heartedly, pulling you tighter.

“No you won’t.”

He doesn’t argue.

You rest your head against his chest, listening to the slow thump of his heart, and he buries his fingers in your hair like it’s the only thing grounding him.

“You’re the only thing that makes this worth it” he mumbles after a while.

You grin again, eyes closed “Took you long enough.”

“Shut up.”

You don’t.

You just nuzzle in closer, his warmth surrounding you, his heartbeat steady against yours, and for once, even on a ship held together by bolts and scars and sheer, everything feels unshakably, impossibly whole.

── .✦ Ace:

The waves crash steady against the ship, stars scattered across the sea like someone spilled the sky.

You’re sitting on the edge of the deck, legs swinging over the side, the ocean dark beneath you. Most of the crew’s asleep. Only you and him are still awake.

Ace drops down beside you, barefoot and shirtless, sea breeze ruffling his hair. He smells like smoke and salt and freedom.

"You're gonna fall in one day" he says, nudging your leg with his knee.

You glance over "Then you better be ready to dive in after me. Oh wait, you can't even swim anymore!"

He grins "I'd like to see you try drowning."

You bump your shoulder into his "I did once, remember? Before you even formed this crew... That's how we met."

He goes quiet.

You weren’t joking.

Neither was he, when he dragged you back to the ship half-dead, coughing seawater, chest heaving as he yelled your name like it was the last thing keeping him afloat.

That was the first time he held you like something fragile.

And the first time you knew he’d never let go.

You look out at the sea again "You saved me."

"Hm?"

"Back then. And now. All the time, really."

He leans back on his hands "You act like I’m some hero."

You shake your head "No. You're not a hero."

He laughs "Gee, thanks."

You turn to him, steady “I'm your sailor. You're the captain. You saved me from drifting.”

He blinks. His grin fades, not in a bad way, just... softer. More real.

“I never saved anyone” he says after a second.

“You did, and I'm not talking about that time...” you whisper “You just don't realise it.”

He doesn’t speak, but you feel his hand brush yours, fingers grazing yours like he wants to hold on, but doesn’t know how.

So you do it first.

You intertwine your fingers with his, firm and warm.

“I didn’t follow you ‘cause you saved me that day” you murmur “I followed you ‘cause I finally felt seen.”

He swallows hard.

Then says your name... just your name, but it sounds like a promise.

Not grand. Not dramatic.

Just true.

And that’s all you ever needed.

Years Later

For once, everything’s quiet. No Marines, no missions. Just you, a sleepy harbor, and one very shirtless fire-user leaning against the rail with a half-eaten orange in hand.

You step outside, towel-drying your hair from the bath, and lean beside him.

He grins at you like always, like you’re his favorite sight in the world.

You smirk.

“Hey, Captain.”

Ace groans immediately, tossing the orange peel at your feet.

“You still call me that?” he says, exasperated “It’s been years since I stopped being a captain, Y/N. Drop it already…”

You shrug innocently “But it suits you.”

Before he can roll his eyes harder, you lean in and plant a quick, soft kiss on his lips.

Then whisper, just close enough for him to feel your breath “My boss. My leader. My hero. My captain.”

Ace exhales like you’ve just made his heart do a backflip, but he plays it cool... barely.

“Ugh,” he groans dramatically, gently pushing your face away with one hand “Can’t you just be a cute lover and call me… I don’t know, boyfriend? Honey? My love?”

You blink at him, lips twitching, then smirk.

“Alright, sure. How about... Flamey Hot Dumbass Supreme?”

He stares at you.

“...That’s the worst thing I’ve ever heard in my life.”

You grin wider “What? It’s affectionate.”

Ace covers his face with one hand, groaning “What was I even thinking that day I confessed to you and kissed you...”

You press a kiss to his cheek “That I was the only person who could make your life this fun.”

He huffs but he doesn’t argue.

He just pulls you closer, tucking you under his arm, and lets the sunset burn quietly around you both.

The laughter fades slowly.

Ace still has his arm around your shoulders, thumb brushing slow circles on your upper arm. You rest your head against his bare chest, listening to the gentle rhythm of his heartbeat.

The orange-sweet breeze brushes past. The sun’s dipped lower now, gold turning to pink.

He doesn’t speak for a long while.

And then softly, without teasing “You’ve been sitting next to me all this time…”

You glance up, and there’s something in his eyes that makes your chest squeeze.

“Yeah” you whisper “Where else would I go?”

Ace lets out a breath that almost sounds like disbelief. His fingers move up to touch your cheek, warm and careful.

“I was so busy back then. Fighting. Running. Trying to prove something. I didn’t even see it at first.”

“See what?”

“You” he says “Of course.”

You smile, nudging his nose with yours “Took you long enough.”

His other hand finds your waist, pulling you gently closer until your knees are nearly in his lap. His voice drops “I love you.”

You blink, heart thudding.

He’s said it before, during arguments, in bed, drunk off sake. But this time? This time it’s bare, and slow, and steady.

You wrap your arms around his neck and whisper against his lips:

“I love you too, firebrain.”

You’re both smiling into the kiss when—

“Yo.”

You freeze.

Ace groans out loud, forehead thudding against your shoulder as Marco’s voice cuts you.

You both turn, Ace’s hand still on your thigh, your face flushed, as Marco stands with a completely deadpan expression.

“Am I interrupting?”

Ace doesn’t even lift his head “You think?”

Marco shrugs “Well, you're not in your room, you know? That’s basically an invitation.”

You’re trying not to laugh as Ace flips him off without looking.

“Five minutes, Marco” you plead.

Marco holds up his hands, already walking off “Sure, sure. Just letting you know dinner’s ready... lovebirds.”

Ace groans again, shoving his face into your neck as you laugh harder.

“I swear I’m gonna set that pineapple on fire.”

“Sure you are, Captain.”

“…Don’t start.”

[spaceyaemonds]

pairing: dr. jack abbot x reader

sum.: you have a one night stand with an extremely attractive older man, but it doesn’t seem like you’ll see him again. fate has other plans, it seems.

warnings: age gap (jack is late 40s, reader is 23) unexpected pregnancy, light smut, reader and jack have both been drinking but are very eager/consent is definitely there. MDNI

notes: i am still working on former stripper!reader, but this came to me and i had to get it out. i think this will be a series of smaller drabbles, instead of a full one shot, but idk, what do you guys think/prefer? unedited. any feedback is extremely appreciated, especially reblogs/asks!

wc: 1.3k

next

You meet Jack Abbot in a dark bar on a Thursday. You, drug out by your friends, begging you to just let loose for once. Him, alone, on his last night off for the week, mentally preparing to go back to work the next day.

You caught his eye from across the room, and feeling brave, and of course egged on by your friends, you make your way over to him.

The first thing he does is ask you how old you are, to which you give a cheeky response of old enough. At the unamused look you receive, you tell him you’re twenty-three.

Jack nearly choked on his drink at that, and nearly tells you that you’re too young for him. But the pretty and cheeky smile you give him makes a small smirk appear on his face, so he doesn’t.

The second thing he does is order you a sweet fruity drink and a double shot of whiskey for himself.

One round turns into two which turns into three. You laugh a lot, and he laughs at your laugh. Jack tells you briefly about his time in the army, and in turn you tell him about your evil boss that you just know is out to get you.

I’m an ED doctor, he mumbles in your ear after you ask what he does for work

An eating disorder doctor? He snorts at your question.

“No, emergency department, like an ER,” You blush as he laughs at you, nearly choking as he downs the rest of his whiskey in one go.

You don’t even realize that you had effectively abandoned your friends and had been talking to Jack the entire night until one of them comes to ask if you’re ready to go.

You look at Jack, sheepish smile on your face and a glint in your eyes.

You end up at his place, his mouth on yours and calloused hands pawing greedily at your tits under your shirt before he even gets the door closed.

“Your skin is so soft,” He mumbles as he leaves open mouthed kisses from the corner of your mouth to your neck and back up again.

You moan, “I like the way your hands feel on my skin,”

Your hands tangle in his hair as you force his mouth back on yours, teeth clashing as his tongue fights yours for dominance, ultimately winning when you distract yourself trying to get his shirt off of him.

As quickly as his shirt comes off, he has you topless, your shirt and bra tossed somewhere in his living room.

The rest of the night is a blur, but you know he fucked you in some way, shape, or form on nearly every surface of his home, from eating you out on the couch, to fingering you until you managed to squirt all over his countertops as he made you drink water to stay hydrated, to fucking you dumb on his cock in at least six different positions on his bed, and once more pressed against the shower wall before putting his shirt on you and holding your body pressed up against his body while you slept the entire night.

The next morning the two of you chatted over breakfast. No awkwardness, he goes out of his way to make you laugh over his disgusting coffee, as so affectionately deemed it.

He doesn’t ask for your number, so you don’t ask for his. You kiss the side of his mouth as you leave him.

Jack goes to work, business as usual, but he thinks about you every day for the next eight weeks. Wondering if your boss ever let up on you or if you tried that new Italian place you were wanting to eat at.

You spend the next eight weeks stressed beyond belief. Work eating at your soul and consuming your entire life. You do think about Jack almost every day, contemplating going back to that bar just to see if he’s there.

But you don’t ever get the time, and your next meeting is an unexpected one to say the least.

Slipping on the wet floor in a grocery store was embarrassing, but hitting your head on the way down was mortifying. You were going to have to find a new grocery store.

The situation just keeps getting worse as the paramedics show up, telling you they have to take you to the emergency room since you show signs of a concussion and your nose is bleeding.

“Hi, I’m Dr. Mohan. I hear you took a bit of a fall?” The doctor is pretty, and her smile seems genuine as she talks to you.

“Uh, you could say that. This all could’ve been avoided if they had a wet floor sign out at the grocery store, though,”

She laughs, “You would be surprised how often we see that here,”

She starts going through the usual string of questions you get at the ED. You answer them all until she gets to the last one, “And when was the date of your last period?”

All of a sudden, your mind is blank. Surely you’ve had it, right? You had to have.

“I-I guess I don’t remember,” It comes out a whisper, and your brow is furrowed as you try and try to remember. You know you had it.

Dr. Mohan senses your inner turmoil, “No worries, we can do a blood test,”

She takes your blood and tells you she’s going to go order a CT for your head, “just sit tight.” With a mind smile, she’s gone.

You sit there, trying to rack your brain. There is no way you’re pregnant. No fucking way.

It takes what feels like an hour for Dr. Mohan to come back, ultrasound machine in tow, “So, I have your test results, and it does appear that you are pregnant. We’ll have to do an ultrasound to confirm how far along you are, but after that we should be able to get you to CT,”

“What the fuck.” Is all you can manage, eyes wide as you look at her, “Are you, like, certain?”

She places a hand on your own, squeezing in a comforting manner, “The ultrasound will be to confirm, but blood tests are rarely wrong,”

She gets you situated and pulls the gown up so she can rub the probe over your abdomen, “I am hopeful we won’t have to do this vaginally,”

She quickly places the cold jelly on your abdomen and runs the probe over it, trying to find a fucking baby. You feel like you might throw up.

“And there they are,” There’s a smile on her face and she shows you.

“Oh my god,” You think you’re in shock “I think I’m gonna throw up,”

“Oh!” She quickly steps into action, grabbing a bucket and rubbing your back while you vomit.

“I think this is the worst day of my life,” She gives your shoulder a squeeze.

“The vomiting could be due to the fall you took,” She bites her lip, “CT is pretty backed up, let me go get my attending to see if he can take a look and find something that can get you moved up the list. I’ll be right back,”

She quickly walks out, and you feel tears building quickly in your eyes. How the fuck could you let this happen?

And now, you’ll have to awkwardly face Jack and tell him your passionate night has resulted in this situation.

He didn’t even ask for your number for crying out loud.

Your downward spiral is interrupted when Dr. Mohan returns, with the last person you wanted to see right now.

“This is my attending, Dr. Abbot.” She gestures to him. “Dr. Abbot, I have a twenty-three year old female, approximately eight weeks pregnant with a possible concussion,”

You don’t hear another word that passes her lips, eyes glued to him, and he looks just as shocked and horrified as you feel.

[rafesangelita]

bf!rafe x thick!reader.

i’ve been thinking about how reader is insecure about her thick thighs and ass so rafe fucks her dumb in the mirror forcing her to look at herself as he says how perfect she is <3

warnings: unprotected sex, rough sex, mirror sex, mentions of body image issues and insecurities, body worship, praise, hair pulling, slapping, dirty talk, pregnancy kink (but rafe is serious about it??)

a/n: if you want to read more thick/bigger girl!reader, read this ‘thinking thot’ if you haven’t <3

“fucking look at yourself!” rafe grunted, wrapping a fist in your hair before forcing your head up to stare at your reflection. besides the obvious fact that you looked like a fucked-out mess, rafe wore a smirk that had you squeezing around him with a broken sob. “you’re so insecure and for what?” he landed a harsh smack to your ass, the loud sound making your cheeks heat, “if it wasn’t for this body i wouldn’t be able to fuck you like this..” you cried out when he let go of your hair and grabbed your hips, planting a foot on the mattress before drilling into you even deeper.

in this position he was easily nudging your cervix with every thrust, his fingers digging deep into your flesh as you struggled to keep your eyes on the full length mirror in front of you. “you make me so fucking mad when i hear you talk bad about yourself,” rafe said through gritted teeth, “saying you wish you looked better,” he scoffed, “..it doesn’t get better than this.” your knees nearly gave out from under you when he snaked a hand around your waist, his fingers working on your clit until you felt that familiar heat starting to simmer in your tummy.

“you’re so pretty, baby, it freaks me out sometimes,” rafe leaned down so his mouth was next to your ear, “you have no clue how many times throughout the day i have to resist the urge from bending you over and fucking you dumb— just like the way i am right now.” your eyes rolled back at his words, his praise shooting straight to your soaked cunt. “you make me hard without even doing anything, you know that? these curves are so fucking perfect, i could squeeze you and grab and rough you up just the way i want to. you drive me fucking crazy.” you weren’t only crying because of the way you were being pounded into right now, but because you knew rafe was coming from a place of genuine love.

you couldn’t help but feel insecure when you saw the kind of girls that always tried to get at your boyfriend, some even going as far as flashing you a wink when they stroked his arm while passing by. all of them looked flawless in your eyes, your insecurity creeping up on you and making you question why on earth rafe was even with you. questioning rafe’s devotion was exactly what got you in the position you were in right now. “look up, ‘pretty, i need you to see what i see.” he clasped a hand around the back of your neck, dragging you up so your back was flushed against his chest.

your body was on full display, your teary gaze meeting rafe’s as he fixed your head in place to make you look at yourself. “starting with this face,” he was still thrusting into you when he stroked your cheek, “i don’t think you’re real sometimes. especially when we wake up in the morning and the sun is hitting you just right..” he planted a kiss in the curve of your shoulder. “you don’t even know this but on the days i wake up earlier than you i just watch you. admire you.” you moaned when you felt him hit your sweet spot, your eyebrows knitting together as you took your bottom lip between your teeth.

“these tits,” rafe took both of his hands and cupped you, rolling your sensitive buds between his fingers, “this is why i love it so much when you’re on top.” you laughed softly, a small smile playing on rafe’s lips as he continued rocking into you. you knew rafe wasn’t lying, he always looked hypnotized and dazed whenever you rode him, his eyes glued to your chest while you bounced on top of him. “these thighs are the same thighs that i always need my head in between. whether you’re sitting on my face or i have you pinned down on your back, i fucking love them.” he rasped, his hips stuttering as he began approaching his high.

“your hips and your waist..” your mouth fell open in a silent moan when he found your clit again, “you’re gonna carry my kids, i’ll make sure of that.” you gasped when he picked up his speed, his words hitting you right where you’d feel them most. “m’gonna make you have my babies, ‘give you even more reasons why you should love your body the same way i do. you understand?” you nodded frantically, turning your head so he could take you in a searing kiss. that was all it took for both of you to fall over the edge, rafe carefully laying you down on your tummy as he filled you up.

you two stayed like this, your kisses growing more feverish once he pulled out, rafe wasting no time in wrapping his arms around you and pulling you close. he traced the curve of your lips, thumbing away the tears from your eyes as you sighed. “i don’t ever want you to question the love that i have for you, do you understand?” you cozied up to him, whispering a ‘yes.’ before he hummed sleepily.

[megumismyhusband]

bakugo hates them. he hates them so much. those little naked angel babies with their stupid tiny wings and their dumb little hats—why do you have so many?? why do they all have different themes?? why is there a whole shelf dedicated to them in your room??

but what really pisses him off is how you call them cute. all the damn time.

“look at this one, katsuki! it’s got a little strawberry hat!”

“isn’t this one adorable? he’s a tiny cow!!”

but do you ever call him cute?? no. never. not once.

so one day, he snaps. he waits until you’re out, then he gathers up every single one of those freaky little babies and hides them in his closet. he’s thorough about it, too—makes sure not a single one is left behind. when you come back, you immediately notice.

“where are my sonny angels?”

“what sonny angels?” he says, completely deadpan.

you narrow your eyes. “katsuki.”

“maybe they got tired of bein’ called cute and ran away,” he mutters, arms crossed.

you gasp. dramatically. “you took them.”

“i hid them,” he corrects, scowling. “you should be callin’ me cute, not those weird-ass naked babies.”

you stare at him for a long moment. then, slowly, a grin spreads across your face.

“oh my god,” you say. “you’re jealous of my sonny angels.”

“no, i’m not—”

“you are!” you laugh, absolutely delighted. “you’re mad because i call them cute instead of you!”

his face goes red—like, really red. “shut up.”

“katsu,” you coo, poking his cheek. “are you jealous of my tiny, plastic, naked angel babies?”

“i said shut up!!” he barks, turning away, ears burning.

you just laugh harder, wrapping your arms around him from behind. “aww, but you are cute, katsuki.”

he freezes. you feel him stiffen, then relax just a little. “…damn right i am.”

you press a kiss to his cheek. “can i have my sonny angels back now?”

“ugh. fine.” he stomps off to get them, grumbling under his breath. when he hands them over, he glares at the tiny plastic faces. “they’re still ugly.”

you just smile, holding one up. “say hi to your competition.”

“i hate you.”