#THANK YOU FOR DRAWING HIM RED. I HAD A FEELING HES GONNA LOOK EVEN MORE HATER LIKE IN YOUR ART STYLE

[stylesispunk]

'Landed too hard'

outbreak!joel miller x f!reader

Summary: You save Joel's life from raiders but instead of thanking you, he gets mad at you.

or

You get hurt and you are forced to be vulnerable with each other.

wc: 7k

warnings: age gap, established relationship, angst, fluff, miscommunication, insecurities, mentions of blood, and fluff

a/n: i'm slowly coming back to this with this baby here that was on my drafts. Reblogs and comments are always appreciated 💌

The forest was too quiet for your liking. No birds, no wind—Just the soft crunch of the snowy ground beneath your feet as you followed Joel who was ahead of you and Ellie. There was something in the air this day, eerie silence pressing on your chest, tension, and Joel had been on edge all day, his broad shoulder seemed tense under his jacker, his grip on the rifle tighter than usual.

It felt like the premonition of something bad coming on your way. So, you kept your knife close and your gun pressed under your hand.

“We’ll set up camp soon,” Joel muttered, his voice low without looking behind to you and Ellie.

Ellie groaned. “Finally. My feet feel like they’re gonna fall soon.”

You gave her a tired smile at her remark, but your eyes stayed on Joel. His jaw was tight, the scar above his brow crinkling deeper. You knew him well enough to read the signs—he was worried. More than usual.

That’s why you didn’t even hear them coming.

One second, you were walking behind Joel, and the next, chaos broke out. Shouts echoed through the trees. Five, maybe six men, all armed came out from nowhere. Joel shoved you and Ellie behind an overturned log.

“Stay down,” he growled, pressing his rifle into your hands. “If anyone gets close, you shoot. Don’t move unless I say so.”

“Joel—”

“Stay.”

You swallowed your fear and nodded, grabbing Ellie and pulling her down. Joel stepped out, drawing their attention, firing a shot that took one of the men down, then another and so on.

But the rest came fast. Through the cracks in the log, you watched Joel fight. He moved like a man who’d done this too many times, but even then, it was too much. One of the raiders tackled him, and suddenly, Joel was on the ground, with one of those men’s hands wrapped around his throat, squeezing hard.

the man’s hands wrapped around his throat, squeezing hard.

“Shit,” you whispered, your heart pounding so hard you could barely hear Ellie’s panicked breathing next to you.

Joel clawed at the man’s wrists, his face turning red, veins bulging in his neck. He wasn’t going to get out of it and you couldn’t just sit there watching the man you loved die in front of you.

“Stay here,” you told Ellie, voice shaking from rage.

“Wait…what are you doing?!” she whispered.

Your body moved before your mind could argue. You were already running before Ellie could have the chance to stop you.

You tackled the man strangling Joel, knocking him off balance, but before you could finish him, another set of hands grabbed you from behind. You struggled, kicking and clawing, managing to land a sharp elbow into the man’s ribs before twisting free. The first man lunged again, but you dodged, feeling the burn of a knife slicing across your cheek. The pain barely registered as you drove your own blade into the man’s neck, then turned and plunged it into the second attacker’s chest before he could recover. Warm blood splattered your hands as the man crumpled, gasping his last breath.

You stood there, panting, adrenaline rushing through your veins.

Joel coughed violently, rolling onto his side, his face pale and drenched in sweat. You dropped to your knees beside him, your hands hovering uselessly. “Joel? Hey—hey, are you okay?”

He didn’t answer right away, still gasping for air. When he finally sat up, his brown eyes locked onto yours—not with gratitude, but with pure, burning rage.

“The fuck were you thinking?” he rasped, voice raw.

You blinked, the adrenaline still rushing through you. “I—I had to. He was going to—”

“You didn’t listen to me!” Joel slammed his fist into the dirt, his whole-body trembling with anger. “I told you to stay hidden! What if he’d killed you?!”

“Well, he didn’t” you stated, “I saved your life!”

“And you risked yours doing it!”

His voice echoed through the trees, sharp and unforgiving. You felt your chest tighten, heat rising in your throat.

“I’m not some helpless girl you can just shove behind a log, Joel! I did what I had to!”

Joel stood up, wiping the blood from his hands. His jaw clenched, but he didn’t say anything else. The space between you felt impossibly wide.

He ran a hand over his face, stepping back like he couldn’t even look at you. "You put yourself in danger. You could’ve been killed. Do you even get that?"

"I get that I just saved your ass!" You shot back, the weight of the moment crashing over you. "And all you can do is yell at me?"

He exhaled sharply, his hands curling into fists before he turned away. "I ain't doin' this."

"Fine," you bit out.

The air between you felt thick, suffocating. You glanced at Ellie, who stood off to the side, arms crossed, her expression tense.

You lifted a hand to your cheek, your fingers coming away sticky with blood. The cut burned now that the adrenaline was wearing off, and you sucked in a sharp breath. Ellie’s eyes flicked to the wound, concern flashing across her face, but she didn’t say anything. Joel still wasn’t looking at you, his back rigid as he adjusted his pack.

"We should get moving," he muttered, voice low and strained.

You nodded, swallowing down the ache in your throat. Without another word, the three of you fell into step, the silence stretching between you like an open wound

That night, you found a small clearing tucked between dense trees, far enough from the road to feel safe. The cold had settled deep, and you pulled your jacket tighter around yourself as you sat near the weak glow of the fire. Joel had barely spoken a word since the fight, his focus set on keeping watch, his back to you.

You weren’t hurt by his words or the outburst he had, but by the idea of him willingly die and feeling at peace with it. How easy would be for him to left you behind and in your own.

You dismissed your thoughts as you dug through your pack for a rag, pressing it against the wound on your cheek. The sting made you wince, and you cursed under your breath.

A quiet shuffling caught your attention, and you looked up to see Ellie kneeling beside you, her brows furrowed.

"Here," she said, pulling a small bottle of alcohol from her pocket. "Let me help."

You hesitated for a moment, then gave her a small nod. She dampened the cloth with the antiseptic and reached for your face. The touch was gentle, but the sting made you hiss.

"Sorry," Ellie murmured, concentrating as she cleaned the cut. "You’re lucky it’s not deeper."

You let out a small chuckle, though there wasn’t much humor in it. "Lucky isn’t exactly how I’d describe this day.”

Ellie huffed, finishing up before pulling a bandage from her pack. "Well, you’re not dead, so that counts for something."

You smiled faintly, glancing toward Joel. He still hadn’t turned around. You sighed, looking back at Ellie. "Thanks, kid."

She just shrugged, but there was warmth in her eyes. "Anytime."

As the fire crackled softly between you, you finally felt a small sense of comfort—at least, from Ellie. Joel, on the other hand, was still a storm brewing on the other side of camp.

Joel sat a few feet away, his gaze drifting to you as he kept watch. He noticed the way you shivered, your arms wrapped tightly around yourself, but still, you slept. He hesitated, jaw tightening as he debated with himself. Then, with a quiet sigh, he shrugged off his jacket and carefully draped it over you.

You stirred slightly at the added warmth, a small, unconscious sigh escaping your lips, but you didn’t wake. Joel lingered for a moment, watching you, before settling back down next to you as if he needed to remind himself you were still here.

The fire in your camp had burned down to glowing embers, the scent of smoke mixing with the cool morning air. Joel sat near it, his hands wrapped around his termo, sipping coffee our from it, his eyes occasionally flicking over to where you slept.

Your back was to him, your body curled slightly, the jacket pulled high over your shoulder. The cut ran along your cheekbone from the fight the day before—a fight that left you and Joel in a tense, suffocating silence. Reminding him how you always put yourself in danger for him.

He hated himself for it. How he had came to the point where he felt useless.

Now, in the morning light, you looked peaceful despite the frown that creased your forehead. Joel knew that look. He knew you too well.

Ellie stirred next to him, stretching before getting to her feet. She glanced at you, then back at Joel. “Should I wake her up?” she asked, rubbing her tired eyes.

Joel shook his head. “Not yet.”

Ellie raised a brow. “Why?”

Joel sighed, glancing at you again before taking another sip of coffee. “She’s got a frown.”

Ellie blinked. “Yeah, ‘cause she’s mad at you. Even in her sleep.”

Joel exhaled sharply through his nose, but there wasn’t much fight in it. “No. It’s different. She gets that when she gets a migraine.” He ran a hand over his beard, glancing at you again. “Let her sleep a little longer.”

Ellie’s teasing smirk faded slightly, replaced by something softer. “You really pay attention, huh?”

Joel didn’t answer right away. Instead, he took another slow sip of coffee, staring into the fire. “Yeah,” he admitted quietly. “When it comes to her of course I do.”

Ellie sighed, dropping back down onto the log next to him. “So… you gonna fix this or what?”

Joel tensed, setting his cup down beside him. “She doesn’t wanna talk to me.”

“Yeah, because you yelled at her.” She reminded him.

Joel rubbed a hand down his face. “She shouldn’t have done what she did.”

“She saved your ass, Joel.”

Joel’s jaw clenched. “That ain’t the point.”

Ellie scoffed, shaking her head. “Yeah, it kinda is. She did what you would’ve done for her.”

Joel was silent, his gaze dropping to the ground.

“Do you think she would be fine if you were dead?” she pressed on, sighing.

Instead of answer, Joel reached for his bag, unbuckling the strap. He knew exactly where to look, tucked inside one of the side pockets were the pills he always carried for you, just in case.

Ellie, who had been watching with quiet curiosity, tilted her head. “Wait… you carry her pills?”

Joel didn’t look up as he pulled out the small bottle, checking how many were left. “Yeah.” His voice was gruff, like he didn’t think it was something worth mentioning.

Ellie crossed her arms. “Huh.”

Joel finally glanced at her. “What?”

Ellie smirked. “Nothin’. Just—you act all tough, but you’re, like, secretly the softest person ever for her.”

Joel rolled his eyes, muttering, “Keep it to yourself, kid,” as he moved toward you.

You stirred slightly as he knelt beside you, brushing your hair back from your face with a careful hand. The sight of the cut on your cheek made his stomach twist again, but he pushed the feeling down. He had already failed to keep you from getting hurt once, he wouldn’t fail you now.

Gently, he set the bottle of pills down next to you, along with a canteen of water. He knew you still weren’t talking to him, but that didn’t mean he was going to stop taking care of you.

As he sat back, Ellie watched him with something unreadable in her expression. “Still mad, huh?”

Joel sighed, rubbing his thumb over the strap of your bag.

Ellie nodded. “Well… you’re doin’ the right thing, at least.”

Joel wasn’t sure about that. But as he sat there, keeping watch while you slept, he figured it was all he could do for now.

The first thing you noticed when you woke up was the dull ache in your head. The second was the soft sound of the fire crackling nearby. You blinked against the morning light, your body still heavy with exhaustion.

And then you saw the canteen and the small bottle of pills sitting beside you. You didn’t have to ask who put them there.

Your gaze flickered to Joel, who sat a few feet away, his back turned slightly toward you. He was sharpening his knife, the rhythmic scrape of metal against stone filling the quiet space. Ellie sat across from him, kicking at the dirt with her boot, sneaking glances at you like she was waiting to see what you’d do.

You swallowed, your throat dry. Carefully, you pushed yourself up, wincing as your muscles protested. Your fingers brushed against the bottle of pills, and you hesitated before finally picking it up.

Joel’s voice came before you could say anything. “Drink some water with that.”

It was quiet. Gruff. Like he wasn’t sure where the two of you stood after yesterday.

You pressed your lips together, debating whether to respond, but you didn’t have the energy to fight again. Instead, you obeyed, twisting the cap off and dry-swallowing the pill before chasing it with a sip of water.

Joel didn’t look at you, but you saw his shoulders drop just a little.

Ellie, of course, didn’t stay quiet for long. “Sooo… does this mean you guys are done being mad at each other?

You shot her a look. “Ellie.”

“What? I’m just saying’—”

Joel cut in; his voice flat. “Eat your breakfast.”

Ellie huffed but dropped it, tearing off a piece of jerky with her teeth.

You sighed, rubbing your temples before stealing a glance at Joel. His eyes were still fixed on his knife, but you could see the tension in his jaw, the way his fingers gripped the handle a little too tightly.

He was waiting. For you to say something. For you to forgive him.

You sighed, pressing your fingers against your temples in a weak attempt to ease the pressure in your skull. It wasn’t working. Nothing ever really worked, except for him.

Joel had a way of grounding you when the pain got bad. He didn’t always have the right words, but he never needed them. He had his own way of taking care of you, of letting you know he was there. And right now, all you wanted was for him to kiss your temples the way he used to.

The way he always did when you were hurting.

But things weren’t the same. You had fought, you had pulled away, and he had let you. And now, even though he was right there, he felt miles away.

You swallowed hard and shut your eyes, trying to push down the disappointment twisting in your chest. It was stupid to want that from him right now. After everything, you shouldn’t need him like that.

Except you did.

Joel shifted, and you felt him move closer, his presence clear even before he spoke. “Did you take the pills?”

You nodded. “Yeah.”

There was a long silence, and then, so softly you almost missed it— “Still hurts?”

You hesitated. Your pride screamed at you to say no. To brush him off and keep that last little bit of distance between you. But you were tired.

“Yeah,” you admitted.

Joel exhaled slowly. And then, finally, finally, you felt his fingers brush against your jaw, tilting your head just enough so he could lean in.

His lips pressed against your temple, warm and steady, lingering for just a second longer than they needed to.

You closed your eyes, breathing him in.

“Get ready, we have to go now” he spoke, still closer to your face.

You nodded, your throat tightening at the sudden shift back to reality. The moment was brief, fleeting, just like every soft thing between you and Joel seemed to be.

He pulled away first, his hand dropping from your face like he hadn’t just touched you like you meant something to him. Like he hadn’t just kissed you the way he always used to when you were hurting.

You cleared your throat, pushing yourself up slightly, ignoring the dull ache in your chest "Yeah, okay," you muttered, rubbing at your face as if you could wipe away the lingering warmth of his touch.

Joel stood up, already shifting back into that closed-off version of himself, the one that had been there ever since your fight. The one that didn’t know how to bridge the gap now.

Ellie walked in just as you were attempting to stand, her eyes flicking between the two of you. "You guys look weird," she said, frowning. "Like... extra weird."

Joel sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. "Not now, Ellie."

She just smirked, clearly entertained by whatever tension was hanging in the air. "Whatever you say, lovebirds."

You rolled your eyes, reaching for your bag to distract yourself. Your fingers trembled slightly as you adjusted the straps, but you pretended not to notice. Joel pretended too, but you could feel his gaze lingering on you, watching you too closely like he always did.

The road stretched ahead, cracked and broken, nature reclaiming what once belonged to people. You walked in silence, the weight of the morning still pressing against your chest. Your head ached, but you bit down on the pain, refusing to let it slow you down.

Joel was beside you, his steps steady, his presence solid as ever. But something about him felt distant. He was looking at you, you could feel his gaze flickering toward you every few moments, but it wasn’t the same. Not like before.

Before, his eyes had been filled with something warm, something certain. But now? Now, it felt like he was watching you from behind a wall, like he was making sure you were still there but refusing to let himself feel anything about it.

Ellie, for once, was quiet, kicking a stray rock as she walked ahead, letting the tension settle between the two of you.

Joel’s outburst had been raw, desperate, his voice breaking, his hands gripping yours like he could tether you to him. But now, you saw it for what it was. Fear. Not just of losing you. But of what it meant if he didn’t.

Because Joel didn’t think he deserved to have you. He thought he wasn’t enough, that he never had been. And maybe… maybe he never would be.

You swallowed hard, your fingers tightening around the strap of your bag. "You don’t have to keep looking at me like that," you muttered, not even turning your head.

Joel tensed beside you. "Like what?"

"Like you're waiting for me to cry to let you in and forgive you shout at me.”

His jaw ticked, and for a moment, you thought he wouldn’t say anything at all. But then—

"I am not," he said, voice rough. A lie.

You stopped walking. Finally, you turned to face him. "Then what is it?" you asked, your voice softer than you meant for it to be. "Because you had been like this for week, something's been different and yesterday you just broke."

Joel exhaled slowly, looking away, his hands on his hips, his fingers flexing. "Nothing’s different."

You huffed out a bitter laugh, shaking your head. "Bullshit."

Ellie stopped a few steps ahead, glancing between the two of you like she wanted to intervene but thought better of it.

Joel shifted uncomfortably, his shoulders stiff, his mouth opening—then closing again. He had no answer. No real one, anyway.

Because the truth was, it had never been about you. It had always been about him. About the way he would rather push you away than let himself believe, even for a second, that he was allowed to keep you. That you would want to stay.

That you would choose him. But you were tired of being the only one fighting for this.

So, you just nodded, setting your jaw. "Alright," you murmured, turning back toward the road, ignoring the way your chest ached. "If nothing’s different, then let’s just keep moving."

He Heard the way your voice broke at the end and he just watched as you joined Ellie.

Joel stood there, hands tightening into fists at his sides as he watched you walk away. He’d done this—again.

He had Hurt you.

He told himself it was for the best, that it was the only way to keep you safe. But that excuse was starting to sound as hollow as he felt.

Ellie shot him a glance, her expression unreadable before she turned her attention back to you. She said something low under her breath, nudging your shoulder. You didn’t look back.

And Joel? Joel just stood there, rooted in place, watching the one thing he was most afraid of slip through his fingers.

Because, deep down, he knew. It wasn’t the world that would take you from him. It was him. It was a matter of time.

A few hours later, when cold still found its way deep down your bones. You followed Joel and Ellie into the old market, the air inside thick with dust and the remnants of a world long gone. The faded signs above the shop windows once advertised fruits and vegetables, but now they were nothing more than silent witnesses to the decay around them.

Joel stepped into the shadows first, scanning the area with ease. His hand never strayed far from the rifle slung across his back. He wasn’t just looking for supplies—he was looking for danger, as always, he was ready to find it. You watched him move with that quiet confidence that made him seem invincible, even though you knew better. The way he held himself, as if the weight of the world was constantly on his shoulders.

He disappeared behind a corner, moving into the heart of the market.

Ellie, always ready for adventure, shifted impatiently next to you. “Think it’s safe?” she whispered, her voice barely audible in the stillness of the market.

You didn’t answer right away, your eyes fixed on the place where Joel had vanished. You could feel the tension coiling between the two of you, that invisible thread that had been growing tighter over the last few hours. But now wasn’t the time to dwell on it.

“He’ll let us know when it’s safe,” you said quietly, not taking your eyes away from him.

Ellie raised an eyebrow, clearly not fully convinced. “Yeah, but what if-”

You cut her off with a shake of your head. “He’s careful. He’ll check everything first.”

She didn’t seem entirely satisfied with the answer, but she stayed quiet. You both waited in silence, the only sounds the distant hum of the wind and the occasional creak of the building settling.

Then, Joel’s voice echoed from ahead. “Clear,” he called out as he reappeared from behind a row of shelves, his gaze briefly flicking over you before he turned to lead the way deeper into the market. His expression was unreadable, but you could sense the wariness beneath it.

His fingers found their way to your shoulders, his touch was brief, just the slightest brush of his fingers against your jacket. A silent reassurance. Or maybe a habit he couldn't break.

You didn’t react, didn’t turn to look at him. Instead, you focused on scanning the shelves, looking for anything useful. Cans, medical supplies.

Ellie was already rummaging through a shelf, muttering under her breath about how people really liked canned beans before the world went to hell. Joel moved ahead, his rifle held tight as he checked the corners, ever cautious.

You bent down, shifting through a pile of toppled boxes, when Joel’s voice came from behind you. “You good?”

It was automatic, the way he asked. Like even when he was keeping his distance, he still couldn’t help but care.

You hesitated, keeping your back to him. “Yeah.”

Another pause. Then a quiet, “Alright.”

But it wasn’t alright.

Not the way his voice sounded. Not the way your chest ached every time he was close but not close enough. And definitely not the way his fingers had lingered just a second too long on your shoulder, as if he didn’t want to let go.

Joel was already moving toward another section of the market, scanning the rows of empty shelves, searching for anything of value. Ellie had drifted further ahead, already rummaging through a crate she found. You stayed close to the wall, the building’s dilapidated structure making you nervous, but you tried not to let the unease show. You knew Joel was doing his best to keep everyone safe, but the weight of everything—of what you had lost, of what you were still fighting for—was starting to catch up with you.

You took a few more steps, carefully picking your way over the cracked floor, when suddenly, the ground beneath you gave way with a sharp, unsettling creak. Before you could react, your foot twisted, the bone snapping like a twig under the weight of the fall.

A sharp, searing pain shot through your ankle as you cried out, unable to stop yourself. The world spun for a moment as you collapsed, hands pressing to the ground to catch yourself, but the pain in your ankle was unbearable. You let out a sharp gasp, fighting the urge to cry out again as you felt something shift beneath the skin, your foot didn’t feel right.

"Shit," you muttered, trying to stay calm, but panic crept in with each breath. Your heart raced as you instinctively tried to pull yourself up, but your foot wouldn’t hold any weight. You couldn’t put it down.

Ellie’s voice broke through the fog of pain, distant but growing closer. “What happened?”

“Sweetheart?” Joel’s voice followed almost immediately. You could hear the panic lacing his tone, the urgency in his steps as he turned back toward you. You felt the weight of his presence before you saw him, his figure coming into view, moving fast.

He saw you on the ground, your face twisted in pain, and his heart dropped. "Damn it," he muttered under his breath, kneeling down beside you with a speed that surprised you. His hands were gentle, but you could hear the frustration in his voice as he assessed the damage. "What the hell happened?"

“I—I fell,” you stammered, gritting your teeth as you tried to hold back more of the pain. You couldn’t focus on anything other than your ankle, the way it throbbed, the way your body seemed to give way under the weight of it.

Joel’s face hardened, his jaw clenching as he reached down to carefully touch your injured ankle. “I’m gonna need you to stay still, alright?” His voice was calm, but there was a warning edge to it. He was trying to hold himself together, trying not to let his worry show, but you could see it in his eyes. His hands worked quickly, checking for anything more serious, his brow furrowed with concentration.

“Ellie, get over here,” Joel called out, his voice low and strained.

Ellie rushed back toward you, eyes wide with concern as she knelt beside you. “Shit, are you alright?”

“I’ll be fine,” you said through clenched teeth, trying to sound stronger than you felt. “It’s just my ankle.”

Joel’s gaze flicked between you and Ellie, his mind clearly racing. “We need to get you out of here, now.” His hand gripped your shoulder for a moment, his fingers digging into the fabric of your jacket as if grounding himself in that brief contact.

Ellie was already standing, her expression determined as she took a deep breath. “I’ll go grab what we need.”

Joel nodded, but his focus never left you. He reached down, his hands carefully lifting you as he positioned himself behind you. "I'm gonna carry you. It's gonna hurt a little, but I need you to hang on."

You bit back a hiss of pain as he adjusted his hold on you, making sure not to jostle your foot too much, but you couldn’t suppress the way your body tensed at the movement. The pain was still sharp, but there was something comforting in the way Joel’s arms secured around you.

“Joel…” you whispered, too exhausted to speak louder.

“I got you,” he muttered back, his voice almost a promise. "Just hang in there."

As he started to move, carrying you carefully toward a safer corner, you could feel your heart rate begin to slow, your pulse steadying slightly in the rhythm of his steps. But the ache in your ankle still lingered, a constant reminder of how fragile everything really was.

You closed your eyes for a moment, trying to block out the pain, trying to find some semblance of peace in the way Joel had his arms around you. Because no matter how mad you were, no matter how much you weren’t talking to him, Joel Miller was always going to take care of you.

Joel helped you settle into a quiet corner of the abandoned store, easing you down onto an old crate. He crouched in front of you, his hands steady as he pulled your boot off, careful not to jostle your ankle too much.

Ellie hovered for a second, glancing between the two of you, then rolled her eyes. “Alright, I’m gonna go check the other side of the store. Try not to kill each other while I’m gone.”

You didn’t respond. Joel didn’t either.

Once Ellie disappeared, Joel focused back on your ankle, pulling out a roll of bandages from his pack. He was quiet as he started wrapping, his fingers gentle but firm, pressing just enough to support your injury.

You watched him for a moment, then let out a quiet scoff. “You don’t have to pretend you care about this.”

Joel’s hands stilled. His jaw ticked. Slowly, his eyes lifted to meet yours.

“You think I’m pretending?” His voice was low, rough. Almost offended by the way your voice sounded saying those words.

You looked away, focusing on the peeling paint on the walls. “I don’t know what you’re doing, Joel. One second, you’re mad at me. The next, you’re acting like—like this.” You gestured vaguely at him. “Like it actually matters.”

Joel exhaled through his nose, sitting back on his heels. “It does matter.”

You let out a bitter laugh. “Does it? Because you sure as hell didn’t act like it when you were yelling at me.”

His hands curled into fists at his sides. “I was mad because you almost got yourself killed.”

“I was saving you.” You protested.

“I don’t need saving” He replied, rough as always.

Your eyes snapped back to his, anger flashing in them. “And I don’t need you acting like I don’t have a say in whether or not I protect you. You can’t just decide for me, Joel.”

Joel sighed, rubbing a hand down his face. He looked exhausted, like he was carrying too much weight on his shoulders. “You don’t get it,” he muttered. “I can’t—” He stopped himself, shaking his head.

You frowned, your voice softer now. “Can’t what?”

His gaze met yours again, something raw behind it. “I can’t lose you.”

The words hit you harder than you expected. For a moment, neither of you said anything. The only sound was the faint wind outside, the rustling of leaves.

You swallowed, your throat tight. “You think I want to lose you?”

Joel’s expression softened just a fraction. He sighed, reaching forward, his hand hesitating before resting gently on your knee.

Your breath caught. The fight, the tension, it was still there, but underneath it was something deeper. Something neither of you had the words for just yet.

“You are always so willing to die,” you sobbed, your voice breaking. “Like you’re just waiting for the exact moment. Like none of this matters to you. Like I don’t matter.”

Joel’s breath hitched. His grip on you tightened, grounding you, but he didn’t say anything.

You sniffed, shaking your head. “Do you even know what that does to me? How it makes me feel?”

He swallowed hard, his throat working around the words he wasn’t saying.

“You walk into danger like you’ve already made peace with dying,” you continued, your voice raw. “And maybe you have. Maybe you don’t care what happens to you, but I do, Joel. I care. And you make me watch you throw yourself into danger like it doesn’t matter if you make it out. Like you don’t care if I have to watch you—”

Your voice cut off as a sob wracked through you.

Joel let out a slow breath. Then, finally, he spoke. “I do care,” he said quietly. “More than you know.”

You let out a bitter laugh, swiping at your tears. “You sure don’t act like it.”

Joel’s jaw clenched. His gaze dropped for a moment before he forced himself to look at you. “I’m not waiting to die.”

You scoffed, looking away.

“I’m not” he insisted. His voice was rough, firm. “I just…I don’t know how to do this. How to—” He exhaled, rubbing a hand over his face before gripping the back of his neck. “I spent twenty years not giving a damn about whether I made it out of alive. And then you—” He stopped, shaking his head like he didn’t have the words.

You stared at him, waiting. His gaze met yours again, and for the first time in a long time, he looked vulnerable.

"Do you think I would survive without you?" You asked him.

"You're strong." he stated.  

"That doesn't matter if the person I love and I protect throws himself to death" you said, tired of the cycle.

“I’m not trying to--” he started, but you cut him off.

“Yes, you are,” you snapped, your voice trembling. “You act like you don’t care what happens to you, but I do, Joel. I do. And I don’t know what’s worse—watching you run into danger without thinking or knowing that if you died, you’d probably think I’d just move on.”

His brows furrowed. “That ain’t—”

You swallowed, your fingers tightening around Joel’s wrist. “Do you love me, Joel?”

He didn’t answer right away. His jaw tensed, his throat bobbing as he swallowed. For a moment, you thought he wouldn’t say it—that maybe, after everything, he’d still hold back.

But then, his hand moved, cupping your face gently, his thumb brushing over the cut on your cheek. His touch was careful, reverent, like he was memorizing you.

“I do,” he murmured, voice rough with emotion. “More than I know how to say.”

Your breath stilled.

Joel exhaled, shaking his head slightly. “More than I ever meant to. More than I know what to do with.”

Your heart ached at the honesty in his voice.

“Then stop trying to leave me behind,” you whispered, pleading to him.

He looked at you with such intensity, as if he was trying to see past the pain and fear, trying to understand something that had always eluded him.

“How do you even love someone like me?” Joel’s voice cracked slightly, the question laced with vulnerability, a side of him you rarely saw—something raw and unprotected.

Your heart hurt at the sound of it. You wanted to reach out and erase the doubt from his mind, to tell him that he didn’t have to question it. But instead, you just looked at him, letting the silence linger for a moment, trying to gather the right words to answer him.

“Joel,” you whispered, your voice soft but firm, “I love you because you’re you. Because through all the broken pieces, all the walls you’ve built around yourself, I still see the man who’s been there for me. You’re not perfect, none of us are. But you’re the one I want. You’re the one I need.”

He closed his eyes for a brief moment, as if taking in your words, processing them, before meeting your gaze again. His expression softened, the tightness in his jaw easing, but there was still that guarded look in his eyes. He was trying to fight something inside himself, something he had carried for so long.

“I don’t deserve you,” he said, almost to himself, but you heard it loud and clear. The doubt in his voice, something he couldn’t shake.

You reached up, cupping his face in your hands, forcing him to look at you, forcing him to see the truth in your eyes. “Stop saying that,” you said, your voice trembling with the weight of your emotions. “You deserve me. You deserve everything good that’s coming your way. I’ve seen who you are, Joel. You’re not what you think you are.”

“Why do you think I keep pushing you away?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper now, like he was afraid of the answer himself.

You leaned in a little closer, your forehead nearly touching his, and your breath mingled in the quiet space between you. “Because you’re scared of letting yourself love me the way you do,” you said softly. “You’re scared of losing me. But pushing me away won’t make it any easier. It’ll just leave you with a regret you can’t undo.”

He inhaled sharply, his chest rising and falling as if your words had struck a chord in him, but it wasn’t enough to break him completely, not yet.

“I don’t want to lose you,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “But I’m afraid if I let myself love you fully... if I let myself need you the way I do… I won’t be able to protect you. I can’t live with that.”

A single tear slipped down your cheek as you reached up to wipe it away, the tenderness in his voice catching you off guard. You could feel the pain in his words, the depth of his fear, and it only made you love him more.

Joel’s hand gently moved to your ankle, and despite everything that had just been said, the tenderness in his touch wasn’t lost on you. His rough fingers brushed against your skin as he carefully positioned your leg. You winced slightly at the discomfort, but it wasn’t the pain from your ankle that caught your attention—it was the way his eyes never left you, the quiet care he was showing in that moment.

“Hold still,” he murmured, his voice low, trying to keep his own emotions in check. You could tell he was trying to be calm for you, even though you knew he was anything but calm inside.

Joel’s fingers moved gently over your ankle, wrapping the bandage with the precision of someone who had done this a thousand times. His touch was steady, and for once, it was soft, more like the careful tenderness of someone who didn’t want to hurt you, rather than the harshness that often came with survival.

You winced slightly when the bandage tightened, but he immediately eased his grip, looking at you with concern.

“Sorry,” he muttered. “Didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“It’s fine,” you replied, your voice barely above a whisper. You weren’t sure why, but his care made you feel vulnerable in a way you weren’t used to.

Once your ankle was properly secured, Joel leaned back, looking at you for a moment, his eyes dark with something you couldn’t quite place in them. He didn’t speak for a while, just stared at you like he was trying to decide something in his mind.

Joel’s gaze went to your ankle for a moment, then, unexpectedly, he leaned forward, his lips brushing the soft skin of your bandaged ankle. It was a gesture so tender, so unexpected, that you couldn’t help but laugh softly.

“Don’t laugh,” he murmured, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth, though his voice remained quiet, almost apologetic. “I’m just trying to make it better.”

You shook your head, still chuckling lightly, the sound feeling strange after everything that had happened. “I wasn’t laughing at you, Joel,” you said, meeting his eyes with a smile. “It’s just... never thought you’d be kissing my ankle better.”

Joel’s smirk softened into something more tender, and for a moment, there was nothing between you but the quiet understanding. His eyes dropped back to your ankle for a brief second before lifting to meet yours once more, his expression serious.  Without another word, he moved closer, his hand reaching to cup your face gently, his thumb brushing over your skin with the same tenderness he had shown when tending to your injury. You could feel the weight of his gaze on you, his lips just a breath away.

And then, without hesitation, he kissed you, soft, lingering, as if it was a promise, as if it was everything, he hadn’t been able to say before. You leaned into it, letting the kiss speak for you both, the tension between you finally easing, at least for this moment.

“Oh, come on! Seriously?” Ellie’s voice cut through the moment like a knife.

You and Joel broke apart instantly, your breath still tangled in his, as you turned to see Ellie standing in the doorway with her arms crossed, a smirk pulling at her lips.

Joel cleared his throat and sat back slightly, rubbing a hand over his beard like that would somehow erase what she’d just walked in on.

Ellie rolled her eyes. “I leave you two alone for five minutes, and you’re already making out. Unbelievable.”

Your face burned, but you couldn’t help but laugh at her dramatic tone. “Ellie—”

“No, no,” she interrupted, waving a hand. “I mean, it’s kinda sweet, but gross.”

Joel shot her a look, his voice flat. “Ellie.”

“What?” She shrugged, grinning. “Just saying. But, uh—maybe save the romance for later, lovebirds? We kinda got shit to do.”

Joel exhaled sharply, shaking his head, but when he glanced at you again, you caught the ghost of a smile on his lips.

“C’mon,” he muttered, standing up and offering you a hand. “We should get movin’.”

You took his hand, squeezing it briefly before letting go. As you stood, Ellie shot you both a smug look before turning on her heel.

As she walked away, you heard her mutter under her breath, “God, I hope I never have to see that again.”

As soon as you put weight on your injured ankle, a sharp pain shot up your leg, making you wince. You bit down on a curse, trying to tough it out, but Joel noticed immediately.

“Joel, it’s fine, I can walk,” you protested, but you could see the look in his eyes, the one that said, no argument.

“Not gonna argue with me on this one. Up you go.” Before you could protest, he crouched slightly in front of you. “Get on.” He waited for you to settle onto his back, and you reluctantly complied, knowing it would be easier than walking on your own.

You blinked at him. “Joel, I can—”

He shot you a look over his shoulder. “I'm not asking...”

Ellie snorted. “Just get on, lovebird.”

You sighed, but there was no real fight left in you. Carefully, you wrapped your arms around his shoulders as he hooked his arms under your legs and lifted you effortlessly.

“Easy, old man,” you teased, resting your chin on his shoulder.

Joel huffed, adjusting his grip. “Call me that again, and I’m dropping you.”

You laughed softly, “Thanks,” you muttered after a moment, your face buried in his jacket, still feeling the warmth of his body. The way he carried you felt like a sense of safety you hadn’t realized you needed until now.

You sighed against him, letting yourself relax just a little as Joel carried you forward with steady steps. Without thinking, you pressed a soft kiss to the side of his neck, just above the collar of his jacket.

Joel stiffened for half a second, his grip on your legs tightening before he exhaled slowly. “You trying to distract me?” His voice was lower now, rougher.

A smirk played on your lips. “Is it working?”

He huffed, shaking his head. “Maybe.”

You laughed, placing another kiss on the same spot, “I love you, Joel.”

His steps faltered for just a moment, barely noticeable, but you felt it. His grip on you tightened, his fingers pressing into your legs like he needed to ground himself.

He didn’t answer right away, just kept walking, his jaw tight. For a second, you thought maybe he wouldn’t say anything at all.

But then, in that quiet, gruff voice of his, he murmured, “I love you too, darling. Always”.

[bruhstation]

He's such a magnificent bastard I am pushing him down the stairs.

The “L” hand pose good lord. no holding back…. no mercy….. the utter disrespect is insane. so cold. this picture encapsulates the core of Casa Tidmouth spencer

[e-vay]

His Lucky Star

Awhile ago I asked for sonamy headcanons (and I’m always hungry for more!) and I received the most beautiful headcanon from @hedgethemaze and I just had to illustrate it!

Thank you @hedgethemaze for the opportunity to draw your short story 😊

You can read Hedge’s original headcanon below the cut:

Sonic and Amy’s favorite nighttime pastime is stargazing 🌙​⭐​🌠​👀​

Amy enjoys making out constellations and discovering new figures drawn in the sky and would occasionally make up stories with them – She knows Sonic finds this a bit childish, but appreciates that he doesn’t let it show and listens to her stories, instead (even participating once in a while, throwing in some action to keep them from being too daydream-y lol).

Sometimes, looking at the stars would remind Sonic of Starfall Islands – of cyber space – of Amy being at arm's length yet, an entire plane of existence out of his reach. The thought makes him reach for her hand as they lay on their backs on the grass, with a whole new appreciation for the feel of her hand nestled in his - Amy, aware of the gnawing memory, would shift her hand and intertwine their fingers, successfully chasing the memory away.

And some other times, she’d say those stories are just bedtime-story-practice to tell their 'future' child/children, only to tease him because there’s nothing as amusing to her as watching Sonic go from cool blue to cherry red live in record time 😆

About stargazing - it occurred to me that it could be more than likely for Sonamy to catch sight of a shooting star.

Well, I imagine Sonic would notice Amy staring at the shooting star in silence, knowingly waiting for her to say something but then the star disappears from view and he'd say "huh... kinda thought you were gonna wish something for a sec,"

Amy, realizing what he means, would jump a little on her spot next to him, they'd still be holding hands, but she scooches over and rests her head on his shoulder.

"Oh! Well, actually," she rubs her cheek on his shoulder and her grip on his hand tightens "I have everything I could wish for already."

Sonic notes she's got her eyes closed, now more interested in the warmth their bodies are sharing amidst the nightly breeze. Sonic blushes, hoping in vane she doesn't notice his body getting warmer at her statement.

"What about you? Don't you have any wishes?" Amy is genuinely curious (she can feel his awkwardness, so she doesn't tease him 'this time').

Sonic looks away, the hand that's not being held by Amy scratches a very reddish cheek, taking a deep breath to cool himself, "Nah..." the shyness quickly evaporating from his voice and he braves returning her gesture by, ever so slightly, snuggling against the top of her head. Leaving Starfall in the past, to focus on the present, Sonic's already made up his mind. "I'm good, Ames."

[o-sunny-day]

@forgettable-au FAN ANIMATION ! LOUD NOISE WARNING!

*What was it all for…?

Song: Vishnu <3 by Peter Cat Recording Co.

…okay.

The main inspiration for this…can be summed up with I LOVE HOW SAD THIS CONCEPT IS. BUT i also adore how WEIRD it is.

This whole thing must be pretty weird and creepy for the characters right??? Like- we dont know for certain what EXACTLY is gonna happen, but we know for a fact that Wingdings finds out hes in a game, then kills himself so he can be closer with god-

THATS PRETTY WEIRD 😭😭 also sad but we can ignore that for now

I also experimented a tad with this in working with silence, so timing things at my own pace! It was really hard! I HAD SO MUCH FUN!!!!!!!

But, time for my FAVORITE PART….ANALYSIS!!!

DISCLAIMER: some things stated as fact haven’t been said in the blog/arent canon to the au itself, just my animation/theories/interpretation, cause i’m silly and headcanoning :3

TITLE:

The proper title ive given this is “To You” which means 2 different and very vague things. What happened to you? and sending a message like “this is To You”.

In that case, “you” is whichever version of Papyrus/Wingdings/Gaster you want- Its not exactly clear which version of him means “you” which is kinda the point. The lines blur together sometimes…

But yeah, Gaster/crazy WD sends messages TOO himself so they’re “To You”

CONTEXT

Wingdings has JUST turned himself into Gaster. Ignore how impossible Sans interacting with him in this moment is, and just hear me out on the angst possibilities-

SCENE 1

As Sans approaches the mess- Gaster is encased in shadow, and looks at him. Expression not telling much- just looking blankly. Doesn’t even look like he’s alive… just… moving. Also the eye thats open, is just a slit. because- perspective. BUT I also had fun putting that there and going hehehehe it looks like WD/Papyrus’ eye

Sans approaches, and getting engulfed in the shadow, leaving the light.

His expression here was REALLY fun and REALLY hard to draw. Angry? maybe. stunned and terrified? DEFINITELY.

In this context (that doesn’t have a lot to go off of with the comics, YET) Sans knows that this was all very much intentional. He absolutely does not want to be angry, and is certainly only feeling it subconsciously.

But… he wanted so badly to understand, and enter his brother world. But now, Sans is just… Baffled. Hes like “what the fuck did you do???”

SCENE 2

Gaster continues to look blank. Looking up at Sans as he approaches, encasing him in even more shadow.

Sans’ hand reaches to Gasters face. From Sans’ perspective, his intentions are like checking for a pulse. Not literally ofc cause pulses arent on our face- but like, feeling for him. For a sign that something is there. (It’s also meant to be something motherly/comforting)

But then, Gaster leans into the touch, somewhat reciprocating this wordless “ive got you” gesture. That’s what makes Sans go from Terrified to just purely grief stricken. His brother is still alive. And he loves him.

But this form wont last for long…For universe fixing screw ups reasons :D 👍

SCENE 3

Gaster then opens his eyes, revealing hes even still got eye lights available for him. Thats what just SHATTERS the dam, and Sans embraces him suddenly.

SCENE(S) 4

Then, the “reset” happens, Gaster is gone, and Papyrus appears in place of Wingdings in his bed.

Nothing is boiling to add to a “frozen in terror” feeling!

Now- drawing all of the differences between the past and present rooms. DESTROYED ME. i HAD SO MUCH FUN BUT I ALSO CRIED 😭 There are no thank-you letters to santa, no racecar bed, no silly bone painting, no action figures, just BORING

I also wanted to keep everything monochromatic, so ofc we’ve got black and white for the void/Gaster, blue for Sans, red for Papyrus, and purple for Sans and Papyrus together.

The tape recorder and lab coat are still greyscale though cause Wingdings still has SOME of his stuff lying around. But the tapes are indecipherable, and Papyrus threw out that lab coat the first chance he got. It gave him the absolute worst feeling, worse than anything he’s ever experienced.

Something I also really enjoy is the fact that the dress shirts were still technically Wingdings’ but they’re red for Papyrus. The lab coat is the only real WINGDINGS thing that Papyrus wants absolutely no part in. Some things that were Wingdings’ are now Papyrus’ cause :D👍

in place of the bone painting are just family photos that I also have extra to say about. Someday I wanna make a comic of what happened to those/what I think would happen to em.

One day Papyrus is like “HEY UH- SANS! THESE PHOTOS! I DON’T LIKE LOOKING AT THEM! CAN WE NOT!?” Aka, he doesn’t remember these things happening/these photos being taken… BUT THEYRE PHOTOS OF HIM.

So he just feels really uncomfortable looking at memories he should reasonably remember, but doesn’t at all- and Sans gets that. But he keeps em in his drawer. Then! they hung up the bone thing in place of it cause SILLY!

But the family photos, I still had fun with. From left to right theyre a photo of Semi with the twins, the twins as baby bones, then as slightly older kids, then WDs graduation photo.

CONCLUSION!

This entire thing was so much fun, and I feel i’ve really grown as an artist over the process of experimenting and not being knocked down by annoying setbacks,

Also, as usual, Works In Progress’ plus extra behind the scenes stuff will be posted shortly after this!! YIPPEEE!!! HAPPY NIGHTMARES!!!!!

OHHHH ALSO EXTRA ART!!!

“AREN’T THEY BEAUTIFUL?”

That silly moment when your clone is really weirdly obsessed with stars and enthusiastically holds your eye sockets open to show you them

[citranna]

There’s a new kid in Park Row.

Jason knows every single kid on the street, and this one is distinctly not one of them. Hell, judging by that scraggly bright red sweater, he’d be surprised if he’s even from Gotham. Still, the beat up sneakers and pants that are one size too small show he’s not gonna be a target for robbery.

He’s been here for about what, two weeks now? The kid’s been popping in and out of corridors and thin gaps between buildings, alert, without having a solid address. He hasn’t been seen with anyone consistently either. No parents, probably. If he had any Jason would’ve figured out where they live by now. The question is why he’s here. What could a street kid be looking for in Gotham that he wouldn’t get in his (most likely) better home city?

He’s careful when approaching him. The helmet scares the little ones, so he dawns his domino instead. Hands up and away from his body and at a respectable distance, Hood greets him.

“Hey kid.”

The boy turns his head around quick, eyebrows shooting to the top of his head before his eyes alight with recognition. Good, he knows him. It’ll make things easier. An uneasy smile spreads across the kids lips as he offers a small wave in greeting.

“Yeah, nice to meet you. What brings you to Park Row? You looking for something?”

The boy does nothing but shrug. Real helpful. Then again, it could be because…

“Can you speak?”

He brings his hand up and tilts it side to side. A symbol for ‘So-so, ish’. He could work with that, weirder shit has happened in this alley. He fishes into his breast pocket for a notepad and pen, thankful the kid doesn’t seem panicked in the slightest at the motion. Carefully, he draws closer to hand him the items.

Up close and directly under the moonlight, the kid looks around ten, but if he’s anything like the kids in the alley and himself at that age, he’s probably malnourished. He’s probably more like twelve, give or take.

The boy nods his head in thanks (cute that he has such good manners) and scribbles down a sentence in okay-ish handwriting, turning the pad to show Jason.

‘Can’t talk right now, lost my voice. I’m just looking around here.’

Jason scoffs. “There’s better places to look around, y’know, even if you don’t got cash. If this is just for fun I’d pick a better, cooler spot.”

Another line gets jotted down, faster than the last. ‘It’s cool, I think. It’s nice in its own way. I won’t be staying for much longer anyways.’

Interesting. His mouth opens to ask for more, but he finds itself quickly slamming shut. Although this kid is among the most friendly and open one he’s met (and oddly a smooth talker too—Jason feels compelled to just believe him and not question him further, but he’s able to push that weird feeling down) but it’s probably best not to push his luck and pry further.

“Cool, cool. If you ever need a place to stay for the night, there’s a new shelter right down the street we just built. My uh…office, is nearby too.”

The kid nods, a glint of knowing mischief in his eye. Jason waves, letting him walk calmly away from the direction of the shelter and straight towards the subway system where he disappears every night.

Yeah. Gotham’s definitely haunted.

[talaok]

The carpet

pairing: Pedro Pascal x fem!reader

Summary: You and your husband Pedro prepare for a red carpet, but once you're there you have a wardrobe malfunction, luckily, he's there to help.

Warnings: just so much fluff for no reason

a/n: i havent written something for Pedro that wasnt a request in literally 9 months, but guess what the hyperfixation is hyperfixating lately and I just needed to write down what i've been daydreaming about all day.

"wow" he exhaled, closing the door behind him, his eyes trained on you.

You chuckled, looking at him from the mirror, as a choked "aww" escaped Linda, your make-up artist's, lips at the reaction.

You gave her a look and she just grinned, checking her work one final time before whispering "Seeing you two is better than watching any rom-com, I can't even remember the last time my Mark looked at me like that", making you laugh once more with a playful roll of your eyes.

"you look stunning sweetheart" Pedro breathed, right behind you now, his hands already on your waist

Another dreamy sigh fell out of Linda's lips before she decided it was time for her to go.

"i'll go wait downstairs then... leave you two lovebirds some time alone," she said, excitement piercing through her tone as if she was watching her daughter walk down the aisle.

"thank you Linda, we'll be down in a moment" You nodded, smiling sincerely at her as she started for the door.

But just when a foot was already out into the hallway, she turned around, a serious expression on her all of a sudden.

"And Pedro" she shot him a look "Just this once, try not to mess her lipstick up too much, will ya?" 

You couldn't help but laugh, loudly, wholeheartedly, but Pedro, ever so honest only answered with a "I can't make any promises Linda", before the poor woman groaned and shut the door behind her.

Just as the soft thud of the motion bumped from wall to wall, Pedro turned you around in one swift motion, getting to see your pretty face better.

"hi there" you smiled, placing your hands on his chest, softly playing with the hem of his tuxedo's jacket.

"hello sugar" he grinned, letting his eyes drink in all of you.

"You look handsome" you murmured, your right hand going to his face, feeling the soft stubble of his beard graze your palm.

"mhhh" he hummed, leaning closer already, much to Linda's disappointment "Well you know how it is... if my lady's gonna be the most beautiful woman on the red carpet I gotta step up my game"

You huffed out a laugh 

"'s that right?"

"need to at least try and look like you're not miles out of my league" he cocked an eyebrow, his hands on your waist pushing you flush against him.

"You're a bad man Pedo Pascal" you stifled a smirk "A bad, bad man" you whispered as his lips finally met with yours.

They were softer than usual, but heavenly just the same. 

His hold tightened on you and you melted right into his arms, whimpering weakly into his mouth, before after what was probably a good two minutes, he pulled away.

"we gotta go" you murmured

"I know" he groaned, half-heartedly leaning away.

And as you checked yourself in the mirror one last time, you couldn't help but chuckle, as your gaze fell to your lips.

"Oh Linda's gonna be pissed"

__ __ __

the carpet was booming tonight,

celebrities filled every inch of the crimson rug, and the flashes of the countless cameras pointed at you were so strong you swore they would have blinded you if you weren't so used to them.

You were posing to show off the gorgeous dress you were lucky enough to be wearing, and once you had exhausted all the poses you knew, you turned to your husband on the left as he offered you his hand, which you took with a smile, walking to his spot and leaving a soft kiss on his cheek the photographers seemed more than a little enthusiastic about.

But as you posed together, his arm on your back drawing soothing circles, an almost inaudible pop made its way to your ears, and all the sudden some pressure was gone from your chest, and when you looked down... when you looked down the button that was holding the two pieces of fabric covering your boobs had popped, and said fabric was starting to fall.

"oh my god" you blurted, but before you could do anything, your reflexes slowed down by the shock, Pedro's hand found your chest, salvaging the falling pieces of the dress.

"I-" you stuttered, not knowing what to say, or do as he moved in front of you, his broad build doing a hell of a good job of shielding you from the photographers

"I was about to flash so many people" you finally breathed, your voice faint.

"yeah" he said, trying, really trying to suppress the chuckle down his throat, but failing miserably "Yeah you were sweetheart" he laughed softly, his hand still holding your dress.

"are you- don't laugh!" you gasped, although with one look at your face, you could feel a bubble of laughter making its way up your thoat "It's not funny" you smiled, chuckling too now.

"no" he shook his head, sarcasm spilling out of his every pore " there's nothing remotely funny about this sugar, absolutely" he smiled, making you want to roll your eyes

"hold the dress for a sec" he said, having you do just that as he took his jacket off and instead, put it on you.

"thank you" you smiled, looking up at him.

"you just worry about keeping that jacket closed" he murmured, kissing your cheek "I've already seen too many men's eyes wondering a bit too much"

"oh shut up" you laughed, rolling your eyes as he escorted you off what must have been the worst red carpet of your life.

"Whatever you say flash" he laughed, obviously very proud of his own joke

"god I hate you so much" you sighed, smiling widely into his chest nonetheless.

[allpiesforourown]

was gonna post this on ao3 but it's only 1.3k words and pure sillyness so here it is instead: bingqiu, post canon, time travel, misunderstandings.

shen qingqiu time travels, but no one tells him

Upon waking up to see his husband, the first words out of Shen Qingqiu’s mouth were, “Ugh, again?” 

Because the one at his bedside was not the tall handsome demon lord he saw every morning. A cute little bun in white robes blinked back at him. “Shizun?” 

Seriously? How many times was this going to happen!? At least this time he didn't look young enough to be mistaken for his child, but still… if Shen Qingqiu had a soul stone for every time Luo Binghe qi deviated into a younger version of himself, he’d have two soul stones by now…

Instead of waking his husband to tell him about his condition, the man (boy?) had run off to prepare breakfast. Going by the steaming congee on the table, he only woke Shen Qingqiu up to get him to eat.

Shen Qingqiu sighed as he sat up and ran a hand over his face. “Do you know how old you are right now?” 

“This disciple is sixteen, shizun. Is something wrong?” 

Shen Qingqiu gave Luo Binghe a glare. Something wrong? The audacity! He grabbed the fan off his nightstand and smacked the boy’s head softly. “Hasn’t this master told Binghe to tell me right away when something is wrong?” Binghe opened his mouth with a stricken expression, but Shen qingqiu cut him off. “It’s fine, it’s fine. You're still too young to dual cultivate. We’ll have to wait things out.” 

Papapa would have solved this matter instantly if it was viable. But when Binghe first brought up the idea of role-playing as their younger selves, Shen Qingqiu made it clear he would not partake in anything with the man if he made his appearance younger than 18! Even that was too low, but he had to draw the line somewhere! 

Luo Binghe’s face flushed red. “D-d-dual cu-cultivate!?” 

Shen Qingqiu narrowed his eyes. “What did I just say? Don't get any ideas, you'll have to wait before we can do anything.” 

“We?” Binghe’s voice went high. “Shizun… dual cultivate… with me!?” 

“Not until you’re older,” he repeated firmly. 

At this age, Binghe really did look too innocent… even with such a perverted interior, he really looked like this simple talk was flustering him. “How-how much older?” 

Well, while recovering from de-aging qi deviations, Binghe did grow back rapidly. It wouldn’t take that long before Binghe was old enough for shen qingqiu to feel comfortable touching. “Hmm, at the rate you usually grow… maybe we can do it a week from now?” 

Luo Binghe passed out. 

*

“Mu-shidi, how can you say this isn’t a qi deviation?” Shen Qingqiu insisted. “Just look at him! What other explanation could there be?” 

His martial brother must have gone insane. He grasped Luo Binghe’s wrist once more, looking over the unconscious boy. “Shixiong, this one… still doesn’t understand what you mean.” He released the arm and adjusted his glasses. “Though he seems to have suffered some sort of shock, it is minor and there is zero harm to his meridians. He will wake up shortly.”

No harm to his meridians? Then what else could explain why his husband was suddenly a head shorter than him? Luo Binghe did have some shape-shifting skills… perhaps they went beyond just hiding his demonic huadian and eyes? Could he also change his appearance to such a degree he looked like a teenager again? 

“Then I suppose this master will take his husband back to the bamboo house and follow up once he wakes.” Shen Qingqiu stood, scooping Luo Binghe into his arms. “Thanking shidi for his time.” 

He was nearly at the door when he heard a strangled “WAIT!” call out behind him. Shen qingqiu glanced over his shoulder impatiently. He didn’t want to be holding Binghe like a bride when he came to… Binghe would insist on it constantly and further tarnish his status as a stallion protagonist! 

Mu Qingfang’s eyes were bugged out, ink dripping from his pen onto his hand. “What did you just say!?” 

Shen qingqiu raised a brow, shuffling binghe into a more comfortable hold closer to his chest. “This shixiong thanked shidi…” Shen qingqiu said slowly. 

Mu Qingfang’s tense shoulders lowered slightly. “Right… that’s all shixiong said.”

“Yes? Thank you for checking on this master’s husband.” 

Mu Qingfang threw up blood as Shen Qingqiu exited the infirmary. 

*

Shen Qingqiu had just finished tucking Binghe into their bed when the door to the bamboo house was kicked open. He readied his ‘disappointed teacher’ voice to reprimand Liu Qingge, but was stunned into silence when he found Yue Qingyuan sprinting into his bedroom instead. 

“Zhangmen shixiong,” Shen Qingqiu said with a raised brow. “May this shidi help you?” 

Yue Qingyuan’s voice was choked as he called, “Xiao-Jiu!” 

Shen Qingqiu's lip instinctively twisted down. “If shixiong has something to say to this Qingqiu, he may do so.” He said pettily. “Otherwise, I’m busy taking care of my husband.”

“Husband,” Yue Qingyuan repeated. He squirmed nervously under Shen Qingqiu’s gaze. “Mu-shidi informed me you said something similar, I… xia- um, Qingqiu-shidi, are you alright? You… you’re not married… right?” 

…Sect leader Yue. You were at the wedding! 

“Is this a joke?” Shen Qingqiu answered coolly. “Luo Binghe would not take kindly to this kind of statement.” 

Yue Qingyuan staggered backwards, falling onto a chair with an anguished expression. His eyes fell upon Shen Qingqiu’s bed, where Luo Binghe lay sleeping and his eyes widened. “How…? Shidi, this is- he’s your disciple!” 

“This master does not understand,” Shen Qingqiu said irritably. “Luo Binghe and I have been wed for over a year, so why now are you making such a fuss?” 

“A year…?” 

More footsteps invaded the bamboo house, until half his martial siblings had invited themselves in. Qi Qingqi, Liu Qingge, even great master Airplane had arrived! Yue Qingyuan looked to Mu Qingfang with dread. “Mu-shidi…” 

The tragedy clear on the sect leader’s face said it all. Mu Qingfang grimaced. “Something must be done. Shen-shidi is having delusions of marriage!” 

…okay, that was it. Shen Qingqiu had allowed his martial siblings to subtly disapprove of his relationship with Binghe for all this time, but this was too far. 

“Enough!” He cried. “Luo Binghe is my husband, and that will not change! Everyone will treat him with the respect that is deserved of Qing Jing’s shimu!” 

The sound of something crashing to the ground pulled their attention back to the peak lord’s bed. It seemed Luo Binghe had woken up, gotten out of bed, and then immediately passed out again after taking two steps. 

“Binghe!” Shen Qingqiu cried. Seriously, what was going on? Did Airplane write a narcolepsy arc he never mentioned? 

As Shen qingqiu lifted Binghe back onto the bed, a younger voice joined them. “Shizun, why was everyone running into the bamboo house? Is everything okay?” 

At the threshold of his bedroom Ning Yingying had arrived, followed by the head disciple. 

Shen Qingqiu gawked at her small stature. What the-!? Did Ning Yingying also qi deviate? And Ming Fan, too? Why did all his disciples look about ten years younger- 

Oh.

Oh no.

Ha… hahaha… that was the trouble with immortals. Year after year, their faces looked exactly the same. 

System, Shen Qingqiu asked with dawning horror, what's going on? 

[Sounds like host has already figured it out! Limited event: Returning to the Peaceful Past is in progress!]

You bastard, you couldn't have said that earlier!? 

So Shen Qingqiu had temporarily returned to the past. He’d told his sixteen year old disciple they would dual cultivate and informed all his martial siblings he had married the boy at 15. For a thin faced man like Shen Qingqiu, something of this level… he couldn’t bear his fellow peak lord’s shocked and judging faces. 

“S-so…” Shen Qingqiu laughed nervously. “Um… that was all a joke, okay?” 

[shinsocest]

No. 005

notes: I don't remember this being so slimy but I love it. Anyways wish me luck at work tonight. It's my first time being in charge without the general manager breathing down my neck 💀

warnings: Size kink, degradation, praise, breeding, oral (both), voice kink, overstim, body worship

“I said no.”

You spit the words from your mouth angrily as you glare at the man you just shoved. The bass of the club thrums heavily in your chest, mimicking the heavy thud of your heart as he looks at his alcohol strewn shirt and returns your glare.

He’s been haranguing you all night. Awful one liners that he had to have thought up with his dick, and trying to buy you drinks. You’ve been polite, declining his advances one after another just trying to enjoy the night out with your friends, but now he’s crossed the line.

Your friends had excused themselves from the dancefloor to get more drinks, but before you could follow them he’d slid up behind you and put his arms around your waist. The unwanted touch had been enough to make your skin crawl.

You try to maintain your glare as he towers over you, but there’s a flutter of unease in your chest when he grabs your arm. His expression is taut, annoyed. “Don’t be a bitch. Just tryin’ to have a good time.”

“Let go.” You glance around warily, a familiar bitterness and panic sparking at the lack of attention this is receiving from nearby clubbers. Of course.

He wraps an arm around your shoulder.

“Just take it easy.” His purred tone makes your face twist up in disgust.

You’re preparing to throw the elbow of a lifetime when he suddenly splutters beside you, and is yanked from your side.

"Think you're looking for a good time in the wrong place."

Your head snaps up to see a tall, dark-haired man with your assailant's arm in a vice grip. He's covered in purplish scars that react strangely to the flashing red, blue, and greens of the club lights.

His eyes seem to pierce right through you as he spares you a glance, before he winks and turns his attention away. You stare; his eyes are so shockingly blue.

"What the hell, fuck off man." The other man struggles, but you watch him stiffen as the newcomer grips him tighter and whispers something in his ear.

His face pales, looking stricken, and he stumbles back as the newcomer throws him forward. He pushes through the crowd of people without looking back, ignoring their exclamations of irritation.

The newcomer watches him go, and you take a moment to just look him over. He doesn't exactly look like all the other clubbers. He's in a high collared, long black overcoat that's seen better days, black jeans and loose white t-shirt. But he doesn't seem out of place either; it's like he belongs here.

You don't realize you're staring until he turns to peer at you, and you look down, a sudden wave of self consciousness washing over you.

"Uh, thanks. Thank you," you manage after a moment, peeking up to see him giving you an amused look.

He gets closer, a grin widening across his cheeks. It looks uncomfortable to you, pulling at the staples holding his skin together. He speaks loudly, combating the music. "What was that? Can't hear you, babydoll."

You raise your voice as he steps closer, ready to repeat yourself, but your mind switches tracks. Despite his scars, you can’t deny that he’s incredibly handsome in his own way. You’re entranced by his roguish smile. "Dance with me."

Sapphire eyes gleam approvingly as his fingers close around your waist. He tugs you closer, guiding you to grind back on him in time with the pounding music.

You can hear him much clearer low, a low throaty rasp in your ear.

"Been watching you all night, little mouse. You sure do know how to tell a guy no. Can we have a little fun? Or are you gonna tell me no too?"

His words bring a shudder up your spine. There’s just something about him that draws you in. He feels wild, and dangerous, and you want to be swept up in it. Even if it’s just for a night.

Before you can answer, you can hear your friends calling your name. He peers over your head at the trio of girls standing a few feet away, all of them looking at you expectantly.

You look at them, giving them a reassuring look. “I’ll catch up with you guys, okay?”

Your best friend glances at him then at you, a knowing smile on her face as she tugs the other two back towards the bar.

Once they’re gone you lean your head back into his shoulder, pressing your hips back against him more firmly, letting him feel your agreement.

He makes an approving sound in his throat. “That’s what I wanted to hear. Name's Dabi by the way, babydoll.”

The way his voice is warm and hot in your ear makes it that much easier to melt into him, silencing any nerves as his long fingers toy with the hem of the dress you wore out tonight.

It’s painstaking how he inches the already enticingly short hem up your legs as you sway to the music. You can feel the telltale bulge against your ass as he hooks his chin over your shoulder, his fingers kneading the flesh of your exposed thighs. At this rate, if anyone nearby were to look too close, the lacy front of your panties would be clear to see.

Normally you would be an anxious wreck at the thought, but with his tall form pressed right up behind you practically molded to your backside, and his arms wrapped around your waist—you can’t even think beyond the sparks of anticipation. Your body feels moments away from igniting.

You feel more than hear Dabi’s approving moan as he slips a couple fingers between the apex of your thighs, pressing the rapidly dampening fabric deeper into your slit. “Shit, you’re soaked.”

His teeth meet your ear. “Let’s take this somewhere else.”

Dabi pulls you off the dancefloor, towards one of the dark hallways that leads off towards the bathrooms.

Your squeal gets cut off as he presses you against the wall, his lips on yours. He kisses fiercely, his tongue insistently bullying past your lips, but the way he drags his hands down your body is almost reverant, palming at your tits, smoothing them down your hips like he wants to rip your dress from your body to get what’s beneath it.

Then he breaks off, leaving you both panting as he retreats to the other wall, beckoning you towards him.

“On your knees, little mouse. I wanna see what else you can do.”

He’s undoing his jeans, and that little tingle runs up your spine, a strange rush to earn his approval.

You delicately settle on your knees as he pulls his cock out, and don’t hesitate to reach for it, closing your hand around the girthy shaft, your lips already pressed to the dripping, pink tip.

“Open up, there you go,” Dabi groans as you close your lips around him, swirling your tongue around the sensitive glands on the underside of his cock.

After that you stop thinking, letting yourself feel the way he pulses on your tongue as you hollow your cheeks, the salty taste of his precum almost getting lost in the way you are shameless salivating over his cock.

The ring of a cellphone, heavily muted by the club music, hits your ears.

"Keep going, babydoll—don't you stop," Dabi hisses out, fishing his phone out of his pocket with a growl, glancing at the dimly glowing screen. "Shit."

He bites out a low curse as you swallow around him, fingers fumbling to answer the call. "Shigaraki, kinda busy."

You look up through teary eyes as you bob on his pulsing length. That name sounds almost familiar, but you're far too focused on the task at hand to spare it another thought. A moan sounds in your throat as he tangles his fingers in your hair, forcing you deeper.

"Look I know what I'm—fuck—fucking here to do, okay? I'll get your man. Hngh—he's ashes, I promise."

Dabi listens for a moment, breathing hard as he stares down at the way his cock disappears and reappears from your mouth. Then he scoffs, voice shaking under the strain of swallowing another moan. "Fuck off, I'll do what I want in my free time. Gotta go, slut’s really good."

You whine as he hangs up and pulls you off of him.

"Quiet, babydoll, gotta return the favor before I forget and fuck you stupid," Dabi drawls, shoving his phone in his pocket and yanking you to your feet.

Dabi’s head swivels before he pulls you into a nearby bathroom. His touches are fervent as he paws at your body, his lips sloppy against yours as he pushes you up on the counter. He urges you up onto the marble, peeling the bottom half of your dress up; the countertop is cool against your flushed skin.

His palms are hot as they spread your thighs, opening a space for him to kneel between them. Dabi peers up at you through his lashes with a devilish look in his eyes before dragging his tongue over your pantyclad pussy. “These are cute.”

The casual comment makes your face burn, turning your face as he chuckles.

“Kind of in the way though.”

You squeak, eyes snapping down at the sudden feel of heat, to see him holding the singed fabric between his fingers. You really liked that pair. Before you could complain however, Dabi’s tongue slips between your folds. You gasp at the warmth of him, your eyelashes fluttering when he hums, and flicks his tongue over your clit.

“Just don’t be too loud, you know.”

You fucking know that, but you have never had to remind yourself to not moan so freely than now—the way his tongue disappears into your cunt, so slick and warm and agile. Either his tongue is way too fucking long, or he has found some magical angle that makes your thighs quiver, but between that and the way his nose nudges at your clit repeatedly, you feel yourself racing towards an orgasm.

He’s relentless, messy; your juices spilling down his chin. For once, you are getting as good as you gave. You bite back a moan as the knot in your stomach twists, threatening to snap.

Then Dabi pulls back.

“Should I let you cum now?” He sounds so condescending, contemplative as he toys with your clit, eyes glowing at the way you shake desperately under his touch. “I mean you haven’t made me cum, I’m not sure you deserve it.”

“Dabi, please—please, hah, please I need it.”

Your voice is shaky at best, words broken by panting as he drags the flat of his tongue over your dripping hole just once with a lazy precision, before resting his head against your thigh. His nonchalant grin doesn’t change as he keeps drawing featherlight shapes on your throbbing bud, so you desperately try again, trying to convince him.

“Someone m-might see, please.”

“Oh?” Dabi’s grin sharpens. “Well in that case.”

You cry out in loss as he stands, abandoning your clit. Your body aches at the denial, and Dabi chuckles at the broken-hearted pout on your face.

“Poor slut, look at you. But you said someone might see, so we need to hurry this up, right?” Your eyes instinctively flash down as he adjusts his jeans further down his thighs, stroking his cock. It looks especially pink and pretty in his hold, contrasting with the purplish skin on the back of his hand. “I didn’t even lock the door. So you want it or not?”

“Yes,” you breathe, captivated as he thumbs over the slit of his cock, spreading his precum down the shaft.

“Get over here then, babydoll.”

You don’t need to be told twice, easing off the counter and into his arms, where he smirks and allows a quick, sloppy swap of tongue before he spins you around and places your palms against the mirror on the wall.

It’s a little embarrassing, seeing for the first time how taken apart you look. Your makeup is smudged and running, your dress hiked up your hips, and your eyes are misty and desperate looking. As you meet his eyes in the mirror, it’s obvious that he sees all the same things you do, and revels in it.

Dabi smirks as he puts his hands on your hips, forcing them to jut out as he slots himself behind you. “It’s pathetic, isn’t it? How ruined you look when I haven’t even fucked you yet.”

You jolt as he taps his length against your inner thigh, sliding leisurely through your folds. “I asked you a question, doll.”

“Y-yes…”

“Yes, what?” Dabi coos, the thick mushroom tip catching on your clit now, making you mewl.

“I look like a pathetic slut,” you whine, arching your hips into his touch, desperate to feel him inside you.

“Very good,” Dabi rasps, the head of his cock catching on your eager hole. With a low moan he pushes in. “That deserves a reward.”

Your fingers bend against the glass as he thrusts home, the force of it threatening your balance. The intrusion is sudden, but your slick walls are accommodating, throbbing and ready to take as much as he’ll give you.

Every time Dabi drives into you, his cock slides against that stiff patch of nerves that makes moan after moan tumble from your lips. It doesn’t take long for that rolling wave of pleasure to begin cresting in you again, especially when he pulls the top of your dress down, groping at your tits as they spill out.

Your arms shake with the effort to keep yourself upright for the both of you as he rolls both of your tits between his fingers, pulling on them. As the tension pulls tight and snaps, your arms fail.

Dabi’s pace stutters as you fall against the mirror, your pussy spasming and creaming on his length, but after a quick adjustment, he returns to that hard and agonizingly steady tempo.

“Aw, babydoll, did you just cum? Poor thing, just from that?” Sympathy drips from his tongue as you whimper and nod—smudging the glass in the process—but when his thrusts get harder, you know it doesn’t run that deep. “Well I’m not quite done with this pussy yet, so just hang on for me.”

“Ah, ah, fuck!”

Your eyes go glassy as he continues to drill into you, your walls hot and sensitive, quivering in a way that would be embarrassing if you could think beyond how painfully good his cock feels.

“Fuck, squeeze me like that again. Gonna make me cum right in this pussy.”

Your whole body ripples at his words, causing Dabi to chuckle breathlessly. “Wait, did you like that? Hmm? Little slut, you really want to be knocked up by a guy you don’t even know?”

You look over your shoulder, your eyes teary, expression so fucked out as you nod at him that Dabi stiffens, his release suddenly much closer than it had been. “Damn.”

You fall into bliss so suddenly your moan is loud and unfiltered, rocketing off the bathroom walls and snapping the coil in his gut so fast that he snarls as his release takes hold of him.

“Oh fuck, babydoll, fine. You want me to stuff a brat in you? Then take it, take it—oh f-fuck, there you go, all for you, doll.”

His groan rumbles against your back as he presses you hard against the glass, his cock throbbing as he empties himself into your cunt.

Dabi leans into you heavily, relaxing against your body as the fading spasms of your pussy milk whatever he has left, before sighing and pulling out. With nothing to stop it, his cum spills out down your thighs.

You moan as you feel his fingers pushing his spilt cum back up into you.

“When you see those two lines, just come back here and ask around for me. I’ll find ya, doll.”

[eupheme]

mean wade or just him playfully making fun of you as he makes you cum consecutive times until you squirt? I'm so down bad for this man it's worrying 😭

Ohh I am 👀💖 anon! I went with a smug/teasing Wade for this (and also a sort-of follow-up to this fwb!wade drabble), I hope that is ok!! Thanks so much for sending this to me!

flood it | wade wilson x f!reader

800 words | multiple orgasms, fwb!wade, piv, squirting

It’s white against pink, as his lips stretch wide. Parting teeth as he pants, a stripe of red across his nose where his mask has been tugged up.

His scarred chin glossy. Smeared by the back of a hand, not more than ten minutes after he slipped through your bedroom window.

All too eager to answer your text. Still in his suit, grime worked into the creases as he laid you out on the floor of your room, unable to make it to your bed.

Your sleeping shorts had still been on, then - panties tugged to the side so his tongue could slip against your slit in greeting.

Record time, before your thighs were clamping around his ears, hips lifting into the air - hand stifling your cry.

The scarred tip of his cock rutting against your core, as your other hand clung to his wrist.

“Turned you a horny little monster, didn’t I?” He coos, “You still need it that bad?”

The sound of annoyance you make turns high, as he notches himself at your entrance - fitting every inch inside.

“S’okay.” It’s murmured out - just as he draws back, before hilting himself again, “I like that you can’t get enough.”

Another cry pulled from you, with the pump of his hips, the swirl of his fingers. Pleased - his lips meeting yours, halting the filth that pours from them.

He tastes like you, as you open for him, and that does more to you than it should. You can never resist him, that ache of want that lingers beneath your skin. Him and his mouth, and every inch of those six foot two inches, as he curves over you.

A hand splayed across the ankle that’s hooked against his shoulder. Near bending you in half, intent on finding the exact spot that has your nails sinking into the woven rug.

“There we fucking go. Bet you can give me another.” His hum low, when he finds it, “Bet I can make you gush all over my cock.”

You’re still not used to his enthusiasm. A late-night message sent in desperation that he was too eager to answer. Still intent on making up for all your supposed ‘lost time’.

Intent on making sure that your experiences with him eclipse all others.

“Can’t, Wade.” It’s sighed out - but even as his hips move, that dull twinge of overstimulation bleeds into pleasure, “Haven’t-“

But he only groans - the words husked out as eyes dip down to where you’re joined.

“You will for me.”

A greedy moment - his tone low. Possessive, for a flicker of a second, before he’s grinning.

“It was the request, after all,” He winks, his tongue peeking out, tasting you against his lips, “And I’m always happy to prove you wrong. Again, I might add.”

And maybe you want him too. Maybe it’s in the look you give him - heavy-lidded eyes, your hips lifting into the sharp snap of his.

A moan, at the slick way you grip him. Capturing your hand that slips down to help - pinning your wrists above your head.

“Uh uh.” Wade’s head shakes, “This is gonna be all me.”

The steady pound of his cock sending you higher, that deep pressure inside you building swiftly towards another peak.

“When your toes are cold because you ruined this rug by gushing all over it, you’re gonna be thinking about this.”

It makes you moan. This thing between you had gotten messy - deeper feelings caught somewhere between that first kiss to now. Don’t know how to tell him that he’s all you think about.

Not sure how to name the flip inside your belly - a tight, twisting ball of pleasure - so close to coming from just his cock. Your eyes wide as it begins to swell - his name whimpered out as you squirm on the floor beneath him.

“Fuck. Yes.” He pants, “Want you to fucking flood it, come on.”

Your gaze on his, when you do. Seeing how the white eyes of his mask widen - curving with his smile when your head tilts back.

Crying out, as he makes you come hard. As he fucks you through it, the sound filthy with the clap of his hips against yours. Leaking with each flutter of your cunt around his cock, dropping down to dampen the coarse hairs at the base of his cock.

Wade’s rhythm going sloppy as his ego soars - your foot slipping from his shoulder, wrapping around his waist just as his mouth presses to yours again.

Slick still leaking down his cock, the red leather at his groin glistening when he throbs inside you. Spilling with a rough groan, fingers pinching at your hips as he holds you flush.

Only then, does his other hand leave your wrists. Fingers entwining with yours instead, still keeping you pinned. A smirk, as he catches his breath.

“So.”

It’s huffed out, as the rock of his hips pushes another messy drip out of your cunt. His release and yours mixing together, just as it should.

“What else do you think you can’t do?”

[schlattslambo]

for goodness sake | schlatt 18+

a/n: inspired and dedicated to @blaineandergel . thank you my friend

is this edited? no. was this written while im at work? yes. please enjoy. i tried to make this as gender neutral as possible. if theres anything i can do to improve on that front, please let me know! ❤️

————-

you weren’t sure when the whimsy of christmas came back, but as you stepped back from putting the final ornament on the tree, it was swirling around in the air alongside cinnamon and apple.

the tree was fluffy and looked soft from a distance. with the twinkling lights and generic ornaments, it looked even better. soft christmas music played on a record player on the mantle, where your boyfriend was fastening stockings.

christmas wasn’t much of a celebration once you grew up and moved out. it was more of an excuse to eat ham and stromboli and sneak cookie dough as your mother baked cookies whenever you visited their house. this year was different.

this year, you were spending your first christmas together with your boyfriend, a youtuber named schlatt. you’d met him through a mutual friend and hit it off instantly. at first, your relationship was secret. fans had noticed a brightness in schlatt’s eyes that wasn’t there before and began questioning it.

eventually, fans assumed that he was seeing someone. with that assumption, a bit of hate was spewed whenever someone brought up the fact. you let the hate fall off your shoulders, mainly because nobody would see this side of schlatt. the side that was wearing matching christmas pajamas and humming along to frank sinatra.

a soft, loving smile tugs at the corner of your lips as jambo waltzes in, red and green collar jingling. schlatt stands back and admires his handiwork of the mantle as you snake your arms around his waist. he smiles down at you, heart warm.

“hey there baby.” he says, turning around and placing a kiss on your forehead.

“you did a really good job with the fireplace.” you say softly, nuzzling your face against his chest.

“thank you,” schlatt replies with a smile. “i’m gonna light a fire, what do you think?”

you smile. “baby, it’s not cold enough for that.”

“and?” schlatt asks. “it’s romantic.”

you roll your eyes but allow schlatt to putz outside and grab some wood from the pile on the porch. this man absolutely loves that fireplace and would have a fire lit all the time if he could.

you pour yourself a glass of wine and watch as schlatt lights the fire. it crackles to life and he smiles proudly. he’ll never say it, but this kind of thing is what keeps him going. the domestic side of your relationship. him working hard and you just sitting there looking cute. in this case, you curled up on the couch with your wine and him cracking open a beer.

as schlatt sits down next to you, you snuggle into him instantly. his arm goes around you just as it always does and the two of you admire the decorations. the twinkling of the lights on the tree, the four stockings hung on the mantle (two for the cats, of course), and the fire all bring a warm feeling in your chest.

you both sit quietly, watching as jambo lays down in front of the fire place, squirming onto his back so he warms his belly. the scene is out of a christmas card and you couldn’t be happier.

————-

a little while later, the wine has made your cheeks flush and schlatt has switched to sipping on some whiskey. you’ve gotten through half of the bottle of white wine and you’re feeling frisky. it doesn’t matter that frank is still playing on the record player; you want schlatt and you want him now.

your hand goes to schlatt’s thigh as he scrolls on his phone, probably responding to an email. he barely notices until you start moving your hand up closer to his crotch.

“what’re you doin’?” he asks, smiling at you.

“baby,” you draw out.

schlatt peeks over at you and notices your flushed cheeks. he smiles, taking a swig of his drink before placing the glass down.

“what’s up?” schlatt asks, turning to face you. “what do you need?”

you jut your bottom lip out and peek up at him. “you.” you whisper.

your hand goes to his crotch and you begin to feel him through his pants. his cock grows hard and he allows you to touch him for a bit before gripping your wrist. if he doesn’t stop you, he’ll end up cumming in his pants like a teenager. he’s not gonna let that happen again.

“behave.” he grits.

“why?” you pout. “i need you.”

schlatt looks at you, pupils blown and cheeks flushed. he looks into your eyes, knowing that if he doesn’t stand his ground, you’re going to be a brat again. ignoring the fact that you were told to behave, you sit in schlatt’s lap.

“baby,” he sighs, breath catching in his throat as you bite at his neck, his weak spot. “we just finished decorating.”

you don’t respond verbally, only grinding your hips down. you feel schlatt’s cock harden even further under you, and you’re sure it’s pressing against his zipper. he grips your hair, making you arch your back. he bites down on your now exposed neck, eliciting a mewl from you.

“didn’t i tell you to behave?” he growls. “do you really wanna be a brat after we just decorated?”

you smile and nod. schlatt can’t help but smile himself. that’s one of the things he loves most about you (trust me, the list is long, but this is towards the top). he loves that you push his buttons and bite back.

“oh, baby,” he muses, licking along your pulse point. “you better be good.”

“make me.”

the two words leave your lips easily before you yelp as your hauled across schlatt’s lap, ass in the air.

“for goodness sake, doll.” he says as he grips your ass harshly. “i’m gonna have to do something about that.”

you lurch forward as his hand comes down onto your ass harshly, a soft moan leaving your lips. you lay there with a smile before schlatt slowly pulls your pants down, exposing your plush ass.

“can’t have any barriers.” he mumbles before beginning his punishment.

each ass cheek is slapped at least 10 times. he wants you squirming and near tears. his cock is pressed up against your stomach as you take the spankings. he doesnt stop until your ass is red and stinging. you whine and look back at him.

“n-no more.” you sob.

“are you gonna be good?” schlatt asks, yanking your hair and pulling you further back. “you gonna be good?”

you nod the best you can. “yes daddy.” you whimper.

“good,” schlatt says, gripping your stinging ass firmly. “because next time i’m going to fuck you in front of the fire place but you won’t be cumming.”

you whine at the threat, knowing full well that you’re going to be pushing his buttons again later that night and getting fucked into the floor for his pleasure only. you giggle as ‘santa claus is coming to town’ plays on the record player. the lyrics make you smile as you snuggle in schlatt’s lap.

you’re gonna be bad, for goodness sake.

[verstappen-cult]

hii!! <3

i love your work so much, may i suggest prompt 07 - sender wraps their arms around a hysterical receiver to calm them, with lando or daniel (or anyone you want really) as sender and reader as receiver ?

lots of love and all my support 🫶🏼🫶🏼🫶🏼

PROMPT DRABBLES ★ LN4

FROM THIS LIST ━━━━ sender  wraps  their  arms  around a  hysterical  receiver  to  calm  them .

you pace around the waiting room, biting your nails as you wait for any news about your brother.

"hey," you hear geri say next to you, a sympathetic smile on her face. "i bought you coffee." she hands you a cardboard cup, her free hand drawing comforting circles on your back.

"thank you." you feel your throat closing up every time you try to talk.

you're about to take the cup when you decide to look up, catching a glimpse of the news on the television, your brother's name in big, red letters as the replay of the accident plays in the background.

you haven't actually seen the accident. you only got a phone call saying he was heading to the hospital, that it had been a big one.

the cup slips out of your hand, coffee spilling out at your feet. you count the seconds they take trying to pull him out of the car, too many seconds, too late. you feel your hands trembling as tears flow down your cheeks uncontrollably.

when they finally pull him out, he's unconscious. the video ends when they cover him up, so he can't be seen.

you can't see properly anymore, you're barely aware of geri trying to calm you. your legs give up, you wait to feel the cold hospital floor beneath you, which you never feel. instead, you feel big, warm arms surround you, as you cry, and scream, and beg for your brother to be okay.

"it's okay, it's—he's gonna be okay," you recognize lando's voice, fingers stroking your hair so, so softly.

it takes you a long time to calm yourself down, even when you don't have more tears to shed, you still feel very weak, body still trembling.

when you take in your surroundings, you see people looking at you with pity, sad expressions on each and every single one of them. then, you notice you're on the floor, sitting between lando's legs as he stills holds you tighlty against his body. you move your head to the side to take a look at him, finally seeing his tear stained face.

lando tries to give you a smile but it doesn't reach his eyes, there just are more tears streaming down his face instead. just looking at him and the memory of your brother lying on a cold hospital bed makes you start crying again, but lando's is there, holding you, whispering soft words, reminding you how strong and brave your brother is. you can’t be more grateful to have lando by your side.

[mydearlybeloathed]

── 𝐒𝐀𝐈𝐋 𝐀𝐆𝐀𝐈𝐍 ³

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: in the aftermath of zoro's fight with mihawk, you and he have some reflecting.

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: opla!zoro x apothecary!reader

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 4k

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭: at long last it is finished, tw blood mention, somewhat of an epilogue, no use of Y/N

𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: november

series masterlist

Everything had happened so fast, and all you could do was stand and stare at your hands. You were shaky all over, but your hands especially; your fingertips and palms were stained by the blood you’d tried to stop flowing from Zoro’s chest.

And all you could do was stand and shake.

Only when Luffy’s hand closed around your wrist and he jerked you along with him did you come back to yourself, still gasping for air as tears filled your eyes. “Luffy—Zoro—He’s…”

“He’s fine,” Luffy barked back before softening at the sight of you. “He’ll be fine.”

For once, you doubted him.

You had wanted to beg Zoro to let it go. To plead with him the moment you laid eyes on that Hawkeye. To shout for him to get some sense and wait for a few more years of experience before taking on his last obstacle. But if you did, if you asked him to back down, you feared he would never trust you again.

Angry huffs of breath left Nami, her glare baring into the stubborn swordsman beside you. She was begging and pleading as your heart longed to do, and it took everything in you to stand strong beside your lover. 

“Y/N,” she hissed, drawing your eyes up to hers. “You’re gonna let him do this?”

Your hand sought out Zoro’s beneath the table, finding solace in wrapping your fingers around his. “Yes.”

She gaped, hands gripping the table. “He’s going to die! Don’t you love him at all—”

Your whole body jerked as you made to round the table and smack her, when Zoro’s hand tightened around yours, holding you in place. Heart pounding in your ears, you swallowed thickly and sighed shakily. 

“Zoro needs to do this,” you nearly spat. “You wouldn’t understand.”

She backed down when she got no help from anyone, storming out of the room with watery eyes. Luffy and Usopp followed soon after, leaving you and your swordsman. Wordlessly, you pulled him to sit beside you at the nearby couch, leaning your head on his shoulder whilst he worked don sharpening his blades.

“Thank you,” he whispered, prompting you to turn your head and kiss his shoulder, fretful tears welling in your eyes.

Close to sobbing, you followed the rest of them as they hauled Zoro’s body onto the ship and down to the galley. It all grew worse at the sight of Zoro’s bloodied body laid upon the table, his brow pinched in agony.

Nami heaved a breath, frantic eyes scanning over Zoro’s wound. Usopp was searching for a first aid kit, finding only your bag of herbs and bottles. It slipped from his shaky hands, the bottles rolling around the kitchen. 

Nami narrowed her gaze at you. “Aren’t you a doctor? Do something!”

You shook your head. “I—I’m not—I don’t—I can’t—”

“Luffy,” Nami cut off your rambling. “Go to the restaurant and find a doctor. Go!”

He took off in an instant. You trembled, unable to look away from Zoro. It all moved so fast; the Baratie’s owner and sous chef rushed in after Luffy, the former immediately setting to work cutting up a fish.

“Fish?” you blurted, voice cracking. “How is a fish—”

“Can it,” Zeff snapped, cracking off the fish’s head. “If yer gonna yap, have some liquor.”

You stood gaping at him, eyes wide even as Usopp grabbed the bottle and slowly inched it toward you. Even as you glared you swiped it and took a swig, slamming it back down onto the table.

The liquor snapped you to attention. You stumbled to stand at the end of the table where Zoro’s head lay. A thick and tense silence washed over the galley as Zeff worked, yet it all felt so loud. Your red stained hands drifted to brush Zoro’s hair off his damp forehead. 

Zoro winced as Zeff stitched up the largest gash first. One shaky hand moved to feel at your back, a dark part of you musing that you would match when the wound scarred. Like the front and back of a coin.

Shoving the thought down, your fingertips trailed over his cheek, drawing an invisible line down his forehead and nose. Over and over, you gently caressed his face in that circular motion, the crease of his brows softening, and you forced every sound to go dim.

Writhing in pain, your squirming made it difficult for Zoro’s to hold you without hurting you even more. The dingy he’d taken from the now slain pirates drifted back out to sea, abandoned as Zoro raced toward the light of the village.

No one walked the streets in the dead of night, so Zoro shouted, his voice bellowed into the stillness, demanding someone help him. Just as his eyes gazed over your contorted expression, his hopeless howling was answered by a light flooding out from the building on his right. 

The woman barely blinked as she ushered him inside, ordering him to lay you on your chest atop her kitchen table. He was talking, muffled sounds barely words stuttering out of him. Vee calmed him best she could, but she couldn’t focus with him bumbling around like this.

“Listen, boy,” she said lowly. “You wanna help her?” She waited for him to nod before going on. “Stand here, right where her head is. Good. Now, you wanna help?”

You whimpered, your head turned to the side so Zoro could plainly see how your whole face reflected misery. He choked the word out, “Yeah.”

“Watch.” She reached out a hand toward your face, and despite his gut instinct to sever her hand, he stood back and watched as Vee pinched her fingertips together and placed them on your forehead, expanding her fingers like a firework and grazing them down the sides of your face. 

She repeated the motion, and Zoro sighed out a gasp as the distressed pinch of your brows gave way to a more eased expression. Vee stepped back calmly, nodded at Zoro as she grabbed a set of scissors and cut open your shirt.

Zoro’s eyes immediately found the wound, a thick slash down your back, oozing with your blood, and his chest seized. Vee shot him a glare. “Pull yourself together, pirate hunter.”

He hadn’t introduced himself, and the fact that Vee already deduced who he was irked him, but he snapped to action instantly. He started the same motion as Vee, caressing your face and marveling at how you calmed under his touch. 

“Hold her hand,” ordered Vee. She was pouring a bottle of clear liquid onto a rag. “This is gonna sting.”

Even when Vee was done and your wound was bandaged, he continued that firework motion on your face as if in a daze. You would stir in your sleep, a little grin gracing your face at his touch, but when you woke, he was nowhere in sight, the faint memory warming your face. 

You cupped a hand over your cheek, inhaling deeply, hand stilling. Zeff glanced up from lining the stitches with fish skin, some old pirate trick he said, and noticed your ministrations to Zoro’s face. 

“Who taught you tha’?” Zeff wondered, if only to distract you. 

Blinking rapidly, you retracted your hands to your sides. “Uhm. A doctor from Gecko Island.”

Zeff nodded. “Well, don’t stop. Let's ‘im know you’re there.”

He’s between life and death, Zeff went on to say. Talk to him, sing to him for all I care. Let him know you’re here, and maybe he’ll stick to this side of life.

You tried to help move Zoro to your bed, but you felt glued to the ground. Even if you did manage to move, you couldn’t stop shaking no matter how you tried. Sanji, Usopp, and Luffy handled moving him, your eyes following their retreat down the hall.

“Hey,” Nami appeared at your side, her hand resting on your arm. “You there?”

“Mhmm. I’m good.” The quake in your voice said otherwise. “Where is he?”

Nami tugged on your arm, leading you to the bedroom you’d been given. Usopp and Luffy stood over the near lifeless Zoro. You shook Nami’s hand off, your feet carrying you swiftly to his side as you practically shoved Usopp aside. 

Your hand ghosted his cheek, breath catching. “It’s all my fault.”

“No, it’s not,” Nami scoffed. “I doubt you could have changed his mind even if you tried.”

She was right, but still. What if you had tried? Would he hate you? Would he have listened? Your legs started to shake, and a moment later Usopp was there with a chair, setting a hand on your shoulder to ease you onto it. You choked on a sob, the act alone nearly casting you over the edge.

Nami watched it all with a set jaw, frustration boiling under her skin. She held back all her venomous words if only for your sake, currently seeing you as more glass than person.

“Come on,” she muttered to the others. “Y/N’ll talk to him first.”

They’d left before you could bring yourself to ask one to stay, and you were left staring at Zoro’s contorted face. What do I even say? 

At a loss, you reached for his hand, tentatively taking it in both of yours. For a time, you only stared at him, void expression conveying nothing to Usopp when he entered the room an hour later.

“You doing okay?” he asked, wary as he leaned against one of the beams holding your bed to the ceiling. 

You shot him a sharp look, biting back what you really wanted to reply with. “I… have no clue what to say to him.”

He seemed to actually contemplate his answer, lips pursed before he offered, “Whatever’s on your mind is fine. I think it's more about hearing you than what you’re saying.”

You hissed out a sigh as you returned your gaze to Zoro, taking in his condition for the umpteenth time, and forced out some words, gently running your thumb over the back of his hand. “Listen… you better fucken wake up. I didn’t wait three years for you to die on me, idiot. So…” Please. Be okay.

Usopp blinked widely, his shoulders tense as he nodded slowly. “Ok–ay, not exactly what I meant.”

“That’s what's on my mind,” you bit back.

“Maybe it should have stayed in mind.” You stood with a grunt, releasing Zoro’s hand and turning away from his battered form. 

“You talk to him, if you’re the expert,” you snapped as you went for the door. Usopp tried to reach for your arm, an apology on his tongue, but you jerked away from him and bolted around the corner.

Only when you were out of sight and sound did you let a strangled cry slip past your lips, before swallowing it back down and holding your shaking hands to your chest. You wanted to go back, to hold him and never let go… later, when you could get a grip again.

A long story short, you had no time to get a grip.

જ⁀➴

Everything… was very wrong. In the span of a few hours, Nami turned out to be working with the fishman Arlong the Saw, Luffy nearly died a watery death, and the crew gained a chef. That last bit wasn’t so wrong, but all you could focus on was the negative. 

Your hands stayed folded in your lap lest they quiver and reveal your distress. Zoro lay just down the hall, on your own bed, under your own sheets. If only he would wake up. You needed to see his eyes and hold his hand and have it not go limp in yours. 

Sanji chopped vegetables at the countertop, occasionally shooting you a glance. Pushing all the carrots into a pile, he cleared his throat. “Uh, that trick you did was pretty cool.”

His accent was nice and smooth, almost serving to relax the tension wrought though your body. You eyes lazily moved to find his figure across the galley. “Thanks.”

“So you’re a chemist?” he kept on. “It’s either that or a witch, and you don’t look the witchy type.”

A grin tugged at your lips. “Uhm, yeah. I’m an apothecary. The bombs were just something I threw together.”

The fight with Arlong the Saw had gone… expectedly. He tossed you all around like a bunch of ragdolls. You’d gotten one hit in using the element of surprise, hurling a vial of chemical at his head that exploded on impact. He dodged or caught all the rest, nearly crushing you into the ground before Luffy stepped in and wrangled the fishman around the neck.

You shivered at the memory as Sanji sent you a smile. “Well, I thought it was badass.”

You managed a short laugh. “Thanks, waiter.”

Just as the chef started to protest the use of the name, a loud, cheerful voice rang throughout the ship. 

“Zoro!”

Your heart panged in your chest, and all at once you pushed to your feet and sprinted to your room, running into the wall and teetering on your feet. You practically rammed yourself into the doorframe, chest heaving, eyes blown wide… and there he was. 

Zoro’s eyes were all squinty from smiling at Luffy, who loomed ove rhim excitedly. His gaze shifted to where you loomed in the doorway, your heavy breathing drawing his attention. He murmured your name and wincingly pushed himself up, drawing you to his side as you helped him. Luffy slipped off the bed and fluffed a pillow absently, absolutely beaming.

All you could do was stare at Zoro, face screwed together from a mistire of emotions. Zoro was much to same, his expression unsure. Luffy just kept on grining till Usopp slid into the doorway, took one look at the situation, and dragged the captain out, slamming the door behind him.

You winced at the sound, eyes averted briefly before Zoro’s hand found yours, and you snapped back around to look at him. Your eyes flickered to the bandages covering his torso, your fingers dellicately grazing the gauze. 

Zoro followed your every move carefully, features softening. He drew you near so you were sat before him. “You think our scars will match?”

Your lips twitched into a grin. “I hope so.”

The silence was welcomed, soft touches passed between you, content with breathing in the other’s presence. Only when you started blinking rapidly did you notice your eyes growing watery. “I thought I’d lost you. His sword—I don’t know how you survived.”

 “He let me live,” Zoro murmured, like he wished otherwise, and your stomach churned uncformtably. 

You ducked forward to catch his dropped gaze, tone firm. “And I’m glad he did.”

Zoro shook his head and reclined on the headboard. “I thought I was ready.”

“You will be.” You inched your way up the bed to sit beside him, shoving away the blanket and angling your head to look at his profile. His jaw set as he looked out the window.

His heart now ached as much as yours had, his defeat a weight he wasn’t prepared to carry. Your hand slipped into his with the hope of taking some that burden in stride, praying he knew you would be there to take it every time. “You will be ready, and when you are, you’ll defeat him and you’ll be the greatest swordsman to ever live.”

Zoro started to fiddle with your fingers. “You’ll be there?”

“Stupid question,” you huffed, leaning in to kiss his jaw. “Of course I will.”

Pulling back, you found his eyes, offering a smile. All at once, everything fell into place. You knew close to nothing about the world and your place in it. Would people remember you in a hundred? Will your steps be memorialized? You could only hope and wonder.

Yet, there was one thing you knew beyond certainty, and that was whatever you turned out to be, you wanted Zoro to be there to witness it.

So the words came easily, no hindrance in a single syllable. “Marry me.”

Zoro balked, whole body freezing up as he blinked down at you. “What?”

“You heard me,” you smiled. “I want to marry you.”

His hands squeezed yours. “It’s… not safe.”

“Compared to what? Whether we’re married or not, I’m with you.” Zoro tilted his head.

“So why…?”

You hooked your pinky through his. “It’s a promise. I want to be there when you defeat him. I want to dress your wounds and keep you humble. I want to grow old and throw rocks at neighbor kids with you.”

He laughed softly, staring down at your interlocked hands, and raised his gaze slowly. “You really want that?”

“Don’t you?” 

Instantly, “Yes.”

If possible your smile bloomed wider and you whipped around to shout, “Luffy!”

Zoro grabbed your shoulders and jerked you back around, his grin shifting to wince at his sudden movement. “Now?”

“Why not now?” you implored.

“I thought—” he settled back gently, brow drawn “—I thought you’d want, like, a party.”

You ensured he was fine, hand hovering his bandaged middle, eyes rising to catch his own. “I have you, and more friends than I ever imagined having. What more do I need?”

Zoro couldn’t argue with that. His grin returned hesitantly, hand searching out for yours and closing around it tightly. “Guess that makes Great Captain Usopp the best man, with Luffy officiating. And maid of honor Nami.”

Your face fell in an instant, your palm hitting your temple, heart dropping all over again. “We can’t get married now.”

Zoro tried to sit up before coughing and leaning back. “What’s wrong?”

“Nami’s gone.” Your steely eyes only added to his sudden distress. “She’s with Arlong the Saw.”

Talk of marriage and futures could wait until everyone was together. Until then, you wrangled Zoro into laying back down, not allowing him to move and open up his stitches, barking out orders to stay put before you made him.

જ⁀➴

Well, you didn’t get married when Nami returned. It just… slipped your minds. Once, Zoro drunkenly remembered, and you soberly denied his inebriated proposal. So you didn’t get married some months after either. The time was never right, but the heart was always there.

“Wife,” he once snapped offhandedly. “Get off my weights.”

He didn’t understand your teasing, gleaming smile till you skipped away, planting a kiss on his cheek and whispering, “Fine, Husband.”

The crew tilted their heads at the sudden use of the term, not recalling a recent ceremony, but when they saw the lively grins upon your faces they never bothered to ask. You and Zoro had your own kind of marriage they supposed was extra special—the kind only within one’s mind, soul, and heart. The bond was not by rings but by devotion alone, and the pair found a lifetime of contentment in that alone.

The topic of officiality arose when you parted for two years, him off training with a warlord in a castle, and you learning from healing witches in a forest.

“What if you find another wife in the meantime?” you jokingly (half-geuinely) asked him.

“We lasted three years. What’s two more?”

You nodded, drawing him close to your lips. “Don’t get too comfy, Roronoa. I’ll make an honest man out of you yet.”

Two years and each and every correspondence was signed Dear Wife, Dear Husband, Yours in Health, Yours in Death. A ghostly girl Zoro called Perona once wrote back for him, wondering why he’d never mentioned a wife and where his ring was. You gave it a chuckle and paid it no mind, not willing to divulge the intricacies of your marriage.

No one ever questioned it when you reunited. To everyone, you and Zoro were one unit in everything but a legal document. The crew never batted an eye at your little domestic bits, to the point where they nearly forgot what was so funny about calling the other your spouse. 

One year turned to two, and two to three, and three to twenty all in the blink of an eye. Wife and husband, you grew into yourselves in body and mind, watching the other with a pride and love neither of you could quite articulate how you wanted. 

“My husband is the greatest swordsman in the world,” you told some boy prince you were treating for smallpox.

“My wife is a world-renowned apothecary,” Zoro exclaimed midfight to some no-name brute. 

At some point, you’d both forgotten this wasn’t an official thing. You were married… but not really. 

It occurred to you whilst you lay swinging in a hammock in front of your little home, head rested on Zoro’s chest, his easy breathing nearly lulling you to sleep. “Zoro?”

“Hmm?”

You propped your chin on his stomach and grinned at him bleary-eyed. “Will you marry me?”

“I—” Zoro paused, blinked a moment, and looked down widely. “I forgot we weren’t.”

“Me too.” Your head cocked to the side. “So?”

His hand moved to trace your jaw before curling into your hair, and dropping back to his side. “We’re well into our forties.”

“And?”

“If we both forgot…” he chuckled. “What does it matter if we never got a huge party?”

You settled back into his side. “That’s what I was thinking… Don’t you want a ring?”

He shook a hand. “Eh.”

“Same here.”

Really, what was the use? He was your husband and you were his wife. That’s how it had been for well over a decade. Though, it would make for a good celebration. “A wedding’s a good excuse to see everyone, though…”

A week later Usopp called Nami on a snail transponder, holding up an invite as she did the same. “Completely forgot they’re not in matrimony.”

“You’re going, right?”

“Obviously.”

The whole of the ceremony, an air of hilarity rested upon each of the crewmates turned wedding guests. In sickness, in health, in life, and in death—you and Zoro had committed these vows wordlessly so very long ago. 

The wedding was odd and out of place and it was yours. You never knew how much it would mean till you stood before your silly swordsman, aboard the beloved Thousand Sunny, and slipped a ring on his finger as a burn got caught in your throat. He wasn’t much better, pushing a ring over your knuckles, blinking so fast he might’ve flown away.

Vivi, Robin, and Nami stood lined up on your left, holding bouquets of lilies picked from your yard that morning. On Zoro’s right, Usopp and Brook held back watery smiles while Jimbei and Sanji watched with subtle, fond grins. Franky stood with Chopper on his shoulder, the pair absolutely beaming.

What brought it all together was Luffy’s struggle to get it just right, reciting off a sheet of paper Nami and Vivi had asked him to memorize beforehand. Your captain’s smile could’ve blinded you, his excitement palpable as he worked his way through the list until it was time to officially seal it with a kiss.

You’re not sure what you expected, but when your lips met with Zoro’s and the hollers of your friends echoed all around… there was nothing extra special about the moment. You drew back smiling, nose brushing his, and breathed in the moment. It felt like every other kiss on every other evening, but now you were with the people you held most dear. That’s what made your heart warm enough to rival the sun.

As far as you’re concerned, you and Zoro have been married since the day he left you in Syrup Village. You sighed your vows into every moment spent apart and breathed them into each other every second side by side. No wedding was ever needed. No officiant needed to say the words. Husband and wife in your hearts alone, and that would have enough for the rest of your days.

But now, as you looked around at the friends you called family, Zoro’s presence at your shoulder, you had to admit; you would have a hundred weddings just to bring everyone here, sharing in joy and dancing around one another through the night, for just one more night.

Tomorrow, everyone might part once more. There were lives to be lived and tasks to complete elsewhere on the globe… but tonight, your family was together. As you broke away from a twirling Nami, shooing her off to go dance with her dear Vivi and spare your aching feet, you found yourself back at Zoro’s side. His heavy eyes and lithe smile met you readily.

“Wife,” he greeted.

“Husband,” you answered giddily. 

Neither of you cared much for rings, that was true, but you both took the time to admire the placements on your fourth fingers, curling into each other as the party drew on, tenderly falling asleep against the mainmast.

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: @100520s @nadlx33333 @fluffybunnyu @ellisaworld @hawkins-2000 @bdudette @misfits1a @star-yawnznn @gingernut131 @1-800-starkindustrie @fangeekkk @itsagoodluckkiss

[vampsickle]

Jason Todd and dom!reader pweeeeasee! Maybe he's just a pathetic whiny mess, and you wanna comfort him!

hello my sweet anon! thank you for your patience my love. i hope this is good for you!

Jason Todd writhes underneath you, you’ve ripped so many orgasms out of him, but he’s still so painfully erect. His cock is swollen and red, precum leaking in copious amounts, and he desperately fights back tears. It hurts so good, his eyes rolling back every time you touch him. He’s never trembled so violently before, his breath hot, escaping his mouth in puffs.

The pit of Lazarus had its side effects, and who knew that a high libido would’ve been one of them. But he’s still so sensitive, you’re probably the third person he’s slept with, and now it’s so consistent.

“Fuck— Fuck, wait, I can’t—“ and you hum lightly as his pathetic attempts to speak, his words come out as desperate pleas and whines, hips bucking upwards, his eyes shut tightly. Your hand wraps around his dick, and that makes him jump somewhat, spurts of cum spilling out. Even when he’s like this, he’s mindlessly begging you for more, more, more. Who knew he’d be so desperate.

“I want you to look at me when I put it inside me, Jason.” you speak lowly, lining up the tip with your entrance, allowing it to get caught there. He swallows thickly, jaw tensing, teeth clenched so tightly that he fears he may crack one. But he musters out a weak uh-huh …

Your pace is torturously slow, he takes quick breaths in anticipation, and you press your palm onto his flushed chest, softly telling him to breathe. As you say that, you sit all the way down on him, cockhead brushing against your womb, and he cries out. You haven’t even moved and he already came again.

“Oh… I’ve barely even done anything, Jason. Is it too much for you? Should I stop?” you coo, rolling your hips, and his head is thrown back and he groans wantonly, and when he exhales it comes out as a drawn out whimper. “No— No, fuck, ‘s not too much. Please, keep going, please—“ and his hands fly to your hips when you begin to bounce on him, head cocks to the side, falling against the plush pillows you made sure to place comfortably underneath him.

He’s fucking drooling. You lean over to kiss him, and he’s eager to kiss you back, messy yet slow, open mouthed and slightly impatient. You tell him he’s a good boy. You praise him, your own noises only bring him closer to his release, and he tries to meet your hips when you meet his pelvis.

“Oh— Fuck—! ‘M gonna fucking cum— Again-” and he squeezes you tightly enough that it almost makes you squeal, nails digging into your soft flesh, nearly drawing blood, and somehow he cums inside you, more than the other times. You feel full, but you still move slowly, riding out his orgasm as he cries weakly.

“Good boy. You came so much.. Did it feel that good?” his eyes are half lidded, hands slowly falling back down on his sides, and he simply nods. That’s all the answer you need. It almost makes you laugh, how cute and fucked out he looks, but you lean down and press a gentle kiss to the corner of his eye.

[ak319]

★ Do you feel 𝓫𝓸𝓷𝓲𝓽𝓪 yet?

I romantic, fluff I

It was just another day. The morning had been unbearably hot, but thankfully, the afternoon brought a pleasant breeze, giving you both a chance to relax by the lake. Arthur was sprawled on the grass beside you, sketching quietly, while you were engrossed in a book.

You paused to stretch, closing your book and letting your gaze drift up to the clouds. With a dramatic sigh, you flopped onto your back on the grass.

Y/N: "I hate summers."

Arthur: (without looking up) "Tell me about it, doll eyes."

Y/N: (turned your head toward him, curious) "What are you drawing?"

Arthur: (smirks, keeping his pencil moving) "Guess."

You squinted at the journal, trying to peek, but he angled it away from you just in time.

Y/N: "I don’t knowwww, flowers or something-" (reaching over) "Hey-"

Arthur: (grinning) "I said guess, not cheat (blushes) And it's something...even prettier than flowers."

You sat back with a huff not catching on the hint. Pretty? Then an idea struck you like lightning. Your eyes lit up, and you shot to your feet.

Y/N: "Oh. My. GOD! Wait here-"

Before he could respond, you took off toward camp, leaving him sitting there with a confused frown.

Arthur: (to himself chuckling) "HEY-WHA- come back...*sighs* I can never understand her."

The sound of hurried footsteps pulled his attention back, and he looked up just as you came bounding back toward him, something clutched in your hands.

Arthur: "Wha-"

Y/N: (kneeling beside him, grinning mischievously) "Stay still. Lemme-"

Arthur: (leaning back, alarmed) "Noooo--WHAT ARE YOU--woman?! No way. NAH! WHOSE EVEN IS IT-"

Before he can stop you, you’re already leaning over him, attempting to tie a bright red ribbon into his hair. Arthur protests, but you’re determined, laughing through his half-hearted resistance.

(Y/N): You look so pretty!"

(Arthur freezes, his face contorting as a particular memory resurfaces. "Pretty boy~~" The mocking words echo in his head like a ghost from that bar fight. He sits up straighter, narrowing his eyes at you.)

Arthur: "H-hey! I--I ain’t pretty. You don’t call men that, darlin'."

Y/N: (gasping dramatically) "Shut up! You are. And there’s nothing wrong with being pretty."

Arthur’s cheeks flush deeper, his blue eyes darting away like he’s trying to find an escape. After a beat, he clears his throat, glancing back at you almost shyly.

Arthur: (quietly) "You...... think so? I am?"

Y/N: (softening) "Oh, absolutely. No doubt about it." (then, with a playful firmness) "You’re not just handsome, Arthur. You’re pretty. And I don’t wanna hear you arguing about it again. Take the compliment , alright?"

Arthur rubs the back of his neck thinking, his usual confidence replaced with a bashful smile. For a moment, he looks younger, and more vulnerable, and it makes your heart squeeze.

Arthur: (grumbling half-heartedly) "Well... I guess if you say so, I ain’t gonna fight it. Thank you...darlin'."

Y/N: (smiling) "Good! Now hold still. Let me go get the came-"

Arthur: (sits up straighter, alarmed) "Oh, no. No pictures. I ain’t lettin’ you show this to anyone."

Y/N: (mock pouting) "Aw, come on! Just one for me?"

Arthur: (firmly) "No. Not happenin’."

Y/N: Look who's being poutyyy~ You ain't helping defend your case here y'know.

Arthur: (grumbling, trying to cover his smile) "I don’t pout."

Y/N: (leaning closer, smirking) "You totally do. It’s the cutest thing. Makes me wanna squish your cheeks like this-" (reaches out and playfully squishes his face) "-and call you my princess."

Arthur: (muffled) Mmph-! You better not call me that anywhere else...

(Y/N): (snickering) Okayyyy....but no promises...

Arthur: (His smirk growing as he goes along with the teasing) "I hope you don’t go callin’ someone else your princess."

Y/N: (cackling) "Mhm. Don't worry. Not doing that... No plan yet."

Arthur: (leaning in slightly, his voice firm but playful) "You better not. I ain’t sharin’ my title with anyone, y’hear?"

Y/N: "Oh, of course not, your highness. No one else could ever pull off this look quite like you do."

Arthur: (snorts, feigning offense as he straightens up) "Damn right, no one could. This here’s one-of-a-kind royalty you’re dealin’ with."

Y/N: (teasing, tugging gently at the ribbon in his hair) "And don’t you forget it. My one and only Princess Arthur."

Arthur: (His ears turn pink again, his tone gruff yet amused) "Alright, enough of that. You keep callin’ me that and someone’s bound to hear you."

Y/N: "So? What if they do? Should I start bowing in your presence too?"

Arthur: (grinning now, shaking his head) "You bow, I’m turnin’ around and walkin’ out. No way I’m puttin’ up with that nonsense."

Y/N: (laughing, poking his shoulder) "Fine, no bowing. But admit it, you’re kind of enjoying this."

Arthur: (pausing, his blush deepening as he glances away) "...M-maybe. But don’t let that go to your head."

Y/N: (softly but teasingly) "Too late."

Arthur: (groans, rolling his eyes, although secretly enjoying it...a lot) "I think you’re enjoyin’ this too....a bit too much even, doll eyes."

Y/N: (propped on elbow laying) "Well, can you blame me? You look adorable. Please let me take one pic-

Arthur: (eyes widening, sitting up straighter) "Oh, hell no! No pictures. This is stayin’ between us."

Y/N: (mock pouting, leaning closer) "Come on! Just one! For me? C'mon, pouty Princess. What's the harm in that? I won't show it to anyone. Promise."

Arthur: (firmly) Not happenin’. I ain’t givin’ you somethin’ to blackmail me with later. I ain't a fool."

Y/N: (sighing, nudging his shoulder) "Fine, fine. No picture. You’re lucky your prince here is feeling generous."

Neither of you notices the rustling in the nearby treeline as Sean and Javier are about to come to the lake but stop and start watching the entire scene unfold.

Sean: (whispering, squinting) "What the fuck are they doin’? Did Arthur lose a bet or somethin’?"

Javier:(chuckling quietly): Our mighty Arthur, the queen of the Wild West.

Sean: (runs to get the camera Dutch gave him) "Well, well. This is too good to pass up. Say cheese.... Mr. Morgan."

Sean snaps a picture just as you lean in to press a playful chivalrous kiss to Arthur’s hand, leaving him wide-eyed and more flustered than before as he playfully flicks your forehead.

Sean: (snickering as he checks the photo) "What a jackpot! This one’s goin’ in the scrapbook for sure. Look at him, he is a second away from squealing. A tomato, I tell ya'. "

Javier: (shaking his head, smiling to himself) "You’re gonna regret this when Arthur finds out."

Sean: (grinning smugly) "Worth it, mate. Worth it."

Javier: (chuckling) Well, Arthur does...look bonito or....maybe even better✨ bonita✨

And that's how you and Arthur spend the afternoon cuddling and giggling at almost...everything like love-drunk fools. And yes, he didn't take the ribbon off.

tag list: @whalecage @shackspossum @nayykura

(AN: Handsome can be used to describe a woman too. Fight me over this, make it a norm fr-(⌐■_■)

[a-killer-obsession]

Whoops, you got hit by a bus, and now you're in the world of One Piece. But not everything is quite as you remember it...

General Tags: afab reader, she/her reader pronouns, isekai, monsterfucker reader, vampire!kid, werewolf!killer, wyrm!heat, minotaur!wire, everyone has a human form, smut heavy, unhealthy relationships, dubious consent, serious violence, spoilers for Wano arc, starts pre-timeskip. There will be a lot of more intense kinks, please check AO3 for all current tags.

Chapter 2 - To The Brig With Ye

Step 1: Get Heat on your side.

WC: 4.5k

Masterlist | AO3 | Chapter 1

You were surprised to wake up at all when you came to, in what you assumed was some sort of infirmary. The room tilted back and forth slightly, so you assumed you must still be on the ship at the very least. Your eyes fluttered open, finding a face suddenly far too close to your own.

“AHH!” you and Heat both shouted at once, the blue haired man scurrying backwards.

“Heat, for fucks sake I told you not to hover in her face like that!” A feminine voice scolded. You groaned as you tried to sit up, seeing a blue haired woman, her hair wild with spikes that looked like horns, a small set of round glasses, and a black dress bearing some sort of stylized cross. House. She was using a pipette to drip some sort of dark red liquid onto your exposed wound, which looked and felt nowhere near as bad as you thought it would, considering how deep the knife had gone. Your confusion was explained away as the red droplets hit your skin and you watched the flesh begin to sew itself closed, but it only brought up more questions in its place. You'd never seen something like that in One Piece, but then again this world was vast and strange, and people did always seem to heal fast here.

“Sorry, one more minute,” House spoke to you, drawing up more crimson into the pipette and dripping it onto the wound, the last sliver of open wound mending itself closed. “Okay, all done.”

“Uh thanks, House right?” You asked her, running your hand over the healed flesh, not even feeling a scar. It was like nothing had happened at all, save for the rouge red drips of whatever she'd used that remained on your skin before she hurriedly wiped it away with a damp cloth.

“Um, yes,” she replied unsurely, looking to Heat for clarity as she removed her latex gloves and threw them in a nearby bin. She'd seen the entire exchange on the deck, nobody had told you her name, and yet you somehow knew it. House didn't have a bounty poster, as the doctor of the Kid Pirates she hardly ever left the ship, so while it was understandable that you knew who the big four were, there shouldn't have been anyway you knew her name. “I'm gonna go let the captain know she's awake,” she addressed Heat, a distinct nervous tone to her voice, before scurrying out of the room, leaving you alone with the tall man, who shifted his weight between his feet awkwardly.

“What's your name?” He asked shyly.

“[Y/n],” you smiled.

“[Y/n]...” he repeated to himself, a slight blush to his cheeks, “Did you mean what you said?”

“What bit?” You rubbed your eyes with the palm of your hand, trying to piece together what had happened between getting hit by a bus and getting stabbed. “Oh, the sex dream stuff? Absolutely, baby” you winked at him, making him blush even more.

“No!” He choked on his breath, hands waving in defence, “I meant- the isekai bit!!”

“Ohhhhhh,” you blinked slowly, “I mean it's my best explanation for what happened. I'm like ninety-nine percent sure I got hit by a bus, and now I'm here. This whole world is supposed to be fictional, if this is just a dream then I shouldn't have been able to feel pain, but I certainly fucking felt it”

“And that's why you knew House's name?” He asked, stepping a little closer to the edge of the bed.

“Oh, it didn't even occur to me that I shouldn't know it,” you hummed, taking a moment to properly observe the room you were in now. It was darkly decorated in blacks and forest greens, the occasional violet pop of colour, none of the usual sterile whites and creams you'd expect of an infirmary, with two oversized beds (likely meant for larger crewmates), one of which you were currently laying in. Each bed had a side table, a table on wheels that fit over the bed, and a small plain chair for visitors. The whole room was almost a semi circle, save for the section missing on one side where you could see a door, likely to a bathroom. The opposite corner along the flat wall held cabinets and a counter, probably filled with medical supplies, with a small desk in front of it, a chair either side likely for doctor and patient. The beds were also along the flat wall, with a door to your left and another door in the centre of the curved wall in front of you, a small, green velvet couch to its left. The anime and manga had never shown the internals of the ship, but the curved walls and round portholes along them made you wonder if you were inside the forecastle, just behind the large dinosaur skull that acted as a figurehead for the ship. Your eyes came back to Heat, who stood next to your bed, waiting expectantly for an answer. “Yeah I mean, she's not really a well known character, but I guess you could say I'm a big Kid Pirates fan, so I remember a few more obscure characters.”

“From… a manga, you said, right?”

“Yeah. You're familiar with the isekai trope?” you didn't feel like explaining that it was an anime too, you weren't even sure if this world had cartoons.

“I am,” he mused, “and I guess weirder things have happened in this world. But we're gonna need proof, and I don't know how I'm gonna convince Kid”

You thought on that for a moment, “I think I can provide proof,” you mused, “has the crew been to Sabaody yet?”

“No, we're close though,” he told you hesitantly, not sure how much information he should reveal while he not so subtly eyed your body; you'd all but forgotten you were naked. You probably should have covered yourself up but it felt like a bit of a too little, too late situation. The whole crew had probably seen your tits at this point, not that it bothered you much. It wouldn't hurt to placate him either, it would be good to know at least one person on the crew had a fondness for you when it came to convincing Kid to keep you alive. If things really went tits up here you could always try your luck with the Straw Hats, but given the timing that would be difficult, you would have to stay on Sabaody for two years before you could try and join them. Maybe Shakky would let you stay with her in the meantime. Your preference though was to stay with the Kid Pirates, your favourite One Piece crew, and usually the subject of your sexy dreams and explicit fanfiction searches.

Heavy footsteps outside caught both of your attentions, Heat taking a few steps back to stand at a more respectful distance as the infirmary door flew open. Unsurprisingly, Kid stomped in, followed by Killer, and Wire, who shut the door behind him. Kid stood at the end of your bed, looking at you discerningly, an angry scowl on his face.

“Talk,” he said plainly.

“Boss, I think I can explain,” Heat told him, “what she said about isekai, I don't think she's from this world”

“The fuck is ‘isekai’” he growled, billowing his cape up so he could sit on the couch without catching it underneath him. Killer and Wire stood at either side of him like guard dogs, unsure of your capabilities, weary given the fact you'd appeared out of nowhere in the middle of the sea without a devil fruit power to get you here. There was no way of telling what powers you had or how you might suddenly use them.

“It's a trope, in manga,” Heat tried to explain, “the protagonist is sent to another world. Usually they die and get reincarnated, or some sort of god sends them there, to a usually fantasy world. I think that's what happened here, she claims she knows us because we're fiction in her world, and that she appeared here after she died in her world. Its a classic isekai premise.”

“Bullshit, she knows us from our bounty posters,” Kid huffed, unconvinced by Heats explanation.

“She knew House's name,” Heat replied. There was a pregnant silence as Kid considered that, his eyes flicking between you and Heat.

“Okay, so she's… from another world. If I chose to believe that,” Kid grumbled, “and she knows us because what? We're a comic book or some shit? They got comic books about the great Eustass ‘Captain’ Kid over there?”

“Well… they're not really about you per say,” you replied delicately, knowing the truth would piss him off.

“Then who the fuck could they be about?” Kid puffed up his chest, “why would they write about anyone other than the future King of Pirates?”

“They're uh… about Monkey D. Luffy…” you replied quietly. “Not that you're not also a very popular character!” You quickly added.

“STRAW HAT?” Kid roared, spooking you as he suddenly stood, “fucking STRAW HAT gets a comic book? Nah, fuck that, put this lying bitch in the brig.”

“Wait! Wait!” You quickly shouted, climbing further up the bed to avoid Killer's reaching hands, “I can prove it! I can tell you what'll happen when you get to Sabaody!”

“Sabaody is weeks out,” Kid huffed, “I ain't waitin’ for your lyin’ ass to be proven wrong so you can sit around in the meantime and find an opening to kill one of us. Devil fruit or no, you were obviously sent here to stop the best competition for finding the One Piece”

“Really? You think someone sent me here naked? Slammed me against the mast, no weapons, no devil fruit, no fighting skills, to kill you?” You rolled your eyes, “I can give you other proof, I can”

“Then fucking give me your proof, mouse,” Kid growled, the bed creaking as he leaned over you, his hands either side of your body. He probably wanted to intimidate you with his large form, but really it only served to make you a little horny.

“Killer wears purple lipstick,” you hurriedly shouted, the first thing that popped into your head as you searched for information only they should know. The room went silent before Kid suddenly wrapped a hand around your throat. He squeezed it threateningly, then he threw you back with a frustrated growl, letting you go as he moved to leave the room. He gave Killer a knowing look before turning back to Heat.

“Chain her in the brig,” Kid hissed, “I don't know where she learned that but I don't fucking trust her. Put her in iron too, there must be some trick, witch or some shit”

There was a flurry of movement as you were again left alone with Heat, Killer sparing you an unreadable look before slamming the infirmary door, clearly angry. You didn't like that you had to expose him like that, even if everyone in the room likely already knew that information, but it was him or you, and you had to act in self defence. Not that it'd helped in the end though either, as Heat apologetically dragged you off the bed and clamped your arms behind your back, wrapping one large hand around both of your small wrists at once to secure you as he led you out of the room.

Eyes followed you silently as you were led across the deck, still naked as the day you were born, revealing you had in fact been in the forecastle. Heat took you directly across to the rear of the ship, opening a door and leading you through a galley. The short view you got of the galley revealed a long room, with a serving window and counter on the left that peeked through to a moderately sized industrial looking kitchen. On the right was some sort of stage at the very end of the room, short stairs on either side leading up to the platform that currently held a long table surrounded by six chairs, a small liquor bar behind it. On the main floor between you and the stage were five long tables, a bench style seat along either side. The walls were decorated in band posters, bounty posters, photos of the crew together, newspaper clippings and all manner of souvenirs pinned to the walls, covering them in what spoke of a crew that acted more like a family, with many happy memories together all memorialised along the dining hall walls.

Heat led you to a staircase at the left of the room, following you down into a hall that was noticeably colder than above, likely due to being particularly below sea level. There was a short hall that split into two longer ones, they looked as though they made a loop around a center set of rooms, the walls lined with doors, no doubt bedrooms and storage rooms. He didn't lead you down either of the long halls, instead taking you to the end of the short one where a steep staircase, practically a ladder, led even further down to the hull of the ship. Heat gave you a little shove forward and you took the hint with a sigh, at least thankful that he'd let go of your wrists now so you could climb down.

You waited patiently at the bottom of the ladder beside a closed door as Heat climbed down after you. He fiddled with a set of keys that hung from his belt, unlocking the door and opening it, beckoning you to pass through. Inside was a series of cells, four in total, with iron bars at their fronts, each with a set of bare bunk beds with thin, stained mattresses, and a metal bucket in the corner, likely in lieu of a toilet. Unexpectedly, each cell was also trimmed in what looked like some sort of ancient symbols written along the floors and walls, a dark rusty colour that made you wonder if they were written in blood. The writing looked like something straight out of a dark fantasy show, with the occasional recognizable pentagram or latin in neat cursive letters. The doors to all four cells were open, seemingly unoccupied, and Heat gestured for you to enter the second, which sat directly across from a small desk, decorated only with a plain wooden chair and simple lamp.

You stood inside the cell, shivering as the air was considerably colder now that you were well under sea level, chilled by the cold ocean around you. The walls and floors offered no warmth, plated in what appeared to be stone, seastone perhaps. The wall behind the desk was lined with hooks holding multiple sets of cuffs in different styles. Heat selected a set of iron cuffs, with only three links between each wrist, and you sighed as you willingly held your hands out for him. There was no point fighting it, and forcing Heat to subdue you would only go against your plans to bring him to your side.

“Sorry about this,” he said softly as he closed the cuffs around your wrists. His hands were so warm against yours, reminding you of your current frigid situation.

“Can I have a blanket or something?” you pleaded, giving him your best puppy dog eyes.

“I.. I don't know if I'm allowed,” Heat replied, a tint of sadness to his voice.

“Maybe we can trade?” You offered, “I.. I only have my body, but maybe I can give you something in return for a blanket?” Was whoring yourself out a good idea? Probably not, given the circumstances, but you'd freeze to death down here if you didn't at least try. Besides, its not like you didn't want to fuck Heat. At this point you didn't have high hopes for surviving this world, but if you got laid with one of your favs then maybe it'd be at least a tiny bit redeemable.

“A trade?” He raised a brow, “like what?”

“What do you want?” You asked him, using your best sultry voice, experimentally pressing a hand to his chest and running it down slowly, pleasantly surprised when he didn't shy away from you. He shivered at the touch, your skin bare against his as your hand reached the bottom of his corset.

“Fuck, okay,” he growled, looking back at the door to the brig to check he had shut it, “on your knees, for a blanket”

“Yes sir,” you purred, perhaps a little too eager for Heat's dick. You would have traded a blowjob for a corn chip, if you were being honest with yourself. You fell to your knees slowly, trailing your fingertips down his midriff till they caught on the belt of his baggy pants. Raised on your knees, you could barely reach the flesh of his abdomen with your mouth as you hooked your fingers in the metal loops on his belt and used it as leverage to lower his pants, pressing your lips to the newly exposed flesh. He made a sharp exhale as your tongue came out to run over the V that led to his cock, pulling his pants down teasingly slowly and looking up at him with sultry eyes as his hand buried in your hair. Finally his pants lowered enough to expose his cock, long and girthy even at half mast, slightly more bulbous at the end with a set of three piercings along the underside, another at the tip, and a base of blue public hair, slightly darker than the hair on his head. He shivered as the cool air touched his exposed cock, quickly overruled by a groan as you took it in your bound hands and pumped the base, promptly becoming erect from your firm, warm touch.

“You have no idea how badly I've wanted to do this,” you purred, pressing your tongue to the tip, playing with the piercing and rolling your tongue over the fat head of his dick. He groaned as you took the end in your mouth, only taking a third of him as you began to bob your head, stroking the rest with your hand as you slowly adjusted and took a little more with each movement.

“Oh fuck, that's good,” Heat groaned, his hold on your hair tightening as you slowly worked towards taking all of his impressive length into your eager mouth, drool starting to drip down your chin as you focused on not gagging, breathing through your nose to suppress your natural urges. Your eyes watered as he started to hit the back of your throat, his hips making small thrusts in time with your movements, trying his best to hold back from just grabbing your skull and face fucking you. He'd been pent up for a while now, with a long stint between islands with working women, and a distinct lack of women in the meantime who were willing to risk their safety to sleep with the tall, stitched up man. By all accounts he looked terrifying to most women, so your willingness to get on your knees was certainly a nice surprise, seemingly having no issue with the way he looked. He felt bad at first for taking advantage of you, but the way you kept eye contact and hollowed your cheeks around his cock told him you wanted this, that the blanket was just an excuse to get in his pants. Really he should be the one feeling used, but he couldn't bring himself to feel anything but euphoric with the divine way your mouth was working his cock.

You paused as your nose hit his pubes, your now idle hands coming up to play with his balls, gagging a little as you swallowed around his cock. “Ohhhh fuck,” Heat groaned, looking down at you with his dick fully burried in your hot wet mouth. “Look at you, taking it like a proper slut, you like that huh? Like having my cock down your throat?”

You pulled off his cock with a pop as your thighs rubbed together in a desperate need for friction, you wouldn't be surprised if you were dripping on the floor at this point from how wet you were. “I'd like it better in my cunt,” you replied, stroking him with both hands, hoping above all that he'd take the bait and fuck you silly.

“Yeah? And what would you want to trade for that, huh?” He growled, wondering what game you were playing to be so willing, questioning whether this really was just a trick.

“One of your blankets,” you purred, running your tongue up the underside of his cock and feeling the piercings roll against it. “I want one that smells like you”

“Why are you so obsessed with me?” Heat replied, genuinely taken aback by your answer. He'd never known a woman to want him that bad, let alone just want something that smelt like him. It was making him feel sparks of something unfamiliar, possessiveness perhaps, fondness definitely.

“Because you're sweet, and you're sexy, you're one of my favourites,” you shrugged, “are you gonna fuck me or not? The stone is hurting my knees and my cunt is fucking dripping”

“Fuck,” Heat huffed, pulling you by your hair to stand and crashing his mouth against yours, groaning as he found you more than willing to return his affections. He walked you backwards until your body was flush with the cell wall, nipping at your bottom lip before he pulled away and spun you to face the wall. You arched your back and stuck your butt out for him, your tits squished against the stone as Heat admired your round ass. He gave it a playful spank, making you whine, before he grabbed handfuls of your ass cheeks and pulled them apart to admire your soaked pussy. “Fuck, you weren't lying, you're really fucking wet”

Unable to resist a taste, he knelt behind you and buried his face in your center, motorboating your cunt, your slick coating his face. He groaned against your pussy as his tongue zeroed in on your clit, making you moan and push back against him. His hands held your ass firmly, squeezing it to keep you in place as he sucked and lapped at your clit, before standing back up, running his tongue over your entrance and asshole as he moved.

“So fucking wet for me, so sweet too,” he groaned, taking his cock in his hand and lining it up with your needy entrance, your hips wiggling as you whined pleadingly. “Hold still, fuck,” you only managed to still for a moment before he pressed in, bullying his tip inside you and stretching your underprepared cunt wide. “Ah fuck, so tight,” he grunted as he slid inside you, bringing one hand to your mouth to clamp over it and muffle your sounds as you began to scream at the stretch.

His fingers slid into your mouth and you sucked them greedily, moaning around them as he bottomed out inside you. “Good girl, fuck, good little slut,” he groaned, giving you only a moment to adjust before he was dragging back out again, leaving only his tip inside you as he slammed back in. His fingers left your mouth so he could hold your hips firmly, fucking you hard and fast with the intention of making you both cum quickly before anyone caught you in the act, his cock heavy against your g-spot and stimulating it deliciously with every hard thrust he made. Your palms were flat against the wall, holding you steady as your body took the brunt of each impact, breasts grazing on the stone wall and drool transfering to the cool surface as Heat fucked you mercilessly.

He pulled you a little away from the wall, your tits now bouncing with every thrust as they hung freely until Heat reached underneath you and grabbed them, pulling you up and holding you with your back flush to his chest, one hand groping your tits still while the other wrapped around your throat, slowly travelling upwards till his fingers were buried in your mouth again, muffling your moans against the wet slapping of his body against yours. His teeth grazed your neck, wishing he could sink his fangs into you as they grew in his mouth, canines extending unbeknownst to you and running over your skin, knowing if he made a mark he would be caught. He was having trouble keeping in control of himself as you sucked on his fingers and your pussy fluttered around his cock, gummy walls clamping down around him as your eyes rolled back and you came on his cock without warning. A creamy ring formed around his base as he kept fucking you hard, chasing his own high now and trying to figure out where would be appropriate to cum.

“Get on your knees again,” he ordered, pulling his fingers from your mouth and withdrawing his throbbing cock from your cunt. You dropped to your knees willingly, opening your mouth invitingly for him with your tongue stuck out. He considered just jerking himself off over your face, painting your pretty fucked out expression with his cum, but worried about your inability to clean yourself off down here, so instead he shoved his cock down your throat, holding your hair with both hands as he began to use you rougher than he intended. You moaned around him at the surprising treatment, eyes streaming with unintentional tears as his cock gagged you with every hard thrust, until he finally stilled with his shaft balls deep in your mouth and you felt the hot cum pouring down your throat, his hands pulling your hair while he grunted. You shivered at the feeling, almost cumming again from it, playing with your oversensitive clit as he unloaded in your mouth. He pulled away slowly, the last drops of cum spilling against your tongue as you licked the tip. He slapped your cheek with his softening cock, giving you an appreciative grin as he slid his finger into your still open mouth and played with your tongue.

“I hope Kid decides not to kill you,” he mused as he helped you to your feet, pinning you against the wall again, his hand running up your thigh and hip till it came to rest at your waist. “Would be a real shame to waste a good set of holes like that”

“Tell him to come try me himself, maybe that'll convince him,” you suggested, “unless you wanna keep me all to yourself”

“Mm, tempting,” he mused, running a thumb over your bottom lip, “I don't mind sharing though, besides, I doubt I could keep you to myself even if I wanted to if one of the others decided they wanted a turn. Maybe we'll make you our ship whore”

“I'm not opposed to that,” you purred. Heat made a huff and started stepping away.

“Fuck, you really are a Kid Pirate fan huh?” He laughed, “I'll get you your blanket, but be a good girl and behave yourself until I can convince Kid to let you go”

“I'll be on my best, naughtiest behaviour,” you winked, shivering a little now that you didn't have his warm body to keep you heated. He frowned as he watched you shiver, realising how much you really did need the blanket.

“I'll find you some clothes too,” he said softly before turning to leave, disappearing before you even had a chance to respond.

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[shurikensgang]

(For Valentine's Day)

"Aaaand, done," Ai said, holding an applicator and bottle of silicone tint.

Cassidy sighed. "Finally. I can't believe I let you talk me into wearing this."

Ai smirked and smugly said, "Iiiiiiiiii didn't have to do anything. You were happy to let me doll you up for Shuriken."

Cassidy's artificial blush was covered by a real one.

"I-I was most certainly not."

Ai's smirk only grew. "Suuure you weren't. You didn't fight me at all this time. Heheheh, if anything, it threw me off just how cooperative you were. I think I saw you smile as I did your wings." She giggled.

Cassidy grumbled before looking at herself in her bedroom's full body mirror, which Ai had begged her to get, even paying for part of it.

She was in her grey sleeveless dress, her legs in their heels transformation. Along with the usual brushing, her hair had been styled, the long black locks now just a bit wavy. Her visor displayed both of her red eyelights, each with a wing that was a tad bit more intricate and fancier than the usual ones Ai would draw, and her cheeks displayed a faded blush effect. Finally, her lips had been stained with a crimson silicone tint.

"I still feel like the red tint is a bit much," she said.

"Hey, T and Harlow both agreed with me on it being a good choice. And besides, this is a particularly romantic day, so if you're ever gonna get some use out of it, it makes sense to use it now."

"Whatever you say." She smiled at her younger sister. "Now are you done 'dolling me up' so I can leave?"

"Why do I feel like I should be offended in some way?" Ai shook it off. "Yeah, I'm done. I'd love to do more, but I can't hold you up."

"Thank you. I'm pretty sure Harlow left half an hour ago."

Ai stopped her sister. "Wait. Don't forget your purse."

A heavy sigh came from the older sister. She walked back to her desk and grabbed the purse sitting next to the sleeping Kobi's enclosure.

"I hope you have a great time, Cassie. Remember to give them to him."

"Yeah, yeah. Have fun at the festival."

The two sisters left the apartment and smiled at each other before heading their separate ways. Ai back to Door 1 to wait for Spectre to pick her up, and Cassidy to the gymnasium, where her first proper event in her new home was being held.

It was held in the gym. The lights were dimmed low and a bunch of drones were already there. The stage was dark, but it seemed to be getting prepped for something.

Cassidy would see the group hanging out at the now drinkable punch bowl.

Harlow was laughing with Brianna, who was wearing a nice light orange mini dress. Her hair was down and her eyes had wings on them. Abbey, who was wearing a strawberry coloured knee length dress was talking with Shuriken, who was wearing a grey tuxedo with a black tie. His hair was let down, with no beanie covering it.

Jonah was chatting with Maryam. He was wearing a maroon red tux with a navy tie, while Maryam was wearing a dark green tux-dress combo.

Brianna noticed Cassidy and smiled, beckoning her over.