#Weak airflow

[maryoma00]

HVAC Repair: The Ultimate Guide to Keeping Your System Running Efficiently

Heating, ventilation, and air conditioning (HVAC) systems are essential for maintaining indoor comfort in homes and commercial spaces. A properly functioning HVAC system regulates temperature, improves air quality, and ensures energy efficiency. However, like any mechanical system, HVAC units can develop issues over time.

Timely HVAC repairs are crucial to preventing costly breakdowns and extending the system’s lifespan. Ignoring minor issues can lead to major failures, skyrocketing energy bills, and even health hazards due to poor air quality. In this guide, we’ll explore common HVAC problems, troubleshooting tips, professional repair costs, and maintenance best practices.

2. Understanding HVAC Systems

Components of an HVAC System

An HVAC system comprises several key components that work together to regulate indoor temperature and air quality:

Thermostat: Controls the temperature settings and signals the system to heat or cool as needed.

Furnace: Heats the air during cold seasons.

Air Conditioner: Cools and dehumidifies the air.

Ductwork: Channels heated or cooled air throughout the building.

Vents and Registers: Distribute air evenly across rooms.

Air Filters: Remove dust, pollen, and other contaminants from the air.

How HVAC Systems Work

An HVAC system operates by cycling air through heating and cooling components before distributing it through ductwork and vents. The thermostat acts as the control center, signaling the system when adjustments are needed. Proper maintenance ensures smooth operation, but wear and tear over time can lead to malfunctions.

3. Signs Your HVAC System Needs Repair

Knowing the warning signs of HVAC problems can help you address issues before they become costly. Here are some common indicators:

Unusual Noises

Banging, clanking, or screeching noises can indicate loose or broken components.

Hissing sounds may suggest refrigerant leaks.

Clicking sounds might signal electrical issues.

Weak Airflow

Clogged air filters, duct obstructions, or a failing blower motor can reduce airflow.

Inconsistent airflow between rooms could indicate ductwork problems.

Strange Odors

Musty smells suggest mold or mildew in ducts.

Burning odors may indicate an overheating component or electrical issues.

Inconsistent Temperatures

If some rooms are too hot while others are too cold, the HVAC system may need recalibration.

A failing thermostat or blocked vents can cause temperature imbalances.

4. Common HVAC Problems and Their Causes

Dirty or Clogged Filters

Clogged filters restrict airflow, causing the system to work harder.

Regularly changing filters improves efficiency and air quality.

Thermostat Issues

Incorrect settings or faulty sensors can prevent the system from functioning properly.

Upgrading to a smart thermostat can enhance performance.

Refrigerant Leaks

Low refrigerant levels can cause the AC to blow warm air.

Leaks require professional repair and recharging.

Electrical and Wiring Problems

Faulty wiring can lead to system failures or fire hazards.

Regular inspections help prevent electrical malfunctions.

Frozen Evaporator Coils

Dirty coils or low refrigerant levels can cause ice buildup.

Turning off the unit and allowing it to thaw before calling a technician can prevent further damage.

5. DIY HVAC Troubleshooting Tips

Before calling an HVAC technician, you can perform some basic troubleshooting steps to identify minor issues:

Checking and Replacing Air Filters

Dirty filters are the most common cause of HVAC inefficiency.

Replace filters every 1-3 months for optimal performance.

Inspecting Thermostat Settings

Ensure the thermostat is set to the correct temperature mode.

If the thermostat is battery-operated, replace the batteries.

Cleaning Vents and Ducts

Dust buildup in vents can obstruct airflow.

Vacuum vents and consider professional duct cleaning if airflow remains weak.

Resetting Circuit Breakers

If the HVAC system won’t turn on, check the circuit breaker.

Resetting the breaker may restore power if there’s been an overload.

[arrowheadsuperiorrefrigeration]

In the scorching Arizona heat, a functional air conditioning system isn’t just a luxury; it’s a necessity for comfort. Your AC unit works tirelessly to keep indoor spaces relaxed and comfortable, but like any other machinery, it requires regular maintenance. Understanding the signs indicating when your air conditioning system needs servicing is crucial to prevent unexpected breakdowns.

[cryinggirlnamedhelen]

michael kaiser wanted to be loved.

he wanted unconditional, ethereal, and never ending love. he wanted to always be supported, that no matter what he did, he will always and still be loved. he wanted the constant feeling of being supported no matter what, that he’s a lovable creature, that he isn’t subhuman like his father had once told him.

soccer brought that to kaiser.

with soccer came satisfaction. he would crush his rivals, his enemies, and each time, he felt a little bit more human, a little bit more loved. it got to the point where that feeling of pleasure and accomplishment became addictive for kaiser, and his sole purpose for playing soccer was to crush his opponents and receiving more and more love.

he became so obsessed with the glory that came from soccer that he began neglecting his own health and harming himself whenever things didn’t go his way when it came to soccer. his fingers wrapped tightly around his throat was once an action of his father, although it now carried on to him. bruises on his body was something that carried on from his childhood to his adult life, even though he had managed to escape his father when he was 15 after having been recruited from the prison.

whenever he lost a soccer match, he would go back to his room and cut off his airflow with his tattooed hand pressing right above the base of his neck as he struggled for oxygen, coughs constantly escaping him. it was only natural; after all, he lost a soccer match. he lost a bit of his humanity and love. he was just becoming subhuman again.

kaiser became so obsessed with soccer that he didn’t even realize that someone who loved him unconditionally was right there, right in front of him this whole time, and yet he was so caught up in his own life that he never even realized.

you and kaiser were childhood best friends. he was your mihya, not michael, no kaiser. he was small, weak, and couldn’t stand up to his father. he didn’t know how to speak to people in a kind manner. he bled when he fell on concrete, and yet he never cried. his face was always covered in grime and dried blood, his body was always littered in bruises, and yet he never cried in front of you. it took months after meeting you for him to finally even smile in front of you.

the first time kaiser ever cried in front of you was when you had gotten him a gift for his birthday.

kaiser never knew how to react to gifts, so he didn’t enjoy receiving them. but it was his eighth birthday, you were obviously going to get your best friend a gift. it was just a simple keychain of a blue rose, a flower you knew he liked. when you handed it to him with a cheerful “happy birthday, mihya!”, tears had sprung to his eyes.

he asked you why you were willing to give him a gift, why you were willing to spend time with him. when you just answered with a worried look and quiet “well, you’re my best friend, of course i would”, kaiser knew that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with you.

maybe that was why his descent into madness and obsession hit you harder than it did kaiser.

you had indeed stuck with him, even now, at nineteen. twelve years after your initial meeting. you’ve had a crush on him for exactly as long as you had both met, spiraling from a small childhood crush to being deeply and hopeless in love and attached to him. and yet you had no idea whether kaiser liked you or not; he was too obsessed with soccer to show any signs.

whenever kaiser lost a match, you knew that he was going to commit to a session of harming himself for at least an hour so again. somehow, you felt more pain that kaiser did when he did so, always outside of his door, banging for him to stop and begging him to not do this to himself every time while tears escaped your eyes. you loved him; you didn’t want the boy you loved to be so willing and constant with hurting himself.

he ignored you every time, occasionally telling you to go away or mind your own business.

you had enough with it one day. you were sick of it, constantly hearing his choked noises from his bedroom every time he lost a match. finally, one day, when kaiser lost a match, he stormed off to his room again. but before he could slam the door shut, you shoved your entire body weight against the door, trying to stop it from shutting.

“what the fuck are you doing?” kaiser hissed, trying to push the door shut. “mind your own business. i’ll be done soon enough.” but no avail; you continued your weak attempts of pushing the door open. kaiser scoffed from the other side. he usually avoided getting mad at you, although it was hard for him to do so in the first place. but now you were starting to piss him off. can’t he offer himself a therapeutic session in peace?

“no! mihya, stop it and just open the door.” you were beginning to get pushed back from the door, before you used your final backup plan and shoved your arm in between the open space left from the door. you yelped from the pain, and kaiser instantly lost all anger at that moment, pulling open the door immediately when he heard your yelp. you stepped into the room stiffly.

“are you retarded? what the fuck do you think you’re doing?” kaiser exclaimed, wide eyed as you clutched your arm, which was beginning to turn into the color of a rotting plum. you turned to glare at him, angry tears springing to your eyes.

“i’ll do this shit every fucking time for as long as you keep doing this to yourself every damn time you lost a match, you idiot.” you replied. you sighed before looking down somberly. “how long are you going to keep doing this to yourself, mihya? you’re obsessed with fame. you’re obsessed with all of this. you’re enjoying ruining the lives of other people for love. mihya, that’s not worth it. that’s not worth your body. that’s not worth your mentality.”

kaiser felt anger bubbling up inside of him again, and before he realized his, his voice raised to a level that he would usually never dare to use with you, although he would be fine using this tone with anyone else. “you don’t fucking understand! your father never called you a subhuman! he never choked you for no reason! your mother never left you! your father never beat you every day no particular reason! your father didn’t require you to steal every fucking day because his fatass can’t move two meters from the couch and his precious beer! soccer makes me feel loved! soccer makes me feel human! soccer is with me!”

for a moment, you stood there silently. you stared at him as he huffed, his breathing shallow from the loud rant. his eyes were sharp, and in that moment, only one thought ran through your head.

this was still your mihya.

he was yelling at you, you knew that. but he has every right to say all of this, to be mad at the world, at you. he has every right to be upset, to be angry. he has every right to rant about his trauma. he has every right to trauma dump. but at the same time, he’s missing a key component here.

“well, would soccer still be with you if you were nobody?! would all of those fans and self-satisfying thoughts still love you if you were no one?!” you shouted. your eyebrows knit together; did he not realize how fabricating this all was? how shallow this all was?

“no one loved me when i was no one!” kaiser hollered back. “no one loved me when i was just some stupid brat who spent most of his time outside of his house wandering on the streets! no one loved me when my father still used to beat me every day like some fucking punching back! no one loved me when i was still just a subhuman!”

and at that moment, a tear leaked from the corner of your eye. shit, this wasn’t even your problem, and yet angry tears were still flowing. your fists clenched, before finally, you screamed. “i loved you were you were no one!” finally, you finally finally finally got it out. kaiser froze, but you kept on going. “i loved you when you still wore dirty clothes every day! i loved you when you didn’t even know how to say a polite word to anyone! i loved you when you were still small and stupid and you!”

your lips quivered, more tears threatening to fall. you wiped your eyes. “before the ‘love’. before the fame. before soccer. and mihya,” you placed a hand on your swelling arm, that was going from rotting plum purple to the blue of kaiser’s eyes. “i still love you. i love you. but if you just can’t accept it and you’ll continue to wallow in that stupid destructive self-pity of yours where you think that no one loves you, then don’t come crawling back to me!”

you turned around to leave the room, your hand on the door knob, until a warm pair of arms wrapped around your waist. your felt tears begin to soak through your shirt from your shoulder, and your eyes widened. he’s crying?

“goddamn it, i don’t know why im fucking crying. i shouldn’t be. but what the fuck…” kaiser whispered into your shoulder. “i—i-“ he gulped, and your could see his hands interlock together as they squeezed the other like a lifeline. “i love you too.”

finally.

you turned around, separating his hands from the other and intertwining your fingers with his. you smiled softly at him, a small sniffle escaping you. “you said it. im so proud of you, mihya.” you knew how much trouble he had saying those words. how hard it was to say something that you had never heard before. “and i love you.”

silently, you got on your tip-toes, your lips almost touching his, before a few quiet words escaped you. “is this okay?”

kaiser huffed quietly. “way to ruin to moment. you’re this far into the process, and now you’re asking? but fuck yes.” you laughed before you softly planted your lips onto his.

the kiss wasn’t rough in the least, but it spoke of years of pent up emotion and unspoken pain. kaiser untangled his fingers from your and cupped your face so strangely gently, which he silently swore in his heart at that moment that he would never hold someone else like this, like the love of his life.

and when kaiser pulled away from the kiss, just a bit out of breath but just right, that’s when he saw it. deep in your eyes, and also in his.

the look of love.

word count: 1.8k (1878)

a/n: i watched shark tale for the first time the other day, and it had NO RIGHT being that good. the angie and oscar argument changed me forever, and it inspired me to make this. i was originally going to make this for isagi before i realized that isagi is AWARE that his parents love him, and that this prompt also matches with kaiser better.

[ravenslvt]

☆ ryomen sukuna x f!reader ☆

cw: college au! smut! rough! degration! drabble

first thing you thought when you saw this man:

‘oh. i wanna fuck him.’

the way he acted like he absolutely hated you, always hiding a smirk when he caught you staring at him. his arms, his face, his muscles, his fucking tattoos.

“jesus. stop staring at him like that.” megumi would groan at the sight of you oogling the man. you’d blink up at him. “i don’t know what you’re talking about.”

your mind went crazy at night thinking about him. picturing him relentlessly pounding into you until you’re crying. a strong hand around your little throat.

don’t get started on his voice. the way he’d casually degrade you made your legs quiver.

“what the fuck are you looking at?”

the way you’d go over to him and yuji’s shared apartment just to hear him go “why the fuck is this bitch here?”

oh you loved it. and he knew it too.

that’s why when you stayed on yuji’s couch after a night of drinking, you casually thumbed at your phone, sending drunken misspelled texts to your friends.

‘hed so ficking hot giys’

‘seroudly i bet his duck is huuuuge’

your insistent typing got interrupted by a sudden groan behind you.

“why the fuck are you here?” sukuna stood behind the couch, looking over your shoulder. you quickly shut your phone off, turning to him.

your eyes almost popped out of your head at the sight of his shirtless chest.

you hadn’t even changed out of your bar clothes yet, still in a short little skirt and a low cut top. you don’t miss the way his eyes drop to your attire.

“dressed like a slut too. are you begging to be fucked or something?” he scoffs, crossing his arms over his chest. your cheeks heat, looking away from him.

“no… just didn’t bring extra clothes” your thighs clench together to calm the heat from down there.

he hums, walking to the fridge for some water.

“and i’m not a slut!” you work up the courage stand, to practically yell at him, despite how weak your voice sounded. this makes him turn around.

“really? you sure look the part.” he chuckles.

“fuck you.” you spit out at him, making him smirk.

“you’d love that, wouldn’t you?” he quirks his head, eyes raking over your now standing form. the way your skirt hiked up just above your thighs.

okay, you were fucked.

“fuck! s’too much.” you mewl into the cushion of the couch, sukuna’s big veiny cock pounding into your tight little cunt. his hands gripping tightly at your hips, his pelvis meeting your ass with a loud clap at every thrust.

“you wanted this, didn’t you?” he laughs at your cries, his tip kissing your cervix every time he enters you, fucking you from behind.

he leans closer to your ear, his consistent deep trusts along with your moans were the only thing that filled the silence of the living room.

“runnin’ that fucking mouth and can’t even take dick.” he growls, grabbing your wrists and pulling you back to bring your bare back against his chest. you were covered in a thin layer of sweat, panting, all while he still had his full stamina, fucking into you ruthlessly.

you were embarrassed by the sheer wetness of your cunt, how the squelching noises proved how insanely bad you wanted him.

you whine when he lets go of your wrists, bringing his free hand to your throat, pressing you against him. using his other arm to wrap around your middle to hold you in place while he pumps into you.

“s’kuna!” you cry out, tits bouncing with every thrust. it was borderline painful the pace he was fucking you, but you loved it. you craved it. you spent countless nights fucking your little fingers imagining it was him.

“your pussy’s suckin’ me in like a fuckin' slut. thought you said you weren’t one? guess you’re a liar too.” he chuckles, hand tightening around your neck, partially cutting off your airflow. your hands go to reach behind you to tug at his hair, but he stops you.

“don’t fucking touch me.” he seethes, your cunt uncontrollably squeezing around him from the degration, making him groan and roll his head back.

“fuckk, you like that don’t you? so pathetic. suckin’ me in so well, though.” he grunts out between each thrust. you were so close, and he could sense it.

“g’nna cum.” you whine, hands gripping the edge of the couch.

“no, you’re fucking not.” he lets go of you, your upper body falling back onto the cushion below. you let out an exasperated scream when he suddenly pulls out of you completely. you crane your head back as far as you could to look back at him. he just has a smug ass smirk on his face.

“want you to beg for it.”

your mouth falls agape for a moment, but immediately closes.

“p-please, wanna cum so bad!” you try grinding back into him, but he holds you steady.

“surely you can do better than that, baby” his hand comes down to place a firm smack on your ass, making your eyes squint closed for a moment. you huff, pouting up at him.

“need your cock so badly, sukuna! p-please let me cum i need it!” you pathetically plead. you could feel the way you clenched around absolutely nothing, missing the presence of him inside of you.

“that’s more like it.” he quickly presses the fat head of his cock to your entrance, slowly easing in, stretching you out all over again.

“my own personal slut" he groans, feeling you clench around him.

his pace is even more brutal than before, his dick easily finding your sweet spot and hitting it over and over until you were practically drooling on the couch. his eyes glued to where you two meet, a ring of white around his cock.

your nails dig into the cushions below you, heat pooling in your lower abdomen. you were probably tearing the poor fabric apart at this point.

his fingers grip at your hips, pushing you up and down his cock. you were sure he was holding you so tight there will be bruises the next day.

suddenly his pace gets faster and sloppier, his cock pulsing inside of you. you bite your lip to prevent yourself from screaming out, feeling blood bloom from where your teeth meet your lip.

“gonna let me cum inside? be my little fuck toy i can do anything i please with?” he pants out, groaning at the way you clench around him.

“yes! yes, please do! o-oh my god!” your vision goes hazy as you cum around him, milking his cock fully as he follows suit, pumping his cum deep inside your weeping cunt.

you were pretty sure you blacked out for a second.

you collapse on your shaky arms, trying to move away from his unending thrusts. he pulls you back with a growl.

“the fuck are you going? we’re not done.” he starts back up again.

masterlist

[slvthrs]

thinkin of god complex!dick grayson...

"Doing so fucking good" He mutters as he shoves your face into the pillows as he angles himself for your pretty cunt to take all of him.

"Mhm dick more" You babble, your mind too stupid to form coherent thoughts.

"Yeah princess? Want more?" He punctuates his words with a harder thrust, "Mhm fuckin take it"

His giant biceps wrap around your neck, putting you in a chokehold. He squeezes his arms, cutting of airflow.

The sounds of your skin slapping together and your moans echo around the apartment.

"Please dickie feels too good" You cry out, your words going straight to his dick.

He chuckles on top of you, "Thats not my name pretty girl"

Usually you would mutter out a 'Sir' or 'Daddy' maybe a 'Nightwing' to get him to ruin you. However your mind is mush, he feels to good, and he damn well looks like a god.

"My god" You whine, not actually meaning to call him that.

His hips slow for a second as he processes what you just said before railing into you, thrashing the headboard, "Yeah your fucking God huh?"

His voice is mean, his pace meaner.

You never thought he could feel this damn good. You let out an animalistic cry, urging him pull his arms away from your neck, instead to strike down on your ass.

"C'mon baby, you gonna deny your god huh?" He teases, his words ironic as the black hair sticking to his hair and wild smirk on his lips makes him look devilish.

Not that you can see it.

"No no oh God!" You whine, your toes curling up as his hands come to grip your hips, nails digging into your pretty skin.

"Yeah scream my fucking name, come 'round me, be a good little devotee" He groans at feeling of you clenching around his cock.

Your fists clench into the bedsheet, your eyes water up as you come head first with your high.

Your body shudders, eyes rolling back as your body comes back down to earth.

But before you can acclimate, his pace quickens again, thrusting into you.

"No I can't-" But your voice is cut off with his voice.

"You can and you fucking will... isn't that right my little disciple" He groans into your neck, holding your wrists as he drapes himself over your body.

In your weak state you mumble out a weak, "Yes"

"That's my good girl," He whispers, "Fucking worship me."

[awrkive]

angst + 14 + with jk make it HURT miss dee i trust you with my life 🙏🏻

14.  "If you walk way from me, I don't want you coming back."

note: im genuinely so annoyed i cant keep my words bcs this drabble is 2.5k words but i promise the next ones are gonna be under 1k 😭

Two lines. 

The first one is clear as day, and you’ve tried so hard to blind yourself from the other one that’s just barely there – barely because it’s faint but you’re not stupid and you know it is there. That it exists. That it’s crystal clear there are two. Fucking. Lines on the damned test.

Two lines. 

It’s funny how a single plastic stick can ruin your life in a matter of minutes. 

Your mother didn’t lie at all when she said that you’d know these things. That you will feel it when it’s there. A month ago you didn’t get your period and while you could have an irregular cycle sometimes, you had a bad feeling about this particular one; the fatigue didn’t feel usual, your hips and breasts are growing and it didn’t make sense. You hated key lime pie for most of your life but recently you feel like you could eat it for the rest of your days. 

That was not fucking normal. 

And when you vomited again this morning after waking up, you decided to take a test.

It was past 7pm when you got home from the drugstore, and thirty minutes had passed since then when you found out the result. There are three sticks in the strewn paper bag all over the sink – all of which shows you the same thing. 

Two damn lines. 

You’re pregnant and you don’t know what to feel about it. 

But who are you lying to? You know exactly what you feel about it. You feel like utter shit. Absolute fucking shit and there’s a lodge in your throat that breaks into a sob when it finally dawns on you that holy fuck you’re fucking pregnant. There’s a baby growing in your womb and you can barely feed yourself waiting tables at a shitty restaurant downtown. 

You cry.

Your shoulders shake as you sob silently in the lavatory of your tiny bathroom, the chipped edge of the mirror and the broken faucet reminding you once again that you are not ready for this. You’re only 23. You’re barely making ends meet. The gap year you took off school that was only supposed to be one year stretched into two because of financial issues and now… this? A kid? What would you do with a child? You aren’t ready. You just aren’t ready. 

This was not supposed to happen. 

You think that over again. This was not supposed to happen. It repeats in your head over and over again like a broken record until you break into yet again another sob.

You dig your fingers in the porcelain sink, let your body fall low as you cry until your throat hurt. Tears flowed until you felt numb inside. You wept until your body trembled, weak and unsteady, struggling to throw the sticks into the trash, wrapped as carefully as you could manage in your fragile state, afraid Jungkook might find them. 

He comes home in two hours. 

And for those two hours, you lie on the couch with tear-stained cheeks, thinking about what he would say; how he would react. 

You wish you live in the timeline where this news could be good rather than bad. Wish this could’ve brought you to tears of joy instead of… this hollow ache in your chest trapping your airflow you could barely breathe. 

But that timeline is non-existent. You’re living in the now. You’re a twenty-three-year-old woman living with your twenty-five-year-old boyfriend – and while both of you have jobs to sustain yourself in a rundown, shitty, sketchy apartment, having a kid is not ideal. It’s not in the picture. It never fit in the picture – not at all. You’ve never discussed this and you were mostly certain Jungkook would not receive this news with open arms and a wide grin. 

The thought brought you to tears again until you fell asleep. 

——— 

“Babe?”

Jungkook feels like a kid on Christmas day. He feels a bout of energy, and he wants nothing but to unleash it on you – and there are fun ways he can unleash it on you, alright – things that you both will enjoy on this cold January night. 

He can’t help it. His grin only grows wider when he steps into the threshold of your house and the waft of home fills his nostrils. This part of town is shitty but you’ve done your best to make your apartment smell good. It’s that citrus… lavender… whatever the fuck candle you buy, Jungkook thinks.

Hah. He should’ve bought you one or two, huh? You fucking love those scented candles. You hoard the hell out of them even though they could be expensive. It’s worth it though… and with the bonus he’s holding in his wallet, why not? 

The thought only makes him smile even more. 

You’d love the news. You’d light up in that usual way you do when Jungkook does something remotely good. Anything that means he’s straying away from the destructive life he’s always led before he took your relationship seriously – you love it. And Jungkook admits he loves it, too. Loves doing good for you. Loves when he makes you happy. 

He doesn’t believe in changing for other people because fuck that, this is his own life and he does whatever he wants with it – but you’re a part of it now, a great part, and Jungkook will be damned if he loses you. He certainly did before – and for all the dumb decisions he’s made in his twenty five years, that one was the worst. 

“Baby?” he calls again when you give no answer. He’s sure you’re home by now, though, and so he crosses the distance to the threshold and living area, finding you in the couch cocooned like a burrito.

Chuckling, he steps closer and lets the cushion dip in his weight when he sits on it. You’d give him an earful if you see him letting his outside clothes touch your sheets but right now all he gives a fuck about is you hearing the news about his promotion at work. Granted, it’s not “promotion” per say, it’s just that he’s going up from being an apprentice to an actual tattoo artist at the shop. He can finally quit that job at that shit-paying convenience store and can focus fully on the shop which he actually likes doing. And he can finally get a more formal pay as well. It’s all for you. 

When Jungkook rolls you to his side, he swiped away the hair that’s gotten all over your face. You stirred, but when you wake up, Jungkook frowns. 

“What the fuck happened?” 

Your eyes are puffy and red. Swollen. You look tired, drawn, exhausted. And Jungkook couldn’t have mistaken the tear stains on your cheeks for anything other than you've been crying.

“H-huh?” You say, obviously still not fully conscious.

“Were you crying?” Jungkook asks, concern growing heavy. He tries to think if you texted him today about something – but other than your usual texts of I love yous and I miss yous, there was nothing. So what could you have been possibly crying about? 

It seems like you’ve snapped the haze of sleep off your mind because you quickly turn away from his touch, untangling yourself from the sheets and sitting upright. 

“Nothing.” 

Jungkook’s brows crease even more. 

“What?” 

“I said nothing!” You snapped, which surprised the both of you. Jungkook doesn’t have a clue what the fuck is going on – but then you turn around to look at him and you look so fragile and scared shitless and sad and broken that it just sends him into utter confusion when you stutter, “I’m– I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that.” 

“Yeah, I know,” Jungkook says, a bit irritated now because he doesn’t like it when you skirt around what you feel. “What happened?” 

He tries to ignore the fact that when he lifts his hand to put it on your thigh, you flinch and your muscles grow tense. As if you don’t want his touch. 

“I was… I was watching a movie.” you say, lips tilting into a small smile Jungkook knows is fake. 

Now he’s just perplexed. What the fuck is all this about? You’re flinching at his touch and you can’t even look him in the eye as you fake a smile at him. 

He peels his hand away from you and stands up from the couch.

“Yeah?” He knows he has a temper. And it definitely shows when he continues to saracastically add, “Pretty fucking dramatic movie, huh?” 

You stay quiet but you definitely have a physical reaction to his sharp tone.

Every single second that passes and you still don’t utter a single word, Jungkook begins to feel like this air is growing into tension. 

And his defense mechanism gets the best of him. 

“Alright, lay it on me,” he says with a leveled tone, staring at you coldly. “Are you breaking up with me?” 

Jungkook thinks that must be it. There’s no way there’s another reason why you’re acting like this; looking at him in that solemn way. 

Two years. Two years of trying to fix him and you’ve finally reached the rim of your dam. You finally realized he’s not worth your time, that you could have so much better, be with better men, have a better life with them than whatever the fuck you have and will ever have with him. 

Jungkook’s always been aware of that. It’s not even self-deprecation, it’s just facts. 

But fuck if it didn’t hurt to confront it this way. 

“I’m pregnant.” 

Two words. 

Two words and it’s enough to make Jungkook’s head spin. 

“What?” He asks again, because there’s no way you just said that. 

“I’m pregnant.” you repeat again, this time louder. Jungkook sees you inhaling a sharp breath, and it’s clear to him when your eyes begin to tear up. “I’m pregnant, Jungkook.” 

His mouth closes and opens like a fish in a tank. He goes from confused then disbelief then just… nothing. 

“You’re… you’re pregnant.”

You obviously take his tone as something different, and Jungkook can’t blame you when you snap once again. “When you put your dick in me without a condom, that’s what usually happens, so yes, I am pregnant with your child, Jungkook.” 

“You let me put my dick in you without a fucking condom,” Jungkook retorts, looking at you incredulously. “What the fuck, __? What– what happened with– are you not taking your pills?” 

“Fuck you!” You roar, venomous and mostly hurt. 

Jungkook knows you’re feeling more like the latter. 

He knows that, and yet, he decides to press more. 

“What did you fucking expect, babe? That I was gonna smile and laugh and carry and spin you around this fucking– this fucking tiny apartment?” Jungkook gestures around wildly, and he hates that when he looks at your face it's now contorted into tormented pain. Your shoulders shake as you sob silently. But his head is on a haywire and he feels like he can’t think straight. You. A baby. You two. A family. He runs a hand along his face. “We’re barely making ends meet. You wait tables while I only rely on commissions from my apprenticeship at the shop and earn shit at that convenience store five blocks away. We can barely afford the fucking AC and – and now you’re telling me you’re pregnant? What the fuck do we do with a fucking child, __?” 

“I don’t know!” You say exasperatedly, abruptly standing up from the couch. You sniff as you rub away at your eyes – red from all the crying you must have done and been doing. 

“So why the hell would you get mad at me for reacting this way?” Jungkook answers, because frankly, he doesn’t understand. And then he says the next words he thinks of, “Are you keeping it?” 

He regrets it the moment it comes out of his mouth. 

You usually look at him with so much adoration in your eyes – so genuine and loving that Jungkook gets confused sometimes – but now you look at him with nothing but pure distaste. Hatred. And even he was taken aback. 

“I don’t know. I don’t know what the fuck the answer to that horrible question is. But whatever the hell I do, you decide if you want to be part of it or not – and with the way you’re acting right now, I’m assuming you want out,” you say, voice firm and full. Gone was the fragility, all Jungkook could see was a stone-cold person in front of him who didn’t give a fuck about whether or not he stays in her life. And your next words further prove that. “But there’s something I want you to know and make sure you remember this: if you walk away from me, right now, I don’t want you coming back. Ever. And I mean that. I mean that, Jungkook.” 

Jungkook stands glued there in the middle of the living space, heart squeezed to fuck and his lungs tightening as he processes your words. 

He follows your figure as you disappear in your bedroom, feeling like the room is suddenly spinning when you leave.

Jungkook lets himself fall on the sofa and for the first time in what felt like years, he cries. 

[darkronicles]

TWICE’s Sana x Male Reader. 581 words.

“Can you stay quiet while I take this call?”

With an arched brow, you retort, “Can you?”

Sana rolls her eyes with a scoff before swiping on her phone screen and bringing the room back to silence. She clears her throat, masquerading her rendezvous with a viscous and steady tone. “This is Sana. How may I help you?”

She bats her lashes with a smile as she looks over your head during the call. Her manicured nails gently rake over your scalp, tousled strands of your hair threaded between her dainty fingers while your mouth returns to where she needs you most: between her slick-coated thighs.

While she speaks professionally to a representative of one of the many companies that she’s the face for, she sits on your couch—half-naked and donning one of your tees—with her legs propped over your shoulders. She sinks so comfortably into the cushions as this has become a frequent occurrence since her individual brand had skyrocketed, bringing her more stress that she needs to relieve. 

And you will always be on your knees for her.

”I am indeed booked for Friday.”

You swipe your tongue up her slit and round around her sensitive clit. With your thumbs parting her folds, you nestle closer, bringing her clit into your mouth as you peer up at her. She meets your eyes, her grip steadily wringing tighter on your hair as you suck and lap. Though her face is blank, her body’s reaction to your touch discredits her composure.

”O-Of course.”

A subtle sign of her faltering. You seize the opportunity to chip at her facade a little more. Wrapping your arms around her hips, you bury your face deeper between her legs, risking pleasurable asphyxiation by her dripping wetness and brute strength. You search for her weak spot, scoping around her pulsing clit with your tongue until her breath hitches. She reprimands you with silence and a tug on your roots, but you tolerate the sharpness of her grip. You maintain your pace, lapping and sucking and tugging her clit between your teeth while you feel the tension build in her thighs.

That threatens your airflow, but you persevere. After all, not many can say that they made Minatozaki Sana come.

And she will come hard.

”Yes, of course thank you bye-” Her words rush out in a steady stream before she ends the call and tosses her phone aside.

Your fingers easily slide inside her, courtesy of her ample wetness, and she swiftly comes undone. You grunt as her nails graze your scalp. You fight to stay above water as her thighs squeeze your head, leaving you no room to escape.

Not that you want to.

”God, you’re so good, darling,” she whines, throwing her head back. 

Her free hand darts overhead to grab the back of the couch. The lewd view stirs a raging boner in your joggers. Sana is inexplicably gorgeous, but even more so when she’s in shambles in the palm of your hands. Ecstasy coats her in a sheen of sweat, her pretty pussy soaking your digits and couch cushion as she rides out her high. Knowing just how to touch her and get her prepped swells your ego, particularly when your name slips from her kiss-swollen lips.

Sana isn’t down for long. Once you rise up from your knees, she springs up and pins you down on your back.

It will soon be you who will be begging and pulling her hair.

[contamination-zone]

Hiding Spot [chaptor 2]

[UTMV FIC] Contains: platonic Fresh & Nightmare, cuddling, possessive Nightmare, Fresh eating someone :-] [~2,000 words]

“I suppose, since you are looking so…” “Deserving?” “Pitiful,” Nightmare finished. The tone he said it in was warm, like he was talking about a rare bird or beautiful sight he’d seen. “I can see if I have anything for you.”

Fic under cut! or on AO3 [here's chaptor 1, on ao3, or tumblr]

Fresh woke with a startle, the feeling of air against its ankle sending warning signals through its head. It was exposed.

A sleepy catalogue of its surroundings calmed it, marginally. It was warm, and damp, but to the levels it usually liked it. The air smelled like Nightmare’s magic, heady and too sweet to be appetising. The scent was intense, too, but maybe that was because it had slept in it for a night. Must have been in the guardian of negativity’s castle… not the best, but not the worst.

The airflow that had woken it up was just its ankle sticking out of where it had hidden, something it easily remedied. It snuggled into the warm crevice with a contented click, now fully concealed.

It would need to find Nightmare later, see if he’d noticed it was in his territory, perhaps see if he had anything for it to eat. The guardian was always happy to treat it, for a price.

The shifting of its sleeping spot put all those thoughts on hold, however. 

“Done cuddling, pet?” Smooth, cold, holding the barest hint of amusement.

“Nightmare?” Flinching back, the movement only made it get tangled in what it had finally noticed to be Nightmare’s tentacles.

The previous night filters back to it in an instant. The hunger, the scuffle, creeping into Nightmare’s room for the night. It could feel its cheeks heat with embarrassment. The moments had been tinged with the desire for peace and a comfortable place to sleep, but now, in the morning, the actions felt different.

The guardian pulled it closer, pressing its face to his chest and winding tighter around it: the feeling was akin to wedging oneself between the knots of a tree. His single cyan eye rolled, “calm down.” 

Fresh didn’t really feel like ‘calming down,’ but the artificial hide Nightmare’s tentacles were making made that near impossible. The darkness of the room sealed its fate. If it could go back in time, it would make sure the stupid octopus never learned that trick. As it was, the weakness just stung.

“Just a bit surprised bro,” Fresh mumbled, losing steam and relaxing, slightly, into his hold. “Not everyday a dude wakes up to your unique mug.”

Nightmare hummed an acknowledgement, petting along its spine like Fresh was a very large lapcat. “If either one of us has the privilege to feel ‘surprised,’ it is I.”

It arched slightly, trying to be discreet to keep its cool, stoic air. “Nuh-uh dude.”

He gave it a flat look. It stuck its tongue out.

Nightmare signed, like air through a dead tree, “and here I was, about to ask if you wanted something to eat…”

Fresh squeaked, backtracking immediately. “Wouh, no need to be hasty bro!”

Nightmare hummed, looking unconvinced. There was a spark of amusement in his eyes though, slimy.

It huffed, knowing how he wanted it to act. “Really cramping my style.”

No answer.

Sighing, large and dramatic, it nuzzled a little against his chest and let itself fully relax into his hold. The final step, it looked up at Nightmare with the most pathetic look it could manage.

That got it a reaction: Nightmare smiling. It looked mean.

His hands reached gently around its mandibles, curling under its jaw. The tips of his claws tickled its vertebrae, the hold possessive. It did not pull back, even as its instincts rankled at something so threatening near its neck.

“I suppose, since you are looking so…”

“Deserving?”

“Pitiful,” Nightmare finished. The tone he said it in was warm, like he was talking about a rare bird or beautiful sight he’d seen. “I can see if I have anything for you.”

It let out a pleased churr at that, giving a genuine nuzzle into his hold. It always knew how to get what it wanted.

Nightmare seemed similarly pleased with its actions, if only for a moment. He shifted slowly, gently releasing it and pushing it off his lap.

Fresh let itself be manhandled once more, languidly stretching on Nightmare’s bed and making itself comfortable. If it could say anything about the king of negativity, it was that he did not skimp out on the bedsheet budget. Maybe it could find more excuses to nap here in the future…

Movement pulled it out of its musings, Nightmare standing. The guardian looked much too good to have just woken up.  Perhaps that was the perks of being the main villain; he always looked put together and sly.

It was unfair in Fresh’s opinion, but it pushed any jealousy aside. It had already deduced long ago that any of the things interested in it hadn’t become fans due to its appearance. It would have no use for looking pretty.

“You wait here,” Nightmare commanded with a careless wave of his hand, “if I see you elsewhere upon my return, consider your meal forfeit.”

“Aye-aye bossman. I’ll just vibe in your crib till you get back.”

It was a pursuit hunter at heart, always enjoying tiring out its prey and falling upon them once they tired, but sometimes that wasn’t in the cards. Ambushes were just as effective, if more boring. It had spent many a night camped out in snowdrifts waiting for prey to stumble close.

Compared to that, lounging around on Nightmare’s lavish bed waiting for food to be delivered to it was downright heavenly. And the only price it had to pay being that it had to thoroughly scare its prey as it devoured it? It could be convinced it was dreaming if it hadn’t known Nightmare couldn’t appear in such things.

The lavish bed made a perfect nest, and the only thing keeping it from drifting off was how high it was raised, leaving it feeling too exposed without Nightmare. 

It never got the monster and human obsession with lifting your bedding off the ground. If it had its way, Nightmare would have furnished under his bed with as many soft pillows and blankets as the top. A perfect little hide for it.

It had fallen a comfortable doze when Nightmare returned. 

“Pet,” Nightmare cooed as it sleepily blinked at him, “I’ve brought you breakfast.”

‘Breakfest,’ yelped at that, squirming hard against Nightmare’s restraints. It was no use against the king of negativity. Anything they were trying to say remained muffled by a tentacle gagging them.

Fresh eyed up the presented skeleton; scars and sharpened teeth implied fell, or something close, and the size pointed towards a sans. Not as plump as they usually were, it noted with disappointment; it guesses Nightmare didn’t feed his prisoners much. 

It was a bit too hungry to be all that put out by their state. Food was food, afterall, and Fresh did like skeletons. 

The constant squirming in Nightmare’s hold was making it hard not to pounce at them right away, but it didn’t want to seem too desperate. Nightmare had enough leverage, it couldn’t be hasty, no matter how hungry it was.

The guardian lifted it a bit higher and shook it around a little, like one would to entice a cat with a bag of treats. Embarrassingly, it almost worked.

It had resolve, standards, and knew if it gave Nightmare an inch he’d take a mile. It couldn’t show weakness. So, Fresh made no move to get off the bed, instead doing grabby hands towards him. 

“You can leave the bed Now, stop being a pest.” Nightmare huffed, growing impatient.

“C’mon man, I’m comfy. Plus, breakfast in bed sounds like the thing to beat. You getting me?”

“I will not have you sullying my bedsheets with blood.” The captive skeleton seemed a bit faint at that. “On the floor with you.” Like a dog.

Fresh whined, “I can be clean! Squeaky clean.” It wasn’t some beast for Nightmare to tame.

He made a disbelieving huff.

Fresh stuck his tongue out, crossing his arms. Acting the part of petulant brat was an easy way to piss the king of negativity off, but it knew it was also a fast-track to getting him to give up. Dealing like Fresh likes this was way more than it was worth.

While Nightmare was stronger than it, Fresh still held more bargaining power. It could leave whenever it wanted, could find food elsewhere. Nightmare knew this.

“Fine. If you dirty my sheets you’re the one who’s going to clean them.” He tossed the skeleton onto the bed.

The poor thing didn’t have even a moment to beg for its life before Fresh was on it. There was no mist, no cloud of magic; Nightmare liked to watch.

“Wait! Wait-wait wait wai-“

It pried their eye-socket open, fingers curling under the orbitals. They struggled under it, and even if both were hungry, nearly starved, Fresh still had the advantage of size and a good night’s sleep. They didn’t stand a chance.

“Ple-please-“

They were eye to eye, nose-bridges nearly touching. Begging turned to a choked off whimper, then one last panicked gurgle before it had gotten all the way inside. It tried to be quick, the feeling of air against its soft body sickeningly panic inducing. That probably didn’t help the skeleton’s peace of mind though.

It’s old host went slack on top of its new, and it hastily got its functions in order enough to shove the body off Nightmare’s bed before it dusted. It had out-lived its usefulness.

Pops and cracks filled the air as it shifted the body into something more it’s style. The process would take a few more days to complete fully, but for now it just looked a bit smaller than usual. Good enough.

It let out happy little hum, splaying out over the bed and enjoying the feeling of sweet, new magic enveloping it. The sound of clapping made itself known, the haze of food lifting.

Nightmare. It was Nightmare who was clapping. A pleased smile stretched across his face, too wide for even a skeleton’s grin. “I’ll never get tired of that show.”

Something in Fresh fluttered at those words. A show, a good one. Its goal everyday… it wondered if the ones watching found it as interesting, as delightful, as Nightmare seemingly did. 

“You flatterer.” It grinned.

Nightmare approached the bed in two quick strides, carefully avoiding the dust pile it’s old host had left behind. At that distance, he could wrap his hands around its cheeks, gently petting its face with his thumbs. It leaned in, a purr starting up. 

It would push him off, had already gotten everything he had to offer, but it was sleepy from the switch. And, well, maybe feeling a bit generous now that it had eaten.

“Can you blame me?”

“Yes and I will,” it mumbled, yawning.

He laughed at its lackadaisical manner, claws gently tracing its cheek. He was too good at that, really.

“I’ll have to get to doing actual business, now that it’s morning,” Nightmare said, “but you may stay here for as long as you like.”

Score. It, if possible, melted further into the warm sheets, not even minding how exposed Nightmare’s bed felt at this point.

Another laugh, warm and soft, almost the exact opposite of what Nightmare was known for. He leaned down to give it a gentle nuzzle on the forehead before leaving. Not a single more word.

It knew he’d be back later. For now though, it enjoyed getting back to its nap.

[gremlinmodetweeker]

You said before that könig is a big baby when he's sick, how does he react to us getting sick? Does he try to be helpful or does he avoid us like the plague lol

Okay so König has no qualms with sickness. This man has been coated in every bodily fluid at some point in his life (and yes I do mean every, he's lived a pretty interesting life) so he is more than fine to handle you.

However, he's a nightmare because he won't let you just relax and be sick. No, König is the king of old wives tale cures. When the day starts, he's forcing you out of bed to brush your hair and teeth because dammit neglecting self hygiene is not an option when this man is living in your house. If you exercise or do stretches in the morning, you just bet that he's making you stretch when you get up. If you exercise, he won't force you to the gym but he will take you on a short walk to 'get some fresh air'. Little does he know that the streets of the city do not count as fresh air in any way whatsoever. His Austrian ass is opening every window in the house to get airflow for you. He's a nightmare.

He's also cooking for you. Thank the heavens he has some common sense to not give you what he eats when he's sick. He'll cook something light and easy for you that won't upset your already weak stomach. He's a devil about making you eat though. He'll force it down, one way or another. At least he'll try until you shove him away. Speaking of, he will try to feed you because he thinks it's romantic and sweet, despite the fact that you look like actual death.

He's determined to keep you clean and fresh. This means he's changing your bed while you're in the bed. It's a bit obnoxious but he just cares about keeping you clean. This also means he runs baths for you or helps you stand for a shower. If you're really unable to leave bed, he'll give you a sponge bath because you're not going to be sitting in sickness.

He will totally cuddle you though. He has no fear of getting sick, after all. He's got a ridiculous immune system. Whether this is from him being naturally strong, or if it's because of his time in the military or from his habit of eating expired food, you'll never know. I'd say you shouldn't look a gift horse in the mouth and just accept his cuddles.

There's only one (1) downside to König cuddle sessions. He's hot. No, not like that (yes like that), but like he's a human furnace. It's awful. He's holding you right up to his chest when you get a hot flash but he's fallen asleep so you're trapped in place, sweltering against him.

That said, it's nice to have him around. He'll tell you about his day when he gets home and he'll watch your comfort movies with you (and he'll talk through them because he's an old dad at heart) and he'll keep you well cared for. He's a good partner after all.

[lou-struck]

Heatwave

Hawks x reader

WC: 1.1k

~ It's the hottest day of the year, and you are stuck roasting on Zoom calls; if only you had a hero to save you from your inconvenience. 

You hate this…

It's the hottest day of the year, and you are cooped up in your tiny apartment with a broken air conditioning system. All morning long, you have been tied up with Zoom calls and team meetings, forced to wear an itchy, lightweight cardigan for the sake of professionalism. At times like this, you are thankful that your laptop's camera quality is so poor, your forehead is covered in beads of sweat, and the crappy little navy blue desk fan you have perched on a stack of books is doing little to cool down.

Your manager leading this meeting looks relatively comfortable in his little window. His tie is actually fluttering from the consistent airflow from the top-of-the-line air conditioning unit he was bragging about having installed.

Damn him

You were only half listening to the call when his dull voice came drones through your speakers. "Alright, everyone, we're gonna step away for 15 minutes or so; feel free to turn your cameras off, and we will resume shortly." 

Your heatwave-fueled rage festers within you as you mute yourself and turn off your camera. Your thoughts shift to what website mailing lists you could add his email to when your front doors burst open. 

Your boyfriend, Keigo Takami, known to the public as the Winged Hero Hawks, comes in loudly. "Damn, it's hot out there; what is the commission trying to do having me patrol out there in full uniform? Turn me into Fried Chicken?"

"You're telling me," you pant, taking a large chug of your ice water and slipping off your scratchy cardigan. Discomfort and pain twist on your features as you chase the weak airflow from the fan with little success.

"What's up with you?" he ass shucking off his flight jacket. It hits the floor with a thud that tells you that it has absorbed more than its share of sweat today. 

"Debating a career change," you groan, craving the cold. "M' gonna move to the Arctic and think up new ice cream flavors."

"Sounds chilly," he chuckles, tucking his wings to his back and striding across the wooden floor. "Mind if I join?"

"No," you groan. "You are too hot, Kei. You would contribute to global warming." The heatwave may be destroying your ability to think rationally, but your sarcasm is still delightfully intact.

"Awe, Angel, you wound me." he chuckles, placing his hand in front of his heart. His avian-like eyes peer into yours, full of love and mischief. "Wouldn't you miss me out there, all alone in the cold?"

"You know I would," you chuckle as a bead of sweat rolls down your chin. "But it's too warm to want to do anything else."

He spots your blackened camera and steps away shyly from the view of the screen. "Wait, are you in a meeting?"

You roll your eyes as you once again remember the cause of your discomfort. "Unfortunately, all the other departments have the day off today, but I have been stuck popping in and out of meetings for the last few hours."

"That's rough, and it's not exactly cool in here, is it?" he coos, making a B-line to your freezer and pulling out one of your ice pops. Peeling off the wrapper, the color is revealed to be a bright red, rivaling the rich color of his wings. "Nice, I got cherry." He grins, biting the sweet treat with his teeth making you cringe slightly. 

"Psychopath," you mutter, "why do you have to eat it so quickly?"

"I can't help it," he laughs, wiping a bit of cherry juice with the back of his hand. "It's hot out, and I gotta speed up that Brian freeze. You know, my place has some pretty decent air conditioning. You'd be way more comfortable if you moved your set up there." 

"True, but your apartment is much nicer than mine, and my coworkers would notice," you frown. Your relationship with Keigo may not be considered a secret by you; you would prefer it if your coworkers didn't know about it. People tend to get kinda weird when they find out you are dating one of the country's top heroes.

"I get it; you just want to keep me all to yourself," he chuckles, wrapping his arms around you. His stubble tickles your skin as he presses soft cherry-flavored kisses to your warm skin.

"Keigo, it's way too hot for this kind of affection," you whine, squirming in his hold. 

"You mean your little fan right there isn't taking care of you?" he teases, eyeing your only warrior in this fight against Mother Nature. You don't know how it happened but the weak little gust of air seems to be getting weaker by the moment. 

"The fan sucks, Kei," you mutter, tapping the center lightly with your finger, urging it to pick up the pace.

"Then it's fired," he says, pulling its plug and tossing it over to the couch, where it bounces on the plush cushions.

"Hey, I needed that, it may suck, but I really need it to make it through the day," you say, noticing the movement on your screen as your coworkers slowly begin to get back on the call. 

"Ooof, duty calls?" he asks, peering at your screen. You are thankful that your camera and microphone are off.

"Looks like it," you frown. "Can you grab my fan for me, please, so I can hop back on without roasting to death?"

"Nah, I won't be doing that." he teases, his honey-colored gaze boring into yours. "But if you need to cool off a bit, I have something in mind." The hero's wings twitch in amusement as your brows pinch together in confusion. 

~

Fifteen minutes into the next round of your call, you are surprisingly comfortable as a strong, silent breeze bushes against your skin, cooling you off lovingly as you listen to your coworkers ramble on and on about topics that could easily be an email.

Your boredom is subdued, however, when you catch a glimpse of your manager. Whose state-of-the-art air-conditioner seems to have given out, and now he is sweating buckets, having to mute himself occasionally to hide how out of breath he is.

Keigo sits just on the other side of your desk, scrolling mindlessly through his phone. Glorious red wings outstretched as they beat softly into the air. Fanning you far better than any air conditioning unit.

You can tell that Keigo is over the moon getting to help you like this. You feel refreshed and full of energy as you notice your manager is growing more and more uncomfortable. You have a feeling this meeting will be coming to a close fairly soon. 

Once you are free from your corporate shackles, you'll have to find some way to thank Keigo for his invaluable assistance. 

Maybe with some ice cream for dinner?

Tagging: @pixelcafe-network @sleepyyshroom @anjodedesgostoeerros @isaacdaknight @qardasngan

[mayhem-neverending]

Nightmares

Gojo Satoru x Reader

Word Count: 2,213

Summary: Short fic about Gojo seeking you out after a nightmare. Friends to lovers.

Warnings: some violent graphic content

Note: This is my first time writing Gojo (on Tumblr - I'm very slowly working on a long fic on AO3). This came to me last night, and I thought it was a nice enough idea to write it. I know I'm a Naruto girly on here, but nothing wrong with expanding horizons, right?

Moonlight shone through the crack in your thick curtains, illuminating your deeply slumbering form. The room was still; the night was cool enough to leave the a/c off without turning on the heater. The only airflow came from the slight crack in your window. You were perfectly still, slow, deep inhales displayed in the gentle rising and falling of your chest. Your phone repeatedly vibrated on the other side of the bed, but it didn’t alert you in the slightest. Not even a twitch of your fingers to acknowledge the disturbance.

There was a low whirr that sounded in the middle of your room followed by shallow, erratic breaths. Soft, quick footsteps to the edge of your bed, the rustle of fabric, breath desperately trying and failing to be controlled. Fingers trembling in front of your face, a weak attempt to determine whether breath entered and exited your nose, but they were too out of it to tell. 

A harsh whisper of your name exited their mouth, and when you didn’t answer, a louder, broken call of your name dragged out next to your ear. 

You jostled awake, eyes shooting open and a sharp inhale as you scooted away from the voice. You were jumbled, your heart racing as you tried to compute what you were seeing. Your name fell from their lips again, a mix of desperation and relief, as your eyes finally met theirs. 

The faint glow of blue eyes in the darkness brought you back to reality. “Satoru?”

He looked wild and so vulnerable. He was only in a white t-shirt and boxers, hair wild from tossing in his sleep and blue eyes rimmed with red as fat tears poured from them. His shoulders shook as a sob broke from his lips. His hand landed on the bed next to you to steady his weight. 

“Satoru, what happened?” you asked, panic rising in your throat. He had never just appeared in your room before, and never in the middle of the night.

He shook his head, unable to speak. You threw the blankets off of you, instinctively coming up on your knees to bring your face to his. You inspected him with your eyes, looking for any injuries, but all you could find was his far away look. Whatever had happened, he still wasn’t quite with you. 

You took his face in your palm, thumb swiping at the unending flow of tears under his eye. He was shaking violently, you noticed. With your free hand you found his and entangled your fingers together, squeezing in the hope to ground him as your heart raced. He was looking into your eyes now, and you intentionally slowed your breathing, hoping to calm him enough for him to talk to you. 

Another sob escaped his throat and his weight collapsed against you. You barely saved the two of you from falling, having to use more strength than you wanted to admit to hold him. You softly shushed him, the hand on his face going to the back of his head and running fingers through his fluffy hair. 

“Come here,” you whispered. 

You readjusted your legs and helped him climb onto the bed, leaning back so that he could lay with his head on your chest. He curled his lanky body around you, touching you with every part of him he could and caging you in his tight grip. His long fingers dug into the flesh of your side, right beneath your ribs as he adjusted himself to lay his ear directly over your heart. 

You continued your ministrations to his hair; concern rising like bile in your throat. Feeling his tears pool on your shirt, you counted to your breaths in your head to keep yourself calm. In for four, hold for four, out for six. You repeated this action several times until your heart began to slow.

“What’s wrong?” you asked again as tenderly as you could muster. 

Satoru tilted his head to look up at you, the tears slowing but the far away look still clouding the edges of his expression. “It was- it was so vivid,” he choked. A dream, you realized with relief. He had a bad dream. 

“You can tell me about it if you want,” you wiped another tear from his eye. 

He sniffled and his fingers dug further into your skin. It was starting to hurt with how tightly he was holding you.

“You-” he shuddered. 

You patiently watched on, softening the muscles of your face and letting his eyes search yours. “Maybe I’m still in the dream,” he whispered to himself. 

His face scrunched in despair, a fresh wave of tears spilling from his beautiful crystal blue eyes. “Maybe they really did murder you, and I’m just dreaming you’re okay,” 

His breathing picked up and your eyes widened. He was having this visceral reaction over a dream where you were killed? He curled in on himself again, sobs wracking his body. It must have been a brutal nightmare for him to still be confusing reality. 

“Satoru,” your voice came out gentle but firm, hoping to reach him amid the sobs. 

He just barely moved his head to peek up at you with his now swollen eyes. Your heart broke for him. “I’m right here, I’m alive. You aren’t dreaming anymore,”

“You’re really here?” he asked into your chest, still unconvinced. 

The dream he had was horrendous. It started with you lovingly kissing him goodbye as you went grocery shopping, and giggling when he pulled you back in for a series of kisses all over your face. Then, he was somehow at the school, sprinting down the never ending corridor in a loop as he listened to you scream and beg for mercy. By the time he finally wrenched the door open, everything was silent. 

Your mutilated, barely recognizable corpse lay on the floor, limbs spread out and at odd angles. He dropped down beside you in the massive pool of your still warm blood. It was everywhere, still seeping from the wounds and bruises that littered your body. He saw everything with his six eyes. Everything that they had inflicted upon your innocent self. 

“I’m right here, sweetheart. What did you see?” you tilted his chin so that he was fully looking at your face. 

“They tortured you, I-” his tongue was heavy in his mouth, unable to form another word. 

Your hand gripped the one that was leaving bruises in your side. Lifting it up, you asked, “Where?”

“Where?” his voice came out strangled. 

He watched as you brought his hand up to your face. “Where? Did they hurt my face?”

He nodded slowly. You pressed his fingertips against the soft skin of your cheek. “Nothing here, see? No cuts or bruises,”

His breath hitched. “Where else, Satoru?”

He traced lower, stopping at the base of your throat, right above the collar of your shirt, ghosting along where the image of a large gash had been. He trailed lower, the hole in the middle of your chest fresh in his mind. He laid his hand flat over the spot on top of your shirt, but it didn’t help, he could still clearly imagine the way it would cave in under his hand. 

Wordlessly, you took his hand and guided it beneath your shirt, directly where his hand had been. He let out a small, relieved sigh at your soft skin and sturdy sternum beneath his fingers. He trailed lower, on his own accord, to feel across your abdomen, silently searching for the bruises and stab wounds he had so vividly witnessed. There was nothing there but smooth skin and soft flesh. He blinked hard, his senses fully returning to him now that he knew you were okay. 

He shuddered, laying his palm flat against your stomach as the last dredges of the dream washed over him and away. He looked up and met your attentive eyes, becoming acutely aware of himself. Aware of his hand on your bare skin, the wet spot on your shirt where his tears and spit collected. You watched his body coiled tightly around you, the tired tenderness you bore for him. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I don’t know what came over me,” 

He uncurled himself and sat up, removing his hand from your stomach, looking away from you. You took his other hand in yours. “Don’t apologize,”

He was exhausted from the sobbing, the dream, and the adrenaline crash that now sagged his shoulders. You continued, a raw edge to your voice “I’m glad to know that I’m important to you,”

His head whipped back to meet your eyes, his own widened in shock. No belittlement, no judgment, no mockery of The Strongest crying like a baby over a bad dream. His mouth opened and closed. He decided on, “Of course you’re important to me,”

More than he cared to let you know.

“Why are you sitting up? Come lay back down with me,” you tugged gently on his hand. 

“You’re not kicking me out after all that?”

Your brows scrunched together. “Of course not, you’re important to me, too, you know,”

He shifted, eyes cast downward. “But aren’t you bothered?”

“By what?”

He struggled to verbalize what he was feeling. He always did when it came to real emotions. When he finally spoke, he tried to say it jokingly, but he couldn’t quite reflect it in his tone. “Oh, you know, Gojo Satoru, The Strongest, blubbering like a baby in the middle of the night over a dream,”

You sighed out and he tensed, ready to face what he knew was coming, fingers twitching as he awaited you to kick him out. “Even if you’re the strongest person on earth, you’re still just a person. Just Satoru,”

You sat up and took his face in yours, forcing him to look at you. The ‘but’ he was about to say died on his lips. He held his breath as you pressed a kiss on his cheeks, lips wettening with the tracks of tears that remained. He could have cried again at the way you handled him so purposefully, not like a tool to be used but something precious to be preserved. 

The breath he was holding puffed out against his lips as you pulled away. You pushed his hair away from his eyes. He felt each of your touches linger against his skin. Why did you do this to him? Make him so weak?

You exhaled through your nose with humor, and he realized with utter mortification that he had said that out loud. Like he hadn’t embarrassed himself enough already. You hummed and cupped his cheek. 

Your eyes were bright and full of sincerity. He felt himself get lost in them, in the calm waves of emotion. He had never met someone as honest as you, who always knew what to say to him without himself knowing what he needed, or buttering him up. He loved that about you. He loved a lot of things about you. In fact, his nightmare reinforced the fact that he needed you and he didn’t know what to do about it. It terrified him more than any curse ever could. 

“I love you,” you said simply, the phrase easily slipping from your lips as if you’d said it a hundred times.

It took him a moment to register that your mouth had moved with how enraptured he was in your eyes. And then he heard it, repeating in his mind like a prayer to a melody. He inhaled sharply, eyes suddenly fervently searching yours. Did you mean that as a friend, or as a lover?

“You love me?”

You found his hand and squeezed his fingers between your own. “I do, I love you. You don’t need to say anything, I just wanted you to know, especially after that dream you had,”

You pulled your fingers from his grasp. “I’d like it if you stayed, but you’re free to leave if you want. I won’t be upset,”

His mouth was agape, illuminated blue eyes drinking you in. His heart beat unsteadily. “As-as a friend? Or-?” he couldn’t bring himself to finish the sentence. This night was bringing out all of his vulnerabilities and laying them out for you on a platter. 

You suddenly looked at him a little shyly, tucking your chin down for a moment before taking a breath to respond. “Or,”

Satoru laughed breathlessly, a grin splitting his tear stained face. He launched himself at you, suddenly uninhibited, and knocked you back against your pillows. He pressed wet kisses all over your face to which you couldn’t stop yourself giggling at. He hovered just above your lips until your giggles had just subsided, and kissed you. Once, twice, and then you got a hold of him, fingers scraping against his undercut as you slowly pressed your lips to his, moving them against his own. It was slow, a push and pull without hurry. 

“I love you,” he whispered against your mouth as you broke the kiss. He dove back in, the same sensual pace as your hands moved to explore each other. 

You pulled apart and he breathlessly repeated, “I love you, I love you, I love you,”

“Fuck, I love you,”

[daemour]

[18.53] Choi San

pairing: san x reader

wc: 540

warnings: jokey gaslighting

genre: fluff, established relationship, e for everyone

this was inspired by @beenbaanbuun's Cold drabble of a similar but flipped nature! San being the furnace that he is.

-

"Get away, San. Not right now," you groan, lying on the floor with your iced tea beside you. "I love you but I am not cuddling you."

"Why not," San whines, inching closer and closer from where he stands across the room. "I just want love from my baby, is that too much to ask?"

“It’s too hot, and you’re like a living furnace. I’m going to melt into the floorboards.” You can hear him shuffling closer and closer to you, and you crack an eye open to muster a weak glare.

San huffs, and you swear he should look into acting because you swear his eyes are glistening with unshed tears. He takes another step forward and you gather energy to roll over a few times to avoid any potential radiating body heat from your loving heater.

“San,” you groan, drawing out the vowel in his name and squeezing your eyes shut. “Please, I’ll cuddle you later tonight when the fan is blowing through my body into my bones. Just not right now.”

“So you hate me.”

You crack an eye open to see San’s pouting face and stick your tongue out at him. “Nuh-uh, mister. It’s not going to work on me this time. No gaslighting here. This is a no-gaslighting zone. There’s a sign.”

You point to a hastily written post-it note on your fan. You’ve learnt your lesson quickly after San utilised his new skill (that you told him about) on you to get you to cuddle during the winter. This only makes a small wrinkle appear between your boyfriend’s eyebrows.

“But I want to cuddle you,” he whines loud enough to put a toddler who was just told ‘no’ to shame. “Why would you deprive me of my one joy in life?”

You blink up at him, the epitome of innocence. “So you only use me for cuddles? Isn’t my happiness enough to be your one joy in life, hence, you should wait to cuddle till tonight?”

San glares at your bulletproof argument…at least you thought it was bulletproof. But a glint sparks in his eye. “YN, you said it yourself. You broke the rule. It’s a no gaslighting zone.”

“Now, hold up! I wasn’t gaslighting! I was just…trying to clarify! There was no gaslighting happening.”

San shakes his head slowly. “Nuh-uh. You can’t trick me this time. And you know what your punishment will be?” He inches closer. “Cuddles.”

Now it’s your turn to whine, but it doesn’t stop San from getting down onto the floor with you, throwing his arms around you to pull you into his chest. And, just as you expected and feared, his body is radiating heat like nobody's business. You groan, trying to wriggle enough space between your bodies for some airflow, but there’s no winning against San’s grip.

“Stop shifting so much and maybe you won’t be so hot,” San chuckles, his chest rumbling against your back as he presses a kiss to the back of your neck.

You sigh like all of life’s problems are weighing down on you. “Yeah, yeah. Can you move the fan in front of me?”

As the cooling breeze settles in front of you, you finally let San take his win…once again.

[chaotic-minds-think-alike]

Biiig image hopefully it like translates well but oughhg vultures,, Info/hcs about them below: (warning- long/wordy post)

General information:

Their entire lifecycle is based off bugs and thus they go through instars or larval stages of growth before they eventually cocoon and pupate and finally emerge as fully fledged adults

Through some strange modifications to their genetic and biological code, the ancients were able to make them grow their own biomechanical components through ingesting inorganic and organic material

Much more detailed under a microscope, their biomechanical structures are layered as if they were 3D printed on, but include interwoven organic components such as nerves and blood vessels

Vultures are opportunistic and will even result to cannibalism

Hatchling / 1st Instar:

multiple hatchlings will hatch all at once in a single clutch and immediately fight each other, eventually killing and consuming the loser, thus resulting in only a few grubs surviving

Nutrients gained from their siblings and material eaten from the environment around them is used to form the headpiece as quickly as possible

the modified head is used as its primary defense in the larval stage, calling adult vultures in hopes that it'll deter it's attacker- though the vultures that do arrive are most likely not the parents and will eat the grub at any given chance

5th Instar:

By now the grub has eaten as much nutrients as it could and will soon undergo pupation

The grub's first four legs have elongated to aid in travel as they will seek refuge in high perches where they will hide away and cocoon

They are swift and hard to spot in this stage because of their grime covered coat

Pupation / Near emergence:

After spinning its cocoon, the silk hardens and thickens into a tough ball

The silk is woven in with specific nutrients that promote plant growth to further hide the cocoon

After an undetermined amount of time, the cocoon gradually expands as the pupa grows into the adult form; the expansion leaves translucent areas where the silk is thin

Adult Vulture:

The engines and mask are a result of a mixture of bone-like material and metal-like material and are very hard to break

They are aware of how strong their own mask is so they stray from fighting each other, only ever attacking another vulture if they've lost their mask; this is an instinctive behavior both driven by their opportunistic nature and seeing a maskless vulture as sick or injured

As with the majority of creatures, the skin of a vulture is smooth and porous, but instead has patches of hair-like protrusions

Through a mysterious process, vultures are able to synthesize various chemicals to aid in flight, namely helium gas, which is pumped into the feathers

This process brings toxic byproducts: chlorine and iodine gas, which is forcefully expelled alongside the helium through the engines and out of the creature

A vulture's engines are raised occasionally to allow more airflow and a faster exchange of gas as standalone they accumulate these chemicals regardless of exertion

The feathers of a vulture are akin to swim bladders and are inflated with helium gas to allow the creature to fly, the feathers retain their flat shape but the skin is expanded and shows the true colors of the wings, when deflated the feathers are black in color

When on the ground, the feathers of a vulture are deflated and much tougher, their wings will curl into "fists" as they walk, occasionally extending their wings to grab ahold of things with their prolegs

Previously as a grub, they had 4 developed legs before they pupate, the mid legs turned into a pair of weak grabbing arms, mainly used to preen the creature

The grub's last pair of legs became fat reserves

The jaws of a vulture are pretty animal-like and only have a top and bottom jaw, they also have pedipalps which are used to preen, grab, and feel things

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

King Vulture:

Unknown as to how they originated, bear slightly different genetic coding compared to normal vultures, namely noticed with the mysterious brand on their masks

the vulture is larger to accommodate a second pair of lungs solely used to power the harpoon mechanism

The harpoon is shot via a swift expulsion of air similar to a sneeze, through the cables that they stiffen and expand, sending the harpoon flying at dangerous speeds

Relaxation of the cables allows them to slowly retract back on their own

[badgers-and-cats]

Hiiiii can you please write something with enemy!eddie (or mean Eddie?) with a degradation kink? Feel free to add any more kinks too!!!

Thank you for the request Angel!!!💖 Enemy!Eddie is something I never knew I needed- also I wrote this in like 15 minutes and I’m tired and didn’t proof read it so sorry if it’s not very good :(

18+ MDNI

Masterlist

Divider by @saradika

Warnings; smut, MDNI, mean/enemy Eddie, piv, degradation (reader referred to as slut etc), choking, rough sex, choking, hook up, “princess” used, all characters are 20+

“Fuck- you’re such a desperate slut, aren’t you? Begging me to fuck you again,” he degrades as he pounds into your dripping heat; your arousal leaking out of you and dripping down your ass onto his sheets.

All you’re able to do is moan in response- every time his heavy balls hit your ass you’re reminded that’s all you’ll be when it comes to Eddie. A slut. But his slut. You hate his guts, but you don’t hate his cock. Especially when it strokes your walls so perfectly.

“You take my cock so well… what is this, the 8th time?” He teases, his large hand making its way to your throat, wrapping around it with ease as you make eye contact with his dark eyes.

“Fuck- Eddie… you’re so good… I hate it,” you groan, hating that Eddie Munson was the one to make you weak at the knees and fuck you like nobody else. The one to make you cum countless times while also being awfully degrading at times. And you hated that you were possessive over him. That you wanted no one else to touch or be touched him.

“Hate it? Baby I can feel you gripping me like a vice, you’re loving this… loving being my dirty slut,” he laughs, suddenly stopping his movements, now stationary as he’s balls deep inside of you, dick twitching against your sensitive and slick walls.

Before you can protest, he speaks; “tell me you love it. Or I’ll stop and find someone else to fuck… I know you love my cock, that’s why you come running back desperately every time,” he spits, smirking as he does. He knows you’re close; pussy pulsing and body squirming underneath his strong hold.

“Just move Munson,” you spit back, a moan escaping your swollen lips at the same time. He just snickers and tightens the grip on your neck, daring you to defy him again. He could stay like this all day. Having his cock so deep within your pussy, hand round your neck, and you underneath him; desperate and squirming.

“God… Eddie, okay… I love your cock… so much,” you groan out as he doesn’t show any signs of moving. Less than a second later, his hips move frantically, chasing his high. The sounds of skin hitting skin and his cock pounding your wet heat fills the room; the smell of sex and sweat in the air.

His movement are animalistic as he uses your pussy to chase his high; desperately wanting to fill you up; desperately wanting to drain his balls. Only moans and groans leave his pretty, swollen lips. You’re both close, your hips moving to match the movement of his own, both of you using the other to get yourselves off, almost like a challenge of who can cum first.

And it’s you, one particular thrust making the knot inside you snap and your juices flooding out of you in an orgasmic pleasure; soaking his cock with a loud sob. This only encourages him more, somehow going faster, riding you through your high, before stopping yet again; cutting off your airflow momentarily. this time, however, you feel his hot seed painting your walls; claiming them.

He pulls out a moment later and lets go of your neck. You’re both panting. And both too proud to admit you enjoyed it.

You never stay after these hook ups, so moments later, you stand and get dressed, no words spoken between Eddie and you, until you’re stood at his door, ready to leave.

“I hate you,” you say before leaving .

“Sure thing princess, see you next week,” he smirks. And you hated that he was right. You’d come back every time.

[urinarythreatinfection]

Hi!! Can I request a request for a Sanji fluff fic where he and the reader were exploring an island but the reader fell and his leg got broken and cut and now Sanji needs to set the bone Otherwise it will come out of the wound.? Sorry if this sounds harsh or something, but I want to see how Sanji will calm the reader down.

Here you go! Don't have much to say except sorry i took long ive been celebrating Halloween by treating myself to sleeping. Im actually hanging out with friends rn but thought i'd finish this up for you

OH MY GOD

Sanji x male reader. Platonic. 2199 words. Gore warning and broken bone obviously.

“You really are quick with things, Sanji. You bought groceries, brought them to the ship, and now you’re exploring with me.” You say to the cook as you hike up a mountain, turning to him as you walk backwards. “You even changed out of your suit super fast to go hiking! Then again with this weather you’d die of heat stroke with a suit on. Nonetheless you’re doing a lot better than me too…” You fan yourself with the collar of your shirt, it’s humid and hot. You’re starting to feel gross with all the sweat and humidity on your skin and hair, maybe you should’ve used something for this but you underestimated the weather.

“Of course I’m quick, I always need to make sure the ship is stocked for Nami-san and Robin-chan. Maybe you’re just slow.” He says a bit mockingly at the end and you grumble a bit. He’s not sweating as much as you either, and it’s not that you're wearing anything worse than his loose Hawaiian shirt and shorts, your clothes have as much and maybe even more airflow! Yet here you are, moistly uncomfortable. You’re getting a little jealous.

“You have an advantage because of your legs, not that I’m weak!” You defend your honor, “Plus I’m not doing badly eith-” unfortunately that’s interrupted as you step on a rock wrong, your ankle twisting. Sanji’s eyes widen and he reaches out to you, but it’s too late. You’re falling. You look down, your breath quick. If you’re going to survive this you need to land properly. Fate has other plans though as you move to land on your legs, you forgot this mountain isn’t straight down. One of your legs slams into a jutting rock, slashing into the flesh and snapping the bone as you scream in pain. Sanji had already hopped off of the mountain to catch you, but he isn’t falling fast enough. The sound of your scream and a snap makes him rush, having to use his airwalk to force himself down quicker. He finally spots you and grabs onto your arm, the impact on the rock had at least slowed your fall a bit. The motion hurts your shoulder but he’s able to grab your waist as well to stop it from dislocating. The problem now is that his air walk can’t support the two of you, especially when you’re both already falling.

“Shit!” He curses, trying to slow down the fall with his ability, which works but still doesn’t soften the impact enough to not hurt. The only solstice is that, because the mountain isn’t straight down, he’s able to use a few jutting rocks to slow you both down more. Eventually you both land with Sanji holding you, the impact on his feet sending vibrations through his body. He’s safe, though his feet hurt. Once the vibrations stop he collapses onto his butt with a sigh of relief, you on his lap. The snap he heard earlier pops into his mind. He looks at your body and goes pale when he notices your leg, he may be safe but you aren’t. “Fuck..!” He sets you on the ground, blood is pouring from the wound and he can see the bone peeking out.

“i..is it bad..?” Your voice is hoarse and weak as you try to sit up, which is quickly stopped by Sanji pushing you back down.

“Shut up, don’t look and just lie there.” The adrenaline is making the pain numb but he doesn’t know how long that’ll last before you end up struggling from the pain. He curses that he doesn’t have anything with him, and that he can’t bring you to Chopper in this state. He could move you quickly with his speed but the problem is your leg. At that speed, and with it unable to be tucked anywhere like an arm, it would be moving and getting worse. He slowly rips away anything that could be around the wound, “Don’t move, you’re going to mess me up.” and tries to make sure you and/or him don’t worsen it. “Ugh.” It’s gross seeing the bone almost poking out.

“how bad is i-” You try to sit up again but he shoves your upper body down.

“I said don’t move!” He barks and stands up with you laying on the ground, sighing with a hand through his hair. “I’m gonna find something to splint your leg, stay here.”

“What if a bear comes?”

“Tough luck.” He lights a cigarette, realizing maybe he was being harsh from stress. “I’ll be back quick. Promise.” Gentler now, he runs off to find a stick to splint, leaving you there. Your adrenaline is starting to wear off and you clench your jaw, hoping that it’ll somehow make more; or at least make it last til you can get to Chopper. Meanwhile Sanji is looking for a stick appropriate enough to use, trying to calm his own panic that his friend is counting on him. Once he finally finds one he runs back to see you with your eyes closed. “Shit shits shit, (Y/n)!” He crouches down next to you and pats your cheek.

“i’m awake, just tired.” You groan, your eyesight blurry from disassociation.

“Too bad, stay awake i-i can’t- if you—just-” He keeps stuttering, panicking while he tries to position the stick so it’s not making the damage worse. He needs to do this, if he messes up he could make everything worse, even disable you. This isn’t when Zoro’s injured, he’s sturdy with a higher pain tolerance than someone with CIP disease, you feel pain; and he actually cares if you feel that. “just.. relax.” It sounds like he’s trying to calm himself down too. “I’m going to try my best.” Even if he doesn’t want to, he ends up having to slightly move the bone so that it isn’t stabbing through your flesh, flinching when you slap a hand over your mouth to muffle a loud curse. He rips the cloth of his shirt to tie the stick to your leg, but he can see the way you’re panting and struggling to keep your eyes open. You’re going to bleed out and he can’t do anything else. If he bandaged the wound he’d harm the bone, and it’s not like he could sew it. “I’m going to slowly lift you up.” He whispers and puts you carefully over his shoulder. Sanji wishes there was a way to carry you better but anything else would be worse, this way he could at least hold onto you by your back and not leg. “Don’t fall asleep, please.” His voice is shaky as he starts to run.

“okay..” You’re cold, the wind is making you colder. Is it even a hot day out? You remember it was but if it was why is everything so cold. You start to shiver and get dizzy, breath shallow and rapid. He notices this and tries to keep you closer, sharing body heat even if it isn’t doing much from the wind. “thank you..” You manage to say, choking up. “for everything, for trying to save me even now. you’re a good friend and your cooking was always good.” This is how you’re going to die, your eyes tear up.

“Stop, stop talking. My cooking is good, and you’ll keep tasting it. Don’t act like you’re already dead.” The cook scolds you as he runs back to the Sunny, ignoring how cold you’re starting to get. Once you two make it to the Sunny he hops onto it, you wincing from the jolt of landing. Zoro, who was napping, immediately wakes up and sees the cook while sensing something is off. Once he sees you and your injury he scowls and stands. “Where’s Chopper?” He sighs and starts walking towards the railing of the ship quickly.

“He isn’t here yet, I’ll go get him.” Zoro says which is quickly stopped with a leg in front of him.

“Hell no, I’ll go look for him. Stay with (Y/n) before you get lost.” Sanji states, sensible enough to stop the swordsman from going on a fruitless journey.

“Lost? The only thing lost is your brain, cook.” He can't let it slide though, swordsman’s pride.

“I’m saying this shit for your own good, mosshead!”

“Hah!?”

“You’re useless with directions!”

“You’re just useless in general!”

‘guys i’m bleeding out.’ You weakly think to yourself.

“Hey I’m back!” Chopper walks onto the ship holding some bags, cheerful, which stops when he spots you looking pale. “(Y/n)!?” He drops his bags and runs over to you and Sanji, stopping the fight when the cook spots the little reindeer.

“Chopper, someone finally useful.” He still takes a jab at Zoro though, who barely contains a retort so Chopper can work. “His leg broke while we were exploring, I splinted his leg but couldn’t do anything else.” The doctor nods and takes it from here, carrying you to bring you to the medical room. Once the door is shut as he goes inside the ship Zoro’s eye trails to Sanji.

“Of course you couldn’t do anything else.”

“Can you shut up!?”

______________

Chopper finishes bandaging and treating your leg, sighing in relief when he’s done. “Don’t move too much.”

“Yeah I keep getting told that.” You look at the blood bag connected to your arm, feeling better already, when there’s a knock at the door. Chopper opens it and it’s Sanji holding a plate of food, catered to help you.

“You said he could eat, yeah?” Sanji asks the doctor and he nods. “Good.” He comes inside and looks at you, placing the plate on the nightstand next to you. “Here.” He hands another to Chopper, who missed a meal to treat you. “You too.” The reindeer brightens up.

“I’m gonna eat this outside! Call me if you need anything!” He says happily, then runs outside to eat in the Sun.

…

…

It’s awkward! You’re a guy so Sanji’s never been super nice to you, not as mean as others but not nice like this! Though you suppose you’ve never had a broken leg he had to set before. It feels weird having him be so caring with no backlash, you even started getting emotional near him earlier. You reach a hand out to grab the plate but you can’t place it on your lap properly since your leg is in a sling, it’d be uncomfortable to have to constantly twist to get a bite too. The cook sighs and grabs a chair to sit at the bed, grabbing the plate to put on his lap. Your eyes widen. “Are you going to feed me-”

“As if! I put it here so you don’t have to keep twisting, you could drop the food too.” He hands the fork to you. “You have two perfectly good arms.” That makes more sense, you grab the form and stab it into a piece of chicken.

“It’s good.”

“I know, and I told you you would taste it again.” He clutches the plate a bit tighter, remembering the words you spoke as if they were your dying ones. “So don’t thank me for ‘trying’ to save you. I did. You’re here and you’ll keep tasting this over and over.” His voice is getting shaky again, it must’ve been traumatizing having your dying friend in your arms.

“I’m sorry for stressing you out, I said those things because I didn’t want you to blame yourself if I died. I’m the one who twisted my ankle and broke my leg.” You feel guilty.

“Don’t act as if that would make me happy. I was worried, you’re always—doing things like this. You thought you were going to die and you didn’t ask for me to hurry up or get angry you were trying to soothe me. Me! Like you weren’t the one dying!” His hand goes to his head, running his fingers through his hair.

“I was plenty scared, you were soothing me too.” At that Sanji stands up, places the plate on the chair, and paces the room. He almost leaves but he wants to make sure you eat everything.

“I…” He rubs his eyes. “I’m glad you’re alive. I should’ve done a better job at setting the bone, I’m sorry.” You reach over and manage to get another bite of chicken.

“Yeah it hurt really bad, but you aren’t a miracle worker. I just hope I can walk soon, it’d suck being a liability.”

“I’m sure you will, just try not to force yourself by moving-”

‘again?’

“-and eat up.” He picks the plate up again and sits back down with it on his lap. “I’m not a doctor but I’ll keep cooking dishes for your recovery. Don’t get picky.” He takes the fork from you and stabs it into multiple parts of the dish, shoving it in your mouth as a nice combination of flavors. “If I find an empty plate I’m forcing it down your throat.” Sanji grumbles, not that he would actually do that. He just wants you to get better, hope you have a big stomach.

[sentientgolfball]

Maybe nr 3 "You look better with my hands around your neck." With mountain/ifrit

Mountain/Ifrit is a pair I think I need more of

send me a prompt and a pair !

Mountain nearly forgets why he came down here when he opens the door. Immediately he gets hit with a wave of heat so intense it has him sweating already. That’s not what makes him freeze though. Ifrit and Alpha are sparring on the mats. Shirtless. Sweaty. Flushed. He likes to believe he’s as unshakable as the earth itself, but every ghoul has their weaknesses. He stays in the doorway, eyes glued to the two ghouls in front of him. He’s sure whatever Zephyr needed Ifrit for can wait just a little bit longer. It would be rude to interrupt them. 

Ifrit gets his legs swept from under him, landing hard on his back. Mountain’s ears perk up at the grunt he lets out. It’s all too familiar. Alpha moves quickly to mount him, straddling his hips to gain the upper hand. He leans over him, wrapping one hand around Ifrit’s wrist and the other around his own. He starts to pull Ifrit’s arm down, but before he can do much, Ifrit bridges his hips and rolls them over. Mountain can hear him panting and the sight of his sweat shiny chest rapidly rising and falling does not help to stop his mind from wandering. He’s almost jealous of the view Alpha has pinned under him. 

Alpha uses it to his advantage though. He bridges his hips just enough to throw Ifrit off balance. He has to slam his hands against the mat to stop himself from completely smothering Alpha. Mountain has to bite his tongue. Ifrit’s chest is so close to Alpha’s face that all he would have to do is turn his head to be buried. Alpha slides up to rest his weight on his palm. He wraps his free arm around the back of Ifrit’s neck, effectively putting him in a headlock. He wraps his legs around Ifrit’s waist, locking his ankles and pulling him flush against him. Mountain can’t take his eyes away from where their hips are pressed together. 

Alpha flexes his arms and legs at the same time. Ifrit chokes out a gasp as his airflow gets cut off. Mountain mirrors him, half hard cock kicking in his pants. He shouldn’t be so affected by this, yet when Ifrit’s eyes roll to the back of his head he can feel himself throb. He palms himself to try to relieve the pressure as he starts to go limp in Alpha’s hold. He really shouldn’t find this as hot as he does. Ifrit could be seriously hurt. The thought only makes the warmth in his stomach worse. Fortunately, Alpha releases him and he lets out a loud gasp as he sucks in air. 

He lets Ifrit lay on top of him, panting as he comes back into himself. Slowly he sits up and Alpha takes that as a sign that he’s alright. Alpha stands and extends his hand out to him. He grins up at him like he didn’t just choke him out and lets Alpha help him to his feet. They clack their horns together before turning their attention to Mountain. 

“Enjoy the show?” Ifrit smiles at him. 

Oh he sure did. Probably more than he should have. He’ll blame the flush of his cheeks on the heat. 

Ifrit and Alpha go about their business, toweling themselves down and packing up their belongings. Mountain shakes his head a little, trying to clear it so he can do what he came here for. He walks over to Ifrit fully intent on letting him know Zephyr is looking for him. Though when those big, bright eyes turn to him all hope is lost.

“What do you need honeysuckle?” 

Mountain’s eyes rake over his body and he wants more than to trace his tongue over the trails of sweat on his throat. He gets in close, slouching so he can whisper in Ifrit’s ear. 

“You looked good out there, but I think you’d look better with my hands around your neck.” He pulls his lobe between his teeth. 

Ifrit gasps, hand coming up to grip Mountain’s shirt. His eyes flick to Alpha. He has finished putting his things away, slinging his bag over his shoulder and making his way towards the door. It only takes a few more moments before he hears it swing open and then closed. He pulls back enough to look at Mountain. 

“If you can pin me then I’m all yours.” He flashes his fangs at him. 

Mountain smiles, a low growl rumbling through his chest. He’s never been one to let prey get away.