#and enjoy the ship for what it was and what it could be in my fanon

[smuttysabina]

Hoe Hoe Hoes

(Aria & Celine & Tina x Santa Claus, 1.9K words) Tags: Yeah its Santa smut, what are you going to do about it; That's right, these three get their backs blown out by Ol' Saint Nicks' dick; Mostly normal sex; Enormous amounts of cum, A Christmas Miracle occurs, The trio save Christmas!

Twas the night before Christmas, and all through the house, not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse; except of course, for the gooners, cocks a-grip, pumping their meat for their favorite ship. But all was not well this Christmas Eve, for many their balls were as blue as the snow, furiously masturbating for their teasing, favorite hoes. A trio of streamers, fair Aria, Celine, and Tina, prancing around their kitchen, filling their fans with Yuletide cheer, yet never enough to bring their orgasms near. What a tragedy it would be then, for such a frosty mass to remain un-spilt, surely these slutty ladies should be wracked by guilt? But the Big Man was watching, his eyes a-smolder, for this was an issue he could not let molder; It was time to get down to business, on this very White Christmas...

The trio of girls are laughing tiredly when they turn off their stream, after an exhausting night cooking and playing with one another, they were ready to let off some steam! Aria was fanning her exposed cleavage, her face flushed from alcohol, her juicy thighs warm in the humid air of the room as she prances around in her mini-dress. Celine meanwhile was almost completely covered up in her onesie, though her own sizable bust was also on full display, even a shy girl likes to show off some times! And while her chest might have been tiny compared to the other two, Tina's outfit was as slutty as Aria's, highlighting her petite body's modest assets. Giggling and clutching at one another, they stagger happily into the living room to enjoy their festive decorations and relax by the fireplace. But something magical was in the air that night, for just as soon as they snuggled up, they heard something banging down their chimney. Which was somewhat problematic considering their fireplace was electric, and there was in fact, no chimney at all; and yet nonetheless out from the fireplace emerged the Big Man himself. The girls gasp in shock as the familiar red shape appears, Santa was here to deliver their presents! 'Santa!" the three squeak with delight, to which Santa gravely responds, "Hoe, hoe, hoe," he points at them, "You've been very naughty this year young ladies!"

The streamers gawp in horror, how could this be, they had been so kind and giving to their communities this year! Why, in their last stream they had done so much fanservice, surely their beloved viewers were satisfied by all of that memorable content? But Ol' Saint Nick (Lion of the Church, Defender of the Orthodoxy, Vanquisher of the Arian Heresy, Champion of Nicaea) was having none of their excuses, they had been spreading a noticeably un-holiday cheer this season, what good was a gorgeously wrapped present if there was nothing inside? Therefore, they were all on the naughty list! The trio wail in despair at this proclamation, surely there was something they could do to set things right? There was still time for them to save Christmas! The Jolly Man nods approvingly at their enthusiasm, that's just why he was here, to help them spread the true joy and love of Christmas! And so with a merry laugh, he pulls down his pants to reveal ten throbbing inches of holiday cheer. "Wow!" gasps Celine "Oh my god, Santa!" squeals Tina 'Why the fuck is Santa hung like reindeer?" groans Aria

The girls gather around Santa's Christmas Tree, nervous at the sheer size of it, but determined to get back on the good list no matter what; they owed it to their fans to end the year on a good note! Aria and Celine hesitantly unlimber their hefty breasts, kneeling around The Big Man, they glance at one another before squishing their tits around his shaft. Tina meanwhile puts the star on the tree, licking Santa's tip before straining her mouth to fit it inside, she sucks dutifully upon it with her arms around the other's waists. The busty pair rub their boobs up and down his shaft, falling into a synchronized rhythm, their faces flushing as their dual-tittyfuck starts to excite them as well. Aroused by their unusual situation, the girls are filled by the Holy Spirit, their pussies dripping as they throw away their inhibitions and get down to the serious business of naughtily decorating Santa's Christmas Tree with their sweaty pillows. Their tongues lolling excitedly, they croon and beg for it, while Tina moans encouragingly with her tongue hard at work slathering his cockhead with merriment. With a mighty groan Ol' Saint Nick gifts the girls some presents from his capacious sack, his load erupting into Tina's pretty mouth before it overflows and spews out over the other girl's chests and faces. Tina swallows frantically before gasping in disbelief, "It tastes like eggnog?"

But their penance is far from over, and the streamers lustfully bend over for Santa, stripping out of their festive outfits to show off their bodies more easily for him. Side-by-side with their butts pressed together, the girls eagerly look back as they await their infusions of holiday cheer; their cunts drooling down their thighs in anticipation. Father Christmas has a twinkle in his eye as he grasps Tina's tiny waist to hold her steady, his enormous sleigh pushing into her petite pussy; dashing deep into her snow. There must have been something magical in the air that night, because Tina's usually cramped cunt took every inch of Ol' Saint Nick's dick, her taut belly bulging with the evidence of a Christmas miracle! Her legs quiver as Santa plows her, stretching out her insides and filling her tummy with a warm love and goodwill. Tina is shuddering when Santa pulls out, and now it is Celine's turn to experience the joy of the Christmas Season. She groans as her stomach swells, her weighty breasts clapping together as they sway ponderously from his slow and steady thrusts; by the time Santa is finished with her, his north pole is slick with her frosting. Then it is on to Aria, who moans loudly as her stocking gets stuffed, her saggy tits flopping wildly around her chest as her guts get rearranged by the Big Man himself.

That Jolly Old Soul then spends some time switching between the streamers, sampling their holes and bringing them to the brink of ecstatic jubilation before moving on. After several rounds of this, it is Aria who breaks first. She begs for, her tongue sticking out and her eyes rolling, her hips bucking uncontrollably as she slams herself back against Santa, screeching for release. But Ol' Saint Nick is unfazed, his candy cane unyielding as her pussy spasms all around it, painting his sack with her own icing; only when she has finished does he. Aria wails with delight as her womb is flooded with sticky holiday cheer, collapsing onto the floor so that she is only being held up by the cock inside of her; she was now most definitely not on the naughty list anymore!

As Aria slides bonelessly off of the North Pole, Tina is right there to replace her, eagerly stepping forward with her arms behind her back, the very paragon of demureness. But Ol' Saint Nick is not fooled by her false innocence, and in a flash she is hoisted into the air, and then impaled upon his chimney. Tina carols loudly as her tiny pussy is once more stretched beyond normal capacity, every festive inch slipping inside of her until her lower lips are smearing Aria's leavings off of his fireplace. She clutches at his chest as she is lifted up and down his shaft, unable to do anything other than paint the floor with her love for Father Christmas. His mighty hands grip her petite butt tightly, and suddenly Tina's mind goes blank as the Spirit of Christmas fills her, his eggnog pouring within her until she feels as if she were about to burst. But when the slut was left sprawling on the floor, not a drop leaked out, a Yuletide surprise that left her tummy swollen with good tidings.

Celine was the last, and like a charitable girl she waited with her legs wide open, ready to give Father Christmas what she had denied to her fans for so long. She groans as her fertile body is squished beneath his awesome weight, but she merrily wraps her legs around him nonetheless as he enters her; she doesn't mind this sort of thing at all. Celine trembles as Santa Claus goes to town on her defenseless pussy, his balls jingling as the slap against her palpitating asshole, and soon a slick signal of her submission spreads down her crack. Her toes twitch in the air with every thrust, her sweet voice lilting high as she affirms her love of Christmas in the most jolly way possible. Only after Ol' Saint Nick has plowed some courage into Celine does he give her the most precious gift of all, and joy surges through her along with his seed.

Aria and Tina cease their furious masturbating and scurry over to join Celine, helping her up onto her knees as they eagerly wait for what they know must come next. They squish their faces together, all of them kneading their breasts like dough as they open their mouths wide as if singing. Santa waxes his pole right in front of them, knees bent as he readies to give the girls one last present before he must fly away. The trio pant for it, begging, assuring him that they are good girls now, sloppily making out as they grope one another; they wanted to try some more eggnog! Ol' Saint Nick lets out one last mighty groan, as he plasters the girls with icing, blowing snow all over their faces and down their chest, coating their hair with a thick layer of frost. The streamers sputter and gasp, swallowing the ropes that land in their mouths, licking it off one another in a frenzy of lust. By the time they were finished, the Big Man had vanished, but he had left one last surprise for them. A pile of presents, filled to the brim with phallic objects of all sorts, dongs the churned and whirred and vibrated, enough to put on a degenerate nativity play. The girls gasp as they look at the clock, there was still time for them to save Christmas! Gleefully, Aria, Celine, and Tina scoop up armfuls of toys and lubricant and dash back into the kitchen hammering the camera on and sending out blast-emails and posts to all and sundry to cum join them for fresh Christmas festivities!

The stream that would last for thirty-seven cum-soaked minutes before being shut down when a mod finally finished draining his balls and realized he should maybe put a stop to things. It would set a record for late-night viewer counts that would only be surpassed years later. But perhaps most importantly, Christmas had indeed been saved, and several gallons of pent-up semen had been emptied. And for forever after, the three hoes would be sure to remain on the naughty list...

[kisakis-boyfriend]

Like Ships in the Night…On a Train… (BSD version part 1)

Author's Note: Got horny. Thought about one of my favorite scenarios. Bon appetit 👍 Other installments are already in the works for different series. :3

Pairings: Sigma, Dazai, & Chuuya x male reader (separately)

Warnings: Male!reader, dom/top!reader, sub/bottom!characters, trans Sigma, chikan, grinding, groping, fingering (Sigma), nipple play (Chuuya)

Sigma

Why is this happening to him?! He's read the news headlines about creeps groping people on trains, sure, but he never imagined he'd be on the receiving end of that!

Sigma feels helpless as the mystery man hooks one arm around his waist, locking him in this position like a caged bird. Soon, he feels a touch on his hip, sliding down to his plush thighs as he's groped right here and now — standing in front of the train wall with his hands bracing himself against it.

Panic floods in as the stranger grabs his crotch, rubbing two fingers over his slit — you both realize something in this moment; Sigma realizes that his secret may not be safe anymore, and the dangers that come with that, while you realize that you can touch this guy more discreetly like this.

Your fingers make quick work of his pants, opening them up just enough to reach inside and touch his pussy again. Despite the fact that your victim is shaking, he's already a bit wet before you're even inside. You tease him over his underwear for a second, then dive even deeper and finally touch his bare pussy.

With all of his remaining willpower, Sigma whispers a quiet plea for you to stop, and you can practically hear the tears welling in his eyes. You ignore him, of course, already sinking between his folds and groaning at the wetness oozing out just from that.

A stranger is fingering his cunt on public transit, and no one else seems to notice. Sigma can only pray that you stop before things escalate, or before you realize he's a trans man…maybe his long hair fooled you into thinking he's a girl?

That line of thought is shattered as Sigma presses his thighs together, biting back a squeal as you fingerfuck him so rough that he squirts a little, messing up his clothes as a result. As he cums, you lean closer to his ear and whisper a “Good boy~” before you readjust his clothing for him and disappear, presumably exiting the train.

You left the man as a panting, confused mess in his little corner. Left to wonder who violated him in an almost gentle way, compared to all of the horror stories Sigma read about. His pussy was still wet, and he swears that he didn't enjoy that…but the memory won't stop replaying in his mind as he lay in bed, squeezing his thighs together once again…dripping…aching…moaning…

Dazai

How bold do you have to be to think you could get away with this? Honestly, don't you recognize the man that you're attempting to grope? Do you really think there won't be consequences?

Well, ok, hear him out… You're not being rough right now — if anything, you're actually touching Dazai rather gently. Hands caress his sides, hidden by his large trench coat, sliding across his clothed abdomen almost romantically. The most you've done so far is rub his hips, not even trying to go for anything more private (yet).

What's the harm in letting this go on, seeing just where this will lead? Dazai's pretty strong, not a big muscle man, but strong enough to hold his own when need be. If things escalate too much, or he feels unsafe, he can simply reveal who he is and threaten to call the cops on you. But for now, he'll just let this play out.

You take a step closer, pushing Dazai further against the window, and he seizes the opportunity to reveal your identity in the reflection…except your face is buried in the back of his neck so he can't actually see who you are…

Dazai feels your warm breath tickling his skin, and he can feel you… wait, are you sniffing him? Really? What a creep, smelling some stranger while you're touching him. Jeez.

That's not the only thing Dazai notices though — he also feels what he assumes to be your hard-on poking his ass now that you're hugging his body tightly. You begin to move, and this is when Dazai should stop you…but he can't deny how…nice…this all feels. Especially when you reach forward and grab his hand, clasping his with yours in a strangely soft display–

Seriously, what a depraved, obsessive, sad creep you must be to hold a stranger's hand while you're smelling them and humping them on a public train. That's just not normal, dude.

There's not much more time to question anything, as you grind against Dazai's ass until your movements stutter, then eventually stop altogether. And he can guess by your heavy breathing that you just creamed your pants without ever truly touching your victim.

'How sad. That guy could easily get off by humping another guy on the train — who knows what dirty fantasies were running through his mind to make him cum like that.' Dazai thinks, stroking himself in the shower while he pictures your fat package gliding in between his cheeks again.

Chuuya

Honestly, Chuuya surprised himself when some strange man came up behind him and trapped him in the corner of the train and he didn't say a word of protest. Perhaps the shock was what prevented his usual reactions?

Shocked at how bold you were for grabbing a Port Mafia executive by the hips and forcing his ass to meet the tent in your pants, that is. Do you really think this is going to end well? Are you just so stupid that you have no idea who Chuuya is, and how easy it would be for him to use his special ability to pin you to the floor and knock your teeth out?

You're either stupid or desperate, or maybe both, but Chuuya can't think about that too much when you're already humping him so boldly. Sure, you're somewhat hidden in the corner, but does no one pay attention to the obvious motions?

Not only are you grinding against him so hard that he's forced to his tiptoes, you're untucking his shirt from his pants and sliding your hands underneath like it's totally normal! Quickly finding his nipples and toying with them so roughly that Chuuya has to cover his mouth to remain quiet.

His smaller body jerks with your every thrust, forced to submit to this gross act of depravity or else everyone on the train will find out that Chuuya Nakahara is a public use slut. His reputation would be destroyed!

So, he lets you have your way with him — thrusting your clothed erection against the curve of Chuuya's ass until you cum, grunting right into his ear — and then a familiar chime signals the opening of the train doors, and you exit, leaving the little guy high and dry and completely disheveled as his cock leaks inside of his boxers.

Now, a Port Mafia executive doesn't have any need to use public transport — he could easily use a private car or even a fucking helicopter if he wanted to — but, Chuuya finds himself taking the same train at the same time again tomorrow. This time, he's already standing in that corner, facing the wall to conceal his hard, throbbing cock, and to advertise himself as vulnerable prey.

[kashedelic]

A HAT OF HEARTH - trafalgar d. law x f!reader

SUMMARY: Sometimes if you look closer (to a certain hat), you’ll find that Law loves in ways you didn’t expect.

NOTES: law x reader, second pov, established relationship, fluff, tooth-rotting fluff, some possessiveness if you squint, law being lovey dovey, i just need law fluff tbh.

wc: 900

a/n: this is the first fic im uploading and I can’t say that i’m disappointed. currently working on some more fics and i’m hoping to get those out soon, but I cant exactly say when because i NEED those ones to be a little bit more detailed than a silly little drabble like this. and yes, those include the reqs! anyways, I need a law in my life frl.

Be sure to like, reblog, or even follow! Your support means everything to me and helps more people to find this story! Thank you for reading!

The hat was an emblem that Trafalgar D. Law, the Surgeon of Death, was capable of loving. Sure, the man was never too forward with how he showed love, but who said love had to be overt? Could it not manifest in quieter forms? What was wrong with loving in silence? Was it such a sin to care, to praise, to cherish quietly before daring to be bold? “We’re headed into a colder climate, wear this.” The clipped, brusque command might make anyone else think he was chastising a petulant child or begrudgingly tending to a nuisance. Yet, with the way his eyes flickered over your face for a moment longer than necessary, and the subtle brush of his fingers against the side of your head, the truth was far from that assumption.

Law was a doctor, after all - one fully capable of nursing you back to good health, but just the mere thought of seeing you feverish, voice weak and body frail, made his chest tighten with unease.

Even if your falling ill meant more one-on-one time together, he’d never risk it. He would rather see you well than selfishly enjoy your dependance on him. However, in the scenario that sickness did strike, Law would be readily beside you, caring for you every step of the way.

Law cared.

“Take care of it for me, will ya?” He hastily flopped the hat on your head, slightly askew, its brim tilted awkwardly. Your fingers instinctively reached up to adjust it, bewilderment etched into your features. Law, who rarely ever parted with his signature hat, had entrusted it to you. There was a small pause, a moment of lingerment, before he adjusted his grip on Kikoku and dashed back into the fray.

You watched as the blade caught and reflected light, clashing against a formidable enemy. The hat sat heavy on your head, a reminder of its significance. You didn’t know too much about the hat’s origin, but you know one thing: Law didn’t part with it lightly. 

The thought of joining the battle crossed your mind - you were perfectly capable to - but something about the weight of the hat felt grounding, as though it was urging you to stay. Something in your gut told you that it wasn’t just a token of trust; it was a silent request to hold down the Polar Tang, to handle any threats to the ship. In that moment, you weren’t merely entrusted with just the hat, but you were entrusted with Law’s entire livelihood. That alone made it more symbolic. It was a quiet testament to how Law trusts.

“Need to cover yourself more,” he muttered, tugging the brim down until it shaded your face. It was definitely larger on your head than on his and if his expression hadn’t been so grumpy, you would have joked about his supposedly “mega-sized head.” The hat swallowed you whole, but he would rather it that way. In fact, if it were really up to him, it would come with a veil to shield you from every prying eye. 

Law didn’t care - he wanted to protect. Law often thought the world didn’t deserve you. Hell, he wasn’t even sure he deserved you. In his eyes, your smile put the sun to shame, and all your curves and edges made him think that there’s another place that he wants - no, needs - to explore. Though again, he won’t admit that to you and he reluctantly agreed with himself to put those thoughts aside and instead focused on the desire to shield you.

He knew you were pretty, too pretty for his liking - at least when it came to the crooked world around him. The thought of anyone else noticing, of anyone else having thoughts about you, grated on his nerves. He hated the way men stared when you dressed up, hated the way his chest tightened and his breath caught when you twirled in new clothes, showing them off to Bepo. “They've got beady little bird-brain eyes,” he’d grumble under his breath, his hand tightening around Kikoku’s hilt whenever anyone started a second too long. Still, even as he kept his guard up, the hat stayed on your head. A silent declaration, a mark of who you belonged to. 

Law protected.

“Didn’t know I got us a clown on the Tang,” he chuckled, placing the hat on your head once again - this time even more lopsided and deliberately so. He turned away, and leaned his back against the ship’s railing, one leg crossed over the other. Taut muscles flexed as his elbows lazily rested against the bar, his chest tattoos peaking through the wifebeater he donned. Law lets you humor him as he humors you back by sloppily placing the hat on your face. You scowled at his teasing, but Law snickered at your ruffled appearance, finding you endereaning despite the exaggerated frown on your lips. 

Law humored.

The hat rests carefully in your hands, the fluffy material caressed between your digits. You hadn’t meant to look into the hat so much, but now, as he silently slipped the hat onto your lap  before heading off to shower instead of placing it on a shelf like usual, you couldn’t help but reminisce on all the fond memories associated with the hat.

You noted that this hat would not only bring heat to your head, but to your heart too, because Law loved.

Please don’t repost, translate, or redistribute my work without permission. Likes, reblogs, and comments are appreciated. All rights to One Piece and its characters belong to Eiichiro Oda and respective copyright holders. © kashedelic 2024

[gpcwsl]

Warnings: Kissing, I do not ship these two together. They are good friends.

Alessia Russo x Leah Williamson x Reader:

Clumsy Knock Into Someone’s Arms.

MasterList.

It was a crisp autumn afternoon, the leaves crunching underfoot as Y/n strolled through the park, her headphones playing soft music. She wasn’t paying much attention to her surroundings, too lost in the melody and the vibrant colors of the season. That was, until a blur of movement interrupted her peaceful walk.

“Whoa! Oh my God, I’m so sorry!”

Before she could fully register what happened, Y/n felt someone collide with her shoulder. The impact sent her teetering backward, but just as she braced for the inevitable fall, a pair of strong arms caught her mid-stumble.

“Got you,” a smooth, calm voice said, steadying her.

Blinking up, Y/n found herself staring into a pair of piercing blue eyes belonging to a blonde woman. Her features were striking, her confident smirk sending a jolt of warmth through Y/n.

“Are you okay?” the woman asked, her voice low and slightly teasing.

“I-I think so,” Y/n stammered, her heart racing.

Meanwhile, the culprit who had bumped into her—a slightly flustered Alessia Russo—was standing to the side, her hands raised in an apologetic gesture.

“I’m so sorry,” Alessia said, stepping closer. “I wasn’t paying attention. Are you alright? I didn’t mean to knock into you.”

Y/n glanced between them, her cheeks flushing. “I’m fine, really. No harm done.”

Leah, still holding onto Y/n’s arm, raised an eyebrow at Alessia. “Russo, you really need to watch where you’re going. You nearly flattened her.”

Alessia shot her a look before turning back to Y/n, her brown eyes soft and warm. “Seriously, let me make it up to you. Are you sure you’re not hurt?”

“I’m sure,” Y/n replied, laughing softly. “It’s okay. You don’t have to—”

“Let us,” Leah interrupted smoothly, a mischievous glint in her eye as she finally released Y/n’s arm. “It’s the least we can do after my clumsy friend here nearly ruined your day.”

“Excuse me? I wasn’t the one who over-dramatically swooped in,” Alessia shot back, crossing her arms.

“Someone had to save her,” Leah said, smirking.

Y/n watched their playful bickering with amusement. “I don’t think it was that dramatic,” she said, trying to suppress a grin.

Leah and Alessia both froze, turning their attention back to her as if they had momentarily forgotten their original goal.

“Right,” Alessia said quickly, rubbing the back of her neck. “I’m Alessia, by the way. And this is Leah.”

“Nice to meet you,” Y/n said, still smiling.

“Now that we’ve properly introduced ourselves,” Leah cut in, her tone suave, “let us take you for coffee. It’s the least we can do for almost running you over.”

Y/n hesitated for a moment, glancing between them. They were both undeniably attractive, their contrasting personalities intriguing. Alessia had a warm, approachable energy, while Leah exuded confidence and charm.

“Okay,” Y/n said finally. “Coffee sounds nice.”

The three of them ended up at a cozy little café on the edge of the park. Leah insisted on paying, though Alessia argued over it briefly before relenting. They found a table by the window, the late afternoon sun casting a golden glow over their faces.

As they talked, Y/n found herself growing more comfortable in their company. Alessia’s genuine curiosity and Leah’s quick wit kept her laughing, and she couldn’t help but notice how both of them seemed completely captivated by her.

“So, Y/n,” Leah said, leaning forward slightly, her gaze locked on hers. “What brings someone like you to a place like this? Besides fate and Alessia’s terrible spatial awareness, of course.”

Y/n laughed, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “I was just out for a walk, enjoying the weather. I didn’t expect to meet anyone, let alone… well, you two.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” Alessia teased, her smile soft and a little shy.

“Not at all,” Y/n replied, meeting her eyes.

Leah smirked, leaning back in her chair. “See? We’re not so bad after all.”

As the conversation continued, the air between them shifted slightly. There was a growing tension, a spark that neither Alessia nor Leah could ignore.

After finishing their coffee, they decided to take another walk through the park. This time, the dynamic between them felt different—closer, more charged. Alessia walked on one side of Y/n, her hands brushing hers occasionally, while Leah strolled on the other, her presence steady and magnetic.

At one point, Alessia stopped abruptly, turning to Y/n.

“Okay, I have to say this,” she began, her cheeks slightly flushed. “You’re… stunning. Like, ridiculously stunning. And I know this probably sounds cheesy, but I’ve been trying not to stare all afternoon.”

Y/n blinked, her heart skipping a beat. “Oh… thank you.”

Leah chuckled, stepping closer. “What she’s trying to say is, you’re breathtaking. And she’s right. We’re both kind of in awe here.”

Y/n looked between them, her face heating. “You’re both… really sweet.”

“Sweet, huh?” Leah said, her voice dropping slightly as she moved even closer.

Before Y/n could respond, Alessia’s hand gently brushed her cheek, drawing her attention. “I hope this isn’t too forward, but…”

The question lingered in the air, unspoken but understood. Y/n felt her pulse quicken as Alessia leaned in, her lips soft and warm against hers. The kiss was tentative at first, but when Y/n kissed her back, Alessia’s confidence grew, her hand sliding to the nape of Y/n’s neck.

When they finally pulled away, Y/n barely had time to catch her breath before Leah stepped in, her fingers tilting Y/n’s chin up.

“Not bad, Russo,” Leah murmured, her lips curving into a smirk. “But let me show you how it’s done.”

Leah’s kiss was different—slower, deeper, and impossibly smooth. Her hands settled on Y/n’s waist, pulling her closer as the world seemed to melt away.

By the time Leah pulled back, Y/n was breathless, her heart pounding.

“I think we’ve officially made up for bumping into you,” Leah said, her voice low and teasing.

“More than made up for it,” Y/n replied, her cheeks flushed.

Alessia grinned, her hand slipping into Y/n’s. “So… does this mean we get to see you again?”

Y/n smiled, feeling warmth bloom in her chest. “I’d like that.”

[tourturestarradio]

𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐈 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐂𝐇𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐌𝐀𝐒✮

"𝐈 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐲 𝐨𝐰𝐧. 𝐌𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰. 𝐌𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐢𝐬𝐡 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐞 𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐈 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐂𝐡𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐦𝐚𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐘𝐨𝐮!"

☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆

Pairing: Monster trio! x reader!

Prompt: The gifts you give to the trio and the gifts they'd give you!

Warnings: just mostly fluff and fun

☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆☆ ★ ✮

𝐋𝐔𝐅𝐅𝐘

I feel like Luffy would treasure anything you gave him, like how he is with his hat

So he wouldn't mind whatever you got him and didn't understand why you got so stressed when it came to you getting him a gift

So on Christmas he was excited to see what you got him munching on gingerbread man

He absolutely SUCKS at getting someone a gift

He would think it a good gift and honestly you don't have the heart to tell him it's bad

Once you both exchanged gifts he had a bright gleam in his eye as he watched you open your gift

His grin grew much wider as you smiled at the small necklace he got you it had a little 'L' on it (Nami totally didn't throw away his gift and switch it out)

He hurried and unwrapped his gift his grin dropping as he sees a framed picture of him and his brothers, and two necklaces one with your first initial and the other one with the initials 'ASL'

You were worried you may have made him upset but when his arms wrapped around you tightly you smile as he tackled you into a hug, comedic tears running down his face

"Th-This is the best gift ever!" he shouted smushing his cheek against yours

Safe to say he liked your gift

𝐙𝐎𝐑𝐎

I can't see Zoro as someone who gives thoughtful gifts, like at all...

He would "gift" whatever he found laying around

No joke he literally got you one of his weights put it in a lazily wrapped box and handed it over to you

It wasn't until AFTER Nami cracked her fist over his head that he started putting in more effort but ONLY for you

He would be stuck and would need help from Nami and Robin to get you a gift

But it wasn't of much help Nami spouting "get them something pretty! Or expensive!" and Robin stating "Get them something they like, or something with important meaning"

So he left the women figuring they wouldn't be of much help

And don't get me wrong he would know everything you liked and dislike

He heard alll your long rambles about what you enjoyed, what you hated, your favorite food, favorite drink everything and you would never know

Which is the only reason he was so stumped, he knew too much now he didn't know what to get at all so he bought literally everything he thought you would like hoping it would make you happy.

Now you on the other hand already knew what to get him, but luck wasn't really wasn't on your side as you made your way down to a shop in town but some petty thugs tried to rob you but you weren't fazed even in the slightest you just wanted to get back to the ship

But these guys really made it hard for you, they just kept pestering you, and it's not like you could do much because you left your weapon back on the ship

Zoro leaving a store, had spotted you being surrounded by some random men

He dropped the many boxes and bags seemingly appearing behind the men and cutting them down with ease

You smiled at him throwing your arms around his shoulders "my hero!"

Zoro pretended not to be fazed by your words but the small smile said otherwise

Later he showed you the gifts he got you but you sighed leaning on him "oh you're the best gift I could ask for" you said placing a little bow on his head

"So does that mean I can take all this stuff back?"

"No♡"

𝐒𝐀𝐍𝐉𝐈

Tried to get you a ring.

I'm not kidding, he would be dead set on proposing to you, but when Robin said that'd be to much he dropped that plan, (he still kept the ring....just in case)

I could see him as someone who thinks too much about what to get you

It was very tiring for him so settled for something nice, something he was good at, cooking. Cooking like a little fancy dinner for the two of you

But that plan was also shot down when you trotted into the kitchen dressed in a cute Santa outfit while he was trying to cook

Coming up behind him, he knew you were there BUT he didn't know you were gonna touch him so he did a little when you wrapped your arms around his torso pressing your cheek again his back

He froze in his spot as if he had turned to stone, you peeked around him "Merry Christmas honey" you muttered sliding a box next to him, he could feel his heart rate increase as he heard your voice

Slowly turning to face you he knew he'd be blinded by your beauty but this! As soon as he laid eyes on you it was over

Falling back he kicked the bucket blood gushing from his nose

You only sighed at his antics as you went and got chopper

Upon waking up Sanji looked around "maybe it was just a dream..."

Oh but it wasn't looking to his right he saw a medium sized box on his nightstand

Placing it in his lap he saw a little note on top that read 'Hope you like love you!'

He smiled at the note and set it aside opening the box he was stunned on top there was a heart shaped locket, opening it it was a picture of you and him his smile grew bigger as he looked through the rest of the box, it was filled with memories of you and him mostly different photos

One stood out though, it was a picture of you and him, you were hugging his side and kissing his cheek as his face was beat red

Holding the picture close to his chest he smiled

You really were his one true love.

☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆☆ ★ ✮

A/n: I'm so mad I couldn't put this out on Christmas RAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHhhh

[wikiangela]

Hi, a bit late but joining in on the @alliwantforchristmasislou project 🫶

I decided to donate to a polish organisation called the stonewall group (which is why the pic is in polish lol)

chose this one just because im the most familiar with this one, and they do amazing work in support of lgbt+ people and fighting for our rights in this... not so queer-friendly country 🫶

now, ive been in the 911 fandom for almost 4 years now (gonna be 4 in i think February), and i only started after the episode Buck actually bc it was allll over my dash. i binged the whole show in a week, before the next episode is even aired, I loved it SO much.

as most of y'all know, I initially shipped buddie - it was the big ship, ofc i did, i wrote so much fic for them and i had so much fun and met so many moots i still love seeing on my dash 🫶❤️ but it might've been obvious (or not, idk) i was kinda getting bored and losing enjoyment, more and more of my fics and snippets were focusing on other characters with buck or eddie, i wasnt really as into it anymore - but i still loved it and wanted to enjoy it (which ironically was killed dead later on by the buddie fandom itself lmao)

and then came bucktommy and everything changed. initially i tried not to give in but within a few days i had two fics and more ideas lol they completely took over my thoughts. ive never been this inspired to write, to create, I even learned how to make gifs for them (with lots of help from amazing talented friends 🫶🤣) during fall and winter I always get so depressed and sad and having very dark and depressing thoughts (last year my buck driving fic was a result of that lol), and its so hard to find motivation to do anything, even write. but this year, even tho I had a lil crisis moment, i wrote through it and im as inspired as always - i havent stopped writing since april. they're literally the most inspiring ship ever - and fun fact, usually i prefer writing about fanon ships, so this was a huge change and surprise

I always related to buck a lot, and especially once we got his bisexuality canon - checking out and appreciating hot people of the same sex and not realizing what it means is too real lol - and Tommy is so compelling and theres so much potential for so many stories there, I wish the show would do something interesting with him 😭 despite being so confident and cool, he feels like he's holding back some sad, maybe (probably) traumatic backstory that could be so good and interesting - and lou is such a good actor and itd be amazing to see more from him in this role

they wrote tommy as the perfect love interest for buck, and it was amazing to see it on screen, it was such a breath of fresh air to see this kind of queer representation on a network show, it was so gentle and adorable, and they initially handled it with so much care, and id love to see where they'd go from there 😭 the break up broke my heart not only because it happened, but because it felt ooc and abrupt and not at all like that's where the story was going. wish they'd fix it and give us tommy back 😭🙏

and lastly but most importantly - thanks to bucktommy, i met so many amazing friends ❤️😭 even when I was writing fics and interacting with mutuals on here, i was never really talking to a lot of mutuals, not for longer than a few messages, and now i got this wonderful community that i feel so comfortable in, everyone is so nice and friendly, and I love y'all so much, this is the best fandom experience ive ever had ❤️

thank you all, ive been having so much fun since april, i love y'all. here's to more bucktommy in 2025 ❤️

[natsboygirlfriend]

୨ৎ CHRISTMAS TREE FARM — 🌲

summary : christmas for your girlfriend is uneventful and frankly boring, so you invite her to come with you to your grandparents' christmas tree farm for the holidays

pairing : natalie scatorccio × fem!reader

not proofread and uhhh 1.6k words jesus christ

a/n : uh uh uh this is my first fic so don't make fun of me... this is like a montage thing because i got bored when the scene was too long. ALSO tell me if nat is ooc pls. like I TRIEDDDD but idk. this is absolutely a taylor swift reference, but it's very loosely based on the song itself but I tried

you tap on nat's shoulder before the beginning of class, her head whipping back as if she didn't notice you beforehand.

"what are you doing for christmas?" you asked curiously, leaning over the desk with your knees on the edge of the seat.

"nothing much..." she shrugged.

"really?" your eyebrows quirked up, not really believing her. there's no way she was doing nothing at all for christmas.

"really." she nodded. "we didn't even put a tree this year."

your face contorted into one of surprise, not even a tree? "seriously?" you questioned again, to which she just nodded.

you felt bad for nat. she seemed so okay with doing nothing to celebrate, like it was normal.

she noticed the sympathetic look on your face, sighing as if she were used to it. "it's fine. I don't like christmas that much anyway." she assured, shrugging again.

you scoffed, immediately jumping to offer her a better christmas. "how about you come with me for christmas?"

"every winter break, my dad ships me off to my grandparents in pennsylvania. it's fun." you smiled, hoping she'd say yes.

"I don't know..." she repiled, trying to let you down gently before you cut her off quickly.

"come on, pleaseeeee!!! it'll be so much fun with you there!" you plead, leaving no room for interruption as you continued. "there's so much festivals and parties, and I never have anyone my age to be with pleasepleasepleaseplease—"

as you berated nat with pleases, the bell rung signaling class has now started, the class silencing, you now getting stares for your loud voice.

you found yourself blushing with embarrassment, sitting back correctly in your seat before the teacher started talking, nat stifling a giggle as she looked back to the front of the class.

after class and not very much convincing she agreed to go, and a week later, you two were in pennsylvania.

"so, what are we doing today again?" she asked, stuffing her hands in her jackets pockets, watching you tie your shoes.

"uhh well, first we gonna go eat and then go run errands for the party." you explained, standing up, meeting her at eye level.

she nodded with a grimace at the mention of 'party'. "do we really have to be at the party? can't we just stay in your room? we can watch that one movie with the turbo dude." she asked with a chuckle.

"what's with the push back on the party? you like parties." you smiled back, walking to open the door, letting her walk through first.

"christmas parties are completely different. It's just fruitcake and awkward questions about school." she scoffed, walking past you.

"it's not that bad." you followed behind her, closing the door and walking beside her. the cold biting at your faces and snow crunching under your feet.

you two made a b-line for the car, rushing in and turning the heater on.

"can we at least leave if it's as bad i know it will be?" she asked sarcastically with a shiver in her voice as the warmth hit her, her back hitting the passenger seat.

"fine. but you will enjoy it." you answered, relaxing in the car before you started driving. "sure i will." she scoffed as she smiled.

all you could hear was christmas songs on various speakers, adults chatting, and kids screaming and running like animals.

some were in the barn where it was warmer and smelt like food and pine, others we dancing under the pretty warm string lights hung on the trees and pillers.

nat clung to your side, only talking when it was to you or when your family members pestered about who she was in your life.

"y'know, I'm not sure how I feel about you call me just a friend." nat taunted, sipping on her apple cider that was still warm.

you scoffed and rolled your eyes at the tease. "shuddup." you push her with no real force.

"so you like it?" you asked, changing the subject. she tilted her head slightly in response. "the party." you clarified, making her click her tongue and nodded as she understood.

"its pretty, I guess." she shrugged nonchalantly. you looked at her with unimpressed expression. "nat."

"it's cute! not as annoying as I expected." she answered. "so you like it?" you raised your eyebrows with expectatance, and she sighed. "just a little." she smiled, looking around before quickly kissing your cheek.

after a week filled with christmas movies, parties, and festivals, it was finally christmas morning, and you were awoken by nats body warmth contrasting the cold of your room.

you sat up with a yawn, rubbing your eyes as the holiday spirit waited to invade your brain. you turn your head to look at nat sleeping comfortably on her side, and you had half a mind to just cuddle back to her and rest for longer, but you know your grandparents were early birds and would come to wake up any moment.

"nat." you croak out, your voice soft from just waking up, shoving her lightly in a half assed attempt to wake her.

"nattttt." you continue, shaking her shoulder before she started whining, waking, curling more into the blanket to where her fried blonde hair only peaked out.

"come on. it's christmas." you stated, shoving her again. you moved your body so you were sitting on your legs, facing her. "come onnnnnnn." you murmur, laying your body weight on top of her, hearing a muffled groan from the covers.

she poked her eyes out of the blanket, looking at you with a sleepy look on her face. "fine. get off." she mumbled, pushing you off of her with a smile, sitting up.

"I don't even see the point of me going down. you're the one opening the gifts." she argued, stretching her back.

"I got you plenty of gifts. obivously." you scoffed, acting offended at the notion of you leaving her giftless on christmas.

"okay, my bad then." she grumbles with a smile, giving you a quick peck on the lips.

the whole scene was pretty domestic. waking up on christmas together, getting her loads with gifts? adorable, right?

you sat back up with her, getting out of bed, urging her to do the same. she followed suit, the cold hitting both of you.

you both made your way downstairs, the warmth of the fireplace growing as you stepped closer to the living room.

getting gifts for nat wasn't that hard, not when all she talked about was rare cds and merch from artists that she couldn't afford to get herself.

"holy sh— moly..." she stuttered, whipping her head behind at your grandparents watching you two open gifts and the game simultaneously.

she looked back at the signed cd copy of 'bleach' from nirvana. "how did you get this?" she asked with wide, grateful eyes. "I dunno ask santa." you shrug with a proud grin.

she rolled her eyes, setting the cd next to her like it was made of glass. "well, thank you, santa." she played along.

you and nat glanced at the tree, and the torn wrapping paper and gift bags around you. "I think that's it?" you guessed with a shrug. your girlfriend copied you before gasping, scrambling to her feet. "wha—"

"just wait a sec!" she yelped, running back up the stairs.

"she's odd." your grandpa mumbled once she was out of ear shot. your eyebrows furrowed at the criticism. "don't be rude." your grandma scolded, hitting his shoulder lightly.

nat came rushing back, sitting back in her former spot in a huff. holding out a tiny gift bag. "it's just a little thing." she shrugged off before you got the chance to say anything.

the edges of your lips quirked up at the bag now in hand. "thank you, nat." you smiled. you took away the tissue paper, digging your hand in the bag and pulling out some of your favorite candy.

"that's not it." nat pointed before you could react. you continued digging in the bag, finding various trinkets and small toys that reminded nat of you. honestly the bag was pretty stuffed with things.

but the main thing that caught your eye was the cd that had a printed picture of you and nat, posing while you were mostly likely tipsy or high. or both.

nat watched silently as you looked and smiled at the gifts, trying to act calm, yet she looked at you with approval seeking eyes.

"I know it's kinda dumb bu—" she admitted before you cut her off. "no no no! it's great, nat. I love it." you assured with a chuckle, opening up the cd to see a handwritten track list of sings from various artists.

the gift was obviously very heartfelt, and you found your checking warming at the songs she chose.

she sighed and nodded in relief at your approval.

-

you sat on the couch, as nat laid her head on your lap, both of you bundled in blankets infront of the fire as you watched home alone.

"hey nat?" you murmur, breaking the comfortable silence.

nat picked her head up, looking at you. "hm?" she hummed.

"did I give you a good christmas?" you asked softly, your hand continuing to play with her hair.

a smile appeared on her face before nodding. "yes. you gave me a pretty good christmas." she admitted.

"do you still not like christmas?" you questioned more with a slight smile.

she grin grew as she nodded again. "I like it a little more now." she she sighed. you couldnt help hut feel a little proud that you were the reason she liked christmas more.

"I love you." she blurted causally, and you couldn't help but laugh a little at the sudden declaration.

"I love you too, nat." you smiled back, running a hand through her hair. she hmed and grinned before moving to lay back on her lap, content with your response.

you furrowed your eyebrows in amusement before sighing and going back to the movie.

-

okay boom done go away. I didn't even mean to post it rn my app just glitched whatever I'm gonna kms bye

@pinkcatsthatfly wanted to be tagged

[yubinluvclub6]

Die With A Smile, touya todoroki

𓆤࣭ ─ dabi/touya todoroki x sweet!reader, angst!, fluff, also i think i used the words “sweet” and “soft” about a million times, but reader is that, so.. dabi literally doesn't care of readers existence at first sob sob. highly inspired by “die with a smile” by bruno and gaga mwach, hence the title. sad ending! teeny tiny smutty moment, but it doesn't go into detail :( so sfw! idk how to write these tbh. strangers to friends to lovers(?) he calls her “doll” eeee sniff sniff! they're so in love <3 it's my first time ever writing & posting so please be nice! it was fun writing this! super short and sweet. no big plot. just for shits and giggles he he #1 touya fan !! i have such a fat crush on him i miss him sm waaa okay enjoy <3

When Dabi first laid his eyes on you, he didn’t care to spare a second glance. Why would he? You were just another member of the League, another cog in the machine of Shigaraki’s grand design, and he had no interest in entertaining the presence of another needless human who played no part in his own personal plans.

You, with your annoyingly bright smile, that would light up your entire face, and that stupid little cat you keep around you, always toting around with it. He didn’t care. But you did play a big role in the League. You were useful. Born with a healing quirk, you were vital. Shigaraki Tomura didn’t need more crew members on his ship, but when he saw you, healing a battered up and bruised stray kitty in a filthy, sketchy alleyway near the hideout, how could he not take you in?

Dabi recalled the first time you spoke to him. Your voice of sincerity. Delicate. Gentle. Voice like an angel. Nourishing. It had weight to it. He’d thought that alone could heal his every wound and scar. You introduced yourself. Simple. So soothing. “I’m Yn. Nice to meet you all!” You had said. Smile oh so evident on your face. Luminous. That’s the first thing he noticed. No... second. Your bright ass smile. What the fuck were you smiling so bright for?

He remembers. He remembers when you first went on a mission together. He’d assumed.. quite smugly, actually, that you couldn’t fight for shit, but man, despite only possessing a healing quirk, your combat skills surprised him. He hated that it impressed him. But he didn’t care. He doesn’t care.

But it began happening.. slowly. You, chipping away at his defenses.

𓆤─

After a particularly tough mission, Dabi returned more bruised than anticipated. His skin burned. Sizzling. Hot. Irritated. But he can’t feel. He doesn’t want to feel. Pain was an old friend. But just maybe, he does.

And so, with gentleness, you took him by his hand, guiding him to a nearby chair, sitting him down, and began curing his ruined, roughed up skin with your oh so soothing magic. Hands of an angel.

He didn’t question it. Sat. Silently. Letting you do your thing.

“You need be more careful,” you said. Your voice so sweet it felt like a whisper against the chaos of his existence.

Those words lingered, and he smirks thinking about it now. Battered and bruised, just like the stray cat, before fate brought you two together. In the same position, once again, just like when you had said those words.

...

And so, began a stupid little friendship, if he dared to call it that.. You and Dabi were opposites in every conceivable way, like Sun and Moon. And yet, you gravitated toward each other. You both clicked.

Nights blurred into days, most of which were spent in his room, or yours. Banter, mindless chatter, quiet conversations, and the softest of giggles coming out of your pretty lips from an unintended joke. He enjoyed it. Found an odd sense of comfort in it. Solace. He'd often find himself craving it. The cycle would repeat, and you'd become a constant.

He's thinking. Smiling. How he would love to feel your warm hands against his stomach, despite the already burning sensation he’s feeling deep in.

His thoughts drift again.

𓆤─

He's sat alone one night, in the silence of his room, his thoughts twisting around anger and vengeance.. fear..

You knocked softly at his door.

“Dabi?” you call, hesitant. As quietly as possible, as you peak through the open gap of the door.

He doesn’t answer, tense hands buried in his dark hair.

“Can I come in?” voice still so timid and soft.

Still, no answer. And yet, you enter.

Warmth. Your body against his. You embrace him, enveloping him completely. Your softness against his harsh scars. Yours against his. Yours. Yours. Yours.

And for the first time, he let's himself hold you. His arms are around yours, tight. So tight. He doesn’t think he’ll ever let go. You, the only thing tethering him to this world. And then he tells you. He tells you everything. His past. His bitch of a father, Endeavor. Touya.

That’s when he first feels it. Plush, soft. Always soft. Always you. And he presses. Applies pressure to your lips. Putty. That’s what you both are. Your hands in his messy hair, pulling against his locks gently. His, caressing your waist, your cheek, in your hair. Everywhere. He wants you, wants all of you. He kisses with urgency and need. He wants to memorize you.

And when you’re under him, moon illuminating your features, hair messy, pretty, hands in his hair, still. Your lips on his, still. Legs wrapped around his waist, forehead pressed against eachother. Warm breaths mingling. He decides. Wherever you go, he’ll follow. He wants to be next to you. With all of you. He wants to hold you. Wants to hold all of you.

...

Dabi chuckles, liquid dripping down from his dried up mouth, dyeing his shirt red. Crimson. Metallic. Down his nose and chin. How did he end up in this situation.

...

You lay entwined in his arms, light breeze blowing from the open window. Early morning sun, golden against your body and his.

“Touya?” you say softly, head against his chest, tracing little doodles onto his chest.

“Hm?” He let you. Touya, he thinks to himself. He let’s you call him that. Sounds freeing. Comforting, playing with his name against your lips. He likes it.

“Alright, if. If the world was ending? What’s the last thing you wanna do?”

He scoffs, small smirk evident on his lips. “Why the question.”

You perk, looking up at him, eyes big and glossy. You’re perfect, he thinks. “I’m curious..”

His hand finds itself in your hair brushing it back absentmindedly, gently. Doesn’t stop. Fingers coming though them. “Then stop bring curious.”

“Touya.”

“Yn.”

You sit up, sheets falling off your body like silk. You're facing him now, cross legged. “Seriously. What’s the last thing you’d do” You press.

He rolls his eyes.

“I don’t know. You tell me. What would you wanna do?”

You smile. Pretty, he thinks.

“A lot of things.”

“Fuck that. You can only choose one.”

You whine. Telling him there’s time. Some shit about the “few hours before it actually is the end of the world.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“Fine. The last 10 minutes. If the world was ending, and you had only 10 minutes, what are you doing.”

You think. Pouty, Pretty. So fucking cute.

Then you shrug. A sigh, lying your forhead against his chest. “Probably eat my favorite food. I can’t think of anything else.”

He laughs.

"Hm," you smile, looking up. “Your turn.”

Dabi looks into your eyes, his turquoise orbs, looking, admiring, studying. His thumb brushing against your cheek.

“What?” You say, cheeks flushing, a blush pink hue forming.

“Next to you.”

“Huh” You ask, small frown forming, confusion evident on your sweet face.

His voice soft, that of love, and tenderness. “If the world was ending, I'd wanna be next to you.”

You freeze. Silence. Your cheeks flushing, once again. Shy, pretty, as you process his words. Then, with a smile that could rival the sun, you kiss him deeply, harder than ever before.

“I love you, Touya” you whisper against his lips.

…

“Wait… but mine isn’t as good as yours…” you frown.

𓆤─

Touya laughs again. He laughs at you, and your stupid little questions. He laughs at your frown, the one that forms everytime you’re even the slightest bit confused. He laughs at your smile, so bright. Your cheeks, the ones that flush whenever he teases you. He laughs at you.

Then, he cries. Blood, again. Trickling down his cheek. Like it’s doing down the rest of his body. The blood soaks his shirt.

And so, he keeps laughing. Laughing at the fucked up situation he’s in. Laughing at his thoughts before he met you. At Endeavor, and his stupid, little brother. Laughing at his heart. His feelings. His emotions. It wasn’t supposed to end like this.

And he remembers again. 10 minutes.

And he hears. Touya. Your voice. Calling out his real name. He could hear you say his name forever. Like music to his ears. Butter. Smooth. Loving. Caring. So full of fucking love.

Touya. Say it again.

Touya. Again, please..

“Touya!” His eyes open, bloody, sticky. Your voice shatterring the silence.

“Touya” You cry, soft, warm hands frantically caressing his bloody face.

No. fuck, don’t cry. Please don’t cry. I’m sorry.

“You’ll be okay. Alright, just- just stay with me, Please.” You say breathlessly, hands brushing his disheveled hair back, touching anywhere you can.

He feels warm again. Your hands, against his abdomen, his chest.

You’re healing him. Trying. You're hurt too. Shit.

He laughs again, tears still rolling his cheeks.

Tears rolling down your cheeks.

“Yn” He says, barely there. Whispered, in pain. It hurts to swallow, it hurts to speak. Everything hurts.

“It’s okay, you’re gonna be okay.” You choke out tears. “I promise. Just stay awake. Alright. Just-“

“Doll.” His weak hand goes up to his chest, wrapping around yours. Tightly, forever.

You sniff, sobbing “No”

“It’s okay.” He smiles. Fuck it hurts. “I promise.”

“Yeah. You- you’ll be oka-“

“Remember... remember 10 minutes?”

“Ten-… Touya wha-“ He smiles again.

You frown. Cute. He really does have a soft spot for you.

“I’m glad it came true.”

Suddenly it clicks.

“No. No Touya. You’re gonna be fine. I promise. Please. Just-“ Your sobs grow louder.

“I love you, Yn.”

Sobbing, tears streaming down your cheeks, hands tightly clenched in his, forehead pressed against his blood soaked chest, “I love you too. I love you so much, Touya.”

Touya smiles. Because fuck, despite being here, after everything… He’s here, with you, next to you.

it's a lil boring lol but i had fun doing this so! tysm for reading <3

[winxanity-ii]

DO YOU STILL BELIEVE?

ship: odysseus x fem!penelope!reader warnings: non-explicit (emotional intensity, mentions of war and trauma, heavy themes of longing and separation, a bittersweet reunion) word count: 5.2k a/n: I had so much fun writing this one-shot inspired by Epic the Musical and The Odyssey! Penelope and Odysseus’ love story has always fascinated me, and I wanted to explore the raw emotions of their reunion while staying true to the themes of trust and enduring love. 🥹 I hope you enjoy this piece, and as always, feedback is welcome! Next update for Catch Me If You Can is in the works, so stay tuned! 👀.

★·.·´🇪‌🇵‌🇮‌🇨‌: 🇹‌🇭‌🇪‌ 🇲‌🇺‌🇸‌🇮‌🇨‌🇦‌🇱‌ 🇲‌🇦‌🇸‌🇹‌🇪‌🇷‌🇱‌🇮‌🇸‌🇹‌`·.·★

An unsettling silence clung to you as followed Eurycleia down the quiet corridors back to your chambers. The weight of the contest bore down on your shoulders like a storm cloud, and your mind churned with thoughts too heavy to quiet.

As you reached your room, Eurycleia stopped, turning to face you with an expression you couldn't quite decipher. Her aged hands, calloused from years of service, trembled slightly as she reached for the latch. "My lady," she began, her voice low and trembling, "you must remain in your room at all times tonight. No matter what you hear, you cannot leave."

Her words struck you with a jolt of unease, and you frowned. "Remain here? What do you mean, Eurycleia? What is going on?"

She hesitated, her gaze darting to the side as if the walls themselves might overhear her. "Please," she said softly, bowing her head. "Forgive me, but it is for your safety."

The cryptic answer only deepened the knot in your chest. "Eurycleia," you pressed, stepping closer, "tell me—"

"I cannot, my lady." Her voice wavered, but she straightened herself, her resolve unwavering. "I ask only that you trust me. Stay here, and do not leave until someone comes for you."

Before you could utter another word, she dipped into a deep bow, her gray hair catching the faint lamplight, and hurried away, the door clicking shut behind her.

For a moment, you simply stared at the door, her final words echoing in your ears. Trust me. What could she mean? What danger awaited beyond these walls?

Letting out a shaky sigh, you turned toward the room. The weight of your robe dragged against your shoulders as you pulled it tighter, seeking comfort from its soft folds.

The fire in the hearth crackled softly, casting flickering shadows that danced across the stone walls. It was a futile attempt to drive out the chill that had seeped into the room—and into your very bones.

Crossing to the window, you pressed your palms against the cool sill, your gaze drifting out over the kingdom below. The village lights flickered like stars scattered across the darkened land.

Beyond them, the sea stretched into the horizon, its surface shimmering faintly under the light of the crescent moon.

Your thoughts wandered, as they always did in moments of stillness, drawn to the same familiar ache that had lived in your chest for years.

The contest... Would it truly decide your fate? One of those suitors, those arrogant men who had feasted in your halls and mocked your son, could soon become your husband. The very thought sent a shudder down your spine, and you hugged your arms tighter around yourself.

A whisper escaped your lips, barely audible over the soft crackle of the fire. "Odysseus..." The name hung in the air, a prayer, a plea, a question. "What would you think of me now, letting this madness continue? Letting strangers fight for what was never theirs to claim?"

Your vision blurred, and you lowered your head, a tear slipping down your cheek. For years, you had waited. For years, you had woven and unwoven that shroud, holding on to a hope that had felt as fragile as a thread in the loom.

Was it foolish to hope still? To think that he might return, that the man who had held your heart so completely could be more than a memory?

Your lips trembled as you forced a bitter laugh. "I am not you," you murmured, the words breaking the silence. "I am not brave enough to fight this battle. All I can do is endure."

Your mind drifted, as it often did, to Telemachus. A smile tugged at your lips despite the ache in your chest. "Oh, Odysseus," you said, a soft chuckle escaping through your tears. "You would adore our son. He has your mind—so sharp, so clever. And your smile..." You let out a watery laugh, pressing a hand to your mouth to stifle the sound. "Even when he's being stubborn, I see you in him."

The image of Telemachus as a child came to you, vivid and warm—a boy who had once clung to your skirts, demanding stories of his father's heroism. Now, he stood tall, a man in his own right, with the weight of the kingdom already pressing on his shoulders. How proud Odysseus would be of him.

Your musings were cut short by a sudden, sharp sound—a shout echoing faintly down the corridors.

You froze, your heart leaping into your throat. Another shout followed, then the unmistakable clash of steel against steel.

Your breath hitched, and you stumbled back from the window, your pulse racing. What was happening? Panic swirled in your chest, and you turned toward the door, your hands trembling as you reached for the latch.

It didn't move.

You tugged harder, a frustrated gasp escaping you. "Open the door!" you shouted, pounding against the wood with the flat of your palm. "What is going on out there?"

A muffled voice answered from the other side, strained and apologetic. "My Queen, please—forgive us. You must remain inside."

"Why?" you demanded, your voice rising as fear clawed at your throat. "Tell me what is happening!"

But the only response was silence, broken only by the distant sounds of chaos—the cries of men, the clash of swords, and the pounding of your own heartbeat in your ears.

You staggered back, your chest heaving as you tried to make sense of it all. Your mind raced, grasping for answers. Was it the suitors? Had the contest descended into violence? Or was it something else—something you dared not name aloud?

Your knees buckled, and you sank onto the edge of the bed, your hands clutching the fabric of your robe as though it could anchor you. The air felt thick, suffocating, and your thoughts spiraled, each one more desperate than the last.

"Odysseus," you whispered, the name falling from your lips like a prayer. If he were here, he would know what to do. He would protect you, protect Telemachus, protect this kingdom.

Another shout rang out, closer this time, and your breath caught in your throat. You could do nothing but wait, trapped within these walls, your fate hanging in the balance.

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You paced the length of your chambers, your footsteps muffled by the thick rug underfoot. Every pass brought you closer to the walls and then away again, as if your own restlessness could push the heavy silence out of the room.

Minutes ago—minutes that felt like an eternity—the shouts and screams that had echoed down the corridors had gone silent. That silence pressed on you now, as heavy as the stone walls of Ithaca's palace.

Your mind churned, spiraling into darker and darker thoughts. What had happened? Had the suitors staged an uprising, turning the contest into bloodshed? Did Ithaca fall under siege from an unseen enemy?  What if the guards were overwhelmed, and Telemachus...

You stopped mid-step, your breath catching painfully. Telemachus. Your son. The boy you'd raised to be strong, who carried so much of his father's spirit. Had he fallen in the chaos? Was he lying out there, cold and lifeless while you were locked away, helpless to protect him?

"No," you whispered, shaking your head furiously, as if the motion alone could banish the thought. But your heart wouldn't listen, and it dropped like a stone into your stomach, twisting painfully.

What if the suitors had taken over? What if they had harmed Telemachus? The thought of losing him, your son, the last piece of Odysseus you'd held onto, made the breath hitch in your throat. Your pulse roared in your ears, drowning out the world around you.

No, no, no. Your mind flashed to his strong but still-youthful face, the way he carried himself with the dignity of a man but the vulnerability of a boy. Your knees weakened at the thought of him hurt—or worse.

"Telemachus," you whispered, clutching your robe tighter around you. Panic clawed its way up your throat, and you rushed to the door, slamming your fists against it. "Let me out! I demand to see my son!" Your voice cracked, trembling with desperation. "Open this door! What's happened to him?"

From the other side came a muffled voice, hesitant and filled with regret. "My lady... forgive me, but I cannot. I have my orders."

"Orders?" you repeated, your voice rising with fury. "To keep me locked away while my son—while my kingdom—falls apart?" Your fists pounded harder, the sharp thud echoing in the empty room. "I beg you, please! Telemachus! Is he—" Your voice broke, and the words wouldn't come.

Your knees weakened, and you leaned heavily against the door, pressing your forehead to its cool surface.

No response. Not even the muffled, apologetic voices from earlier. Just silence.

You leaned your forehead against the wood, trembling as your thoughts spiraled further. Pressing your palms flat against the door, you whispered a prayer to the gods above, your voice trembling. "Please gods... protect him. Protect my son. Keep him safe. Please."

The silence beyond the door stretched on, heavy and suffocating. You stayed there, trembling against the wood, every second a fresh torment.

And then... the latch clicked, breaking through your whispered pleas.

You froze, your breath catching in your throat as you staggered back. Slowly, the door inched open, the dim light from the corridor spilling into the room.

Relief surged through you, mingling with your anger as you rushed forward, ready to demand answers. "How dare you keep me—" But the words died in your throat, caught like a fish in a net, as your gaze landed on the figure standing in the doorway.

Your heart stopped.

"...Odysseus?" His name escaped your lips in a whisper, barely audible, trembling like the flicker of a candle in the wind.

It couldn't be.

Your eyes widened, your mind struggling to reconcile the man before you with the ghost of the memory you had clung to for so many years. But there he was, standing in the doorway, real and solid, and yet so very different from the man you had kissed goodbye all those years ago.

He looked older. His once-youthful face was lined with the passage of time and the weight of what he had endured. Faint scars crisscrossed his hands and forearms, reminders of battles fought and hardships survived.

His frame was leaner than you remembered, his once-strong build worn by years of trials, yet he carried himself with a strength that belied the weary lines etched into his features.

His hair, streaked with silver, curled just slightly at the edges, framing a face that was both familiar and foreign.

And his eyes—oh, his eyes. They were the same piercing eyes you had fallen in love with, though now they carried a heaviness, a burden of things seen and done that you could scarcely imagine.

You took a trembling step closer, your breath shallow. Your gaze darted over him, drinking in every detail as though you feared he might vanish if you blinked. His clothes were ragged, torn at the edges, and caked with dust and blood, but he stood tall, the weight of the years and his trials radiating off him like a shield.

When your eyes met his, something shifted. The hardness in his gaze softened, the lines around them easing ever so slightly as his lips parted.

"Penelope," he rasped, his voice hoarse, as though it had been too long since he'd spoken your name aloud. He took a step toward you, his movements slow and deliberate, as if testing the waters of a dream.

Your head shook slowly, side to side, as tears welled in your eyes, spilling over before you could stop them. "N-No..." you stammered, your voice trembling, barely audible. "No... no!" The word grew louder as you turned abruptly, your legs buckling beneath the weight of the moment, sending you stumbling back toward the window.

You pressed your palms to the cool stone sill, your gaze locking onto the distant horizon as though it could anchor you. Your mind raced, each thought more frantic than the last. This isn't real. It can't be real. Fear clawed at your chest, your heart pounding so hard it felt as though it might break free. A strangled laugh escaped your lips, wild and unbidden.

The sound startled even you, cracking like thunder in the stillness of the room. It morphed into a sob, the sound catching in your throat as you gasped for breath. "I've lost it," you whispered, a broken, bitter laugh slipping through your trembling lips. "The gods have taken pity on me—or perhaps they've cursed me." Your shoulders shook as the dam finally broke, tears spilling freely now, mingling with the bitter laughter that refused to stop.

You clutched at the sill, your fingers digging into the stone as if you could steady yourself against the onslaught of emotions. The ache in your chest was unbearable, a mixture of disbelief, longing, and the fear that this was nothing more than a cruel trick of your mind—a dream that would shatter as all the others had.

A warm hand rested gently on your shoulder.

You froze, the heat of his touch cutting through the storm raging within you. A gasp escaped your lips, and your eyes squeezed shut, unwilling to face whatever was behind you—whether it was real or a phantom conjured by desperation.

The warmth seeped through your robe, grounding you, making it impossible to ignore. The sobs caught in your throat, and you were left trembling, torn between the urge to lean into the comfort and the fear of being hurt by it.

"Penelope," he said again, his voice softer this time, filled with something raw, something that threatened to undo you completely.

Your breath hitched, and with painstaking slowness, you turned. Your legs felt weak, as though they could give out at any moment, but the pull of his voice, of that warmth, was impossible to resist.

Your gaze lifted, hesitantly, until it met his. There he was, your husband, the man you had mourned and prayed for.

His face, lined with years of hardship, was impossibly familiar yet so changed.

His hair was streaked with silver, his cheeks sunken, but his eyes held the same warmth, the same depth that had drawn you in so many years ago.

Your hands shook as you raised them, trembling in the space between you, hesitant, unsure. Your lips quivered, the words catching in your throat as you whispered, "Odysseus... is it really you?"

He didn't speak. Instead, he reached out, his calloused fingers wrapping gently around your trembling hands. You flinched at the contact, the shock of it too much, but he didn't let go. Slowly, he guided your hands to his face, pressing them against his cheeks.

His skin was rougher than you remembered, his beard thicker, weathered by years of trials and battles, but the warmth—the life beneath your touch—was unmistakable. It grounded you in a way that no words ever could. He leaned into your touch, his eyes fluttering closed as though savoring the moment, as though he feared you might pull away.

"It's me," he murmured, his voice low and steady, his breath warm against your hands. His thumbs moved in small, gentle circles over your wrists, as if to reassure you, to anchor you both in this moment.

Your breath hitched, and fresh tears spilled down your cheeks. "O-Odysseus," you choked out, the name falling from your lips like a prayer. Your hands, still trembling, curled slightly against his skin, afraid to let go, afraid to believe, and yet unable to deny the truth of the man before you.

He opened his eyes then, meeting your tearful gaze with a tenderness that took your breath away. "Penelope," he said again, the way he spoke your name like a vow, a promise that he was here, that he was real.

Your heart stuttered, caught between disbelief and an aching hope that threatened to overwhelm you. The tears you had tried to hold back now flowed freely, your chest heaving as you fought to find words, any words, to bridge the chasm of years and heartbreak that separated you.

"Have my prayers been answered?" you whispered, your voice trembling, fragile as the thread of a spider's web. Your eyes searched his face, tracing every new line, every scar, every mark of hardship etched into his features. "Is it really you standing there, or am I dreaming once more?"

Odysseus' lips parted, as though he, too, struggled with the enormity of this moment. He tightened his hold on your hands, his calloused thumbs brushing against your skin in a gesture so tender it made you tremble. "It's me, Penelope," he murmured, his voice low but steady, a reassurance as much for himself as it was for you.

You shook your head slightly, as if to clear it, your tears blurring your vision. "You look different," you said, your voice cracking under the weight of emotion. "Your eyes... they look tired. Your frame is lighter, your smile..." You swallowed hard, your voice dropping to a whisper. "Your smile is... torn."

A flicker of pain crossed his face, and he let out a breath that seemed to carry the weight of years. "I... I am not the man you fell in love with, Penelope," he admitted, his voice soft but unwavering. "I am not the man you once adored. I am not your kind and gentle husband."

His words struck you like a blow, each one driving home the truth that you had feared, and yet something in his gaze kept you rooted, unable to look away. "And I am not the love you knew before," he finished, the admission hanging heavy in the air between you.

Your lip quivered, your knees threatening to give out again. "What kinds of things did you do for you to believe such things?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. The question carried no accusation, only a desperate need to understand, to piece together the years that had separated you.

His jaw tightened, and his gaze dropped for a moment, as though the weight of the answer was too much to bear. "I left a trail of red on every island," he said finally, his voice raw with the truth. "I traded friends like objects I could use. I hurt more lives than I can count on my hands." His eyes flicked back up to yours, and the pain in them was almost unbearable to witness. "But all of that was to bring me back to you."

Your breath caught, your hands trembling in his grip. He was baring his soul before you, and yet you couldn't stop the flood of questions, the fears and doubts that had plagued you for years. "So tell me," he continued, his voice softer now, carrying a note of something fragile. "Would you fall in love with me again, if you knew all I've done? The things I can't undo? I am not the man you knew, Penelope. But I know you've been waiting for my return, my love."

You felt as though the air had been knocked from your lungs, his words hitting you with a force that left you reeling. "Odysseus..."

He stepped closer, the air between you heavy with unspoken emotion. The years of longing, the nights spent weaving and unraveling hope, the ache of absence—all of it welled up inside you, pressing against your chest until it was hard to breathe.

"If that's true," you began, your voice trembling with a mixture of vulnerability and resolve that even you hadn't expected, "could you do me a favor?"

Odysseus tilted his head slightly, his brow furrowing as he studied you, the faintest flicker of concern crossing his features. "Anything," he rasped, his voice carrying the weight of someone who had carried countless burdens but would shoulder another if it meant easing yours.

You drew in a shaky breath, your hands twisting in the fabric of your robe as you glanced toward the corner of the room, where the wedding bed stood—a monument to the love you had cherished through the years, even as it seemed impossible to hold onto. "Just a moment of labor," you whispered, your voice barely audible as you struggled to keep it steady, "that would bring me some peace."

He straightened, his brows drawing closer together as unease flickered in his gaze.

You swallowed hard and gestured toward the bed. "See that wedding bed? Could you carry it over? Lift it high on your shoulders and take it far away from here."

The silence that followed was almost unbearable. Even the crackling of the fire in the hearth seemed to fade into the background as your words hung heavily in the air.

At first, Odysseus didn't move, his body as still as stone, but the change in his expression was stark. Confusion gave way to disbelief, then hurt, and finally, a simmering anger that seemed to pulse just beneath the surface.

He took a slow step forward, his eyes fixed on the bed as though it had somehow betrayed him.

"How could you say ask this?" he asked, his voice low and tight, the tremor in it betraying the storm of emotions he was struggling to contain. His hands clenched into fists at his sides, his knuckles whitening as though he were trying to ground himself. "That bed isn't just wood, Penelope. It's us—it's everything we built, everything we were."

You held your ground, your heart hammering in your chest. "I know," you replied softly, though your voice carried a sharp edge, your words deliberately chosen. "That's why I ask."

His gaze snapped to yours, his eyes flashing with a pain that struck deep. "I built that bed with my own hands," he said, his voice rising, the anger now bubbling to the surface. "Do you remember the olive tree, Penelope? The one in the garden, where you smiled at me for the first time—truly smiled, not out of courtesy or politeness, but with a warmth that lit up the whole world? That tree was alive, vibrant, like you. I could have built a bed from any wood in the kingdom, but I chose that tree. I thought it would hold us together, root us, even when life tried to tear us apart."

You said nothing, your eyes brimming with unshed tears as he continued, the floodgates of his heartbreak fully open now.

"When I carved it..." he said, his voice breaking slightly, "I poured everything into it—my love, my hope, my belief that what we had was unshakable. And now, after all these years, after everything I've done to get back to you, you ask me to destroy it? To tear it from its roots and cast it away as though it means... nothing?" His voice cracked on the last word, and he shook his head, stepping back as though the distance might protect him from the blow you'd just dealt.

Your lip quivered, but you refused to look away. Instead, you stepped closer, your voice quiet but resolute. "And do you know why I asked, Odysseus?" you countered, your tone measured, a mixture of cunning and vulnerability. "Because I had to know. After twenty years, I had to know if the man who stands before me is the man I loved, the man who could never move that bed because he made it immovable—because he made it ours."

He froze, his breath catching in his throat as your words sank in.

You took another step forward, your tears finally slipping down your cheeks as you continued, your voice softening. "Only my husband would understand what that bed means, what it represents. Only he would react the way you just did—with anger, with heartbreak, because it's not just a piece of furniture, is it? It's us. It's the life we built together, the promises we made under the shade of that olive tree. Only my Odysseus would carry that weight with him... even after all these years."

He looked at you then, truly looked at you, and the anger in his eyes melted into something deeper—something raw and unguarded. He took a shaky breath, his hands relaxing at his sides as he spoke, his voice barely above a whisper. "Penelope..."

"Yes," you murmured, your lips trembling as a smile began to form. "Yes, only my husband knew that... So I guess that makes him you."

The tension in the room shattered, replaced by a flood of emotions that neither of you could fully contain. Odysseus took another step toward you, his hand reaching out to cup your cheek with a gentleness that belied the storm that had just passed.

"Penelope," he said again, his voice full of reverence, his thumb brushing away your tears. "You... you are still the clever woman I fell in love with, the woman who could outwit gods and men alike. And you’re right. That bed... it's us. And I could never, would never destroy it. Not for anything."

You placed your hand over his, your fingers trembling against his calloused palm. "And I could never stop loving you," you whispered, your voice thick with emotion. "Not then. Not now. Not for anything or anyone."

Your tears fell freely now, your voice breaking as you spoke. "I will fall in love with you over and over again, Odysseus," you said, the words tumbling from your lips like a confession, raw and unguarded. "I don't care how, where, or when. No matter how long it's been... you're mine."

His eyes opened, meeting yours with a fierce intensity. "Don't tell me you're not the same person," you continued, your voice trembling but determined. "You're always my husband, and I've been waiting for you."

His hands cupped your face then, his touch gentle but firm, as though grounding himself in your presence. "Penelope," he whispered, his voice cracking with emotion, his forehead resting against yours. "For you, I would wait an eternity."

"How long... has it been?"

His lips curled into a faint smile, bittersweet and full of unspoken apologies. "Twenty years," he said, the weight of those two words pressing against you like a physical force.

Twenty years. Twenty years of pain and longing condensed into this moment, the air between you heavy with unspoken promises and the undeniable truth of a love that had endured against all odds.

And then, without warning, he kissed you.

It wasn't tentative or shy but raw and consuming. His lips claimed yours with a fervor that stole the breath from your lungs. You felt the tremor in his hands as they cradled your face, his calloused fingers rough yet gentle, grounding you in his presence.

The weight of twenty years was in that kiss—two decades of longing, of yearning, of pain too deep to articulate.

He kissed you like a man starved, as though you were the first taste of life he’d had in an eternity. The press of his lips was firm, insistent, yet reverent, as if he were terrified that you might slip away if he loosened his hold for even a moment.

Your heart stuttered in your chest, the rhythm faltering before surging forward with a force that left you lightheaded. Your hands, trembling and unsure, found their way to his chest, your fingers clutching at the fabric of his tunic as if to anchor yourself, as if to remind yourself that this was real, that he was here. His heart thundered beneath your touch, the rapid beat matching the wild cadence of your own.

The kiss deepened, his desperation bleeding into every movement. His lips moved against yours with an urgency that left no room for hesitation. His beard brushed against your skin, rough and unfamiliar, but it only added to the heady sensation, grounding you further in the reality of him.

When he pulled you closer, his arms sliding around your waist to hold you firmly against him, the warmth of his body seeped into yours, chasing away every lingering doubt, every shadow of uncertainty.

You could feel the tension in him—the coiled strength of a warrior who had been fighting for so long, the vulnerability of a man who had feared he might never return home.

A small, broken sound escaped him, muffled against your lips, and it sent a shiver racing down your spine. His lips lingered on yours as though memorizing the shape, the feel, the reality of you.

When he finally pulled back, his breath came in ragged gasps, his forehead resting against yours once more. His eyes were squeezed shut, his lashes damp with unshed tears, and his grip on you remained firm, as though he feared you might vanish if he let go.

"Penelope," he whispered again, his voice hoarse, his breath mingling with yours in the small space between you. "I thought... I thought I'd never hold you again."

Your own breaths came in shallow, uneven bursts, your lips tingling from the intensity of the kiss. Your chest heaved, your hands still clutching at him as if you might fall apart without the solid weight of him beneath your fingers.

You opened your eyes, meeting his gaze, and the raw vulnerability you saw there stole whatever words you might have spoken. His lips were red and slightly swollen, his cheeks flushed, and the way he looked at you—as though you were the only thing keeping him grounded—made your heart ache and soar all at once.

You lifted a trembling hand to touch his face, your thumb brushing against the tear trailing down his cheek. "Odysseus," you whispered, your voice cracking with the weight of everything you felt but couldn't say.

And as his lips found yours again, softer this time but no less fervent, you knew without a doubt that this was your Odysseus—the man who had left, the man who had fought, the man who had returned.

And you kissed him back with all the love, all the pain, and all the hope that had carried you through the years. The two of you stood there, the world falling away as time seemed to collapse.

He pulled back slowly, his breath mingling with yours, the space between you charged with everything unspoken. For a moment, he simply stared, his hands trembling against your skin.

"Penelope," he whispered, his voice breaking, his tears falling freely now. "After everything... after all this time..."

You placed a trembling hand on his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heart beneath your palm, a grounding warmth that made you choke on a sob. "I—I love you, Odysseus."

His hand covered yours, pressing it tighter against his chest as though to hold you there, to keep you from slipping away. "I love you, Penelope," he murmured, his voice steady now, resonant, filled with everything he couldn't say before. "Always. Forever. Even when I thought I'd never see you again... it was always you."

And in that moment, twenty years of separation melted away, leaving nothing but the love that had never wavered, the bond that time and trials could not break.

A/N: Ahhh, y'all im crying in bed!!! i just listened to the last saga of epic (ithaca saga) and it got me sobbing, just a mess.  jorge did a phenomenon job portrtaying odysseus love for penelope ❤️❤️ i just had to create my one-shot/interpertation of this 😩❤️

[carryonafi]

keep my stocking filled.

ashton irwin x reader; SMUT

a/n: happy holidays and merry christmas to my loves who celebrate 🤍 i hope your holiday season is going wonderful so far, i’m here to give you my gift to all of you for being so patient with my crazy posting schedule. i’m not the most consistent, but you’ve all been so wonderful either way. this year has been crazy and i think the perfect way to end it is with some fluffy, lovey ashton smut. enjoy!!

words: 3.1k

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The first thing you did that morning was snatch your phone off of the bedside table and open up your emails and search for the long awaited confirmation you were looking for.

“Your order has been shipped”

You smiled to yourself, clicking the link that brought you to the tracking page and seeing that it was on its way.

“Package has arrived at carrier office”

Some of the most exciting news you could get, it kept you bouncing around the house until the hour it got to your doorstep. The squeal of excitement you let out made you glad that you were by yourself in the empty house.

What was concealed behind the dull cardboard was the brightest piece of lingerie you could ever own. Red satin with ties for the front and instructions on how to tie the panels together in a bow shape, but was also easily taken apart. The two little cats you had together, Beans and Toast were meowing curiously and already occupying the box. This was your Christmas present a few years ago, Ashton suggested he go through immunotherapy before you moved in together so you didn’t have to get rid of your babies.

“got a present for you when you get home ;)”

Your fingers glide across the keyboard of your phone like they never have before, quickly sending a text to your boyfriend with a picture of the Christmas tree you had set up and a small peek of the red silk just barely in the corner of the photo. What sparked the idea for you to buy this in the first place was the first reaction you got from Ashton seeing you in a matching piece specifically designed for being sexy, not just some undergarments, you bought and wore them with purpose. So now, it was time to add to the collection. There would be nothing like seeing his eyes sparkle so intensely when he got to unwrap that bow.

“It better be you sitting under that tree.”

“… Preferably with no clothes on. xx”

He replied back with a red heart emoji following his second text message, you giggled to yourself before typing again.

“even better”

You said with a heart of your own, then set off on your mission to try on the lingerie and practice tying the knot a few times until it was perfect. Now a waiting game, trying not to be too impatient for Ashton’s arrival. The ribbon stayed tied, wandering around with it but also making sure it was easy to come apart.

—

The moment finally came where you were covered up in a fluffy black robe, standing at the counter while trying to place some saran wrap over a batch of brownies you made just moments prior. The front door camera notification came up on your phone and you could hear the eager clicking of the front door, you had to hold back turning to look over your shoulder. When you heard his hushed voice speaking to the cats and the door shut once again, your heart skipped a beat… but god it seemed like so many.

You held your breath, but after hours of waiting you felt Ashton’s strong arms wrap around your middle from behind. He leaned his body weight against you, pressing your frame into the counter as you giggled quietly. Ashton was cold, the fabric of his jacket wasn’t too heated but you could still feel the chill sink through the fluff of your robe.

“Hi.” You said simply, gently pushing the tray of brownies off to the side and turning around with what little room you had to face him. Your arms draped lazily over his shoulders, cupping the back of his neck and lightly grazing the tufts of hair which poked out from his beanie.

“Hey, baby.” Ashton replied in this relieved tone of voice that had you blushing in seconds, the brown curls of his hair laid over one eye.. but you couldn’t bring yourself to push it away.

“Felt like forever you were gone.” You breathed, pressing your forehead to his just as he briefly reached up to take off his beanie and return his hand to your waist.

“It was forever, I missed you.” He didn’t bother ruffling his hair to fix it, but instead pressed a sweet, tender kiss to your lips while his hands massaged your hips in slow circles. You spent a few moments like this, basking in each other’s presence which doubled as warming him up due to being out in the cold. It wasn’t very long until Ashton was sliding his hands back to the front of your robe to try and undo the knot, but you hurried to stop him.

“Hold on.” You had a hand on his chest, meanwhile his eyes drew shapes all over what skin you had exposed… but he was confused. “Go to the couch.” You instructed him quietly, watching as he slowly pulled away from you and raised his eyebrows. At this point you were grinning wildly, following close behind as Ashton wandered through the open kitchen over to the sectional sofa in the living room. Now the cats were preoccupied with something else, whatever it was, you were glad that you didn’t have to shut yourselves off in the bedroom to avoid the awkwardness of two little faces staring at you.

“The anticipation is killing me.” Ashton sighed, settling into the couch and looking back at you still standing behind him. Your manicured fingertip traced the soft linen of the blanket draped across the cushions, walking around the furniture. His gaze never once broke from your sauntering figure, taking a deep, silent breath as his tongue ran over his bottom lip.

“You waited for me all day, you can wait a few more seconds.” You giggled at him, eliciting a whine of your name past that pink pout which you longed to kiss again. Finally, you stood between his knees where his legs were spread wide off of the couch cushions, socks planted firmly on the floor so you had a comfortable place to stand. “Wanna see?” You began taunting the tie to your robe with your fingers, slipping your index in the knot to loosen it further.

“Come on.” He frowned, his flaming eyes burning into yours as you finally gave into the temptation and let the tie fall loose. The robe was now slightly hung to the side as it slid from your shoulders, left first, then right, then a light thud as it hit the carpet. Ashton was in awe, reaching out to run his hands along the sweet satin bottoms and the stitch where they met your bare skin. Another shy giggle slipped past your lips when his touch tickled you and made you squirm, forming into a hum as Ashton firmly placed both hands on your hips to hold you in place.

“Was it worth the wait?” You asked, tugging your bottom lip between your teeth just while your hands fixed themselves in his hair.

“Fucking was it…” Ashton breathed, pulling you closer and motioning for you to get in his lap, to which you obeyed immediately. “How do I enjoy this properly?” He whispered, keeping eye contact as he pressed a kiss to your chest right above the center of the bow.

“That’s your choice, make Christmas your own.” You giggled, gasping once the position changed and you were on your back against the soft couch cushions. Ashton seemed to take it as a challenge, his finger hooked in the knot of the bow with a few more kisses along your collarbones… then he stopped.

“Not yet.” He muttered to himself, the movement of his lips against your skin made you sigh.

It was the warmth of the house, the smell of that sweet cookie scented candle on the coffee table and the lotion that you had put on after washing your hands while handling the brownies. Underneath the festive atmosphere was your erotic scene on the couch, Ashton’s lips had somehow reached every inch of your skin that wasn’t concealed by the satin. He blew a playful raspberry against the flesh of your hip, you gave a squeal of laughter accompanying the kicking of your legs.

“Ash!” You giggled, Ashton used this opportunity to firmly grip your thighs and hook your legs over his shoulders.

“Can’t resist you, you smell like fuckin’ cookies.” He grinned back at you, his fingers hooking in the nice trim waistband of your panties.

“Well I tried to go for vanilla… it’s the lotion you got me.” You whispered, propping yourself up on your forearms as you looked down at his smiling face.

“Hm, it only means you smell good enough to eat.” Ashton started to pull your panties down, only teasing himself as you lifted your hips to help him.

“Is that what you’re gonna do to me?”

“Mmhmm. Lay down.” Ashton mumbled against your hip, one hand moving up your core to gently press down. So you gave in and laid down all the way with a soft smile on your face, the lace was finally gone and Ashton was back to kissing you. He traced shapes on your inner thighs, hips and lower stomach, just teasing and making you arch into his touch.

“You’re so gorgeous, do you know how gorgeous you are?”

“Shut up,” you whined. Ashton’s lips got way too close to your core too many times for you to count, you weren’t going to wait much longer.

“That’s not nice, I thought this was my gift…” He squeezed your thighs and hid his smile behind another few kisses, but no response came to mind so all you did was huff and lay your head back again.

Finally, just finally after a tug on his hair Ashton pressed his lips to your entrance and kissed again. Not much, but close.

“Oh my god…” You choked out in half frustration, but Ashton was getting the hint and picking up the slack. His tongue moved tentatively, fingertips leaving rough indents in your thighs as he buried himself in your heat. Those frustrated groans melted away, he had you moaning and arching your back to get more and more out of him. Ashton obeyed with every cue, never letting go of your legs for a second… something in you gave a slight feeling that he wouldn’t be done with you after this.

Ashton was a man on a mission, not giving a single thought to the way his stubble might start to rough up your inner thighs due to his aggression, not like it was a problem. The problem was that it drove you further to your finish, making the moment shorter.

“W— Wait! No… not yet—“ You gasped, trying hard to tug on Ashton’s hair and pull him off. He didn’t relent, he kept going until you were holding it in and finally letting the overstimulation crash down. Ashton was clearly enjoying it, he groaned with satisfaction at your taste and slowed down to guide you through that orgasm. When he poked his head up, he had this cheeky little smile on his face. The one where his dimples showed, the one that made you smile back despite how breathless you were.

“I think I’m going to unwrap my present now…” He hummed, his hands following the curves of your sides. You were about to speak, but he shook his head. “And don’t you say anything either, I’m taking my time.”

You rolled your eyes playfully. “So much drama.”

“Mhm.” Ashton hummed to shut you up, leaning down over your quivering form to kiss you softly, stark in contrast to how he was just using his mouth moments before. His fingers played with the bow, running his fingertips over the knot and giving it a playful tug. He had to stop kissing you in order to focus on the bow, his eyes darting down to pull it loose with bated breath. The bottom hem stayed around you, which meant he had to carefully unclip the front as well.

“Merry Christmas.” You giggled at the childlike wonder on his face, his eyes roaming over your body and taking in every small detail.

“Best present ever, you’re just… always the best,” Ashton was fumbling, it was so cute… you laughed again and shook your head.

“Don’t make this sappy, we’ll be sappy tomorrow.” You sealed that promise with another kiss to his lips, and he came back with another.

“I can be sappy and fuck you into the couch, don’t you know how good at multitasking I am?” He sassed, nudging his nose against yours as your hands ran over his jaw and gently scratched his cheeks.

“I guess you have to be if…” You looked down, his belt was undone and his jeans were to his knees. The only telling sign of this was how much he was moving around to get them down.

“Merry Christmas.” Ashton mocked you, he grunted once he earned a playful smack to the chest.

“I don’t see a fancy bow down there.” It was your turn to sass back, but no matter how much you bickered or teased each other, nothing was bumpy. It was all smooth sailing and you moved along just like normal, Ashton was very good at multitasking, since his boxers were gone in a few seconds as well.

“I said I’m good at multitasking, not this whole… show like you put on.” He propped one hand next to your head, but his statement made you laugh before realizing he had just slipped between your legs in one motion. You choked out a breath in the middle of your giggling, eyes closing as you got used to the feeling.

“Oh—! F.. Fuck you…” This had to have been the second time that he caught you off guard, Ashton smiled that mischievous little smile again and kissed the corner of your mouth.

“Sorry, precious.” He whispered, continuing those kisses on your cheek and along your jaw. You gasped as he moved his hips a bit further, hands on his shoulders, gripping tightly and digging into his shirt.

“Mh, take it off— take it off.” You pleaded, Ashton obeyed and practically tore his shirt off over his head, immediately getting back into position. Thank god, was all you could think. Your hands returned to his shoulders, drifting towards his collarbones as Ashton started to thrust and thoroughly pleasure you. He made a sound, like a quiet growl against your neck with both hands planted firmly on the couch cushions. Whatever it was, it was hot and got you moaning back in response.

“Squeezin’ me, baby. Like I’ve never fucked you before.” He muttered, latching onto your pulse point to muffle a moan. The only lights that were on were the Christmas lights and the ones above the kitchen counter, the living room only holding a soft glow which made the contours of Ashton’s back and shoulders look delectable.

“I… I really love you,” You whimpered, trying to speak but each thrust almost made you unable to form a coherent sentence.

“‘M trying to dirty talk over here, baby. Thought you said no getting sappy?” Ashton smiled against your neck, nibbling at your skin to make you stumble over your words again.

“Wasn’t… hm— jus’ say it back.” You protested, your nails leaving scratch marks down his chest as you gathered enough strength to hoist your legs up a bit higher around his waist.

“I know, I know… I love you too.” Ashton whispered, his own words failing to sound out together. His breathing picked up, hot against your neck as did the pistoning of his hips.

You were left in a haze, tilting your head to bury your face in Ashton’s hair and moaning against those soft, sandalwood scented curls. Just a little more, you begged him quietly for just a little more to get you through to your second orgasm.

“Ashton…” You gasped, wrapping your arms around his neck as he left you with no choice, his chest was pressed to yours so he could whisper in your ear.

“Shh, let it go.” He kissed your hair, his hips stuttering. “I’ll be right behind you, sweetheart, Paint my pretty girl white, how does that sound?” Ashton cooed in that tone that had you melting, you were putty in his hands as you whined and came around his cock. That delicious pulse inside you, you knew he would keep his promise. He smiled like you had just made him proud, straightening his arms and pushing himself up. “My good girl. I won’t make you flip over, as long as you promise to look at me.”

“I promise,” you whimpered, maintaining eye contact as Ashton pulled out. You let out another sound at the loss, but quickly brought back on track as he cupped your face and wrapped a firm hand around his shaft.

“Stay just like that, exactly, look at you…” He praised, chest heaving with each labored breath he took. The sight of your flushed cheeks and watering eyes drove him mad. Plump, kiss swollen lips that he had bruised from his affection, it all made him feel so possessive. With one final moan he covered your torso in his release, making sure you got every drop as the warmth made you shiver. Ashton got down again to kiss you one last time, to claim those gorgeous pink lips and securely wrap both arms around you. Just a bit ago you were so well put together all for him, it was quite award winning to see you such a mess after he was finished with you.

“This is what I like to see…” Ashton hummed, suckling on your jaw and leaving one last dark mark of his property. You were still in a bit of a daze, only speaking when he pulled away to look at you.

“Merry Christmas?” You giggled, having said that for the 5th time tonight. Ashton laughed along with you and helped you adjust your position on the couch so you were both lying comfortably.

“You got any more fun surprises for me?” He traced your cheekbone. You tapped your chin playfully, looking up at the ceiling.

“Mm… the brownies are done?” You offered, that got Ashton hooked.

“Okay, okay. Let’s lay here for just another minute.” He promised, having to reel himself in from the temptation of brownies as you laughed at him and held him a bit closer than before. It was too nice and warm to leave your cocoon under the Christmas lights, apparently, the chocolate wasn’t tempting enough.

[sneakyboymerlin]

It becomes increasingly obvious that fandom has not moved on from its “Arthur was just using Gwen for her womb” phase…

If Arthur wanted a marriage of convenience, then he would have gotten with Elena or Mithian. But Arthur was canonically in love with Gwen, and Gwen with Arthur. Therefore, we acknowledge that Gwen and Arthur are — by all authorial intent (and common sense) — in love. This means the writers wrote this in, explicitly, only for certain fans to ignore it.

Not a case of “the writers secretly wrote Arthur and Gwen as NOT in love!” but “fans dismiss the relationship because they shipped merthur first and feel threatened by Arthur having a CANON ‘hetero’ love interest, or don’t find it realistic that he could love a girl like her.”

Hence the usual tired, vague “they just don’t have chemistry” excuse. The fact that OP states that Gwen has chemistry with no one portrays this better than anything I can say. Yes, of course the only black woman character just doesn’t have romantic chemistry with anyone — not Merlin, not Lancelot, not her actual canon husband Arthur, not even Morgana. But all of the white boy characters are just so lovable, so it only makes sense that everyone else should love them, too! (The subtext being that it doesn’t make sense for Gwen to be a romantic interest because… ahem, reasons). So merthur just magically feels more realistic/makes more sense than what they wanted us to see with Gwen’s relationships! Nevermind the blatant contradiction between “the writers WANTED us to believe in Arthur/Gwen but we didn’t!” and “the writers were deliberately writing them weakly!” Pick 1 story if you wanna play victim.

The fan theory that the (often homophobic! they started filming in 2007 for god’s sake) writers were secretly trying to diminish this leading romantic plotline by creating a “romantic tension” between Arthur and [checks notes] MERLIN?!?!?, the servant he neglects, is nothing short of tinhatting. At most, the writers make a few jokes in the audio commentaries poking fun at people who interpreted it in that way, making fun of us gays plenty along the way, only to firmly restate their platonic intent.

By and by, you’re allowed to enjoy fanon material, but to simply lie about the canon circumstances in order to make as if these ideas hold more water than canon, which we can all fact check with a rewatch or a transcript… Well, it’s hard for me to wrap my head around! What is the point, exactly, when it’s not true?

Simply speaking, omegaverse fanfiction is not canon. It’s easy for people to dismiss the influence that Gwen is capable of having, on Arthur and on the story as a whole, but that does not mean that this influence does not exist. If these were genuine observations/concerns, fans would not be demanding that Gwen be erased from her own narrative, but rather that she be allowed to take up more space in it! Fans would demand that we have more scenes of her and Arthur, that we see more of their build-up and bonding. Instead, she’s met with full dismissal. The fact that Gwen does not receive as much screentime as her white boy counterparts, despite also being one of the core four, also speaks to a bias (one of many) in the writers’ room. The failure of fans as a whole to demand more respect and attention for the woman characters, especially Gwen as the solo black lead, is a failure of the same kind.

You started with a good premise but now I think you’re actually insane. Merlin and Arthur had tension from day one. I was a child and I knew they were gay for one another. Gwen didn’t have chemistry with anyone - least of all Merlin. Merlin wasn’t interested in Gwen at all. Season 1 read as when the girl falls for the gay boy cuz he’s so nice and sweet. The actors shipped Merthur. The writers shipped Merthur and they wanted the fandom to ship Merthur. The only reason they probably didn’t explicitly put it in the show was because of the time we were in. The writers and fandom have always been gay af. Because right next to Merthur is Morgwen and after that, Gwen/Lancelot. This is not at all an example of what you’re talking about. Also, TikTok? Did you just start watching the show? Watch it again please. And then watch it another time. Like we were reading/writing Merthur fanfic in 2008. I was on mf livejournal reading A/B/O dynamics Merthur fanfics. Hello??!!! Like maybe it’s because I’ve been in this fandom for over a decade - Merthur was my first fandom - but I’m literally so affronted and flabbergasted. How do you even-

[gaybananabread]

Squealing Santa 2024 - Gift for @vampiretickles

~Happy Holidays @vampiretickles! I hope this fic finds you well, and that you have a lovely New Year’s. I’ve been seeing this ship everywhere; it’s about time I tried my hand at it. This is loaded with sweet, loving, absolutely disgusting fluff. I had fun with it! Could possibly be ooc, but I think it’s alright. If you celebrate, Happy Holidays! I hope you Enjoy!~

Lee: Stanford Pines

Ler: Fiddleford McGucket

Fandom: Gravity Falls

Summary: As per usual, Ford is refusing to step away from his work and rest. Fiddleford, sick of his partner running himself haggard, decides to take matters into his own hands. Literally.

Word Count: 1,679

Warnings: none! This is a tickle fic, so if you don’t like that, scroll away!!

“Dag blast it- UGH!” Ford tossed his flaming trench coat to the ground, spewing colorful obscenities as he tried to put out the bright green fire. By the time he managed to stomp it out, his poor coat was in charred tatters.

“There goes another one…” He swore, tossing the ruined garment into his disposal bin. The smoking experiment on his table was an even greater let-down. Rubbing his temples, the scientist grabbed his ancient tape recorder and sighed into the device. “Attempt number 57 ends in…failure.”

Ford had been at it for nearly a week, trying test after test in an attempt to get the right combination. It was an experimental weirdness blocker that could—in theory—negate any powers or effects being in their odd town could bring.

The man’s reaction had been less than quiet. Fiddleford, who had come to visit his it’s-complicated-but-we’re-getting-there partner, was drawn to the room by all the noise. “Everythin’ alright in here, Stanford?”

Ford whipped around, eyes narrowed dangerously before he realized who had entered. “Oh…yes. Everything’s fine.”

“Sure doesn’t seem like it.” The old man stepped farther into the room, furrowing his brows. He’d been doing a lot better since Weirdmageddon; his beard was clean (though he preferred long, so it wasn’t cut), his clothes were clean and whole, and he was spewing less nonsense by the day. With his improved mental state, he was able to care for those around him. “You should take a break, Ford. It’d do ya some good.”

“I’m fine, Fiddleford,” Ford huffed, brushing off the advice. He knew the hillbilly was right, but that didn’t mean he had to listen.

“Uh-huh, sure. Gotta be true, what with the fire and screamin’.” Fidds looked over at the remnants of Ford’s trench coat knowingly. That quirked brow made Ford more defensive than it probably should have.

“I just need more time. A few hours, tops.” Ford poked the smoldering remains of his experiment, trying to figure out what went wrong.

The man needed a break, but he wasn’t going to take one willingly. It was up to McGucket to fix that.

“What ya need is to relax.” Closing the distance between them, Fiddleford wrapped his arms around his partner. He squeezed just tight enough so the weary man couldn’t escape.

“Fidds, come on. I’ll be done soon en- mmph!” Ford flinched, jolting in his partner’s grip. The hillbilly’s hands were resting on Ford’s hips. While that would usually be an appreciated gesture, his fingers were wiggling into the divots of the joint; it tickled, and they both knew it.

“What’sa matter, Stanford? Got a tickle in yer throat?” Fiddleford teased, knowing the silliness of it would get to Ford. The man never could handle childish teases. The effects were instantaneous.

“F-Fihidds, no! I dohon’t have time f-for nonsense!” Ford did his best to hold in his reactions, refusing to give up so easily. He didn’t necessarily need to finish his work that day, but it felt wrong to leave anything unfinished.

“Yet you’ve got time fer workin’ yerself to exhaustion, knowin’ ya ain’t got enough energy to do anythin’ actually productive.”

Ford scoffed at the direct call-out, his ears turning pink. Well…shit. Fiddleford had him pegged, and he really didn’t have a comeback for that. After a few seconds of watching the Pines gape like a fish, Fidds chuckled.

“That’s what I thought. Now, hush up ‘n lemme help ya.” Pressing a gentle kiss to one of the man’s pinkened ears, Fidds got back to work. His thin, bony fingers worked their way up Ford’s sides, digging in just enough to make him giggle.

“Fihiddlefohohord!” Rumbling, slightly raspy giggles shook the man’s shoulders as he tried not to squirm. While the tickling wasn’t exactly what he had planned for the afternoon, he couldn’t deny how nice it was to have McGucket pressed against him after feeling so stressed.

“That’s my name, yeah. You sure that experiment didn’ scramble yer brain pan?” Fidds teased him, resting his chin on his partner’s shaky shoulder.

“Behe quihihiet!” Ford couldn’t help but gasp when one of Fidds’s hands went back down to his hips, his fingers wiggling into the ticklish little divot once again.

“You should be a little nicer, darlin’. I got all ‘a my favorite spots right here, just waitin’ for some attention.” His words carried a playful threat, his other hand moving to tease near Ford’s pits. He felt the man shudder against him at the thought.

“No! Nohohoho, cohome on! Thihis is rihidiculous!” Stanford tried using his grumpy old man tone, but the constant giggling ruined the attempt at seriousness. He was forced to just sit there and squirm against his partner.

“That’s the whole point, ya old goof. Yer s’posed to be takin’ it easy; ridiculous fits the bill.” Fidds accentuated his point with a few kisses to Ford’s neck, though he was surprised by the adorably shrill noise the action received.

“KHHHHehehe! Fihidds!” Ford whined—actually whined—at the feeling, scrunching up his shoulders as much as the hold would allow. His neck was ticklish? How had the hillbilly never noticed before?

“I reckon someone’s been hidin’ somethin’ from me, hasn’t he?” With a giddy smirk, Fiddleford began kissing the back of Ford’s neck, purposefully nuzzling his scraggly beard against the flushed skin as well.

Ford gasped at the barrage of tickly kisses and nuzzles, strangled little giggles and incredibly silly noises getting caught in his throat as he scrunched up. It was an utterly adorable sight—one that his partner made sure to enjoy.

“Yer so cute when yer laughin’, Stanford,” McGucket cooed between kisses, putting a bit more of his weight on his partner to keep him still. “Daw, who am I kiddin’? Yer cute in general.”

The silver-haired man could feel his face burning from all the affectionate teasing. He could usually keep his emotions in check; the decades he spent in chaotic and dangerous dimensions taught him to be stoic on command.

When it came to Fiddleford, however, all of that conditioning seemed to disappear. He felt like a flustered teen playing wingman for Stanley again, though the feeling was a lot more intense and a helluva lot more enjoyable.

“Lohohohove, p-plehehehease! Ihi- GYEhehehe! Ihihi cahahan’t!” Ford blushed even harder just from the ludicrous nature of his own words. Gracious, he was pathetic…and he didn’t really mind it. His sides were growing quite sore, however, and he couldn’t take much more of the heavy giggling. “Fihihidds, plehease!”

The bearded man heard the difference in Ford’s tone, easing off to kiss his rosy cheeks instead. “Alright, alright, settle down. I’m done bein’ mean.” Gently, he guided the giggly man over to the small room he’d forced Ford to furnish, getting him settled on the nearly untouched mattress. “Told ya you’d need a nappin’ room down here.”

“Nohot the time toho glohohoat…” Ford huffed, snuggling up against his lanky partner. Fuck, he couldn’t work any more if he wanted to, which…he kind of didn’t. He was exhausted, his thoughts were sluggish, and he was really in the mood for cuddles. “Sneaky bastard.”

“Only fer you, darlin’.” Fidds peppered his face with kisses, running a hand through his fluffy silver hair.

Ford mumbled grievances, but it was obvious the touch was melting him. He was so tired…but he didn’t want the attention to end. “Could you…mmphf.”

“What’s that now? Gotta speak up.” Fiddleford had an idea of what the cuddly man wanted to say, but he was gonna make him ask for it. His flustered voice was just too adorable to resist.

It was absolutely evil, in Ford’s eyes.

“Just…don’t stop? I don’t want you to…you know. Lightly.”

Fidds bit his lip, chuckling softly at the embarrassed, broken request. Ford really was terrible at asking for what he wanted… Still, the attempt was the best he’d gotten yet.

“M’kay, I won’t make ya beg. C’mere.” Snaking a hand up Ford’s shirt, the bearded man began ever so gently tickling his partner’s sides, back, and neck. His hand drifted, the touch just present enough to tickle.

“Mmhmhmhm…” A wobbly smile tugged at Ford’s lips as he pressed his face into Fiddleford’s chest, giggling softly. Each small noise was little more than an exhale, gentle enough for his aching sides to rest while keeping him giddy. Fidds always knew exactly what he needed, and—better yet—exactly how to give it to him.

“Maybe I should start doin’ this every time ya refuse to rest. It’s workin’ pretty well, I reckon.” Fidds felt his heart swell at the sight of him, loving how he just gave in to the giggly affection.

“Shuhush,” Ford huffed lovingly, moving in to kiss him. His stubbly upper lip scratched Fidds’s as he blindly leaned in. Their lips met, each smiling against the other’s as they drifted off wholly into their own little world.

While he would’ve loved to keep kissing Ford for the rest of the night, he could feel how sluggish the man was getting. It was time to rest. He pulled away from the kiss, lovingly stroking Ford’s sides.

“Alright, darlin’. Time to turn in.” Wrapping his thin legs around the man’s waist, Fiddleford gently scratched Ford’s scalp to wind down. As expected, the scientist let out a sleepy sigh, leaning right into the touch. Fidds’s other hand was still stroking his sides, barely tickling. It was sweet, domestic, and made both men feel oh so loved and whole.

“Mhmmm…goodnihight, love.” Ford muttered one last endearment before dozing off, finally giving in to the drowsiness that washed over him. He felt a few light kisses on the crown of his head, reassuring him all the way to unconsciousness.

“G’night, Stanford. I love ya, darlin’.” Fiddleford held Ford close, sighing contentedly as he heard the man’s breathing even out. Finally, he’d gotten his stubborn partner to pass out and rest. The next day would bring the same challenge, but he’d be more than ready to face and overcome it.

He had love on his side, after all. And tickles. With those, he couldn’t possibly lose.

[hannahbarberra162]

Will EP omega reader meet the whitebeard pirates? How would shanks react?

Hi Nonnie!

This was originally the trajectory before I decided to take it in a different direction. Not all the WBP since this story is set after the Paramount Wars and they’re disbanded but I was going to have the Reader meet Marco….

This is an alternate ending so not as proofread / edited. This is set after Reader has come to from the heat (you’ll get that scene in the next chapter - which, yes, I am writing). Shanks is a bad boy in this one, don't come for me.

I'm not gonna do the tag list for this (except @mfreedomstuff ) since it's not a chapter of the main story. I do have a few more ideas / scenes I thought of for this maybe I'll write them eventually.

All the actual chapters

~

Shanks POV

Your first heat had gone well by Shanks’s estimation. The physical demands were rough on you, you had been sleeping and eating in excess since it ended to make up for the days on end with little of either. He’d also had to recuperate after your heat but because you began heat in a worse state it was taking you longer to get to your baseline. He checked on you every hour or so as you slept, bringing you food and water as you needed it. You protested with a groan as he checked your temperature and breathing but allowed him to move you as he pleased like a limp rag doll. 

There was one thing that bothered him though - the bite mark from Kid still hadn’t healed. He’d given you his word during the heat that he wouldn’t claim you but he didn’t like seeing the bite from your former Alpha. He’d already spoken with Hongo about it already but the doctor said there wasn’t anything to do except wait.

Unless.

Shanks had known Marco the Phoenix since he was a child, the former Commander slipping in and out of his life like the tide. They weren’t friends exactly but Shanks had offered Marco the opportunity to join his crew many times. He’d slept with Marco a few times over the years and Shanks deeply enjoyed the experience - though they sometimes fought for dominance.

But there was something in Shanks that had always wanted to bring Marco to heel. Marco acted like he was above Shanks, like he was better than him. He always had too, enjoying being the golden child of Whitebeard for years after Shanks had to watch his own Captain publicly executed by Marines. Even after Whitebeard’s death Marco hadn’t joined Shanks’s crew which stung his ego. It didn't help that Marco’s Zoan form had an ethereal beauty like no other and it only elevated his charm and charisma. Marco was powerful, strong, handsome and well respected outside of his piracy for his skills as a physician. Unlike others, Marco wasn't fooled by Shanks's games and lackadaisical attitude and saw right through him. No, Marco needed to be shown his place in the world but the opportunity hadn’t arisen. 

Regardless, Marco could heal the bite on your neck in seconds if he visited the ship. Mulling over the idea, Shanks decided to call and see if Marco could fly out. The ship wasn’t that far from Sphinx, Marco could make the trip quickly if he so chose. Grabbing his snail off his desk, he dialed and waited.

“Oi, Marco. How are you?” Shanks asked the calm looking snail as the call was picked up.

“Shanks, to what do I owe the pleasure yoi? What do you want from me?” Marco responded dryly, already anticipating a request. The snail was looking over at something else as Marco continued to work through the call.

“Maybe I just want to see how you’re doing, call up an old friend,” Shanks teased before turning serious. “I am happy to hear you’re doing well, but you’re right, I need a favor. I have an Omega on my ship and she has a wound that’s not healing -”

“Is it not healing or not healing fast enough for you yoi?” the Phoenix interrupted, still not giving Shanks his full attention as he continued to read. Shanks’s irritation was rising but he buried it deep, he wanted Marco’s help.

“It was an infected claiming bite that didn’t take. She just went through heat and it was bothering her, she kept rubbing at it until it was raw. I had to Command her to stop before she left it alone. She’s still recovering - her previous Alpha beat the shit out of her, she was barely alive when I found her,” Shanks said with a frown on his face. Marco was a lot softer than people knew - he was sympathetic to weaker people suffering at the hands of those who were stronger. Shanks knew adding in the bits about your status would tip the scales in his favor. The snail sighed and looked at Shanks with its heavy lidded stare.

“How is she now?” Marco asked, the doctor in him rising to the surface. Shanks gloated internally as he knew he had Marco hook, line, and sinker.

“She’s sleeping a lot, eating when she wakes. It was her first heat - she’d been taking suppressants for years on end so it was particularly rough. I think she’d return to normal faster if she wasn’t also healing the bite,” Shanks mused aloud, knowingly ensnaring the former Commander further.

“Hm. And I suppose you want me to come heal her despite the fact that Hongo likely told you to wait it out yoi,” Marco said with a frown. Shanks smiled brightly, Marco correctly guessing the desired outcome.

“Well, if you’re offering…” Shanks said, letting the sentence dangle. He waited in silence, knowing Marco was going to accept.

“Where are you?” Marco asked in a huff, crossing his arms.

“Not too far from Sphynx, maybe a day’s flight away,” Shanks said jovially. 

“Fine. Head towards the island, I’ll get the coordinates from Benn. You owe me.” Marco said with finality before hanging up the snail. Shanks’s smile widened even further.

Your POV

You heard an unfamiliar male voice near the entrance of the cabin. New men weren’t something with a positive association for you but this voice was melodious, almost like a bird song, the person speaking with soothing calm. Listening in, you heard the Emperor speaking to the man like they were old friends. A knock on the cabin door alerted you that they were about to come in so grabbed the blankets and pulled them up to cover your nakedness. You hadn’t worn clothes since before your heat and all that you had were the Emperor’s.

“We’re coming in,” announced the Emperor brightly. As the door opened you saw a man as tall as Benn standing behind the Emperor. His teal eyes met yours and the world stopped for a moment. You’d never seen someone so beautiful in your life, his wanted posters not capturing his true essence. You knew it was Marco the Phoenix but you couldn’t bring yourself to say a single word. You nearly uncovered yourself to walk to him but stopped yourself at the last moment. He wasn’t speaking to you either, standing in shocked silence by the doorway with a stethoscope wound around his neck.

The Emperor looked between you and Marco and started talking but you weren’t listening. All you wanted to do was talk to Marco, to bare your soul to him, even though you’d never met before. He smelled like coconut, pineapple and a touch of spiced rum. You had the urge to lick his scent glands, to bask in the glorious smell of this Alpha. You’d never felt this way with any other Alpha - certainly not with Kid but also not with the Emperor. He walked towards you hesitantly, like you’d bolt if he moved too quickly. You watched his graceful movements as Marco approached, entranced by his very being. The Emperor suddenly put two fingers under your chin and tilted your face to his own. 

“Have you met Marco already?” he asked with a tight smile that didn’t reach his eyes. You noted his stiff shoulders and dominant body language. The Emperor was annoyed and in a dangerous mood, you thought to yourself. Marco forgotten for the moment, you nuzzled into his hand - an act that he’d praised you for before.

“N-no. I was just distracted,” you said quickly, afraid to admit you were staring at the handsome stranger. Your proactive touch mollified the Emperor somewhat as he dragged his thumb up and down your cheek.

“I apologize for startling you yoi. Like Shanks said, I’m Marco. I’m a doctor -”

“And a pirate,” Shanks added, giving Marco a smirk. Marco gave the Emperor a disdainful look.

“Yes, and a pirate yoi. I used to be Whitebeard’s First Division Commander, but that’s in the past. Now I’m just a doctor,” Marco said with a calm smile. 

“I’m not so sure, maybe we can finally convince you to join our ranks after all,” Shanks continued, giving Marco a strange look. Marco returned Shanks’s look with one of his own. You weren’t sure what was being communicated between the two men but you didn’t want to be in the middle of it. Cringing backwards, you covered yourself up further with the blankets. Marco’s gaze flicked to your face and his countenance softened. 

“It’s alright, I’m going to take a look at you yoi. I heard you have a wound that isn’t healing, is that right?” Marco said, pulling a pair of gloves from the pocket of his doctor’s coat. He sat down next to you on the bed, still towering over you with his tall frame.You nodded, moving your hair to the side so Marco could see the wound still left from Kid. He sucked in a deep breath through his nose and put on the gloves.

“I’m going to touch you now, just around the bite, OK?” he said to you softly. You nodded again and shifted towards him in the bed to allow him easier access to your neck. The Emperor moved and leaned against the opposing wall of the cabin, watching Marco’s every move with barely concealed interest. You weren’t sure what he was thinking but you hoped nothing bad came to Marco because of it.

Marco moved his fingers along the stitches Hongo had given you, pushing on the wound in a few spots. His assessment was clinical but it was the most caring anyone had touched you in a long time. He hummed to himself before placing the buds of the stethoscope in his ears. 

“I’m going to listen to your heart and lungs yoi. I’ll press the bell of the stethoscope against your skin a few times and listen, OK?” You nodded eagerly, waiting for the contact to continue. You knew what stethoscope usage entailed but it was thoughtful that Marco described what he was going to do anyway. You pulled the blankets down further than you needed to give Marco access to your chest and back.

“How’s she doing?” Shanks interrupted, sitting himself next to your other side on the bed and putting your hand in his own. Marco removed your hand and returned it to a resting position.

“Shh. I’m listening,” Marco said, dismissing the Emperor. You were sure Marco was hearing your heart beating fast from Marco rebuking the Emperor. You’d never heard anyone speak to him that way - even though his crew were relaxed and casual they always maintained an air of respect towards him. Marco on the other hand was irritated with the Emperor and didn't hesitate to make his feelings known.

Marco placed his fingertips on your back, his warm touch gentling you to the sensation of the cold stethoscope. As he listened, you saw his eyes rove over your well loved body from the heat. Your gaze dropped and your cheeks heated as you looked over all the hickeys and bite marks over your front from your heat with the Emperor.

“One more deep breath, there we go,” Marco said soothingly, rubbing a small circle on your back. You did as he said and he removed the stethoscope from his ears.

“I can heal the wound yoi. Like I already said, it was healing just fine on its own. You were too rough with her during her heat. Look at her, she’s covered in bruises and bites. If she’s already healing wounds you shouldn’t add more. Control yourself,” Marco continued, giving the Emperor a dirty look. You hugged your knees with your arms and ducked your head for the ensuing confrontation.

But none ever came. Instead you heard the Emperor’s laugh ring out in the cabin.

“Eh, it was more difficult than I thought. Would you care to find out?” 

Marco POV

There was no doubt in his mind the cowering little Omega was his fated mate. He wondered if you could feel the connection too but given your acute distress and prior experiences he doubted it. He felt a pull to you, he was drawn to you like a moth to a flame. It was like some missing piece of him had settled in his soul and he was finally complete, after looking for something he didn’t know was gone. You were absolutely breathtaking, even littered in the evidence of harsh treatment by other Alphas. His first instinct had been to whisk you away on the wings of the Phoenix far from Shanks, back to his home on Sphynx where he could claim you and keep you safe. Alas, things would not be so simple in the real world.

Your scent soured as Shanks extended Marco a crass invitation to have sex with you. Marco highly doubted that he’d shared you before - Shanks was covetous and jealous by nature. Even now while Marco was attending to you as a medical professional Shanks was inserting himself unnecessarily to gain your attention. Shanks hid his true colors under the guise of an easy going and amicable nature but Marco knew better. He was cold and calculating, always seeking what he didn’t have. Which is why he’d never joined Shanks’s crew despite the many offers or dallied with him more than a few times. Shanks never let something that he wanted slip through his fingers and Shanks wanted Marco.

Marco’s hackles rose but he pushed the feeling down. He needed to play nicely with Shanks and think his plans through before he acted. No matter what Shanks did or said, Marco wasn’t strong enough to take him on. He’d lived with an Emperor for long enough to know that Shanks was in a class of his own and even the Immortal Phoenix could be killed by his hands. Instead, Marco put his hand on your shoulder and stood up, inserting himself between you and the Emperor.

“I’ll heal her now then let’s chat outside for a few minutes yoi,” he said to Shanks with a neutral expression. He turned to you and gave you a warm smile, trying to convey his love and kindness in a single facial expression. He thought he saw the flicker of a smile on your sweet mouth.

“I’m going to use my Devil Fruit powers to heal you. It won’t hurt so you don’t need to worry,” Marco said, already trying to heal your growing anxiety. You nodded at him and your shoulders relaxed slightly, revealing the ugly bite on your neck. Something part of him was pleased you weren’t claimed by Shanks but Marco didn’t think it was due to benevolence on Shanks’s part. Marco knew you’d be claimed in the next heat whether you wanted it or not. His gift worked best on skin to skin but he didn’t want to make you too uncomfortable. 

“I’ll be on the deck. Don’t enjoy yourselves too much,” Shanks said with a wink. Marco wanted to throttle him right there - couldn’t he smell what his remarks did to you? How afraid and small they made you feel? But even so Marco was thankful for the reprieve from Shanks’s presence. The Captain swaggered away after patting your head like a beloved dog, slamming the door to the cabin behind him.

“Nothing is going to happen that I haven’t already told you. I’m going to heal you with my powers and that will be all. I do have to touch you and it works best if it’s nearest to the injury. May I heal your neck?” Marco explained in a calm and patient voice. Giving you expectations of what he would do might quell your anxiety. You nodded once more, still not speaking. Marco reached slowly for your neck, one of his hands large enough to wrap around nearly the whole thing. The other he placed on your upper back to steady your erratic breathing. In his heart he wanted to pull you in for a soul searing kiss but he’d have to deal with Shanks first.

“Easy, easy. I’m going to begin, alright? It might feel strange but it doesn’t hurt,” Marco said as his flames began to rise over your neck and upper chest. Your eyes opened wide and you tried to swivel your head as you were engulfed in his power but Marco kept you steady. “It’s alright, shh, it’s alright. Relax, just relax, nothing bad will happen yoi,” Marco cooed at you as you ceased looking around like a frightened rabbit. He didn’t want you to struggle against him, nothing in him could ever hurt you. You soon allowed him to heal you without worry, closing your eyes and leaning into his touch.

Marco focused first on the bite but extended the flames to the rest of your body as well. He healed all the marks Shanks had left until there was no sign that you’d ever been intimate with the Emperor. Before removing his hand from your neck he felt something unusual.

“Do you have an old injury here yoi? To your larynx perhaps?” Marco asked quietly while palpating the area, not wanting to alarm you. You looked down and nodded again. 

“Would you like me to heal it? I’m not sure it will work completely but it may help,” Marco offered. He’d learned over the years that some people preferred their scars and marks to remain as momentos or as badges of honor. Though injuries like the one you had to your throat were rarely something worth remembering. 

“Yes, please,” you rasped. Marco tried to heal your broken vocal chords and damaged neck to the best of his ability, sending wave after wave of healing flames to the area. All too soon, the healing was complete and he had to go deal with Shanks.

“How do you feel now?” Marco asked, removing his hands completely from you. They itched to remain on your skin but he wanted to give you the space you needed.

“Much better, thank you,” you said, reaching to touch the now healed bite on your neck. He’d only heard your voice briefly when you were trying to soothe Shanks’s ego but it sounded smoother already. 

“Unfortunately it did scar a bit due to the age and severity of the injury but the scar should fade somewhat over time,” Marco said as your nimble fingers probed the area. You stretched your limbs and gave him a ghost of a smile, looking up at him through your lashes.

“Thank you Marco,” you said softly. Marco had so much he wanted to say and do but the Emperor was waiting for his audience.

“I’ll be with Shanks if you need me,” Marco said, rising from the bed. He felt your eyes watching him as he crossed the messy cabin and left, closing the door softly.

Shanks was sitting at the circular table on the deck, his ochoko filled with sake. His calves were resting on the table and his arm was behind his head in a relaxed pose as he watched the sea. To most, it would look like he didn’t have a care in the world. But Marco knew Shanks was toying with him, like a cat would a mouse before the death blow. Benn was reading the paper next to his Captain and gave Marco a pleasant nod when the two made eye contact. Marco returned it. 

“We have a lot to talk about,” Shanks said, still gazing at the sea. Benn took that as his cue to leave, folding his paper in half and tucking it under his arm. He gave Marco a clap on the shoulder as he passed.

“She had greater injuries than you told me yoi,” Marco complained as he sat down in the now unoccupied chair. 

“Yeah, she was pretty busted up when I found her. I took her from Kid - not sure if you knew him, I didn’t before then -” 

“She’s my fated mate,” Marco cut off Shanks, wanting to get to the heart of the matter. He was loath to play Shanks’s games but for now he’d have to endure. Shanks grinned a toothy smile and lifted his feet off the table, planting them on the deck. He crossed his legs at the ankles and sat up, picking up his ochoko.

“Hm, fate is a cruel mistress. Since the Celestial Dragons interfered with the mating process, fated mates have become an old wives tale, a bedtime story for children. They say when an Alpha finds their mate they would do anything to stay by their side and keep them safe. That a bonded Alpha and Omega share the same lifeline, their chests beating with the same heart. So how fitting that a myth should become real for someone so mythical,” Shanks said, swirling his sake in the small cup. The Emperor’s eyes danced with mirth as Marco watched him take a drink from the ochoko. Marco felt like a snare was tightening around his ankle, like a wild animal stuck in a trap it would never be able to get out of. 

“You’re not going to release her yoi. Are you going to claim her?” Marco asked, already knowing the answer to both questions.  

“No, she’s staying with me. As for claiming,” Shanks said before draining his cup, “I will during her next heat. But so can you.” Marco didn’t react outwardly, keeping his face still as his heart threatened to burst out of his chest. Shanks refilled his glass to the brim with sake.

“I did some research and it seems Omegas can be claimed by two Alphas. But I found out something even more interesting. Did you know Apex Alphas can claim other Alphas?” Shanks said, pouring sake into an empty ochoko. Picking it up, he extended it to Marco. The implication was clear - Marco would be able to claim you if Shanks claimed Marco. Marco would never be able to leave Shanks though he was unsure of other possible ramifications.

“We’ve had fun before, eh Marco? I think adding an Omega would be beneficial for both of us. You’d be able to stay with her, tend to her, care for her…along with my help, of course. What do you think?”

Marco knew he had only a few moments to consider the proposition or Shanks would revoke it and think of something worse. Marco tried to engineer a solution to his problem in the short time frame but Shanks had him backed into a corner. The Alpha in him couldn’t leave the Omega on the ship, he needed to be near her and protect her like he needed to breathe air. He wasn’t strong enough to challenge Shanks for her and win. He couldn’t leave her and he couldn’t take her. Marco’s eyes met Shanks’s triumphant gaze and broad smile.

Shanks had finally won.

Marco extended his hand and took the ochoko from Shanks. Every moment spent with Shanks further sealed his fate but it also brought him closer to you. 

“Welcome to the Red Haired Pirates,” Shanks said, draining his cup with a cold smile.

[neallo]

a non-exhaustive list of my personal favorite mello/near fics posted in the year of our lord 2024. complete fics only; maximum one rec per author. this means many of these writers have more gems to offer for mellonear and/or other ships; in more than one case, it was challenging for me to select only one. i highly encourage readers to poke around and read, kudos, and comment to their heart's content <3

click here to see the AO3 collection with my notes!

Archistrategos by veresova M/M | 4,328 words

Mello has several things protecting him: a name, a group of saints, animal instincts, and Near’s maniacal faith.

King and Two Spades by AngelEllipsis (@read-watch-sleep) M/M | 4,793 words

Near finds a discrepancy in the organ failure statistics this year. 0.7% of unaccounted for heart attacks. No one has noticed yet. No one will notice, if his heart give out, too.

the roof by lightningblade (@lightningblade) M/M | 3,692 words

“Not enjoying the party?” he asks, making Near jump in surprise. He clears his throat and tries to look back at his textbook. “Um, not really. I don’t go to those.” “Right,” the other boy chuckles. “Why would you when you have this depressing ass roof space to hang out on?” -or- Near and Mello fall in love with the help of a rooftop, a rusty lawn chair, and some sweet ass origami skills.

And The Starlight Blooms by tsukinousagi (@quicktimeeventfull) M/F | 1,919 words

In which Near attends the concert of her favourite Kpop idol, Misa-Misa of Love:NOTE. She likes the bed. It’s got everything she or anyone else could want. Her phone. Her laptop. Several stuffed animals. A Lego kit, half-finished at the foot of the bed. A sleeve of ginger nuts sealed with an elastic band. Several bottles of water, one of which still has liquid in it. It’s a great place to be. She doesn’t often leave.

In Harmless Indulgence by SaccharineCoffee (@saccharinecoffee) M/M | 1,569 words

Mello treats his scars while contemplating Near's own.

from the world's best-dressed half of the Third L by fullmoonism (@halfmoonism) M/M | 1,943 words

(Like he’s ever needed to. It’s Near on the back of his retinas when he aims his gun, Near on the roof of his mouth when he spits blood, Near on his charred skin when he peeled himself off the concrete in the ashes of the Kira case. So Mello lost. Mello lost, and it’s still Near in the sharp hollow of his head. He doesn’t need Mello to be an anchor when he already is one.) -- As Mello does, he deals with Near's offer to be the (better-dressed) half of the Third L about as well as anyone expects of him. Which is to say: he excels in everything except dealing with his emotions.

veni vidi vici by opaleyedprince (@opaleyedprince) M/M | 3,154 words

The final sixty-two days of the Kira Case are among the most trying of Near's life.

ab imo pectore by eightspringdays (@eightspringdays) F/F | 6,401 words

Because for Mello, hate is never truly just that. If she tries hard enough, she can pretend and think how simple is to pick just one color out of the palette of emotions that Near paints on her. Mello has tried her whole life to cling to it. To think that red is the only thing she sees when Near is in front of her. Rage. Not passion. It could never be that, even if anger also carries a certain shade of twisted love that she tries to ignore. She wants to pretend she’s colorblind. She wants to pretend she never saw anything at all. Ignorance is truly a blessing, but Mello has always been a little cursed. 

near and far between by Le_VI M/M | 4,966 words

“That sounds almost considerate,” Mello says dryly. “Watch it, N, you’re starting to seem vaguely human.”

reunion by bolide (@alarici) M/M | 1,937 words

After the explosion, Near presents himself like a lamb. Instead of staying away, Near takes a risk and goes to meet Mello, first. What happens after is completely to plan.

give up, give in by orphan_account M/M | 796 words

They’ve always fought their battle in close proximity. Near has always given off the sickening impression of minding his own business. Mello has only recently decided to make it less obvious that he minds Near’s business, too.

Convictions by empressofthewind (@empressofthewind) M/M | 10,782 words

Near is adamant that Mello's confinement was never about control. Mello is not so easily convinced.

only you and i by aaxzlyte (@aaxzlyte) M/M | 3,132 words

It's, honestly, exactly what he'd wanted upon initiating this. Mello would take Near's virginity and no one else would get the chance to even look at him. Near wouldn't want anyone else to look at him, because Mello would finally be enough, in some aspect.

floating and falling all at once by squidish (@squidish) M/F | 7,581 words

"I don't suppose you'd like to.. Spend the night here, with me, would you?" Near's face is determined, but her voice is quavering. "I have food that we could eat, and.. You could sleep with me. ..In- in my bed, I mean." Mello is silent for a moment, a little awed. -- In which Near overcomes her first-time jitters, and Mello is head-over-heels in love with her.

Powder Keg by dornishviper (@vriskarlmarx) rated E | 2,014 words

Mello stops by Near's room for a late night visit after getting her photo back earlier that day. Near has a certain... fixation.

Leviticus by vorareromantic (@vorareromantic) rated E | 12,454 words

When Near was thirteen, or perhaps even younger, she had (for the most part) broken out of the programming that Wammy's had worked to instill in their pupils from a young age. The Bible was strict and contradictory, it meant little to her besides the constant pressure and fear mongering. Mello, on the other hand, was as devout as one could be. It was ironic, honestly. Near would be the model Christian if she was a believer. Mello, on the other hand, could practically be the poster child of sin.

[damned-punk]

I’ve been going through a lot with my self esteem and how I view my body lately. I would love something with Kid enjoying an afab reader who’s plus size. Thank you!

Satisfied (Kidd x Reader)

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Content Warning: self esteem issues, suggestive language

Content Description: you’re having complex feelings about yourself and all Kidd wants is for you to see yourself as he sees you ♡

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It had been one of those days where everything just felt off. From the feeling of fabric against your figure from outfits that you once loved to the rays of sun shining against your skin, it was all wrong. You wanted to fall away into yourself, to disappear or shrink to some standard that was anything other than what you were now. It made you ponder why your partner would want you when you didn’t even want yourself, it was exhausting. You’d avoided Kidd for nearly the entire day, occupying yourself with random tasks around the ship and engaging with as little of your crewmates as you could manage.

Most of them brushed your behavior off as symptoms of sleep deprivation or simply being too preoccupied in what you were doing to chat, but your close friends knew that you were bothered. Killer could immediately sense that something wasn’t quite right, but he couldn’t place exactly what was up. He hadn’t heard any yelling, crashing, or cursing so he quickly ruled out an argument with the Captain. He was at a loss for what else could possibly be plaguing you. Killer lingered next to you for a while, making himself appear busy while studying your expressions and body language.

“I’m thinking I might make shrimp scampi for dinner tonight, does that sound good (Y/N)?”, he asked nonchalantly, prompting some semblance of a conversation to break your silence.

“I’m good with that, whatever you guys want.”, you replied without looking at him, continuing to straighten up the room.

You took your leave shortly after, Killer was unsatisfied with your answer but it was obvious you weren’t ready to talk. A part of him wanted to pry but he resolved that it might be better to turn to Kidd for answers. He located the Captain, sweaty and leant over a contraption in his workshop, and questioned him on how your morning had went.

“I was up before (Y/N) and by the time I was out of the shower, she was gone.”, Kidd asserted, somewhat perplexed as to what had prompted the question.

“You haven’t seen her after that?”, Killer asked again.

“Alright, what the fuck is going on?”, Kidd retorted, unsure of what Killer was getting at.

“I don’t know, but I think you should go talk to her.”, Killer patted Kidd’s shoulder, “She’s been out of it all day. Not talking to anyone and keeping herself tucked away, something’s up.”

The two men stood and thought for a second. Kidd went through yesterday’s events and even considered that he might’ve missed an important date but neither of them could come up with any feasible reasoning. If you’d gotten into it with a crewmate, they’d surely already know by now. There had been no change in bounties that they were aware of and you hadn’t mentioned wanting or needing anything that they couldn’t provide.

Kidd wiped his face and washed the grease from his hands, it’d gotten warm in his workshop so he’d long since abandoned his shirt. He figured you might like that, a trade of vulnerability or whatever when he cornered you to talk. Killer wanted to supervise, partly to ensure that you were okay but also to prevent Kidd from making things worse. You’d returned to the cabin you shared with Kidd after the short conversation with Killer, cleaning up after Kidd who could sometimes be messy.

You caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror hanging from the bathroom door, the figure in front of you looking unfamiliar. You adjusted your clothes and tried to level with how others may see you, but your thoughts remained unsavory. Spiraling from feeling disconnected to your own body, you considered the possibility that your time with Kidd was limited. What would you become after? Tears brimmed at your waterline, how could you expect Kidd to want to be with you when you couldn’t even want to be with yourself?

The door suddenly swung open and you nearly jumped out of your skin. Kidd eyed you and made his way to the bed, sitting on the corner and patting the space beside him. You hesitantly joined him, purposefully pushing the bathroom door open so that the mirror wouldn’t face the two of you. He put his hand on your knee, gently squeezing and kneading the soft skin.

“What’s up babe?”, Kidd asked, lightly bumping your shoulder with his own.

He was having a hard time concentrating as the shirt you were wearing showcased your breasts, a little too nicely in his humble opinion. You noticed and huffed a laugh at him, maybe this was enough for him. Maybe you were enough for him. Surely he wouldn’t go through the trouble of all this if he were unhappy.

“Seriously, what’s on your mind? You’ve been quiet today.”, he asked again, this time forcing himself to focus.

“Nothing much.”, you replied, averting direct eye contact, “What’ve you been up to today?”

“You in front of that mirror didn’t look like nothing.”, he ignored your question, your content expression faltering, “Your eyes are all watery and shit.”

“I’m fine, Kidd.”, you refuted his concerns, a futile attempt to calm him down.

“Talk to me (Y/N), I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t give a fuck.”, he pressed you further.

You considered your options, weighing the pros and cons of divulging your innermost insecurities to him. You’d always been open with him about things that mattered, but this was a different kind of vulnerability. This was self-hatred, something that you worried he’d view as weakness. This was not something circumstantial that would blow over in time, this was a part of you as a person.

“I’ve had a hard time with myself today.”, you began to explain, “I look at myself and don’t recognize what I see… or maybe it’s more that I don’t like what I see. I was thinking about you and what you see in me.”

The two of you sat in silence for a moment. Kidd was bewildered, unsure of what to say. He wanted you, every part of you. You fit into his life seamlessly, everything about you complimented everything about him. He needed to articulate that to you and not just convince you to move on. He wished you could see what you are from his perspective.

“I see a strong, beautiful, kick-ass person. You know shit that I couldn’t even hope to think of, always knowing what to say and how to unfuck the most fucked up situations.”, he said with an unusual tenderness in his voice, “I love you, I want you, and I need you.”

Your chest tightened and the tears returned, you looked up at him to see such a warm expression. Despite his roughness, Kidd was an amazing partner. He was always attentive to your needs and undoubtedly put forth so much effort into keeping you satisfied within your relationship. You felt so guilty for dropping all of this onto him, it was unfair for him to have to share this burden with you.

“I’m sorry, I love you too Kidd.”, you squeezed the hand that rested on your knee and attempted to stand, sinking right back down into the bed when he wrapped his arm around you.

He crashed his lips onto your own, passionately sucking and nipping as a way to materialize his feelings. His hand rested against your back, rubbing and massaging as an added layer of security. He trailed his kisses across your jaw, planting one final peck against your forehead. He flopped back against the bed, taking you with him and holding your head against his chest. He let his fingers wander, playing with stray pieces of hair that framed your face and enjoying the tranquility of lying with his person. He didn’t give a fuck what you thought was wrong with yourself, he was just happy that you’d given him a chance to be with someone like you.

⋆｡°✩ ⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊✩₊‧˙⋆˚｡°✩ ⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊✩₊‧˙⋆｡°✩ ⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊✩₊‧˙⋆

[slaytheusurper]

⭑ Missing you ⭑

⊹ ࣪ ˖ Day 5/12 of Smuffmas! Letters & Lingerie Kink with Tom

12 days of Smuffmas Masterlist

Pairing: Tom Bennett x Gf!Reader

Warnings: NSFW, panty smelling, horny/pent-up Tom, male masturbation and panty/hand fucking (?)

Summary: You sent your handsome soldier a little gift to enjoy.

Taglist smuffmas ‘24: @venmondiese

Tom clutched the piece of paper in his hand, the cabin was pretty much empty as it was still early evening. But he was finally released from his duties for the day. War had been hard on him, although he tried not to tell her that.

He did his best to sound as hopeful and positive with a mix of humour in his letters to her. She worried easily and even though he did not blame her one bit, it did make him more anxious. 

His eyes scanned the cabin and one of his mates was the last one to leave. It was empty and Tom couldn’t wait to rip open his envelope from you and distract himself with your loving words. 

He couldn’t wait to find whatever was written inside the letter, probably just what you have been up to. But that was a nice form of escaping his own reality nonetheless. He quickly found his own bed and sat down.

His fingers swiftly opened the envelope and he was surprised to not only find a letter but a pair of your lace panties as well. He fished them out and looked around before he smelled them. They were clean and smelled of your vanilla perfume.

He inhaled the scent with a sigh and remembered there was a letter in the envelope as well. Tom grabbed the letter and unfolded it, his eyes scanning over his pretty girlfriend's handwriting. 

Dear Tommy,

You already know I miss you so much. But I will tell you every week anyway, I don’t want you to feel like I ever forget about you. I won't ever forget your handsome face and beautiful smile and your horrible jokes. Hopefully you’ve found the little gift I hid for you in the envelope, it’s yours to play with until you give them back to me. 

I wish I could hug you right now, and kiss you. I miss the feeling of your warm skin on mine, the way your fingers trace my arm. And of course other things that are a bit too erotic to mention in writing, but I can’t wait until you return. 

Because then, I will do anything you want, anything at all. Hopefully there are really only three more weeks left and then I’ll have you in my arms again but for now, I’m going to dream about you enjoying your gift.

I love you, 

Hopefully soon to be Mrs Bennett

He sucked in a sharp breath after reading her words, his cock already starting to stiffen in his underwear. After all this time, even the wind could make him hard. He was so sensitive and pent up, his hand reached for her lace panties again.

Looking around once more to ensure he was alone, he started to undo his pants, pulling down his bedsheets so he could somewhat hide under them if someone were to catch him. He pulled his underwear down in one go with his pants, his erection already resting hotly against his thigh.

He fisted his cock with one hand and brought her panties to his nose with his other, starting a soft pace when inhaling her smell. He hissed and groaned while he tugged at his cock, he hadn’t had time or privacy to pleasure himself for about four days now.

To say he was pent up was an understatement, he was used to pounding into her tight hole every single day and now he barely got to fuck his own hand. His mind went back to the memories of her. 

His hand moved faster over his tip but slowed when an idea popped into his mind. He let go of his cock and held her panties in his right hand before moving them over his shaft. The material of the lace was rougher than his skin.

It provided him with a newfound pleasure and he had to bite down on his lips when he started to pump his cock again. His eyes rolled back and pleasure consumed him. Soft grunts left him anyway and a light sheen of sweat dusted his skin.

It was already quite warm on the ship and his sinful activities made the room even hotter. He could already feel his orgasm building, having not masturbated in a while, it was hard for him not to cum too fast.

He moved the lace deliberately over the head, precum making the fabric more slick. He imagined it was her clothed cunt humping his cock, the idea of her dry humping him drawing moans from his lips. 

His balls tightened and Tom held his breath as his orgasm burned through him, it was more powerful then his latest and he bit his tongue as his seed painted the panties. He held his breath as he kept cumming, his eyes closing as the climax did not subside. 

Neither did his cum, ropes and ropes came out and now even his belly was sticky with his spent. After twenty seconds he was milked dry and felt his cock soften again, he was covered in his own cum and his face red and sweaty. 

How the fuck was he supposed to clean his mess up subtly?

Divider by: @selysie