#and i do one thing and then let it all build up again

[woso-dreamzzz]

Teenage Dirtbag III

Mapi Leon x Ingrid Engen x Teen!Reader

Summary: You get a job

The mural appears on the building in the middle of the night but it's on the morning news show that moment the sun comes up.

You stubbornly ignore the screen as you stare down at your bowl of cereal, the smallest of smiles on your face as you offer a dry cornflake to little Vince, who takes it and scampers off to eat it at the other end of the table.

"I wish you wouldn't let him up there," Mapi says and you roll your eyes.

"You let Bagheera up here."

"That's different."

"Is it because he's a boy? Is that it?"

Mapi lets out a little bark of laughter for a moment before flicking you in the ear. "I'm worried he's going to fall and hurt himself."

Your kitten peers over the edge of the table after eating his cereal, little legs wiggling in preparation to leap as his half ear flicks happily.

"I think he's survived worse."

Mapi rolls her eyes, plucking Vince off the table and placing him on the floor before she makes her morning coffee.

Ingrid's the one watching the news, her brow furrowed as she listens to the report.

"Well," You say, pushing out and up from the table," I'm going to head to school. I'll see you later."

Ingrid's eyes narrow at your abrupt exit and you don't slow down enough for her to open her mouth.

The path to your school is a familiar one, a fancy private school that Ingrid probably pays an extortionate fee to send you to but is still leagues above the boarding school you used to attend in Norway.

But you've still got a blazer to wear and a shirt and tie - not even one of those clip on ones. It's a proper tie that you've got to tie everyday.

Your skateboard wheels roll over the pavement, earphones thumping with music, as you approach the building. There's a teacher at the gate and they give you a look of disapproval as you come rolling past.

"Hoodie off, Engen," They say," You know the rules."

You roll your eyes as you continue on your way, making a show of stripping off the hoodie you've got on under your blazer just as you make it through the double doors - where it goes straight back on again.

School in Spain isn't really that different to school in Norway apart from the fact that everyone's speaking Spanish.

That's not really difficult either - Spanish that is. You've already got Norwegian and English, and Spanish wasn't really too complex of a language to learn either.

Sure, you've got a bit of an accent and sometimes have to take a moment to think through your grammar but it's nothing that makes it impossible to communicate.

"Off the skateboard, Engen," Another teacher says as you ride down the corridor on your board.

"Will do," You lie through your teeth.

The speed of your skateboard is the only thing keeping you away from the gaggle of girls that follow your every move.

Back at home, Mapi thinks it's hilarious. Ingrid says it's sweet.

You think it's annoying. It's bad enough to appear in the middle of the school year and have everyone automatically know who you are. It's worse when a group of giggling girls try to follow you around all the time. You kind of just want to fade into the background.

"I thought the teacher just asked you to get off that skateboard?"

You roll to a stop in front of one of the prefects.

"I mean...they didn't exactly say when I was meant to get off the skateboard? Just that I should get off it?"

She rolls her eyes, arms crossed over her chest. "You know what they meant."

"Do you ever get tired of being so stuck up?" You ask with a cheeky grin.

"Do you ever get tired of pushing boundaries?"

You shrug. "It's part of my charm."

"Yeah, charm," She scoffs," Let's call it that. You know, I should write you up for dress code. You know you're not meant to wear hoodies to school."

"So I've been told."

"Or trainers."

"They're comfortable."

"Or leave your tie undone."

"I don't like the feeling on my neck."

"And that hairband? Black only."

"What? So I can't wear a red hair tie but you can wear pink ribbons? How's that fair?!"

"So now you're trying to fight with me about it?" She asks, the corner of her mouth twitching upwards," I really should write you up."

Your eyes narrow, nose scrunching up. "You're teasing me."

"What gave it away?"

"I hate you."

"No you don't, Engen. But I do have a note that I was meant to give you during registration. Here, you're excused after lunch. Your sisters are picking you up."

You stare down at the note from the office in your hand as she walks off with her stupid pastel pink hair ribbons.

"Hey! Mapi's not my sister!" You yell after her but she doesn't stop to argue with you about it.

You kind of wish she did.

You shake that thought away though, tucking your skateboard safely under your arm as you make your way over to registration.

School is boring like it always is, even though Ingrid's insisted on them giving you challenging work in the hope of keeping you engaged. She doesn't need to know that you're still skipping classes to hang out in the art rooms with that one eccentric art teacher that can't remember your name but does know the exact brand of spray paint that you love.

You're more than happy to sign yourself out for the day with your hood flipped up as you make your way over to Ingrid's car.

You take a glance back at the building, up to the second floor where that girl is sitting with her stupid pink ribbons, staring bored outside of the History class window.

You know she sees you and you know she sees you put your middle fingers up at her.

"Do you have to do that?" Ingrid asks as you slide into the back seat, slamming the door closed behind you. "You're going to ruin my doors."

"The club will just give you a new car," You say dismissively, plugging your phone into one of Mapi's many chargers. "So...Why am I being let out early?"

"We can't want to do something nice for you?" Ingrid hums, pulling out of the school gates and onto the road.

"Not at lunchtime on a Tuesday," You reply and Mapi snickers in the passenger seat," Don't you guys have training or something?"

"It's almost like you want to be in school," Mapi teases," We can always turn around and drive you back."

"I'm good," You say," But, you know, I haven't eaten yet. Can we grab something first?"

It's hours (and one burger) later that has Ingrid watching you from her passing exercise with Esmee.

Your white school shirt is stained with spray paint and she's ninety percent sure that it's never going to be white again. Your blazer is a heap on the floor and your hoodie sleeves are pushed up to reveal a pastel pink ribbon tied around one of your wrists.

You're totally in the zone though as you adjust your hastily made stencils and step back to review your work.

Ingrid's pretty sure someone could scream your name and you wouldn't even notice, too preoccupied with setting up base layers and a few shapes.

"How it's going?" Mapi asks," It looks..."

Well Mapi can't quite tell how it looks because it's just a bunch of colours and vague shape blobs to her.

"I think I'm going to make the focal point the Champion's League trophy," You say," And then everyone spread out around it."

Mapi tries to picture it but the vague blobs and splashes of colour look just like that to her, no hint of what you can clearly see within it. "Cool," Is all she can say in response.

"It'll look good," You reply," I promise."

"I trust you," Mapi says," I'm just a little sad that I'm clearly not seeing what you're seeing."

"Give it a few days," You promise," And it'll come together."

"I look forward to seeing it," Ingrid says as she approaches.

She's with Mapi, unable to see what you can in the splash of colour and swirls but she's seen enough of your work to know that it all starts off like this.

"Besides," Ingrid says, slipping her hand into yours," Maybe with this to work on, you won't go around tagging random buildings that make it on the news."

"You can't prove that was me," You reply, not taking your eyes off the wall in front of you," They were saying it could be Banksy or someone else trying to make a statement."

"Don't be stupid," You sister says," I can recognise your work anywhere."

[mintmatcha]

I so understand this would be so far off, but I’m imagining reader’s son being 13 and a couple months old, he’s cordial with Shinsou, for his mum, but he’s trying to come to terms with why his mum didn’t stay with his dad. Until monoma doesn’t show up for something and maybe one of his friends is like ‘hey, I’m really sorry your dad is always doing that. It must really suck’

‘My dad always shows up usually, just later. He’s busy.’ And the look of pity from his friend and it just CLICKS

Has to call his mum to pick him up and shinsou picks him up because maybe it’s late at night, and shinsou has always respected that he shouldn’t talk shit about monoma in front of your son, but when your son starts asking about things, about the lies and twisted truths monoma has told, shinsou won’t lie to him. Just gives him yes and no answers.

Monoma doesn’t understand why all of a sudden his son isn’t responding to his messages or answering his phone calls, and there’s no way he’s calling you to reveal to you that he’s no longer the golden father figure in your son’s eyes

I LOVE THIS IDEA AAA

I think, leading up to that, the more your son is angry at monoma, the more he's disrespectful of you. it's displaced, but he just can't bring himself to think that his dad is the problem.

the only time shinso has ever REALLY yelled at him was after school one day. monoma was supposed to come for his weekend, but it's shinso standing at the curb waiting for him.

"Whoa, that's your dad?" a friend asks. oh, he had been bragging all day that his pro hero dad was coming to take him on vacation and now he's face to face with the realization that he's not going anywhere.

"He is not my dad." There's so much angst and anger building up in his gut. you must have done something to piss his real dad off- it's always your fault when he doesn't arrive- "he's just some guy my mom whores around with."

Shinso's jaw flexes so tightly that he can see it from all the way from across the street. He uses his whole name, biting out every syllable with a barely restrained anger. your son trudges across the street with his pack dragging on the ground.

"Say that again." It's been years since he's thought Shinso was scary, but the cold grind of his voice makes him freeze. "Say it right here, to my face."

They both know he can't. He doesn't have the guts. Shinso bends over just a bit, bringing himself face to face.

"You do not have to respect me. You don't even have to like me." Shinso's voice breaks with the sheer volume he's using. your son looks back at his friends, who look equally horrified. "But you will not talk about your mother that way."

The man jabs a finger towards the school bag.

"And pick up your fucking bag." He's never cursed at your son before. "Your mom worked extra shifts to pay for that."

He had begged for this bag, the full leather one. it was expensive. too expensive to ask you for. It came as a holiday present with no name, so he had always assumed his dad was the one who bought it. Monoma is the one with money-- you're just a waitress. The scuffed bottom suddenly feels embarrassing.

Shinso hasn't stopped his ranting. "All she has ever done is loved you. Your whole life! All she's ever done! And I will not let you treat her the way your father treats her, got it?"

Your son doesn't reply.

"I said- did you fucking get that?"

His real dad never yells. No, he just laughs when he says things like that. Your son sniffs and slugs his bag over his shoulder. "Yeah. Whatever."

"And if you ever say that to your mother's face-" he can't finish the sentence. "Get walking."

[frehyun]

Drowned

siren!hyunjin x afab!reader

warnings: swearing, violence, mentions of drinking, descriptions of drowning, unprotected sex (do not), monster cock, fingering (f and m receiving), oral (f receiving), creampie

genre: pirate/siren AU, found family trope, fluff, monster (?) smut, a little bit of angst

word count: 8.2k

author's note: started thinking about merman hyunjin, wanted to write a little something, it got out of hand. voilá. seriously, this is the longest thing i've ever written so i'd really appreciate to hear what you think! please let me know if there's any mistakes or if i overlooked something <3 happy reading 💙

masterlist

divider by @firefly-graphics

For as long as you lived, the sea was your home. The salty wind in your hair, the water splashing against the sides of your parent’s ship and freedom in your heart. Never have you wanted for more, the crew and everything else that was on board was always enough.

Sure, every now and then you had to get rough with other pirates or relieve some rich folk of their valuables but regardless of that, you wouldn’t change your life for the world. You never had a worry on your mind except maybe what’s for dinner that day, enjoying a nice sunbath on the deck, messing with some of the lower standing crew members that were close to your heart or going fishing with your mother whenever you were docked on some harbor.

Today was no different. Maybe a little different, since your father had tasked you with checking out one of the local rich men’s houses. Your boots carried you to the wealthy district where you earned your share of people eyeing you with disdain but you didn’t mind, smiling toothily at them and waving which just left them perplexed by your friendliness.

You whistled lowly at the sight of the mansion, gold decorations shimmering on the façade, lush greenery surrounding the entire building.

Kind of impressive.

The fence was hopped easily and you found your way into the mansion. No one was home so you figured there was no point in trying to stay low. You scanned through most of the main rooms, snatching up anything that looked valuable enough to you. With your pockets and bag full, you strolled over to what seemed to be a room where whoever lived here kept all of their valuable paintings and other art finds.

You stood in front of one particularly impressive artwork. While others would surely admire the stroke pattern, the colors used or the fascinating woodwork on the frame, you simply ascertained that the painting was small enough to carry out and still be able to run with. So you grinned to yourself as you removed the painting from the wall and leisurely made your way out of the house again.

Your steps are hurried as you make your way back to the ship, signaling for the crew to get ready to leave the harbor.

“Halt! She’s a thief!”

Oh well. Took them long enough.

You broke out in a sprint, painting secured beneath your arm. Your father was already barking out orders, readying the ship to take off as soon as they can, while some of the local police is hot on your trail.

You giggled as you climbed onboard right as the ship began its movement towards the horizon. With big motions you waved to the people left behind, all of them fuming for having lost the race against you.

-

The island was no longer to be seen, your parents were proud and your little family had plenty of stuff to sell for the next dock. You couldn’t be happier.

To reward yourself for your hard work today, you decided to lounge about in the sun. The waves rocked you until you fell fast asleep.

So deeply asleep that you didn’t wake up when the outlook yelled about another ship approaching yours.

So deeply asleep that you only woke up when the first canonball tore through the flimsy wood of the ship you called home.

Your heart was beating erratically as you struggled to make sense of your surroundings, everyone onboard in a panicked hurry. Some men running around trying to fight off the opponents that were starting to invade your space, the others below deck firing back with whatever they had, some others trying to keep the rising water out of the ship, refusing to let it sink just like that.

You grabbed your own sword and jumped to your father’s side.

“Seems like you angered the wrong gentlemen this time around!” – he laughed as his sword clashed with another.

“It was your stupid idea!” – you countered, equally finding amusement in the familiar situation and laughing.

The fight seemed to be on your side for a moment, countless stuck-up lawmen falling into the harsh waters while your side held their numbers up. But not everything always goes the way you want it to, one misstep and everything can fall apart quickly. So when the blade slashed through your side, you sucked in a breath and stumbled backwards against the railing, a man twice your size giving you the last push you needed to tip over, the cold water enveloping your whole body.

You struggled to keep your head above the waters, gasping for air but breathing in more water than anything sustainable. Your body bumped into those of others that had met the same fate as you, making the entire process of trying to stay alive harder than it needed to be. The side of your torso ached with every movement and soon enough, the strength left your limbs as you slowly but surely sunk deeper into the depths of the sea, unaware of someone that observed your descent with curious eyes.

The first thing you notice when you come to your senses again is that you feel incredibly warm.

The second thing you notice is a pair of curious eyes staring down at you.

“Oh” – he moves out of your sight before you can properly take the rest of his appearance in but one thing is abundantly clear to you: pupils should not be shaped like his, nor should eyes be as yellow as his.

You sit upright as soon as you can, wincing at the sharp pain in your side. The pain is all but forgotten when you take in the otherworldly creature sitting timidly at the edge of a stone not far from you.

He is nervously picking at his fingers while gazing at you, the space between each finger connected by a thin membrane akin to some sea creatures you know. There are tiny little scales scattered around his skin that shimmer in various shades in the light, ranging from the deepest onyx, powdery sky blue, brilliant gold and pearl white. The most alarming thing about his body is the very obvious fish tail where his legs should be, decorated in the same colors as the rest of his scales with smaller, elegantly shaped fins on the sides of it. It seemed to be longer than whatever the stories made you picture in your mind. When your gaze wanders back up his body, taking note of how the scales fade into normal skin and just being scattered here and there, you notice the gills on each side of his neck, fluttering softly with each breath he takes. His impressively broad back had another line of fins across his spine. Finally settling your gaze on his face, framed by luscious black locks, you can see he has another set of large fins on the side of his head, probably protecting his ears. His eyes shine a shimmery yellow with a fitting cat-like pupil that’s slightly dilated as he’s taking your form in. A slight blush covers his cheeks, the miniscule fins along his cheekbones fluttering.

He is the most beautiful thing you have ever seen in your life.

When he opens his plush lips to say something, you can see his teeth are a set of fangs, his canines larger and sharper than the others which seem kind of blunt in comparison.

“Do you feel pain?” – his voice comes out shyly, an underlying trill accompanying the sound.

Suddenly, you remember you are supposed to be in pain, immediately clutching the side that was slashed during the fight but finding it neatly bandaged with algae and scraps of cloth. He must have taken care of you while you were unconscious.

Surprisingly, all that’s left is a dull pain that pulsates along your heartbeat, nothing too bad. As you tell him this, he seems pleased, a proud little smile on his lips.

“You are a pirate, yes?”

“Yeah. We got attacked and then…” – you trail off and look around.

You’re clearly on some shore but it doesn’t seem like any civilisation is nearby, the air devoid of any sounds that indicate humans are nearby, just the soft crashing of the waves, the wind in the trees and the calls of animals. There isn’t any harbor, no boats in sight, the beautiful creature sitting beside you the only sign of intelligent life.

A sigh leaves your lips, already wracking your brain for any ideas on how to get back to the mainland or contact your family. For a second earlier, you thought that you found your end as you stared into the creature’s eyes. So sure were you that what you saw in front of you must have been one of the legendary sirens that your mother always told you about. Creatures that lure in pirates and sailors alike with their beautiful appearance and mesmerising voices, only to drag them into the depths of the sea, killing them.

Whatever was in front of you, curiously holding up the painting that you stole, big eyes roaming over the faded paint, couldn’t be a man-killing siren for he was far too soft and gentle to be anything like those legends said he would be.

It was honestly kind of cute watching him take in the ruined painting, completely captivated by the swirling colors, his tail gently splashing in the water in quiet excitement.

He seemed to be no threat, so you let your guard down easily beside him.

“Do you have a name?” – you ask him finally, breaking his concentration on the painting, yet he doesn’t look away from it.

“Hyunjin.”

“Well, thank you, Hyunjin. For saving me. I’m y/n.”

The tips of his ear fins flick at your admission, yet he makes no move to look at you. His fingers, with claws retracted, gently glide over the messy colors and though the original painting is near unrecognisable, far too damaged by the tides to make anything out, Hyunjin seems to find a certain beauty in the destroyed artwork.

“Do you know who made this?” – he asks and there’s that trill in his voice again that makes you think his vocal chords must work differently to yours.

“Nope. Stole it from some rich guy, he didn’t really indicate the artist anywhere. I doubt he cared.”

Hyunjin frowns at that, finally putting the painting to the side and turning to you.

“What are you going to do now? I understand that this island is less than ideal for a human but I had to get you back on land as soon as possible. You would have died.”

“I know where my family was headed and if they survived that encounter, they’ll still sail towards Port Vement. I just have to figure out a way to get there” – you let your body fall back into the sand.

Hyunjin hums and even then, the little trill you’re slowly getting obsessed with accompanies the sound. You want to hear it again. You wonder if it would be there if he sang.

“I’ll help you. I’m the reason you’re in this situation, after all.”

-

The days passed in a slog. You were mainly concerned about finding a way off of the island while staying alive, the wound you nursed on your side healing too slow for your liking.

Hyunjin had been fantastic at keeping you company and ensuring you actually survived and stayed sane. He caught fish for you with his bare hands, showing it off proudly by raising his arm in the air and giving you a toothy grin from his place in the water as you watched him, your adoration growing for him with every fish caught.

You ate together and meal times were one of the few times where you had to realise, that Hyunjin was after all part animal with the way he tore into the fish, his fangs easily making short work of the seadweller.

When you were busy building a makeshift raft out of the driftwood that you found around the shore, he’d sunbathe on one of the nearby stones, his scales glistening and shimmering in the light. Your desire to touch them grew every time you stole a glance at the sleepy siren.

Sometimes, the two of you would just lay together, exhausted from the day. Hyunjin liked it when you told him stories of your adventures around the world but it seemed that he found particular joy in the stories that focused on your little pirate family.

You would tell him of Marnie, the bear-like man in charge of the kitchen, who you swear was the softest guy you had ever known. Everything he touched turned into a delicacy and his passion for good ingredients and cooking got even you excited to try your hand at making a dish, only to end up burning your hand and the meal tasting like it had gone bad a week ago, thus swiftly ending your career as a kitchen helper.

You would tell him of Val, the outlook who loves reading more than anything ever since your mother taught him. He keeps a little box full of books he procures from the towns you visit. Val doesn’t talk much but he’s generally good company and loves telling you about the plots of his novels.

You would tell him of Arlen, a tall scary-looking guy who was in charge of keeping all of your weapons sharp and battle-ready. Despite looking so fierce and battleworn, Arlen was quite the romantic, swooning here and there over the beauty of the world.

You would tell him of Marlo, who was with you ever since you were born for he was your father’s childhood friend. Marlo lies and talks a lot of bullshit all day long but that made him the greatest storyteller on board because he could exaggerate the hell out of the tales he told.

And finally, you would tell him of your parents, who fell in love when your father was just a scrawny lad robbing a bar blind with his crew of misfits. He swept her off her feet and promised her a future full of wealth and a lifetime of love in their little family.

It was a fair exchange, because Hyunjin, after a few days of only you entrusting stories to him, started telling you of his own life.

He was born in an alcove to two very loving parents when the weather just started changing, the water slowly warming up with each day passing, the sun more happy to be out and about. He was the only one of his clutch that survived, so he didn’t have any brothers or sisters.

When he was just a little fish, his parents got caught up in some kind of conflict between a group of sirens and, in order to protect their only son, gave their lives so he could swim away.

You noticed his voice came out strained, so you silently took his hand into yours in an effort to comfort him. It was your first time initiating touch with him and he accepted it gratefully, continuing on with his story.

“I was alone for quite a while, but my parents taught me well”, he said, “until I met a bunch of other sirens, all male, which was weird, since all the other sirens I had met during my life always had females with them for one reason or another. They were weird for that but what was even weirder is that… I stuck with them for a while and they started feeling like home.”

You nodded along to his words, your thumb caressing the back of his hand in comforting motions.

“You had your own little family, hm?”, you whisper and he nods.

“What happened to them?”, you ask cautiously, not wanting to push him too far in case he wasn’t ready to share that part of the story with you yet. His gills fluttered as he took in a shaky breath, his ear fins flapping nervously as his eyes find yours.

“There was a storm and we got seperated. I don’t know where they are.”

Hyunjin doesn’t share any more stories that night.

-

A few days into your new castaway life, you figure you should change or at least clean the bandages for your wound so it doesn’t get infected. Even after diligently checking through the supplies you gathered in your time here, there isn’t an awful lot of cloth amongst it.

You sigh and look down at your clothes, already mourning the fabric.

You trudge over to where Hyunjin was lounging about. In a way, you envy him for not having to wear proper clothing. Most of what he was wearing consisted of various seashells, fishing lines and other sea artefacts that he, or one of his friends, assembled to resemble necklaces, bracelets and decorations for his tail.

If he was human, he would be quite fashionable, you think.

“Hyunjin”, you whine and he cracks open one eye to look up at you.

“Can you use your claws to cut off some fabric from my clothes for new bandages?”

He mutters a quiet ‘sure’ and sits up, making grabby hands with his sharpened nails at you. You giggle at his antics and offer him your pantleg and he gently cuts off enough fabric to dress your wound with.

The next part is kind of awkward because last time you were unconscious and the situation was quite literally life-or-death. You both sit there awkwardly, Hyunjin still with the fabric in hand, not sure how and where to move. What was acceptable? Would you let him take care of you again now that you were fully conscious?

You were the first to break the awkward tension by lifting your shirt up.

“Help me, again?” – you choke out and Hyunjin feels like jumping into the water and swimming away as far as he can. He trills something, no words coming out of him, just cute little noises, his ear fins flicking nervously.

He scoots closer to you, the base of his tail settling against your knees and despite his scales looking so scratchy, it’s a smooth, silky feel against your skin.

The old bandages and algae are taken off with ease and Hyunjin curiously eyes your wound, checking if it needs to be cleaned or any other special care. Meanwhile you feel like dying, his careful eyes roaming over your middle feels weirdly intimate and you want to burst into a million pieces at his attention.

It’s not every day that you get the full attention of a man as beautiful as him. Even rarer that someone you feel attracted to genuinely wants to take care of you. Something stirs in your heart when Hyunjin’s fingers gently trace the outline of your wound, careful to not keep them too close.

“Is this okay?” – he asks when you slightly jump at his touch and you nod back at him in a daze.

He starts bandaging you up gently, occasionally letting his gaze flit up to your face, silently checking whether you were still okay with what was happening. His own neck starts gaining color when he notices how flustered you are by his ministrations and he quickly finishes up, making sure the bandage wasn’t too tight but still snug.

“Done” – he trills and quickly retracts his hands back to his own body.

On one hand you’re glad it’s over and you can let your body relax again, on the other, you wish he would have kept his hands on you just a little longer.

-

You’re finally able to complete a safe enough raft when Hyunjin finds the last piece of driftwood that seems stable enough to hold you. While you pack all the things you had gathered for a longer journey on sea, Hyunjin tests the durability of the raft by swimming a few paces out into the ocean and hops onto it.

It seems to pass his tests and he gives you a thumbs up before bringing it back.

“And you’re absolutely sure you can swim and pull this at the same time?” – you ask from your place on the raft for the nth time that day, the anxiety gnawing at your core that you’re tasking Hyunjin with something that would end up hurting him.

“Trust me a litte, I’ll be fine!” – he grins and it’s that smile you started to love so much, one where his eyes crinkle a little and remind you of the shape of the moon on some nights. It’s a smile that usually only comes out when he’s genuine, cackling about something he finds extremely funny or something you said to him makes him so happy he can’t hold himself back.

“Alright, fish boy, let’s go, then.”

And oh boy, he’s faster than you thought, pulling you two through the tides as if you weighed nothing to him. Maybe you didn’t. Maybe sirens were extremely strong and he simply never showcased it to you as he did with so many things.

You hold onto dear life and try to navigate him towards where you think was Port Vement.

Amidst the waves rocking your little raft, the excitement and anxiety at the thought of seeing your family again rises within your heart.

What if they never survived that attack?

What if something else happened to them and they never made it to the Port?

What if they never came to Port Vement in the first place?

Such thoughts had plagued your mind ever since you started planning to go after them, only momentarily silenced whenever Hyunjin piped up with something he wanted to ask you about ever curiously or whenever the siren popped into your field of vision, effectively ripping you out of your spiral.

It’s a moment of clarity, your chest constricting at the realisation that in these few days together, you really grew attached to your unlikely acquaintance. A realisation that forces a small part of your brain to wish that you could just stay with him instead of returning to your family. Because a returnal would mean that you would have to say goodbye to him and maybe never see him again, your worlds too different to be allowed to collide for too long.

You don’t talk a lot during your travels and when night eventually falls, Hyunjin is far too tired to keep up with idle conversations. His tail is gently curled around the raft as he rests his body on the wood beside you, slumbering peacefully as the waves rock you two in a soft but steady rhythm. Your hand finds its way into the soft tresses of his hair, your fingers carding through his locks in an effort to comfort and thank him for his efforts during the day.

That fall off your ship could have easily ended in your death. A deep cut in your side, the bloodloss and the strong tides would have killed you right then and there, slowly draining your strength until there was none left.

If Hyunjin didn’t decide to help you out of the kindness of his heart, that would have been it. He didn’t need to help you or stay by your side to ensure that you had food and were safe. Probably shouldn’t have helped you if he wanted to keep himself safe.

But he did anyway. And for that you were incredibly grateful, yet you didn’t have a proper chance to show him that and it made you feel guilty. So all you could do for the moment was ensure that he was healthy and offer him all the comfort he needed.

Surprisingly, the journey was more boring than you expected. There were no storms, no complications, barely any ships nearby that could’ve been trouble for a stray girl and her equally stray siren.

When you see Port Vement in the distance, you let out a yell that scares Hyunjin so much he momentarily stops swimming to look back at you in horror.

“Port Vement, Hyunjin! We made it! You did it!!” – you excitedly celebrate and crawl forward on your raft to take him into your arms tightly. Hyunjin startles at your sudden touch but relaxes into your hold, his webbed fingers coming up to pat your back.

“I promise you, I’m gonna buy you as much food as you want, whatever you want, I’ll make it possible! There’s not enough ways in the world to thank you” – you sob into his shoulder, suddenly emotional over the whole ordeal.

He really doesn’t like it that you’re crying but having you in his arms feels so right, so comforting to his heart that he physically feels his feelings for you click into place, finally slotting into the spaces where they belonged.

“Let’s get you out of the water, then” – he trills shyly and you sniff as you settle back onto the raft so Hyunjin can pull you the last few meters.

With shaky legs you finally stand on solid ground again.

Port Vement had always been something of a safe haven for your family so it felt good to be back somewhere familiar. You tell Hyunjin you’re gonna check out the docks to see if your family’s ship is there and he promises you he’ll stay nearby watching over you in case something happened.

Your mind races as you hurry to the docks, all the questions bubbling up again that spike your anxiety. The uneven road makes you trip and bump into people passing you by but you don’t much care for their complaints as you make your way down the streets. Your heart is beating fast inside your ribs, almost painfully so, making you feel like you’re drowning again.

Everything comes to a halt around you as all your fears slip clean off your shoulders when you take in the glory that is your family’s ship. You want to break down and cry now that you finally know they’re here and safe but you knock some sense into yourself as you wrack your brain for possible locations they could’ve fled to in this town.

There were several shops and fishermen around trying to sell their wares but you doubt you’d find one of them there, especially with the sun setting already. Then your eyes stop at a shield hanging from one of the big wooden doors around you.

A tavern.

Bingo.

You break out into a sprint again, ripping the door open and startling several of the guests. Ignoring all of their complaints is easy when your eyes zero in on one table in the far back where your father is cackling obnoxiously loud, probably about some lame joke Marlo made.

“Dad!” – you yell and hurry over to their table. When they notice you, everyone’s eyes turn as big as saucers and the table almost topples over with the force of everyone suddenly standing up, trying to get to you first.

This time you really cry when the first pair of arms encircles you, soon to be followed by countless more, the lot of you just ending up in a big cuddle pile.

“You don’t know how much I missed you” – you cry and everyone shares your sentiment.

“We thought you died!”

“How did you survive that?!”

“Where have you been this entire time?!”

“How did you get to this island?!”

You answer all of their questions throughout the evening and in-between beers. For a moment, you think whether to tell them about Hyunjin’s existence or to obscure it to keep him safe in case someone else was listening in on your conversation. You settle on whispering it to your parents while the others are busy getting shitfaced. You’re your parents are surprised would be an understatement and they don’t believe you at first, thinking you might have taken a hit to your head or that you started to hallucinate in your absence.

Your insistence on the truthfulness of your story makes them eventually back down and give in.

“I don’t want to do anything he doesn’t want to, so I don’t know if you’ll ever meet him but… I just wanted you to know that my survival was thanks to a kind soul” – you mumble to them and your own statement makes you suddenly go rigid.

In your revery and celebration you totally forgot that Hyunjin was waiting for you.

You excuse yourself hastily, only your parents knowing the real reason why you would suddenly leave, and run outside to where you had last seen him. New anxieties swirl in your head. What if he left? What if that was it and you never got to say a proper goodbye to him? Thank him for what he’s done?

The coast was entirely clear so you called out to him in the dark.

“Hyunjin?”

Silence.

“Hyunjin? I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you wait for so long!”

The waves softly crash against the shores.

“My parents know about you, I hope that was fine? They’re very grateful, just like I am!”

The sounds of drunken hollering from the town reach your ears but thankfully they’re quiet, too far away to be a concern.

“Please don’t tell me you left…” – your voice gets quieter with each time you call out to him.

That’s when you spot something in the water. Two glowing orbs watching you from beneath the water. A relieved sigh escapes your lungs and your eyes sting, marking the fourth time you want to cry today.

You carefully step to the edge of the water and crouch down to place your hand into the sea. There’s a few moments before the yellow glow starts gliding through the water towards you and something suddenly takes your hand into theirs.

Hyunjin’s head peeks out of the water and you can see him pout.

“I thought you left me for good” – he mumbles into the water and despite his overly dramatic pout, you know he means it.

“I really am sorry… I got carried away after seeing my family again but I should have at least given you a sign or something instead of letting you wait without knowing what’s going on” – you caress his cheek, letting your thumb graze over the miniscule fins protruding from his cheekbones and Hyunjin lets out a soft trill.

“I was scared” – he doesn’t look you in the eyes anymore after his admission and your heart breaks.

“Don’t leave me, you’re all I have” – he sounds so broken, so different from the boy that kept giggling over the dumbest things you told him.

“Hyunjin…”

The water splashes around him when he pushes his body up on the stone, tail flailing behind him. When his hands find purchase on your shoulders, his retracted nails digging into your flesh, you half think he is going to live up to the siren stereotypes and drag you into the depths, but instead, his plush lips crash into yours haphazardly.

For a moment you’re taken aback, the force of the kiss so sudden, but your heart swells when your mind finally catches up to what was happening, your lips starting to move against his.

He tastes salty and a bit fishy, you can feel his fangs when you push your lips against his. Hyunjin is in a constant battle with himself of wanting to savor this and wanting to rush to the next part. His body wins and he timidly licks your lips, requesting you to open your mouth for him.

As you two kiss, pouring every amount of yearning and love into it, your arms circle around his small waist, pulling him further against your body. A pleased trill escapes his lips and you smile against him, licking excitedly into his mouth. You notice his tongue is different from yours, forked at the end and longer overall. Your tongue catches a few times on the many little fangs in his mouth but you don’t mind. Right now, you’re on cloud nine.

“The feelings I have in my chest are too big to put into words” – he says breathlessly when you part, foreheads touching.

“Can you show them to me?”

Hyunjin nearly sobs at your question, his mind pushing him to do a million things at the same time. How does one put their love into actions properly? How could he possibly show you how much you grew to mean to him within the days you spent together with just one action?

The rest of his tail lifts out of the water and envelops you, his arms pushing you to rest your head against his chest as he cradles you.

“My mother used to hold me like this” – he begins quietly, his heart thumping loudly against your ear.

“She said that as long as her heart was beating in her chest and I could hear it like this, I wouldn’t have to worry about anything. And even long after the beating of her heart faded out, I could remember it and be sure that for as long as she lived, her heart was beating for me” – he hugs you tighter against his chest, his cheek resting atop your head.

The two of you stay like this for a while, just breathing with each other, feeling each other’s skin. You give little kisses to his chest, finally getting to touch his scales like you wanted to the moment you met him.

“I know it’s not a replacement for what you lost, but for the time being until we find your friends again, if you wanted to, I could probably convince the others to take you with us, you know.”

“You would?”

“Of course I would, you dummy”, you giggle and poke his side and he lets out a trill again, much to your joy.

“My parents already know about you and even though a part of them probably thinks their daughter has lost it, they would accept you without thought. You saved me and showed me more kindness than another human might in a situation like this, you’re probably already part of the crew in their heads.”

Hyunjin sobs and hugs you even tighter to his body, his tail wrapping protectively around your legs.

In the quiet of the night, you two whisper about better tomorrows and a future filled with love to each other.

You don’t return to your family until morning.

-

The introduction between Hyunjin and your family went as well as you could have hoped. While most of them were weary at first, scared, that he was going to turn on them and do siren things to them, they accepted him after seeing that he was equally as shy about meeting them. Plus, they couldn’t argue with you for long when you kept insisting that he was the only reason you were alive right now.

The crew went about loading and repairing the ship from the damages it endured during the battle, meaning that you weren’t going to leave this place for a few days at least. Hyunjin curiously watched the hustle and bustle from a short distance away, not wanting to be in the way or risking getting seen by locals who didn’t know about him.

Your father approaches you on the last day of repairs, asking you to check out a new little addition to the pirate ship, one that has you gasping in happiness.

They decided to add a small, silly lift and a bunch of nets that were sturdy enough to hold Hyunjin on the side of the ship. That way, he could either use the lift with the help of someone on board or climb his way on deck using the nets. With an addition like this you were absolutely sure that Hyunjin was now part of the family and with an excited skip in your step you run to tell him about it.

He seems just as excited about it, his ear fins flickering happily and a huge grin on his face. Just one issue.

“Do you…uhm, have a bucket of water or something for me to sit in? I’m going to dry out otherwise.”

You scratch your head in thought. You kind of forgot that he needs water to survive, never having seen him outside of it for long.

“We got that covered, lad!”, Marnie yells, scaring both of you, as he unloads the last ingredients for the kitchen on deck.

“Near the spot where our dear y/n always sunbathes we put up a big tub already filled with salty sea water for ye!”

Hyunjin’s eyes glitter in joy and he claps his hands together excitedly.

“y/n! Help me up! I’ve always wanted to see what it’s like to be on a big ship like this!”

You chuckle and run on board towards the lift, and with little trouble you get the siren on board. A little more physical effort from both of you is needed to get Hyunjin across the deck and into the tub but when his cute little fish butt hits the water the two of you let out a pleased sigh.

“This is great!” – he trills excitedly, not knowing where to look first.

As Hyunjin takes in all the sights and the difference in height, you take the opportunity to observe the rest of the ship, a sense of calm settling in your chest at the thought of having both your family back and Hyunjin by your side.

-

Travelling with a siren by your side proves to be quite advantageous. The fishing takes half the time with Hyunjin speeding through the nearby waters and snatching up any fish big and beautiful enough to be considered meal-worthy by Marnie while your father desperately tries to do it the old-fashioned way only to lose to the siren every time.

To make up for every defeat, Hyunjin’s second job as a pirate is scouting ahead of your ship to make sure you’re not running into any law enforcement or other pirates that could prove dangerous.

He seems to love being needed for specific tasks.

The next time the opportunity arises for your crew to steal from a rich guy, Arlen casually takes a painting off the wall to offer it to Hyunjin later. He tries to brush it off as not a big deal, yet he can’t escape getting pulled into a big hug as Hyunjin thanks him wholeheartedly.

Arlen would never admit it to anyone but he teared up a bit at the genuine excitement bubbling off the siren just because he gave him a little gift.

The others soon also realised Hyunjin’s love for art so it escalated into something of a tradition for any crewmember to always bring back something from the world of art for their new fish buddy.

-

Today was one of the boring days, the entire crew on land for their business endeavors. The ship wasn’t docked as usual, a short distance away from land so they had to use the row boats to get to their destination. That left Hyunjin and you alone on the boat, lounging about in the sun. He let one arm lazily dangle outside of his tub to hold your hand with.

You suddenly realise that with the entire crew gone, probably until the next day, you could finally get some much needed kisses in. Ever since you took off from Port Vement, Hyunjin and you had to abstain from too much physical contact since you didn’t want to scare your parents with both bringing a real siren to the crew and explaining that he might be their new son-in-law.

Hyunjin cracks his eyes open when he feels your hand caressing his cheek. Without warning, you press a kiss to his lips and he feels like bursting at the seams, after being deprived of your loving touch for so long. It was just the start of your relationship and he immediately had to hold himself back from all the physical affections he wanted to give you. It was kind of unfair.

All the more reason for him to meet your kiss with as much fervor as he could muster. The miniscule fins on his cheekbones tickle you when you deepen the kiss, your tongue gliding over his forked one. Your heart beats erratically at your chest at you finally being able to kiss him again, your desperation transferring over to your movements being overly eager, accidentally knocking your teeth together but Hyunjin doesn’t seem to mind. On the contrary, it seems to spur him on even more, his hand finding its place on your waist, squeezing your flesh rhythmically.

You decide to be bold and lift your body in the tub, your legs on each side of his tail. Hyunjin looks up at you with an open mouth and big, glazed over eyes, clearly startled.

“Your clothes…”

“Forget about them, Hyune.”

And you descend back on him, your lips clashing with his. Your fingertips graze his ear fins and he lets out a high trill at the back of his throat. They must be sensitive. You store that knowledge in the back of your head for later.

Hyunjin is restless, unsure of where he’s allowed to touch, if he’s supposed to just trust his instincts, let his body do whatever it wanted. You were clearly just doing whatever came to your mind, grinding your core into his tail and letting out small whimpers against his lips that drove him crazy. He needed to know, so he gently pushes you away from him.

“Are you sure?”

You look at him dazed and it seems to take a second before his question registers in your head.

“More than sure. Do whatever feels right, Hyune.”

That about does it for him. His body presses into yours as he attaches his lips on your neck, sucking and peppering it with kisses. Your hands glide over the many fins along his spine, lightly scratching at the base of them and earning another trill from him. Your shirt is discarded haphazardly and thrown somewhere nearby the tub, leaving you bare in front of him. His curious eyes roam hungrily over your chest, a hand coming up to cup your breast experimentally.

“Where can I touch you?” – you breathe against him and Hyunjin suddenly grows shy. A red blush starts to creep up on his neck but he takes one of your hands into his regardless and places it on a specific part on the front of his tail.

“You… you know my ear fins are sensitive and the top of my body works similar to a human’s but, uhm… this is, you know…” – he stammers as you press your fingers into his scales gently. A small slit runs horizontally up his tail between his scales and in a burst of curiosity, you press your fingers inside, causing Hyunjin to throw his head back against the tub and let out a long moan.

“I see” – you tell him and continue to lightly press your fingers against his slippery walls. Your ministrations have him writhing and squirming underneath you, letting out small wanton moans mixed with trills.

Something soon pushes your fingers away and you take a moment to look at the mess Hyunjin had become while you were busy playing with him. He already looked so fucked out, his eyes glossy and glazed over, his hair falling around him messily like a crown, his chest heaving as he looked up at you.

He still was the prettiest thing you ever saw.

“y/n… please…” – he tugs at your pants and you realise you’re still completely dressed from the waist down. You hastily step out of the tub to get rid of the last few offending garments, bearing yourself entirely to him. As you step back in, you see what was pushing against your fingers just a moment ago.

That makes everything a little easier to figure out, as two cocks, similar in color to his tail, protrude from the slit, one a little bit larger than the other. But before you can touch him again, he urges you to sit on the edge of the wooden tub, eager to get his mouth on you. His forked tongue delves between your folds, experimentally licking up and down before focusing its attack entirely on your clit as he suckles.

Your hand tangles itself into his luscious hair, keeping him in place. The effort was kind of in vain because Hyunjin would rather die than part from you at this moment, greedily licking up your juices just to hear more of those melodic moans spilling from your lips. Just as much as you grew obsessed with his fascinating voice and trills, he grew to love your voice the same way.

Carefully, with retracted claws, one of his long fingers prods at your entrance before slipping in until the membrane stopped it from going any further.

“You’re doing so well…” – you praise him and earn a trill, your hands starting to massage his ear fins to give some of the pleasure back.

His ministrations soon bring you to your first climax and leave both of you panting and wanting for more.

Hyunjin eases you back into the tub to hover over his crotch. He gently takes the bigger one of his cocks into his hand, hissing at the contact after going for so long with no touches, and angles it towards your entrance for you to sink down on.

You both moan as you sink down to the hilt, his smaller cock nestling directly against your clit. Time stands seemingly still as you get used to the unusual stretch.

“You okay?” – Hyunjin whispers and soothingly rubs your lower back, his cold hands soothing against your burning flesh. You nod at him, letting your body fall against his, chest against chest, your arms circling around his waist as your face buries itself into his neck.

“Can you move?”

Hyunjin trills and obeys your command without thought, moving his hips in slow motions, his cock dragging deliciously against your walls. The extra stimulation from his smaller cock against your front makes you whine into his neck which you pepper with kisses, his gills fluttering at the caress of your lips.

“You feel so good…” – Hyunjin all but whimpers, his hands finding purchase on your hips to move you against him. You hug his chest tighter as you feel your orgasm build up a second time.

“Can I…uhm-“

“Do whatever you want, Hyune. Please.”

You feel him kiss the crown of your head and his strong tail bracing itself against the wooden tub before his pace gets rougher and faster, water beginning to slosh out at the sides. The drag of his two cocks against you is too much for you, your cunt clenching around him as you come with a strained moan into his chest.

“Ah… I love you, y/n. I love you, I really do. Where do I-“

“Inside.”

“Really?”

“I want all of you, Hyunjin.”

You lift up and take his face between your hands to look at him as his hips stutter into you in an uneven rhythm until you feel his cum filling you up. That trill accompanies his voice even as he comes. He looks beautiful, his eyes full of adoration, his lips slightly apart as he comes down from his high slowly.

You two hold onto each other, just basking in eachother’s closeness for a while before his cock slips out of you, retracting back into his slit now that it’s all over and no longer needed.

“I love you, too, by the way.”

And Hyunjin couldn’t be happier, his ear fins flapping happily as he nuzzles his face further into your hair.

-

You do eventually tell your parents about the relationship between you and Hyunjin and although they seem extremely hesitant at first, they figure they can’t really do anything to stop you from pursuing him with the way he’s bonded to you.

The crew eventually returns to Port Vement to stay there for a few days and Hyunjin and you find yourselves on the same part of the shore where your relationship started taking a turn.

You both lounge about beneath the stars, you tucked carefully into his chest. Originally you were scared that Hyunjin and your world were too different for this to go well but you found that despite him being a sea dweller and kind of a menace sometimes, that the two of you are a better fit than you expected.

When you want to tell him another story from your childhood for old time’s sake, you find him already fast asleep in the sand next to you. You smile and kiss the corner of his mouth before settling back against his chest.

Whatever battles lie ahead, you’re sure Hyunjin would pull you from the depths again and again and anyone daring to attack him for what he was would face your entire crews wrath.

As long as your hearts beat, they beat for eachother, you’re sure of that.

-

taglist: @jeonginsleftcheek

[karaeilishh]

can u pls do billie x reader messy makeout sesh with inappropriate grabbing and cumming from rough dry humping PLSSS thank u i adore ur works! 😊

here, baby 💞

hate me more b. eilish x fem!reader

you hated her so much. her long black hair that you wanted to touch, her ocean eyes, her soft, plump lips… you wonder what they would feel like on your skin? anyway, you could tell you hated billie eilish with every atom in your body. you also hated how weak she made you. 

you don’t even know why you hated her so much. she just irritated you with her existence, with her stupid smile and the dirty jokes she made about you. 

the worst part was that she was your best friend’s sister, and at every party you two had, she was there. even now. in your bedroom. 

“come on slut, tell me how much you want my cock.” billie runs her tongue down your back, making you shudder underneath her. her strap teased your pussy as she simply spread your folds with it. so much friction but you needed her inside. as deep as she could. 

“fuck you, eilish” you literally growled even though your face was pressed into the sheets right now. you wanted to piss her off so badly, to show her all the hate you’d been building up for years, you couldn’t let yourself give in so quickly even though your whole body was begging her to fuck you. “what?”

billie grabbed your hair, pulling your head back, it hurt, it hurt so fucking much, but she didn’t react to your hiss, tugging your hair even harder. she bit hard on your neck then made sure she leaved a mark on your skin. the only thing she cared about was the answer to her question. “i said…fuck you, eili-”

pain. it hurt so fucking bad when her cock was inside you. completely. every inch. your moan was unacceptably loud as she started slamming her hips into you, roughly pressing your head into the mattress. it was like a fucking porno, your hair tangled, half covering your face, the sheets underneath you wet with your tears. her thumb pressed against your tongue, completely coated in your saliva. “tell me how much you hate me, slut. say it with my cock buried inside you.”

you felt like you didn’t even need to feel her inside you to cum. she was talking so dirty that it was driving you crazy in every way. you wanted to tell her how much a bitch she was and how much you hated her, how much you wanted to punch her in the face, but you wanted her to keep fucking you. “don’t stop…”

she laughs when you say that. just mocking you. her hand is in your hair again, pulling painfully, mercilessly. her breath tickles your ear, making you forget about god. her wet tongue on the shell of your ear as she whispers sweetly. "louder"

"just shut up and...don't stop, billie, please!" your voice breaks as she hits the sweet spot inside you. your blood boils from the feeling of the contrast. the pleasure of her cock and the hellish pain of her hand in your hair. she tugged at your hair with every thrust until she pushed your face back into the mattress, only to drag her nails down your back, leaving red marks on your sensitive skin. you were sure she would write her name on it. "scream for me, babygirl. let everyone hear what a slut you are for the one you hate so much"

you were ready to cover your mouth with your hand, just not to give her what she wanted, but you just couldn't unclasp your fists, in which you were clenching the sheets. you could only scream, scream, scream her name. you let her take over your body. "damn, i’m gonna destroy this pussy"

"billie… i'm close..." you whine, cry, moan. anything, just so she would let you cum, cum for her, only for her. your body shook under her rough thrusts. your ass seemed to turn red from how hard she slapped her hips against you. "think about how much you hate me and cum"

billie wraps her hand around your neck, cutting off your breath as you cum all over her fucking strap, mumbling and screaming her name for the thousandth time in the last few minutes.

it's always hotter when you're so sure you hate her, isn't it?

[theactualsunshinechild]

Seeing this post always immediately reminds me of a fun story from early on in my relationship that my partner and I affectionately refer to as

The Can Opener Incident

This was back in my college days. That semester I was living in a dorm that was more like a collection of small apartments on the very fringes of campus territory. My partner had come over to spend the night at my dormroom, and we were going about making some pasta in the little kitchenette. The pasta was already fully cooked and strained when we suddenly encountered a problem:

The canned pasta sauce I had bought was not a pop top, and rummaging around the kitchen for a can opener revealed that I had neglected to bring one.

Not one to settle for miserable, dry pasta on a cozy home date, I ran over to the dorm room next door and asked to borrow a can opener. They're a little startled to find someone knocking on their door at 9 PM, but they let me borrow it with no resistance. Upon bringing it back is when the problems truly began.

You see, all of my life I had used a can opener which you latched to the side of the can and twisted the knob to make the sharp ring cut into the top of the can vertically, parallel to the side of the can. This one looked similar, all the right parts were in the right places, so I gave it a shot... but nothing happened. My partner comes up and tells me I'm using it wrong, and I think to myself "oh, okay, so maybe he's used this kind of can opener before, I'll let him at it," and I hand it off to him.

The can opener my partner has used his whole life is the kind that you latch on to the TOP of the can, so instead of holding the handle at the side, you're holding it horizontally over the top of the can. I didn't know that kind of can opener even existed, so when he tried using this one his way, I looked at him like he was insane. This look quickly intensified as this method also didn't work. Things rapidly went downhill from there. He defensively explained the way his can opener at home worked, and I started pointing to the structure of the can opener and arguing why this one wouldn't work that way. We're a little frustrated, but it's nothing some pasta can't fix, so I propose I simply go over next door to the people who I borrowed the can opener from and ask them how to use it.

As I reached over to take it from him, he held it out of my reach.

"No! I'll figure it out myself!" He announced.

"What? Why? It's easier to just ask the owner," I argue, jumping around trying to get at the items.

"Because I can figure it out!"

Okay. Fine. I guess he wants to solve this like some kind of puzzle for enrichment. I give up and I wait. The fiddling begins. I'm standing there watching him try increasingly improbable methods of getting that thing to work over and over. The pasta is getting cold. He's testing methods that have already proven not to work, trying new methods that physically couldn't work, then trying the ones that have already failed us all over again. My stomach growls.

"We should really just ask," I grumble, hungry and frustrated.

"No, I've got this."

He does not fucking got this. I want my goddamn food and I do not have time for this puzzle solving.

"Give it here."

"No."

"I'm just gonna take it to the owners and ask them to show us how to use it, you can come with."

"No! I want to figure out out myself!!"

"And I want my food god fucking damn it!!"

This went on for a bit. The pasta was drying to the side of the pot and getting crusty. At some point during this yelling match I got so pissed off that I stormed out of my own apartment into the cold with no coat on.

'I need to make him see reason!' I thought to myself, making my way through the snow. One building over was where two of his friends were rooming together. I knock on their door, boiling with rage. It is 10 PM.

"Hey, can you come over? [Partner] is being completely unreasonable and obstinate over figuring out how a can opener we borrowed works and won't let me take it to the owner to ask. Please help me convince him to hand it over, I'm literally too short to wrestle it from him."

"Alright, let me grab my coat."

We head back over to my place to find my partner Still Messing Around with that godforsaken can opener.

"Let me see that for a second," says his friend, taking his coat off. I experienced a moment of relief, thinking to myself, 'Finally!' as my partner pouted for a second, but relinquished the can opener.

This peaceful glorious relief fizzled out into horror as his friend began to try to open the can the same way I had.

"That's weird. It really looks like it should work this way..." he mutters.

"Try it from the top, that's how my parents' works," my partner suggests.

"No no, that won't work, just give me a second to figure it out."

Oh my fucking god.

I stared blankly, watching them study the can opener and turn the can this way and that, both completely absorbed in finding the solution to this hour long problem. I was going to lose my fucking mind. Perhaps in that moment I really did. Shellshocked, I stood, wondering how it had come to this. I just wanted some fucking pasta and a relaxed night in, and instead I've gotten these goddamn STEM majors milling around in my kitchen at 10:25 PM arguing over how to use a can opener that isn't even mine. So I went and did what, in retrospect, I should have done ages ago: I went next door for help.

I can't imagine what my neighbor must have thought of me, showing up over an hour after borrowing their can opener, looking as if something inside of me had died, and, with a hint of desperation in my eyes, begging them tearfully to come next door and show us all how to use their can opener. Over an hour after borrowing it.

Well, whatever they thought of it all, they did oblige my pleas. Their arrival thankfully broke up the debate, and as all three of us watched intently as hawks over their shoulder, they cracked open that can of pasta for us.

Using it the exact same way I had tried at the start of it all.

It was just dull.

"I don't need a shopping list; with effort, I will remember that I need this item"

Okay but will you be able to remember that you already bought it? Because apparently I can't.

[v6quewrlds]

can u write a fluffy clingy joe one shot?? maybe building legos or something!! i love ur work!! i hope u have a nice day!!🫶🏾

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀author's note: here's a fluffy little palette cleanser <3

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀word count: 0.9k.

The scent of cinnamon wafted through the air as you stirred the pot of homemade hot chocolate on the stove. You glanced at the clock; it was already past six in the evening, and the darkness outside pressed against the windows like a heavy blanket.

"Joe," you began as you poured the steaming liquid into two oversized mugs, "I understand you're upset, but maybe you should take this week to recharge. Watch some movies, play some video games, do something that doesn't involve football."

Joe sighed, taking the mug from you with a nod of gratitude. "You're probably right," he admitted. "But it's hard to sit still when all I can think about is what we could be doing to fix things."

You kissed his forehead gently. "You can't control everything, Joey. Sometimes you just have to trust that things will pan out the way they're meant to." You leaned in for a quick peck, then stepped back to pick up your warm mug.

Joe sighed again, his eyes lingering on the TV that was muted in the living room, displaying highlights of the Cavs-Pelicans game. "Fine," he said finally.

You raised an eyebrow. "Fine?"

"Fine," Joe repeated, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Can we build that Lego set we got last Christmas?"

Your eyes lit up. "Seriously?" You had been dying to tackle the intricate, sprawling Star Wars that had remained in its box since Joe's brother, Dan, gifted it for Christmas. "You know I've been waiting for this moment."

Joe nodded with a hint of excitement in his voice. "Yeah, I figured it's time we put it together." He followed you to the living room, where you cleared the coffee table with a dramatic flourish.

You sat down across from each other, the instructions sprawled out between you. You picked up the instructions, your eyes scanning the pages. "Okay, we're building the Death Star," you said with a smile. "Where do we start?"

Joe leaned over, his sarcasm in full swing. "I'm surprised you remember what it is. You're the one who said it looked like a giant space donut when we opened the box."

You playfully rolled your eyes. "Hey, I know my Star Wars!" you protested. "The 4,000-piece count kind of took me by surprise, though."

Joe chuckled, sifting through the pieces. "Alright, space donut expert, let's get to it."

Your eyes were glued to the instructions, the pieces scattered around the two of you like a colorful minefield. A soft laugh filled the room as you held up a tiny Lego stormtrooper, your thumb and forefinger framing it like a photograph. "Look at this little guy," you said, grinning. "He's so cute."

"Cute? He's a symbol of imperial tyranny, babe," Joe retorted with a chuckle, earning a playful shove from you. Despite his initial hesitation, Joe was fully invested in the project. His mind was clear of the team dynamics that had consumed him all week. The Legos demanded his focus, and he gave it willingly.

You took a sip of your now lukewarm cocoa and leaned in closer to examine Joe's progress. "Looks pretty impressive," you said.

Joe glanced up, his cheeks reddening slightly. "It's just Legos," he said, but you could hear the pride in his voice.

"No, it's not just Legos," you replied, setting your mug down. "I love it when you get all focused like this for something other than football. It's cute."

Joe rolled his eyes, but the corners of his mouth turned up in a smile. "Cute, huh?"

You nodded. "Yeah, like a big ol' teddy bear."

"Teddy bear?" Joe scoffed, but the playful teasing had lightened his mood. "I'll have you know I'm a very intimidating Lego architect."

You couldn't help but laugh at his defensive tone. "Oh, absolutely," you said, your voice dripping with sarcasm. "I'm quaking in my boots."

Joe smirked and tossed a Lego at you. It bounced off your arm and you feigned injury. "Careful there, Burrow," you said, your voice full of mock pain. "You wouldn't want to hurt the one who's keeping you fed and hydrated."

"Well, you're not helping much with the whole 'keeping me hydrated' part," Joe quipped, nodding towards his nearly empty mug. "I'll need more of that hot cocoa if I'm going to get through this."

You stood up with a smile. "Your wish is my command," you said, practically skipping back to the kitchen. As you brought the pot to a boil again, you watched Joe through the archway. The stress of the season had etched lines into his face, but as he worked on the Death Star, you could see them slowly smoothing out.

When you returned with the freshly filled mug, Joe took a grateful sip and leaned back, eyeing the progress. "You know," he said thoughtfully, "I've been so caught up in work that I forgot how much I enjoy just... doing nothing."

You sat back down on the floor, your mug now steaming in your hands. "It's important to have hobbies," you agreed, your voice gentle. "Things that make you happy outside of football."

Joe nodded, his eyes lingering on you for a moment before returning to the Legos. "You're right," he murmured, his voice a mix of acceptance and regret. "I just... I want to win so badly."

You leaned over to kiss him on the cheek. "I know you do," you said softly. "And you will. But you'll have to wait a week to do it. For now, just enjoy the quiet."

[fastandcarlos]

Jealous And Pregnant : ̗̀➛ Lance Stroll

summary: with your hormones through the roof, all the little things send your jealousy skyrocketing

Your heart sunk as you watched Lance be fussed over by the makeup artist, her hands repeatedly brushing through his hair. The smile that was on Lance’s face had you feeling uncomfortable, almost as if you were the one intruding on the two of them. 

There were people everywhere as they prepared for the launch of the new car, with you blending into the crowd, Lance had no idea that your eyes were on him, concentrating on getting himself ready. 

The look on your face though caught Chloe’s eye as she walked through, taking a seat beside you as you placed your hands against your bump, trying your best to stay as comfortable as you could. 

“Just ignore him,” Chloe told you, following your eyes to see where you were looking. 

You wanted to, but the sound of Lance’s laughter pulled you straight back in again. Chloe placed a hand on your shoulder, watching Lance too with a shake of her head, surprised by how close the makeup artist was. 

“She’s always been a little flirty,” Chloe tried to defend, not wanting you to worry. “She’d flirt with a fish if you put one in front of her, I swear.” 

You smiled appreciatively back at Chloe at her attempts to try and make you feel better. “I thought he’d do a bit of a better job of telling her to stop, he almost looks like he’s enjoying it with her.” 

Chloe didn’t quite know what to say as she saw the smile on her brother’s face, part of her wanted to march over and drag him away, but she knew she couldn’t leave your side too with you heavily pregnant. 

“He adores you, he’s probably just being nice,” Chloe whispered, nudging against your side. “Don’t overthink this too much, it’s not good for you right now getting stressed.” 

You wanted to relax, to enjoy watching Lance get ready, with all the excitement to launch the car for the new season, but now you were on the edge of your seat, terrified about what could happen over in the makeup chair. 

“Lance is too nice to tell anyone to get lost, sometimes I wish he’d grow a backbone.” 

Chloe couldn’t help but chuckle as you spoke, “I bet if I went over and told him that you were upset right now, he’d be absolutely mortified, he’s just oblivious to people and their feelings sometimes.” 

“Maybe I should just go, before I end up hurting myself.” 

You stood up from where you were sat, walking out of the room to the front reception of the centre. It was much quieter than the bustle of the makeup room, giving you a chance to sit back and relax and try to forget about the lingering thoughts of what was going on with Lance at the back of your mind. 

Once he was finished with hair and makeup, Lance stood up from the chair, his eyes immediately searching for you. When he found Chloe, he walked straight over to her, noticing the disapproving look that she wore as soon as she saw him coming over to her. 

“You’re an idiot,” she scolded, hitting against his arm. “You could’ve made it a little less obvious that you were getting your hair done by that stupid stylist.” 

“Where is she?” Lance frowned, letting go of a sigh. “I wasn’t enjoying it, but it’s just got to be done. I should probably go and find her and fix things, right?” 

“She’s pregnant Lance, she can’t help how she feels.” 

Lance rushed out of the room and around the centre in search of you. He flew through every room, eyes darting around for you. As he got to the front of the building, he finally found you sat in one of the office chairs, staring out of the window. 

He slowed down as he approached you, grabbing a chair and pulling it over to sit beside you. You didn’t react when you felt Lance’s presence beside you, continuing to look out of the window, pretending that he wasn’t there. 

“Honey,” Lance whispered, placing his hand against your shoulder to get your attention. 

Lance could tell from the look on your face that you were upset, your body was tense, your brows slightly furrowed, breathing much heavier than it usually was. 

“I’m sorry if what happened back there upset you,” Lance added, “I didn’t think anything of it, but I can imagine how it probably looked from the outside. She’s got a bit of a thing for my hair, she keeps fluffing it, I actually find it quite annoying.” 

Your eyes slowly turned to look in Lance’s direction, “are you just saying that?” 

Lance’s head shook as he offered you a reassuring smile. “Honestly, I can’t really stand her, but she’s got a job to do. I don’t know what else you think happens between the two of us, but I promise that that’s it.” 

“I probably look stupid, don’t I?” You sighed, resting your hand against your bump once again. “These stupid hormones leave me never quite sure how I should be feeling these days.” 

Lance nodded understandingly; he’d been on the receiving end of enough of your mood swings to know that you were struggling. One moment you were smiling, the next crying, never quite knowing how to feel. 

His hand moved up to rest over yours against your bump, brushing the pad of his thumb against the back of your hand. Admittedly, Lance knew that he wasn’t the smartest when it came to seeing other people’s intentions, never meaning to upset you like he did sometimes. 

“There’s no need to be jealous of her,” Lance told you, leaning across to kiss your cheek. “You know that you’re the only person for me, there’s never been anyone else.” 

Your head nodded as you tried to stay composed, feeling your eyes begin to well up. Your hand quickly reached up to your eyes, wiping underneath them, which Lance quickly caught onto. 

His expression softened as he watched you, pulling you closer into him. As a tear rolled down your cheek, Lance quickly caught it with the back of his hand, wiping it away. 

“Please don’t cry,” he softly smiled. 

“I don’t mean to.” 

“I know, hormones,” Lance chuckled, knowing exactly what you were like. “All you need to know is that I adore you, and that there’s no reason to be jealous. If you want, I can see if I can get someone else to do my hair and makeup for the shoots from now on.” 

Your head shook as you leaned against Lance’s shoulder. “It’s ridiculous that I’m even getting jealous about something like this, you’re at work, and I know that you’ll always be professional. I can’t wait to have this baby so I can just feel normal again, without constantly feeling like I’m some sort of whirlwind.” 

“It’s alright,” Lance reminded you, “you don’t need to justify anything or explain yourself; I know how you’re feeling, even though it might not seem so.” 

Your eyes flickered up to Lance, “would it be easier if I just went? You’ve got enough on your plate today without having to worry about me.” 

“No, I want you here,” Lance assured you, “you’re a part of the team here and I want you to see the car, you’ve heard me talk about it enough times.” 

“I don’t want to be in the way Lance.” 

He tightened his grip around you, “you’re not in the way, I want you here more than I want anyone else here. I’ll make sure you and Chloe are sat together; she’ll be able to look out for you.” 

“And I promise not to get jealous,” you teased, “although from now on, the only person who gets to touch your hair, is me.” 

“My hair is all yours my love.” 

˗ˏˋ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ! ´ˎ˗

[jobean12-blog]

Easy to Fall

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x female reader

Word Count: 2.3K

Summary: You and Bucky have been dating for a while but the tension is building and you both feel you’re ready for the next step.

Author’s Note: Love a shy and unsure Bucky! Especially when he finds his way and is just 🫠🤭and special thanks to Sam for his encouragement hehe 😏thank you all for reading! Much love always❤️❤️❤️ thank you lovely Daisy @firefly-graphics for the divider🥰

Warnings: soft sweetness, fluff, fun, flirting, tension, lots of kisses, fingering, some oral (f rec), p in v, smut

“Maybe you should have a drink or somethin’ before she comes over?”

At Sam’s sincere but pointless suggestion Bucky’s eyes lift from his phone and he just stares wide eyed.

“I wish that would help,” he says. “Maybe I should just cancel.”

“Buck,” Sam says, stepping around the kitchen island. “Don’t. You know you’ll kick yourself if you do that. You really like this girl. And it’s not the first time you’re hanging out. Why are you so nervous this time around?”

“That’s exactly it though. I really like this girl…”

Sam’s eyebrows meet his hairline. “And?”

“I’m gonna fuck it up. Things are good…really good and I think we’re ready…”

Bucky’s words trail off and Sam remains silent, expression still unsure.

“Aw Wilson come on,” Bucky says with exasperation.

At Sam’s continued silence Bucky turns spins around and runs a hand through his hair.

“We haven’t…but I think…”

When Bucky turns to face Sam again the realization finally hits. “Oh. OH!” Sam exclaims.

Bucky let’s out a defeated sigh.

Sam waves him off. “You won’t fuck it up. Just relax and have fun. Enjoy each other. Let things happen…organically.”

Now Bucky laughs. “Organically or…?”

“You said it. Not me,” Sam chuckles with his hands up in defense.

After a beat of silence and unspoken camaraderie Bucky smiles.

“She’ll be here in half an hour. Get out.”

“And there’s the Barnes I know!” Sam grins as he grabs his jacket. “Good luck!”

“Want something to drink doll?” Bucky calls out over his shoulder as you take off your shoes and drop your bag to the floor.

“I’ve got beer, water…juice boxes…”

You come up behind him in the kitchen, pressing yourself to his back and looking under his arm into the fridge.

“You have…juice boxes?”

He shrugs, leaning into you, discreetly inhaling a whiff of your scent, and closing his eyes.

“Buck? Juice boxes?”

He blinks, looking back down into the fridge and focusing on the cold air hitting his face.

“I took Mrs. Adams food shopping last night and she always insists on getting me snacks.”

“You have the nicest neighbors! Mrs. Adams is my favorite of the old ladies in your building!”

“We can invite her to our wedding then,” he teases.

You laugh and lean up to kiss his cheek. “One juice box please.”

“She also got me Oreos, ice cream and tried to get me to buy condoms when I told her I had a hot date with you.”

“Does she think you were going to get lucky tonight?”

“She likes me to be prepared,” he says lightly.

“And well stocked on snacks apparently,” you giggle.

He grabs the juice boxes and Oreos and points to the living room.

“Me. You. A scary movie.”

“I barely got through the last one,” you sigh defeatedly.

“But you did,” he says. “And remember, you can hide in my hoodie again.”

“Probably the best idea,” you say.

You sit down next to each other, arms and thighs touching, the feel burning through your clothes.

The crinkle of your straw wrapper crackles in the air and Bucky turns to you, watching as you cheekily puncture the top of the box and slide the straw into the side of your mouth.

“I love fruit punch.”

He keeps watching, his gaze fixated on your lips. Finally, he looks away from your mouth and back to the television.

“I like them all,” he says. “Sugar.”

He starts the movie, and you settle back against the couch cushions, grabbing for an Oreo. The beginning scene lights up the screen and the suspense builds almost immediately. Something jumps out and Bucky flinches and fumbles his Oreo.

“You okay there, Barnes?” you ask with a smirk. “Even I knew that was coming.”

“My mind was occupied. Lost my focus.”

You shake your head and look back at the screen. “Do I want to know?”

“Probably. But I’m not tellin’ ya.”

The movie continues and you inch closer to him until you’re resting under his arm and against his chest. Your face is half hidden in his hoodie and you’ve got a death grip on his wrist, holding it to keep his hand in front of your eyes.

“You could use your own hand you know,” he jokes.

“But yours is so much bigger!” you whine and tense when you hear the creepy music come to a crescendo.

Before anything jumps out in the movie Bucky sneakily moves his free hand toward you then shouts and pokes you in the side.

You scream and jump up.

“OH MY GOD! You did not just do that!!!

He smiles sweetly, eyes bright and full of mischief.

You reach for your empty juice box and hurl it at his face. Your eyes widen when he deftly catches it and throws it right back at you, hitting you squarely in the chest.

A beat of silence and stillness passes before you lunge for him, shoving him back on the couch before lifting a pillow and smacking him in the face with it.

Your unrestrained laughter hits him right in the chest, and he’s unprepared for your assault, cough-laughing through a flurry of your fingers digging down and tickling roughly.

He bucks up beneath you, growing more aware of your precarious arrangement of limbs, and advances toward you on the couch, swatting at your hands, and darting his fingers between your arms to tickle your ribs.

With his other hand he grabs a pillow from behind you and uses it to hit you right in the face. You shove at him hard, sending him right off the couch and onto the floor, where you dive on top of him, pinning him down, wrestling in earnest.

You’re laughing and yelling and one of you knocks the containers of Oreos onto the floor and it crumbles under you leg when he rolls you over to hover above, getting the upper hand.

He finds the place on your waist that, when prodded with a long finger, makes you cry out in hysterics.

His fingers dance up your sides and under your shirt, the feel of your warm skin only egging him on until his fingertips brush the lace edge of your bra.

At the same time, you both seem to realize that he’s over you, lying completely on top of you, situated between your legs with his hand up your shirt and, in unison, you both freeze.

You have two tight fistfuls of his shirt in your hands and your eyes travel the slow path from where his hand is hidden up to his face.

Your breath catches and you let your legs slide up over his hips. Your body gives beneath his and he’s suddenly intensely aware of the soft warmth between your legs and the press of your curves against him.

“Doll?” he murmurs.

You suck your bottom lip into your mouth to stop from smiling.

He presses forward, not much but just enough to feel more. Your lips part and you watch a pink blush creep up his neck and onto his cheeks.

“Bucky.”

“Fuck,” he growls, bending and pressing his mouth to your neck as he starts to rock against you.

He nearly comes at the sound you make, soft and restrained.

“Kissing you again is all I could think about since our last date,” he admits as his lips trail along your neck.

“Just kissing?” you ask, nearly breathless.

He smirks and kisses you again. A kiss you feel from the place where you lips meet to the tips of your curling toes.

When he pulls away and sits up you mourn the loss of him, but then he falls back down onto the couch and takes you with him so you’re straddling his lap.

His hand slips between your legs to rub you over your leggings, going slow enough that he can check in with you, his expression soft but his eyes heated.

You tilt your head and brush your lips to his, moaning when he rubs small circles right where you need it.

“I…” he starts, his breathing heavy as he slowly slips his fingers inside your pants.

“Please Bucky.”

It’s all he needs to hear as his fingers stop teasing and dip between your legs, sliding into your panties to where you’re ready and wet.

He takes your hand and holds it over his cock, and rocks into your palm. You can see the shape of him beneath the denim of his jeans, long and pressed against his stomach.

A wave of heat flashes beneath your skin and you grab for the bottom of his shirt, lifting it up and over his head. His mouth meets yours and he drags his teeth over your bottom lip.

His fingers push deeper, and you arch into him, his satisfied hiss swallowed by your mouth. Your hands fall to his jeans, and you work open the button and pull down the zipper, reaching in and wrapping your hand around him.

“Oh god.”

He slumps against the back of the couch and watches, his darkened blue eyes dragging from where you’re touching him to where he’s touching you.

His cock is perfect, just like the rest of him.

“Pants off,” you breathe out. “Please.”

You lift up and wait while he shoves them down his thighs. Before you can sit on his lap again he grabs your hips and pins you in place in front of him, hooking his thumbs into the fabric at your waist and slowly peeling it down your legs.

“Fuck baby doll. Look at you.”

Everything in you catches fire when his fingers slide up the inside of your thigh and he sucks in a breath-you’re skin is wet and glistening-and looks at you like you’re a meal and he’s deciding what to eat first.

He makes a guttural sound, and it vibrates down to your bones when his eyes meet yours. His fingers slide over you, dipping inside and teasing. His other hand smooths along the curve of your ass and he pulls you closer, kissing your stomach and then lower, where he licks softly, his nose a soft brush against your skin.

Your hands fall to his hair, and you tug hard, eliciting a moan from the back of his throat. Your stomach begins to tighten, and you whisper his name, giving his head a light push.

“I want to come with you inside me,” you purr.

He licks his lips and reluctantly leans back against the couch, gripping his cock and calling you closer with a crook of finger then guides you over his lap again.

He leans in and tugs off your shirt, kissing along your collarbone and down to your breasts, teasing your nipple with his teeth and moaning around it.

You sink down slowly, and he sits back against the cushions to watch where he’s disappearing inside you.

“Doll.”

You move over him, slowly.

“Fuck you look incredible.”

His hands settle on your waist, gripping softly but strong enough to keep the rhythm. He kisses you like he still can’t believe he’s doing it, and you adjust the position of your knees and you both gasp as you bottom out, your ass coming to rest on his thighs.

“Oh Bucky,” you moan, pressing your face to his neck while you catch your breath.

His palms smooth along the curve of your spine and down to your waist and he presses his fingers into your hips, rocking you faster then slow again.

“I want you in my bed,” he says through a grunt. “I want to spread you out under me. I want to kiss and feel every inch of you.”

He sits up, nips at your neck before sucking gently. You kiss for what feels like forever and your movements narrow into small rocks forward and back, just feeling him inside you. You try to keep it together when he reaches down, and his thumb starts moving in practiced circles over your clit.

Your hands dig into his hair, steering his mouth back to your breasts and watching as he captures your nipple with his tongue. He bares his teeth, sliding them over the sensitive flesh and you cry out, feeling him twitch inside you.

The tightening in your belly builds and he’s watching you, watching the way you move together and the place where your bodies connect. You follow his gaze and look down, the way the muscles in his stomach clench, where the beads of sweat have collected in the dip where his dog tags lay. You circle your hips, and he groans, tightening his grip where he holds you.

“Fuck baby. Do that again.”

You do, moving over him and using the back of the couch for leverage. He throws his head back.

“I’m so…I’m…” he says between gasps of air.

His fingers return to your clit with renewed enthusiasm and with each rock of your hips and each thrust of his the cord around your spine tightens until his name is spilling from your parted lips.

He presses up into you, hard and fast and over and over until he’s coming with a long, helpless groan against your shoulder.

With such softness it steals your breath, he reaches up and cups the back of your neck, bringing your lips to his and whispering, “stay with me tonight.”

[ahqkas]

“HOLDING YOU, HOLDING ME — dick grayson.

PAIRING! dick grayson x fem!reader

SYNOPSIS! he wasn’t just a man in a mask—he was nightwing, gotham’s acrobatic vigilante, a name whispered in both fear and admiration depending on who you asked. and now here he was, slumped on your couch, bleeding out like any ordinary man who’d bitten off more than he could chew

WORD COUNT! 4.7k

WARNINGS / TAGS! wounds and patching up, mention of blood, light cursing + lmk

NOTES! i’ll never let go of this scenario bc no matter how many times i read or write it i know i’ll eat it up ,, header below belongs to @/v6que

© ahqkas — all rights reserved. even when credited, these works are prohibited to be reposted, translated or modified

THE SOUND OF SHUFFLING OUTSIDE YOUR BEDROOM WINDOW PIERCED THROUGH THE FRAGILE BARRIER BETWEEN SLEEP AND WAKEFULNESS, pulling you abruptly from the fog of dreams. Your heart stuttered, then raced, its rhythm a drumbeat in your ears as your senses stirred to full alertness. The muffled sounds of Gotham’s unrest—honking car horns, distant sirens wailing through the streets, and the occasional shout ricocheting off brick walls—were nothing new. It was the soundtrack of the city, a reminder that safety here was a fleeting illusion. But this sound was different. It wasn’t part of the distant chaos. It was near. Uncomfortably near.

You lay motionless, cocooned in the warmth of your blankets, as a cold tendril of unease slithered down your spine. The shuffle came again, a strained, uneven drag that was too heavy, too deliberate to be dismissed as the wind or the misstep of a stray animal. The hairs on your arms stood on end, your body responding to a primal warning long before your mind could catch up. A knot of tension coiled in your stomach, tightening with each beat of silence that followed.

Your breath hitched as your ears strained, every creak of the old apartment building suddenly amplified. The sound of your neighbors moving around above you had ceased hours ago, and the faint hum of the refrigerator in the kitchen now felt deafening in comparison. Even the street noise below seemed to recede, swallowed by the weight of whatever lurked just beyond the thin pane of glass separating your room from the outside world.

Another shuffle—closer now—was accompanied by the faint scrape of something against the windowsill. A metallic sound? Your mind raced through possibilities, each one darker than the last, as your muscles tensed involuntarily. Instinct told you to stay still, to let the darkness cloak you, but adrenaline screamed at you to move, to act, to do something. The only thing louder than the pounding of your heart was the oppressive silence that followed the noise, stretching thin like a thread about to snap.

Then, a low groan shattered the quiet like a rock through glass—rough, ragged, and undeniably human. Your breath hitched, a shaky inhale catching in your throat as the sound sent a white-hot jolt of adrenaline through your veins. This wasn’t the screech of metal caught in a storm or the hollow clatter of a stray cat tipping over trash cans in the alley below. No, this was something else—someone else. And they were hurt.

Before you could fully process it, the groan was followed by another noise: a faint, rhythmic creak, unmistakable in its familiarity. Metal shifting and bending under weight, groaning as it protested movement along the fire escape just outside your window. It was a sound you had heard a hundred times before, but never like this—never in the dead of night, never accompanied by the guttural rasp of pain. It dragged a sharp, cold edge of dread across your mind, slicing through the thin veneer of safety you’d wrapped yourself in.

You sat up slowly, the mattress beneath you groaning in protest despite your careful movements. The noise seemed deafening in the oppressive quiet, and you froze, lips pressed together as if even the sound of your breathing might give you away.

Your eyes darted toward the window, the one barrier between you and the unknown outside. The curtains hung limply, a thin barrier of fabric that diffused the faint glow of streetlights below but revealed nothing of the shapes or movements beyond. Your pulse thundered in your ears as your mind raced. Every instinct screamed at you to stay still, to melt into the shadows and feign ignorance, to bury yourself under the covers and hope the moment passed.

But there was something else—a treacherous, gnawing pull of curiosity that refused to let you stay frozen. It dragged at you, a siren call that tugged against the fear coiled in your gut. Against all logic, you leaned forward, heart pounding so hard it felt as though it might leap from your chest. The cool air of the room kissed your skin, each shallow breath catching against the weight of the silence as you crept closer, unable to ignore the magnetic pull of whatever—or whoever—waited on the other side of that fragile pane of glass.

You froze just steps away from the curtain, your hand outstretched but trembling in the stillness of the room. Your fingers hovered mere inches from the fabric, the rough texture brushing your skin as you hesitated. The air felt heavier here, charged with the kind of tension that made your chest tighten and your breathing shallow. Each breath you took was deliberate, measured, the faint rush of air between your lips almost too loud against the suffocating quiet. Every nerve in your body begged you to turn back, to crawl under the covers and pretend none of this was happening.

But then another sound broke the stillness—a groan, sharper this time, tinged with desperation. It wasn’t the deep, detached groan of exhaustion but something raw, visceral, and undeniably human. The sound struck you like a slap, your heart lurching painfully in your chest. Whoever was out there wasn’t loitering or trying to scare you. They were hurt. And badly.

The realization sent a shiver rippling through you, but it didn’t stop your fingers from clutching the edge of the curtain. Slowly, cautiously, you pulled it back just enough to peek outside. The cold air from the window seeped through the thin glass, and you instinctively leaned closer, the warmth of your breath fogging the pane as you strained to see into the darkness. For a moment, there was nothing—only shadows twisting in the faint orange glow of the streetlights below, the occasional shimmer of metal catching the dim light. The fire escape stretched out before you like a skeletal bridge to nowhere, its emptiness pressing against your mounting fear.

Then, your eyes adjusted, and the shadows shifted, revealing a figure slumped against the railing. Your stomach twisted painfully at the sight, the breath caught in your throat as you tried to process what you were seeing. A man—larger than you expected, broad-shouldered despite the way his frame sagged—leaned heavily on the railing, his head tipped forward as if even the act of holding it up was too much. His chest rose and fell in uneven, labored breaths, each one visible in the faint puff of condensation against the night air.

His clothes—or was it some kind of suit?—clung to him, dark and soaked in places you didn’t want to think about too closely. The material melted into the blackness of the night, making it hard to tell where he ended and the shadows began. But there was no mistaking the weight of his posture, the way his hands gripped the railing with what little strength he had left, or the crimson stain trailing down the side of his body, catching the faintest glimmer of light. The sight of it turned your unease into something deeper, something colder.

“Shit,” you muttered, the word slipping out before you could stop it, sharp and quiet in the tense air. Your pulse quickened, adrenaline washing over you like a crashing wave as the reality of the situation sank in. Whoever this man was, he needed help—and fast. The knot of fear in your chest twisted tighter, but it was overwhelmed by something more immediate: the urge to act. Your hands trembled as you reached for the window, the cool glass biting against your fingertips as you slid it open. The icy air hit you instantly, sharp and unforgiving, stealing the warmth from your skin and making you gasp.

You leaned out into the night, the cold biting your cheeks and tangling in your hair as you peered down at the figure slumped against the railing. “Hey,” you called, your voice low but urgent, carrying just enough to cut through the silence. Your breath puffed out in faint clouds as you spoke, dissipating into the darkness between you. “Are you okay?” The words felt hollow as they left your mouth, even as they pressed against the lump of anxiety in your throat. Of course, he wasn’t okay—one look at him made that painfully obvious.

For a long, agonizing moment, the only response was the faint whistle of wind cutting through the metal of the fire escape. He didn’t move, his frame slouched in a way that made your chest tighten, the weight of his injuries pulling him down like gravity itself was working against him. Just as panic began to creep in—had he passed out? Was he even breathing?—he shifted, the motion slow and labored, as though even the act of turning his head was a monumental effort.

The faint light from the street below caught on his face—or rather, what was covering it. A mask. Sleek and dark, it reflected just enough light to reveal the harsh contours of his features, obscuring everything but the intensity of his movements. His head lolled slightly, and for a moment, you thought he might collapse entirely, the strength draining out of him like water slipping through a sieve. But then, with an audible effort, he rasped out, “Not really.”

The sound of his voice hit you like a gut punch—low, rough, and laced with pain. Each word dragged out of him felt like a struggle, and the exhaustion clinging to his tone was impossible to ignore. It was the voice of someone on the edge, hanging by a thread. You swallowed hard, your breath catching as you watched him shift again, the barest movement of his hand gripping the railing as if it were the only thing keeping him upright.

“Well, no kidding,” you muttered, more out of reflex than anything, the dry sarcasm slipping past your lips before you could stop it. But the sharp edge of your tone faltered as your gaze darted to his injuries. Blood—thick, dark, and all too real—streaked his side, dripping in sluggish rivulets down his torn clothes. You swallowed hard, fighting the rising wave of panic threatening to claw its way up your throat. “Can you… uh, climb inside?” your voice was softer now, but still tinged with urgency.

He hesitated, his shoulders stiffening, and for a fleeting moment, he looked more like a cornered animal than an injured man. His hand gripped the railing tighter, the tension in his posture radiating defensiveness even as he swayed slightly, his balance precarious. “I don’t want to—” he began, his words rasping out low and hesitant, as if he were weighing the consequences of accepting help against the risks of staying put.

“You’re bleeding on my fire escape,” you interrupted, crossing your arms to disguise the nervous tremor in your hands. “I’m not asking. Get in here before someone sees you.” You tried to keep your voice steady, firm, even as your heart hammered against your ribs. You weren’t sure where the sudden boldness had come from—maybe it was the adrenaline, or maybe it was the sheer absurdity of the situation—but you refused to back down. If he didn’t move soon, you weren’t sure he’d be able to at all.

For a split second, you thought he might argue, but then his lips twitched ever so slightly, a faint ghost of a smirk flickering across his face. It was gone as quickly as it appeared, replaced by the grim set of his jaw as he shifted, bracing himself. With a pained grunt, he pushed off the railing, his movements slow and deliberate, every step looking like it might be his last. His knees buckled slightly as he approached the window, and instinctively, you stepped closer, your arms uncrossing as you reached out without thinking.

“I’ve got it,” he muttered, though his voice lacked conviction. He was trying to sound strong, but the unsteadiness in his steps betrayed him. As he climbed through the window, the effort took its toll. He leaned heavily against the window frame, his large frame towering over yours even as his weight pressed into you for support. The sudden closeness made you freeze for a moment, the sheer size difference between you starkly apparent as his broad shoulders filled the small space of your window.

You adjusted quickly, hands instinctively reaching to steady him despite your earlier hesitation. One hand brushed against his arm, and you couldn’t help but notice how solid he felt beneath your touch, even through the bloodied material of his suit. He shifted his weight against you slightly, just enough to steady himself, and the subtle press of his shoulder against yours was enough to make you acutely aware of how much he was relying on you in that moment.

“Easy,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper as he finally made it through the window and into your apartment. You stepped back to give him space, resisting the urge to grab his arm again as he straightened with a wince. His movements were slow and deliberate, every motion screaming of pain, but he managed to stay on his feet. For now.

“Couch,” the word tumbled out before you could think too hard about what came next. You gestured toward the battered, threadbare piece of furniture across the room, its cushions sagging from years of use. It wasn’t much, but it was better than your window frame—or worse, the fire escape he’d just been bleeding all over.

He gave a faint nod, the motion sluggish as he shuffled forward, his hand bracing against the wall for balance. Each step looked like a battle he was barely winning, and just as he reached the couch, his knees seemed to give out entirely. He dropped onto it with a heavy exhale, the springs creaking loudly in protest. His head tipped back against the cushion, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath.

For a moment, you stood frozen, your back still pressed against the window as your mind worked to catch up with what had just happened. The sharp contrast of his dark figure against the warm glow of your living room lights made the scene feel surreal, like something out of a movie. But the blood—thick and vividly red against the black fabric of his suit—was all too real.

And now, in the full light of the room, you could finally see him clearly. The sleek black material clinging to him wasn’t just any clothing—it was a suit, one that seemed designed to meld with the shadows. Faint blue lines traced down his sides in sharp, angular patterns, adding a faintly futuristic edge to his appearance. But it wasn’t the design that held your attention—it was the bird emblazoned across his chest, unmistakable in its shape even beneath the layers of grime and blood.

Nightwing.

The name hit you like a freight train, an unspoken expletive rushing to the tip of your tongue as you took another step forward. Nightwing is in my apartment. The realization made your knees feel unsteady, and you clutched the back of a nearby chair for balance. He wasn’t just a man in a mask—he was Nightwing, Gotham’s acrobatic vigilante, a name whispered in both fear and admiration depending on who you asked. And now here he was, slumped on your couch, bleeding out like any ordinary man who’d bitten off more than he could chew.

Your gaze dropped back to the gash across his chest, the jagged tear in his suit exposing the angry, raw wound beneath. Blood was soaking through the material, dark and relentless, and the sheer amount of it sent a chill racing down your spine. You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to breathe through the rising tide of panic. This was happening. This was real.

And if you didn’t act fast, he wasn’t going to make it.

“I’ll get some supplies,” you said, your voice sharper now, cutting through the haze of disbelief. Each step felt heavy, your heart pounding like a drum in your ears as you yanked open the cabinet under the sink. The first aid kit sat buried behind a clutter of forgotten toiletries, its edges dusty and worn, but it would have to do. You grabbed it along with a few clean towels, their soft cotton contrasting starkly with the chaos unfolding in your living room.

When you returned, your stomach twisted at the sight of him. He’d slumped further into the couch, his broad shoulders sagging into the cushions as if gravity were trying to pull him under. His head tipped back against the worn upholstery, exposing the pale curve of his neck. The steady rise and fall of his chest—though strained—was the only reassurance he was still alive.

“Don’t pass out,” you said, dropping to your knees beside him and setting the first aid kit on the coffee table with a clatter. The firm edge to your voice was betrayed by the slight tremor in your hands as you unfurled one of the towels. Your heart hammered against your ribs, but you forced your tone to remain steady. You couldn’t let him see the full weight of your panic—not when he already looked like he was barely holding himself together.

At your words, he cracked one eye open, the faintest glimmer of amusement flickering in his gaze despite the shadows of pain etched across his face. “Not planning to,” he murmured, his voice low and hoarse, each word dragging out like it cost him more than he could afford. The faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth was enough to make you pause.

Who the hell manages to look smug while bleeding out on someone’s couch?

But the glimmer faded as quickly as it appeared, his body sagging further against the cushions. You pressed your lips together, swallowing the sarcastic retort building in your throat. There wasn’t time for quips or questions—only action. You unfolded a towel, your fingers brushing against the warm stickiness of his blood as you pressed it gently against the gash across his chest. The sharp hiss that escaped his lips was like a jolt of electricity, and you found yourself murmuring, “Sorry,” even as you kept the pressure firm. His skin was warm beneath the blood and fabric.

You worked quickly, your hands steady despite the rising tide of nerves gnawing at your insides. The fabric around the wound had been torn beyond recognition, and you didn’t waste a second as you cut through the ruined material with swift, practiced motions. Each snip of the scissors felt like a small victory, as though you could fix this, like the clean cut would somehow make everything better. You pressed a towel to his side, feeling the heat of his blood seep through the fabric, the warmth of it sending a chill up your spine. He winced at the pressure, his jaw tightening, but he didn’t pull away. His muscles, tense and coiled under your hands, were the only indication that this wasn’t just a minor scrape. His breath came out in shallow gasps, but he didn’t make a sound of protest.

“You’re awfully calm for someone who just broke into my apartment,” you said, your voice forced to sound lighter than it felt. The words were meant to cover the nerves crawling up your throat, to push away the uncertainty gnawing at you. Humor—it was the only defense you had left in this absurd situation.

He let out a soft laugh, though it sounded more like a wheeze. It was rough and ragged, like even that small act of amusement took everything he had left. “Didn’t break in. Fire escape’s fair game,” he managed to rasp out, his eyes fluttering closed again as though the effort of speaking had drained him further.

For a moment, you stopped, just long enough to take in his words. Fair game, huh? You couldn’t help but roll your eyes, despite the situation. So this is how he justifies sneaking into random apartments in the middle of the night.

“Right,” you muttered, your voice dry, trying to ignore the sick feeling twisting in your gut. You could feel the heat of his skin under your fingertips, the way his body trembled slightly despite his attempt to stay composed. You glanced at his face, the mask still in place, but now that you were up close, you could see the way his eyes flickered with exhaustion and pain. It was like something human was trying to push through all the bravado.

But you had to focus. The towel in your hand was already damp from his blood, and you pressed harder, trying to staunch the bleeding as much as possible. “This isn’t exactly how I pictured my night going,” you muttered, though your tone softened a bit as you reached for the first aid kit. Every instinct in your body told you to move fast, but there was something about him, even in this state, that kept you grounded.

Maybe because I’m not sure whether you’re about to pass out or punch me in the face, you thought, but didn’t say. Instead, you reached for the antiseptic, uncapping it with more precision than you felt, and prepared yourself for whatever came next.

His lips twitched again, a ghost of a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes, but it was enough to make you wonder if he was trying to find some amusement in the chaos that had spilled into your living room. It didn't make sense—how someone could be this battered, this close to breaking, and still manage to show any semblance of humor. But there it was, a quiet resilience you couldn't quite place.

He didn’t respond at first, just watching you work. His eyes, hidden behind the mask, still tracked every movement of your hands, each shift of your body as you carefully cleaned and bandaged the wound on his side. There was something almost unnerving about how still he was, like a predator waiting for the right moment to move, but in the context of the situation, it made him seem more human. Vulnerable.

“You do this often?” you asked, your voice lighter than you felt. It was a simple enough question, but it served to break the silence between you, the quiet hum of the apartment making the space feel far too small. You didn’t look up at him immediately, but you could feel the weight of his gaze still on your face, intense and steady.

“Hmm?” he responded, the sound rough in his throat, as though the effort to form words had started to exhaust him.

“Get beaten to hell and crash on random fire escapes?” you pressed, glancing up at him as you secured the bandage around his chest. You tried to mask the faint bitterness in your tone with humor, the question rolling off your tongue more to distract yourself than anything else. This whole situation felt like something out of a bad dream, and you needed to ground yourself. Even if it meant making jokes about the absurdity of it all.

He let out a breath, his lips pressing together for a moment as he thought, the flicker of amusement still lingering in his eyes. “Only when I’m not at home,” he said softly, his voice rough, barely a whisper, but the sarcasm was clear. The way he said it—like he'd done this enough times to know exactly how it would go—made something twist uncomfortably in your chest. This wasn’t the first time he’d been in this situation, and maybe it wouldn’t be the last.

You couldn’t help but huff out a soft laugh despite yourself, but it was more out of disbelief than humor. "That’s reassuring," you muttered, tightening the bandage with a firm pull. The night had turned stranger than you could’ve ever imagined, and all you could do was keep your hands steady as you finished the task, trying to ignore the fact that this was your reality now. For however long he was going to be here, this was your reality.

As you worked, you couldn’t help but wonder—what exactly had he been doing up there? Was it a routine mission gone wrong? Or was it something else, something far more dangerous than just a bad night on patrol?

But asking those questions, probing further, felt like it would unravel everything you were holding together. You were already way past the point of no return, anyway.

You leaned back on your heels, exhaling a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding. The tension in your shoulders eased slightly as you wiped your hands on one of the towels, the fabric already stained with his blood. The light in your apartment, dim as it was, highlighted the mess of the night: the empty first aid kit, the scattered towels, the faint smell of antiseptic in the air. Everything felt heavier now—like the weight of what had happened wasn’t just about this bleeding stranger in front of you, but about you, too, suddenly pulled into something far more dangerous than you'd signed up for.

"You need stitches, but that’s the best I can do right now," you said, your voice softening as you turned back to him. "Try not to tear the bandages before you... I don’t know, get some actual medical attention?"

You were trying to stay light, trying to keep your tone steady, but the words felt hollow. He didn’t respond right away. Instead, he pushed himself up with a grunt, the movement slow and stiff, his pain clear despite the faint determination in his eyes. He steadied himself against the arm of the couch, looking like he might collapse at any moment, but there was something else there too—something that made you stop, heart fluttering painfully in your chest.

He offered you a faint smile, the expression almost shy despite the rough edges of the night, his eyes meeting yours in that quiet, unexpected way that made the room feel too small.

"Thanks. Really," he said, his voice rasping, but genuine.

For a moment, all the noise of the world outside your apartment seemed to fall away. The sirens in the distance, the occasional sound of traffic, even the distant hum of the refrigerator—it all blurred into nothing as you just stood there, staring at him. His gaze was soft, more tender than you would’ve expected from someone who’d just crashed through your window with blood dripping from their body. It wasn’t that it was romantic, per se—at least, that wasn’t what you expected it to feel like. But there was something in the way he looked at you, something that made your heart skip a beat, something you couldn’t explain.

He didn’t move, didn’t look away, and for a long moment, neither did you. There was something raw in the quiet between you, as though both of you were momentarily suspended in this small, messy space. His smile was faint, but it was real—a fragile thing, born of pain and gratitude. You swallowed, suddenly aware of how close you were, how the distance between you had narrowed while you weren’t paying attention.

Before you could stop yourself, your hand moved, instinctively reaching out to touch his arm—just a gentle brush of your fingertips against his skin. You told yourself it was nothing, just checking if he was steady, but even as you pulled away, there was a spark. A quiet acknowledgment that this was different. The way his eyes followed the movement of your hand, the way he hesitated before his next breath, made the space between you feel charged, like something unspoken was hovering in the air.

"You're welcome," you whispered back, voice quieter than before, tinged with something you couldn’t quite define. There was a flicker of something in his gaze, an understanding, and for a moment, it felt like the world outside didn’t matter. It was just the two of you in that small, dimly lit room, suspended in time, with everything else forgotten.

And just like that, you both broke the moment—him leaning back into the couch with a soft grunt, and you turning your attention back to the bandages, your pulse still racing in your ears. But the quiet connection lingered, a soft hum under everything else.

ADDITIONAL NOTE! if you like my work , please consider reblogging and / or commenting . thank you if you do 🤍

[imtherain]

Smeared Lipstick

Still on my Logan nonsense (thank god) and had a round of Patch!Logan feels. I know nothing about him other than what I saw in Deadpool and Wolverine, so sorry if I messed him up somehow.

This is for @likedovesinthewnd because she's the one who told me I should write it lol

Also shout out to @bpmiranda for posting the best/nastiest smut fics that inspired me to go ham and not hold back for once. If you need some more Logan, read mine first but she's got a lot more!

Warnings: Casino, basically pure smut with only a sprinkle of plot, oral (male receiving), some light conartistry, mutant reader, bathroom smut, fingering (both receiving because I'm a feminist lol), sugar daddy but only kinda, Patch!Logan, a touch of 'getting caught', and probably some other stuff. Let me know if I missed anything important.

Word Count: 3473 (don't look at me)

[More Logan]

[Main Master List]

“Hit me,” 

The dealer passed Logan another card and he concealed his joy easily. He’d hit 20 for the third time at this table. Lady Luck always on his side.

“You win again, sir,” The dealer said, pushing the new stack chips across the table to him.

“I’m afraid it’s time we close this table, sir,” Your voice always soothed something in him. You’d been working at this particular casino for a few months, and so, Logan always found himself at your tables. No one suspected the truth of why you both were there.

“Pity, I was doing so well,” Logan looked up at you with his one good eye, drinking in the way your glittery red dress hugged every single one of your edges just right. How your hair was done up with sparkly bits to match the shine on your dress. How your lipstick was the exact shade of red as your dress.

You looked good enough to eat, if he were being honest.

“I’m sure I can find you somewhere else to play,” You smile, half customer service, half something naughty.  Logan put the cigar he’d been chewing on away into his pocket. He had a feeling he’d find himself with something better to put in his mouth shortly.

“Lead the way, sweetheart,” Logan stood, leaving his chips all on the table. “Cash those into my account,” This was directed at the dealer who was just cleaning up his station.

“Please, Mr. Locken,” You urged the dealer. He was a clever young man, one of your best dealers. He’d caught three different cheaters in his time at the casino, and you were impressed that he was so good at catching them. Even the team upstairs, who’s entire job it was to catch cheating, had missed one of the three Locken had spotted.

“Of course, Miss Y/N,” Locken replied, gathering Logan’s chips.

“Thank you,” You said, taking Logan’s arm and leading him away. 

Logan had been staring at the skin exposed that showed over the slinky material of your dress. You knew poor Locken likely knew exactly what you and Mr. Logan were about to get up to. Locken didn’t really want to know, but it wasn’t exactly a secret that you and Mr. Logan, the high roller with an eye patch, were an item. Most of the staff knew, and the rest likely suspected.

But Mr. Logan, being a high roller, got away with all kinds of things. Fucking the floor manager was hardly a big deal or a surprise at that point.

“And where are you taking me, Miss Y/N,” Logan mocked Locken’s tone and you smacked his chest with one hand. “As I recall, there aren’t any tables this way, and the hotel is the other direction too,” 

“I was thinking you needed a little more luck,” You told him. “I heard that another big fish was headed in to drop some cash, and he’s luckier than most who walk through the door.” There was something about you that no one in the building, other than Logan, knew about you… and that was that you were a mutant who could control a person’s luck. You could also see how lucky someone was, just by touching them. It came in all kinds of handy working in a casino, and extra handy where Logan was involved. The two of you having a sort of arrangement in regards to luck.

“What did you have in mind for me?” Logan mused as you led him down another hallway and into a single stall bathroom. It was one of the large single stall bathrooms, where several people could use the two sinks and spacious counter during a wedding or other event, usually to get ready. This particular bathroom was out of the way of the main space though, less likely to get interrupted.

“Lock the door,” You told him with a saucy smirk. 

You and Logan had met originally in a different casino, and he’d figured out that his string of bad luck had been tied to you. He thought, originally, that it was because he’d gotten so distracted by you that he’d lost his edge. You knew it was because you’d turned all his luck to bad and all your own luck to good, hoping to clean house well enough to eat for the next month.

“Yes, ma’am,” Logan turned to lock the door and when he turned back, you were sitting on the counter, skirt hiked up to your knees. Logan took a deep breath through his nose that quickly dissolved into a growl of pleasure as he smelled your arousal. “Never will get over how good you smell, honey,” He stepped between your thighs and tipped your chin up so that you were looking at him.

“Only for you baby,” You purred back, leaning up so your breath brushed his lips sensually.

“No kissing,” Logan reminded you, and you pouted, but you knew the deal. After he’d found you out as a mutant, you’d both struck a deal. You would give him better luck, and he'd take good care of you, effectively becoming your sugar daddy. Only, if you called him ‘daddy’ he’d bend you over his knee, so you saved that for special occasions. 

“Please?” You begged, knowing that was the only line left in the sand between you. You’d done everything else, had sex in every direction you could think of. But no kissing. Never kissing.

You didn’t like it, but it was easy enough to complain around.

“You know the rules,” Logan growled softly. He ran his tongue along the exposed skin at your throat and you moaned. He chuckled, feeling your vibrations against his tongue.

“Rules are made to be broken, I thought?” You pressed as he stepped forward to bump the hardness in his pants against you. Your hips moved against him as if there was ever any question to what was going on between you.

“I can walk away,” Logan warned and you whined, but nodded to tell him you’d stop asking. “Good girl,” 

“Wait,” You said, suddenly having a sordid idea. Logan rocked backwards on his heel far enough to peer questioningly into your face. “Let me take care of you this time,” 

“You wanna take care of me?” Logan asked skeptically. You reached down to palm him through his slacks. His eye fluttered closed at the contact and he had to brace himself on the counter on either side of you.

“Please, baby? Since you won’t let me kiss you, at least let me taste you?” You batted your eyelashes at him and he knew he was a sucker for giving in to you anytime you did that. Hell, he’d kill a man no questions asked, if you batted your lashes at him.

“Get to it then,” He moved back only far enough to let you slide off the counter and to your knees. You made short work of undoing his belt and pants. You pulled his slacks and boxers down just far enough to allow his cock to spring free. He was already rock hard and leaking for you when you cooed happily and kitten licked the warm tip of him.

He had to grip the counter again to remain in control of himself. You smirked as you did it again, tasting the salty tang of his precum before you wrapped your lips around just the head of his cock.

“Fuck,” Logan grunted, trying his best not to slam his dick straight down your throat. He knew you could take it, but he wanted to let you get there on your own.

“Want me to stop?” You pause only long enough to ask before you licked a long stripe up the underside of him, tracing the thick vein there from balls to tip.

“Don’t you dare,” Logan pants, cursing again when you go back to the small licks along the very tip of his cock. You always seemed to know exactly how to drive him out of his mind. Maybe that was why he’d give you anything you wanted. Diamonds, jewelry, gold, silver, hotel rooms, a car if you asked for it… He’d give you anything his money could buy. 

Anything but the heart he was pretty sure you weren’t even aware you’d already stolen.

You pressed a small kiss to his angry red tip before sticking out your tongue and sliding him into the warmth of your mouth.

Logan cursed again, his hips bucking once before he could stop himself. You adjusted your knees on the hard tile floor, loosened your jaw, and slid your hands lovingly around his thighs.

With your eyes fluttering softly and the end of his dick in your mouth, Logan was surprised he didn’t cum right there on your tongue.

You looked up at him and gave a slight nod, telling him you were ready for him to take control if he wanted it. Logan felt his heart rate spike as the animal in him begged to claim you. If he wasn’t careful he’d bury his fist in your hair and throat fuck you until you couldn’t speak. But he’d promised to be careful when you were at work, because you needed to look nice for the casino.

When Logan didn’t immediately take over, you leaned forward, taking more and more of him into your mouth, slowly, until he just barely touched the back of your throat. Your throat constricted on a gag and the feeling of your throat closing was all it took for the animal inside him to break free.

Logan’s strong hand cradled the back of your head, trying to avoid pulling out the glittery baubles you’d put there this morning before he’d driven you to work. You leaned back into his palm, trying to ease the sensation in your throat, and you got relief for about two beats before that same careful hand pulled you back along him until your nose was pressed flush with the rough hair at his base.

You knew it was his turn to have his fun now, and you couldn’t help but grin for a moment before you remembered how hard it was to breathe around the girth of his cock.

Your nails dug into the meat of his thighs as you focused on breathing while he jerked his hips. The drag of his cock along your tongue made heat pool in your stomach as he abused your throat over and over again.

Meanwhile, Logan was making the most guttural noises while he used your throat. His grunting and groaning echoing in the empty bathroom, occasionally punctuated by a soft curse or two when your throat squeezed him just right. All paired with the wet sound of his cock sliding in and out of your throat.

But as much as you’d love to let him stay there in your mouth until he came, you needed a break. You reached up and tapped on his stomach, your agreed sign that you needed air. 

Instantly, Logan pulled back and caught your eyes with his one good one.

“You alright?” He asked and you nodded with a slight cough.

“Just needed to catch my breath,” You admitted. “I’m out of practice,” 

“I know one way to fix that,” Logan said with a cheeky grin.

“Give me five more seconds,” You said, adjusting on your knees again. You took a second to pull his slacks down to his knees. You lean in and give some attention to each of his beefy thighs, kissing the strong muscles and nibbling the soft flesh.

“Don’t tease me,” Logan grumbled, his hand coming back to your head. “Finish what you started,” 

“Yes, sir,” You batted your lashes up at him and his cock twitched next to your face. You took another moment to lick the side of him, rubbing his length against your face, showcasing just how long he was compared to your head. It was a wonder you could fit him all down your throat.

You kissed the side of his dick a few times, preparing you both for another round, and with one last kitten lick to his slit, his dick slid back into your throat.

The second time was always easier for you, and you’re always happy to help when it means he would let out those grunting noises you love so much.

And you knew exactly what would make him whine for you too.

You slid your hands up and around the back of his thighs until you could grip both of his taught buttcheeks in your hand. This distracted him enough from his movements that you were able to swallow around his tip and make him groan again. You bobbed your head as you kneaded his flesh and he got lost in the sensation the exact same way you did when he was face down between your legs. And just like he always did, you carefully slid a finger into his waiting hole.

The noise Logan makes is something you wished you could bottle up for a rainy day. It’s somewhere near a whine and too gravelly to be a whimper. You withdraw only long enough to add some moisture to your digits before working yourself back into him, stroking at that spot deep inside that makes his thighs tense and his knees shake.

Having discovered how stroking him like this made him feel, you understood why he liked to finger-fuck you so much. Making him experience such pleasure, pleasure that only you have brought him? Heaven. Heaven on earth, about to cum down your throat.

Logan never lasted long with your fingers in his ass.

You hold your breath while he comes undone in your mouth, bucking his hips against the swirling of your tongue. You try to swallow it all, but it’s difficult when he’s moving still, so you just hold on until he’s pumped every last drop into your mouth.

Before he can be overstimulated too much, he pulls your hand away from him and slides himself from your soft mouth.

“Fuck, baby, thought you were going to suck me dry for a second there,” 

“I would if you’d let me,” You smiled up at him. He reached down and gently rubbed his thumb under your bottom lip, catching a drip of his cum that you hadn’t managed to swallow. At first you thought he’d press it into your mouth, but instead he brought it to his own and you felt your face flame with unexpected heat.

“Maybe next time sweetheart,” Logan helped you to your feet before adjusting himself and pulling up his slacks.

“Wait, you’ve got lipstick all over,” You tried to stop him from tucking himself away hoping you could clean him up properly, but he just chuckled and did up his pants.

“Something to remember you by,” He teased and you rolled your eyes before turning to the mirror to see the state of your own face. It was about what you’d figured but also you didn’t mind in the slightest.

Your red lipstick was smeared all across your cheek, your eyes were wet so your eyeshadow had mostly rubbed off, but luckily your eyeliner had stayed put. You wore super waterproof eyeliner for that reason after all. There was still some of the sticky release of Logan’s painted on your lips and tongue from where you’d failed to swallow it all.

“Look at that,” You mused. “You smeared my lipstick,” Logan chuckled at that, turning you around so that he could see.

“Seems so,” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a silk handkerchief. He gently took your chin and held you steady while he soiled the white silk with your red lipstick and the remains of his cum. After fucking your throat like that, you almost forgot he could be gentle too.

You liked it when he was gentle.

When Logan was satisfied with his work, he put his handkerchief back in his pocket and leaned down to kiss your cheek, you froze when you felt his lips at the edge of yours. Almost a kiss. 

But he knew better than that. 

You both did.

You whined softly for him, wanting more, but you also needed to get back to work.

“Turn around for me,” Logan said. You raised an eyebrow at him but did as he asked, gasping when he pressed himself against your ass.

“Logan,” You chided. “I need to head back,” 

“Just give me a minute to return the favor,” Logan was smirking at you over your shoulder as you watched him in the mirror. “I promise I won’t smear your lipstick this time,” You bit your lip at the thought of him getting you off here too.

“I really should be getting back,” You tried to say, but it was half hearted at best. He smacked your ass and you whimpered at him, terribly needy and terribly turned on.

“Spread your legs for me and lift your skirt,” He commanded against the shell of your ear. “Now,” You jumped at the authority in his voice and moved to do as he asked. You hoisted your skirt up to your hips and let your legs shift apart so that he had room to slide his knee between your thighs.

You gasped as he bounced his leg into your sensitive folds.

“I’ll repay you properly when we get home tonight, but until then,” He pressed a soft kiss to the side of your neck. “Let me make my baby feel good,” You could only nod as he reached down and slid his hand into your already soaked panties.

“Logan,” You moaned as his finger traced circles around your bud. “That feels so good,” 

“Good,” He nibbled on your earlobe. “Just relax,” 

You were about to give in entirely when the handle to the bathroom jiggled and it reminded you all at once that you were still at work.

“Fuck… Logan…” You tried to stop him, but he just dipped his fingers deeper and you mewled instead.

“Don’t worry about that, focus on me and what I’m doing,” Logan purred. The handle rattled again and this time you heard someone curse about the bathroom being occupied too long.

You jumped when the person outside banged on the door.

“Find another bathroom, bub!” Logan growled loudly as he kicked the door angrily in return. Another curse from outside the door and Logan slowed his movements until he couldn’t hear the person outside anymore. “Now where were we?”

You were gripping his arm, which was wrapped around your waist to keep you in place.

“I don’t even remember,” You admitted with a laugh, which shifted into a moan as he moved his fingers against you again and all at once you remembered. “Fuck,” You moaned.

“That’s it,” He sped up his fingers, watching your face in the mirror as your closed your eyes in pleasure. “Come on, baby, give it to me,” He grunted against your shoulder, his teeth teasing your skin.

It didn’t take much more for you to cum around his fingers, fluttering and shaking in his arms as he held you up.

“That’s it pretty girl, that’s it,” Logan purrs against your ear, pressing a soft kiss to your shoulder. “That’s my pretty girl,” 

You turned, wanting to kiss him, to thank him for this, but you remembered his rule, so instead you pressed your forehead into his jaw and whined at him.

“I really do need to get back to work,” You whisper. “And you need to go make enough money for that trip we’ve been talking about,” 

“Yes ma’am,” Logan chuckled in your ear as he finally pulled his fingers out of the tight embrace of your cunt. You groaned at the loss of him, but hummed in pleasure when you watched him lick his fingers clean. “Need me to carry you to your desk?” He teased.

“Oh shush,” You stood and adjusted yourself. “I was just enjoying the moment for a little longer,” 

“Could always play hooky and use your key to get us into a room upstairs,” Logan said, like he was nothing but serious. You shove him playfully.

“Yeah, and then I’ll get fired again,” You chided. “We’re going to run out of good casinos if we keep doing that,” 

“So?” He pressed his lips to your temple. “Maybe when we run out of casinos, I’ll make an honest woman out of you,” This makes you pause. Could he be serious? 

“Only once we’ve run out?” You asked, trying not to sound too hopeful. 

“And if we get married, I’ll have to kiss you, won’t I?” It sounded almost like a tease, but there was nothing but joy and mirth in his eye.

And maybe, just maybe, love was sparkling in there too.

[More Logan]

[Main Master List]

[strnilolover]

NNN - chris sturniolo - long distances

You and Chris had been together for a little over a year, content with one another and the company each of you had to bring.

Before hand — you were good friends, best friends to be exact. Not with just him, but with his brothers too, and it was nice to know nothing really changed after putting a label on the two of you.

Chris and his brothers were already in their filming career when you had gotten together — making videos and posting them twice a week for their fan base that was already growing so large within a short amount of time.

Though, one day, while cuddled up with chris on your couch at your home — he broke the news to you.

He was moving to LA with Matt and Nick. Having already made enough money to afford a nice little place there. It was shocking to hear, and at first you were upset — upset with the fact you couldn’t see him everyday and you wouldn’t be around him when you needed him or wanted him.

But, the upset had been replaced with excitement over time. Thinking of all the possibilities for Chris and how amazing it was that he was able to do this with his brothers. And of all the stories you would be able to hear about his new life in a busy and bustling city.

When the day had finally come for him to move — it was spent with tears and hugs and promises to one another that everything would be okay.

And for the most part it was, you called every night — texted each other too many times through out the day and stayed connected. But, at some point things started to change. Chris grew more busy with work and with his clothing line he was starting, and the absence made you feel empty. Like he wasn’t even really there.

There were less calls, more messages being left on read or delivered — but Chris at least would tell you when he was busy and couldn’t talk, which you appreciated.

Eventually, everything began to weigh down on you. And you needed to tell him — needed to let him know how you were feeling. That you were having doubts.

-

Your room was quiet except for the faint hum of your laptop. Chris’ face filled the screen, his familiar features bathed in the soft light of his LA room. He looked tired, his curls messier than usual and his celtics hoodie hanging loosely on his frame. You tried to ignore the hollow ache in your chest as you smiled at him.

“How was your day?” you asked, forcing a casual tone as your eyes looked around your screen, taking in the view you’ve seen hundreds of times already.

Chris shrugged, leaning back against his chair. “Same as usual. Filmed with Nick and Matt, ran some errands. We tried this new sushi place for dinner. It was good, but, uh… not as good as Boston sushi.”

You let out a soft laugh, even though it stung a little. “Boston sushi is definitely better. How’s the apartment coming along?” you asked — a question that would slip here and there.

Chris shrugged slightly. “Fine, I guess. Still trying to figure out where to put everything. Matt thinks we need more stuff on the walls, but Nick keeps saying we don’t. It’s a whole thing.” He gave a faint smile, his voice lacking its usual warmth. “What about you? How was work?”

“Busy,” you said simply, picking at the edge of your blanket. “Came home, made dinner… I made too much again. I keep forgetting I’m just cooking for one now.” you admitted. Being so used to his presence all the time, you often made dinner for two people — it was still a hard adjustment.

Chris’ smile faltered, guilt flashing in his eyes. “I’m sorry,” he said softly.

You shook your head quickly, brushing it off. “It’s not your fault. I just need to get used to it still — even if it’s been a little.”

The conversation then faded into silence, and for a moment, all you could hear was the faint rustle of Chris adjusting his laptop. He looked away, his jaw tense, and you felt the words building in your chest — words you’d been too scared to say for weeks right on the tip of your tongue.

It was now or never.

“Chris,” you began hesitantly, your voice barely above a whisper. “Can we… uhm - can we talk about us?” the words slipping past your lips felt like a burn on your own tongue.

His gaze snapped back to you, his expression guarded. “What about us?”

You hesitated, the lump in your throat making it hard to speak. “I just… I feel like things have been different lately. At first, we were doing so well — texting all the time, FaceTiming every night. But now… I don’t know. It feels like we’re drifting apart.”

Chris’s brows furrowed at your words, his shoulders visibly tensing. “I’ve noticed it too,” he admitted after a pause. “I just didn’t know how to bring it up. I didn’t want to make things worse.”

You blinked, surprised by his honesty. “You didn’t think I’d feel the same?”

“I don’t know,” he said, running a hand through his curls. “I didn’t want to say anything and make you think I was doubting us or something. And I’m not. I love you. But this…” He gestured vaguely, his hand moving between him and the screen. “This is hard. Harder than I thought it’d be.”

The crack in his voice made your heart ache, but you nodded, tears stinging the corner of your eyes. “It is hard. I miss you so much, Chris. Some nights, it’s all I can think about — how empty this place feels without you here. And then I start wondering… what if we can’t do this? What if it’s too much?”

Chris’s eyes widened slightly, his panic evident. “Wait, are you saying you want to—”

“No!” you interrupted quickly, shaking your head. “No — Chris, that’s not what I mean. I just… I don’t know how to fix this. And I hate feeling like we’re not as close as we used to be.”

Chris let out a slow breath, his shoulders slumping. “I feel the same way,” he said quietly. “I hate that I can’t just drive over and see you when you’ve had a bad day. I hate that I can’t be there to hold you. And honestly… sometimes, I feel like I’m letting you down.”

“You’re not,” you said firmly, leaning closer to the screen. “Chris, you’re doing the best you can. We both are. But we need to be honest with each other if we’re going to make this work.”

He nodded slowly, his jaw tightening as he processed your words. “You’re right. I’ve been holding back because I didn’t want to make things worse, but… I guess that’s only made things harder. I’ve missed you so much, and it’s been killing me not to tell you how much I’ve been struggling with this.”

Tears now spilled down your cheeks, and you wiped them away quickly with your sleeve. “I’ve been struggling too. And I was scared to tell you because… what if it made you think I didn’t believe in us anymore? I do, Chris. I love you so much. I just… I didn’t know how to deal with all of this on my own.”

His expression softened, and he leaned closer to the camera, his voice gentle. “You don’t have to deal with it alone, okay? We’re in this together. And if that means being brutally honest about how much this sucks sometimes, then that’s what we’ll do.”

You laughed softly through your tears, nodding. “Deal. And… maybe we can try to plan our visits better. I need to see you, Chris. I think that’ll help a lot.” you whispered, feeling yourself ease up a little at the thought of him here — with you.

His lips quirked into a small smile. “Funny you should say that… I’ve been looking at flights to Boston. I was going to surprise you, but… maybe we need this sooner rather than later. I’ll come next month. No excuses.”

“Really?” you asked, your heart swelling with hope.

“Really,” he said, his smile growing. “I need to hold you again. And I’ll do whatever it takes to make this work.”

A weight lifted from your chest, and you smiled for what felt like the first time in weeks. “I’ll hold you to that,” you teased, your voice lighter.

Chris chuckled, the sound warming your heart. “I love you. And no matter how hard this gets, I’m not giving up on us. Ever.”

“I love you too,” you said softly. “And I promise… I’ll do everything I can to make this work too.”

It wasn’t a perfect solution, but it was a start. The rest of the night felt lighter — the ache in your chest still present but less. You both were more cheerful — joking around about random things and teasing him about how his hair was too messy — along with his room.

You smiled at your screen, watching as Chris did the same. His hand coming up to his lips and blowing you a kiss through the screen — and you blushed.

You’re just hoping that whatever was said tonight…was going to stick.

© strnilolover

[morallygreychaoticneutral]

"If a night of passion is on offer.." It's ok to take it.

I think some passion flower would do nicely for this pot of thought. Does Astarion really want a night of passion or is he people pleasing? Lets steep on it.

WARNING: Game spoilers and talk of S.A..

Hmmm...to be randy or not to be randy. That is the conundrum.

This is not fact, is just opinion based off my own and game experience. As always, how anybody cannons their relationships or behaviors is perfectly right! No blame, no shame, it's your game!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I have seen a lot of comments expressing anxiety about whether or not Tav should accept Astarion's proposal for sex in the grave yard.

"Given his past, I'm just not sure he really wants it."

"Is he just doing it because now that Caza..MF is dead he thinks I will leave now that the task is done?"

"Is he feeling insecure in his new freedom?"

"Is it too soon for him to be sexual after so much trauma for so long?"

"Does he mean what he is saying? Or is he being funny?"

I was one of those people. But now that iv had time to ponder it..

One thing to keep in mind is that most (I wont say all) S.A victims can, in time, start to enjoy sex again in safe, secure situations.

Treating them like they are fragile and tip toeing around them isn't fair. It doesn't help them build resilience or help them find a way back to a healthier relationship with sex.

If they are offering, trust them to make that choice.

Lets say you had a bad experience with swimming. You are scared of the water now, but you still love the ocean. You could forsake the water forever, and some do and that's a perfectly right choice, or you find small ways back to it.

Sit by the edge and watch the tide. Chase the tide out then let it chase you back in. Dip just your toes in the water. Then your hands, then your legs etc etc . Until one day you are back in the ocean.

It's the same with sexual interaction. Small steps to build your emotional strength back up.

That's not to say they wont still have pre or postcoital dysphoria from time to time, (fear of drowning) but it does get easier as time goes on. The more the experiences end in happy memories instead of tragic ones, the easier it gets.

So, does it show a lack of empathy to sleep with Astarion in the grave yard?

Nope. I think he actually does want to connect with you sexually.

Why?

Because of the dialogue you have regarding offering him the Astral-Touched tadpole. He says no. Then says...

"I had nothing for so long. Nothing. Not even my own body. I will NOT give it up, now it's mine again."

His face is one of complete conviction. He alone, controls what happens to his body. Who gets to use it, what happens to it, when it happens, where it happens and why it happens. Period.

This happens before you reach the city. Which means se has already regained the ability to say "no" long before graveyard.

Even if you chose to convince him to sleep with you after he asks you not to in his confession, he still asserts the boundary. It may be after the fact, and he leaves you, but it's still there.

So it wouldn't make much sense for him to suddenly back track and start offering sex as a means to manipulate Tav now.

Also, he is not using his "I'm lying out my fangs" face or his "I'm gong to literally seduce the pants off of you" face.

Mask of Lies Mask of Seduction

So, with those two things in mind, and I'm sure there are more, fast forward to that fateful night in the cemetery where he says he wants you to seduce him and...* insert suspenseful music*

BEHOLD!

When he says "If a night of passion is on offer, I could be persuaded" his face is almost exactly the same as when he says "I love you, I love this. And I want it all".

(and there was much rejoicing)

He is not pulling the faces that he uses when he lies or seduces. Which means the offer is sincere. You have, through repetition and consistency, proven to him that you care about him because of who he is to you. Not because of what he can do for you. Which was what he wanted. You are a safe space. "I feel safe with you. Seen." And for our affection starved elf, that's got to be a total turn on.

Also, with Cazador dead, he can let go of the subconscious fear of you being destroyed in some way if he sleeps with you.

He can make love to you with all the feelings he's ever had to repress involved. And for the first time in 200 years, not have the fear of it being ripped away any second, or being punished for it, by that monster or himself.

Here, on his new birthday, where his new life starts, he choses to experience you.

So put the doubt down and go get some grave dirt in places it shouldn't be.

And get some saucy elf in places you want him to be.

But, a graveyard? Really?

Why not? Where else would be more appropriate to have a "little death" with someone? *wink*

Or it could be that fact that your bedroom has more people in it than a clown car. Needs must..

Oh, but do keep a look out for Gracie, the grave yard guard. She has a low tolerance for mischief.

[nrhshm]

Hello there! If you don't mind, could you please do Luffy, Zoro, Sanji, and Shanks (seperate) reacting to seeing their stoic fem!(s/o) smiling brightly for the first time? Thank you so much if you decide to do this!!

- [💚anon]

Heads up! let's do this ~~ I'll do each two seperately.

Ps. I might've slightly diverted from the original prompt...

This is pt 1:

Luffy and Zoro reacting to y/n, smiling brightly for the first time.

. Reader is gn

. Sfw

. Spoiler free

. Genre: fluff, a bit of gore on zoro's part

Luffy:

Amidst the battle, you trod with a heavy breath across the massive wreck of houses. You've been a hurting witness, seeing that one fishman destroy your hometown without a single shred of mercy. Instead, an evil sickening smirk of ridicule was all he left lingering in your thoughts.

"Y/n L/n" of the strawhats, you were known for your strict loyalty to your captain: the wanted pirate "Monkey D. Luffy". Your train of thoughts drift back to that time he decided you'd join his crew, you were so nonchalant about it! In fact, you barely had anything to do with him IF he didn't passively force you with the biggest smile ever.

"Join my crew!"

"No"

"Why?"

"Because we met five seconds... ago..." You deadpan.

"But you're my friend."

"I-... We've met FIVE SECONDS AGO!!!" You repeat furiously.

"Besides, I know a pirate when I see one, and I'm not planning to involve myself in any shady business you've got."

Luffy's big round eyes stare right dead center into yours, 1 minute, 5 minutes and no response.

"So?" He suddenly blurts out.

"So??"

He takes his hand in yours.

"I like you. Isn't that enough?" He says in with a sneezy smile.

.

.

The flashback cuts off as soon as you catch a glimpse of red and yellow drifting across your peripheral vision. Witnessing Luffy's figure marching up to the edge of the cliff. Bloody and torn to shreds he still insists walking up to your line of vision. He wants you to see the geniune seriousness in his request, the sheer determination that he won't back down till he gets what he wants.

"Y/N!!!" He screams at the upmost top of his vocal cords. You freeze. Eyes fixated on the future pirate king. He stands in all his might and glory.

Luffy's intense glare suddenly melts into the most sincere smile.

"Join my crew."

At this point you couldn't hold it back, the immense relief and the overwhelming goosebumps coursing your veins. You didn't even realise how big you were smiling, till you felt the pinching strain at your cheek, and Luffy's bursting victorious grin.

The future pirate king, jumps from the high roof of the building, landing right infront of your figure.

You regain your composure, wiping your tears away, your expression now turns serious.

.

.

"Yes!"

Zoro:

There it is again. That mesh of mint and green making it's way towards you.

Upon his sight, your hand sneaks around the low cupboards, pulling out a strange teabag. You tighten your hold on the item in an attempt to hide it.

The swordsman lazily seats himself in front of you, signalling his 2 sake bottles and a shot of "the strongest thing you have", as he addresses it.

As a bartender, your acting skills were superlative, essential in situations where drunk bandits try to stir up trouble. You have handled your job effectively for over 5 years, which led to you falling under the eyes of the legendary pirate hero of your town: Doflamingo.

This mission was different from its past predecessors. You were set as a spy back then, setting people in a hopeless stupor to leak out any important information, delivering it back to your -now- master.

This time, you are ordered to kidnap a pirate.

Your hands were shaking again, you were morally doubtful if this was your last day alive. Yet the said man didn't bother to comment anything, as you poured in the mysterious black powder into the mix.

"Here you go sir." You hand him his wine bottles and shot in a false smile, your own heart screaming guilt and reconsideration, but fearing your master pushed all of it away. You are bound to him, a slave imprisoned to do his bidding. You have no way out.

You snap out of your thoughts as he gulps down the whole thing in seconds. And with a loud thud, the green haired swordsman falls into deep sleep.

....

When he does wake up, you stand next to him, sharpening your knife, a couple of guards around you. You looked at the said man with a sneer, which somewhat to Zoro, seemed fake.

He'd already had his concerns about you the moment he had sat at your bar, strangely, in which Zoro usually doesn't pay attention to.

"Here's the Pirate Hunter, as you ordered." You outstretch your hand at the swordsman, showcasing your capture. "Now.."

"Let go of my family."

Zoro's eye widens. Now, it all made sense. He felt that immediate deja vu with a distant memory, where Nami had done the same thing.

Nothing about this is acceptable to him, as Zoro wouldn't allow himself to get captured out of sympathy, but something in his gut feeling kept nudging, insisting to solving this issue.

The mafia boss, turns around, a sign of disinterest is quite evident.

"Really now??" He sneers in disdain. "When did I make such a deal with you?!"

Hearing his sick laugh, your lungs begin to malfunction. Short breaths and wide pupils, the world around you greys out.

"Y-Y- You said... you'd-"

"Kabaji! Did you ever hear me say that?." He points out mockingly, his said assistant laughing in amusement. You barely even notice your knife hitting the rough floor.

"No sir. This woman is spouting nonsense."

You've never felt so helpless. A bartender woman, weak and fragile, with a dull present and an even duller future. The only source of hope and persistence was finding your kidnapped family and escaping this goddamned town.

"LIAR!!" You scream in fury. "YOU PROMISED ME MY FAMILY!!" Heaving cold breaths and bearing your rapid painful heartbeats, your entrapped feelings finally explode.

"You call yourself a leader when your words are nothing but shallow lies!!! And your actions are a testament to your incompetence!" At this point, the whole place was in absolute silence.

It's almost as if you hit a thin nerve in this man, as he immediately shouts for your head to be cut off. Men rush towards you with their glistening swords, and you instantly know: this is it. It's over for you.

Closing your eyes, you anticipate the harsh pain that'll penetrate your neck , but all that was heard were the clash of swords, screams of agony, and the quivering words of men begging for mercy.

Most importantly, you felt a sticky substance on your forearms. The warm texture trailing down to your apron.

You finally look up, and you're mortified by the sight of the bloodshed and corpses. The once powerful mafia leader and his cronies reduced to these headless cadavers.

Most importantly, Zoro stood amidst everything, a bloody sword in hand, and the look of a bloodthirsty berserker.

He turns back to you, and look of sympathy becomes evident. "Are you hurt?"

"No." You immediately answer. You try to cover your trembling hands, but they don't go unnoticed.

"Are they on the island?"

You pause, not fully understanding his inquiry.

"Your family, I mean." He elaborates. You flinch at that.

"I believe so... the mafia headquarters aren't far from here."

"There's no time to waste then." He sheaths his swords, walking past your shaken figure.

"Wait!" You grab his wrist. "Are you seriously helping me, after all that I've done to you?" The last few words coming out as a whisper.

Zoro stands still, his expression becomes unreadable. The weight of silence gets bigger by the passing second.

"I'm just doing what my captain would have done." He states with a confident smirk.

His answer takes you aback. And you find yourself smiling tearfully...

'Maybe, not all hope is gone... I can still do this.'

"Let's go." You nod, a newfound determination surging through your body, you begin feeling estatic about finding your beloved people.

With all that in mind, you fail to notice zoro's unusual look of admiration, as a genuine smile slowly traces his lips.

'Ba-dum!'

[morgana-larkin]

I love your writing and I have a Melissa x reader prompt for you.

They have something casual going on and Mel always tells the reader she is her girl until one day Melissa decides to really make the reader officially her girl.

I thought on something sweet 💕

Hi anon! I love that you love my writing and thank you for the prompt! I kept this sweet like you wanted as it could have gone dark 🙂. I based some of this off of Chappell Roan’s song Casual. Not edited in the slightest and I hope you like it!

On another note: I decided to wait on Worth It part 12 until the new episodes come out to meet Melissa’s family and see what they’re like.

Casual Now?

Warnings: Smut

Words: 2.6k

Both of you lay your head on a pillow after coming, catching your breath. You fall asleep and Melissa scootches closer to you and places an arm around you, gives you a light kiss to avoid waking you up, and then falls asleep beside you.

You wake up and you look to see Melissa is still asleep. You carefully get up as her arm is around you and then you quietly get dressed and then leave. Unknown to you, Melissa was awake the entire time, she woke up a few minutes before you did and she was just enjoying your body against hers, knowing you won’t be soon. She usually awoke a few minutes before you did and just enjoys the feeling of your body against hers.

She let out a sigh when she heard the door to her house close and she went to the window to make sure you got to your car safely. She then kicks her dresser out of anger and then goes to her bed and a tear falls down. The two of you started this casual, no strings attached relationship 3 months ago to let off steam from teaching, but it seems Melissa caught feelings in that time. She thinks back on what happened during sex last night.

You were under her as she had two fingers deep in you. You were a moaning mess and Melissa thinks you look beautiful and the sounds you make are music to her ears.

“Melissa, I’m so close!” You tell her as your legs start shaking.

“Come my beautiful girl.” She tells you and you immediately come.

Melissa didn’t mean to call you her girl but she figured you didn’t notice as you were so close to an orgasm. She sits on her bed thinking about what life could be like with you. If you started dating then she can show you off as hers, eventually move in together, and lots of kisses that she can steal from you.

The next day Melissa gets ready for work, she covers up the small hickey you left on her left breast by accident. She walks in and goes to the break room and sits next to Barb with the trio distracted by something on Janine’s phone.

“Did you see her again this weekend?” Barb asks her as Melissa slumps down in her chair. She of course told Barb when she started getting feelings as she had to tell someone.

“Yes, even if I know I shouldn’t, I just want to be near her.” Melissa explains to her.

“Melissa, you should end it or tell her.” Barb tells her sternly.

“I tried subtly talking about a relationship and she said it’s casual, just like we talked about 3 months ago.” Melissa says and puts her head in her hands. She then gets a text and she looks at her phone.

You: You look stressed, did the other night not help?

You messaged her and she looks and sees you across the room with some teachers and you’re looking at her.

Melissa: It helped at the time, but now I’m thinking of all the things I have to do this week

You: Need a pick me up after school?

Melissa: I’d like that

*After School*

Melissa makes her way to her car to go home and then prepare for when she sees you later. She gets to her car but then sees you walking out of the building and almost no teachers or cars around. She gets an idea and goes to you and drags you to her car.

“Melissa, what are you doing?” You ask her confused and she opens the passenger door and you smile then get in. “Can’t wait I see.” You tease her and she gets in after you.

She gets on top of you and begins making out with you and she feels the stress of today melt away with each kiss. She then goes lower and starts kissing your neck, and without knowing it, she starts sucking, marking you as hers.

“Melissa, don’t leave a hickey on my neck.” You tell her and she groans but then she trails lower and she lowers your shirt and starts sucking on your chest. You know she loves sucking on your body, but what you don’t know is she only started doing it to mark you as hers when she got feelings for you. She then gets down from the seat and drags your underwear down.

“It’s a good thing you decided to wear a dress today, my beautiful girl.” She tells you before diving right to your clit and you moan out.

“Oh Melissa, your tongue feels so good.” You gasp out and you feel her smile as she continues eating you out. You feel each lick and suck she gives your clit and you feel your orgasm start building quickly. She knows your body so well and knows how to bring you to an orgasm in minutes with just her tongue. You grab hold of her hair and you start moving your hips before she pins you down. Your legs start shaking and she goes faster before you moan out as you come. She pulls away and gets back on top of you and continues kissing you to help you come down.

You then slip your hand down her pants and find her clit and immediately start doing circles on it. Melissa gasps and grabs hold of the seat as you bring her to the edge in under a minute. She surges forward and kisses you as she comes.

“So, feel better?” You ask her as you take deep breaths while she rests on your lap.

“Ya, thanks hon.” She says softly and smiles at you.

“You looked really stressed in the break room this morning.” You tell her and she groans and rests her head on your shoulder.

“Don’t remind me.” She says and you giggle.

“Busy week this week?” You ask her.

“More like busy life.” She says and you hum. “Do you want to come back to my place? I have lots of leftovers.” She says and you look at her.

“Why do you want to feed me?”

“We’re friends aren’t we? Isn’t that what friends do?” She asks you.

“They do.” Is all you say as she draws mindless patterns on your chest.

“So want to come to my house then?” She asks you again and you smile and nod.

“Sure, I do love your cooking.” You tell her and Melissa feels happiness run through her entire body knowing she gets to spend time with you.

Melissa gets home and immediately gets changed into something more comfortable but also something that’ll have you staring at her. She goes for a dark pink low cut tank top, black leggings and a black knitted sweater her nonna gave her. You knocked on the door half an hour later and Melissa nearly ran to the door to answer it.

“Hey hon.” She tells you and you smile at her.

“Hey Melissa.” You say and go in when she steps aside. “You look nice.” You tell her when you take in her outfit.

“Thanks, I was just about to reheat the leftovers.” She tells you and goes into the kitchen and you follow her.

“I’m still surprised you offered me to come over. I know we’re friends but you barely offer any friends to come over to your place.” You tell her and she smiles at you.

“That’s because some of them annoy me.” She says.

“And I don’t?”

“You did at first, but you were new last year.”

“So what made you take an interest in me?” You ask her and she quirks an eyebrow at you. “At least, enough of an interest to want to sleep with me.” You add and she chuckles.

“You’re cute and you don’t annoy me as much.” She tells you as she gets the now hot containers out of the microwave and transfers the food onto a plate. She then takes the plates and brings them to the dinner table. You sit down and take your first bite.

“I always love your cooking.” You say with a hum and she smiles at you. “Why did you never become a chef?” You ask her.

“Because cooking is one of my passions but I only like cooking for people I like.”

“Well I’m honoured to be one of those people.” You tell her and Melissa can’t help but smile as you smile at her.

After dinner you both go to the couch with some wine and start a conversation.

“So why Abbott?” She asks you and you tilt your head. “You could teach anywhere, so why an underfunded school?”

“Because I didn’t become a teacher for a big paycheck, I became one to help students.” You tell her with a shrug. “What about you?”

“Same thing.” She says as she finishes off the wine in her glass. “Can I kiss you?” She blurts out and you look at her confused.

“Why are you asking? We’ve kissed before.” You tell her.

“Ya but only when we have sex. Right now I just want to kiss you.” She tells you and looks down at her hands. You put your wine glass down, cup her cheek and kiss her. She puts her hands in your hair to keep you from pulling away and enjoys the feel of your lips on hers. You pull away too soon for Melissa’s liking and you look at her.

“That was one hell of a kiss.” You say with a slight blush.

“Ya, it was.” Melissa agrees with a slight blush of her own.

“Did you really want me over because we’re friends and no other reason?” You ask softly.

“What other reason could I possibly have?”

“I don’t know, it’s just you’ve been acting different lately.” You say and play with your fingernails absent mindlessly.

“Different how?”

“It’s just… before, at the beginning of this casual relationship, you seem to only be in it for the sex, which is the reason we started this. But lately it seems like you want more than just sex.” You try to explain and she looks at you. “Like you kiss me a lot more now, you talk to me in school just to talk to me, you’re inviting me to your place for dinner, and the other day I ran into Kristen Marie and she mentioned you talk about me.” You tell her and she sighs.

“Can’t I just want to be friends with you as well as have casual sex.” She replies with.

“Is it still casual?” You ask her and Melissa freezes. She didn’t expect you to catch on to anything that she does differently.

“It’s still casual hon, I’m not interested in anything else.”

“I didn’t ask you if you were interested in a relationship, I’m asking if you have feelings for me.” You bluntly ask her and Melissa is looking at you like a deer in headlights.

“Look hon, I don’t know what you’re trying to get here but-” she starts to ask but you cut her off with a kiss. She immediately kisses you back and she deepens it quickly. You take her sweater off and she immediately takes yours off before you break the kiss to take off her tank top. “Wait hon, what are you doing?”

“Isn’t it obvious?”

“I didn’t ask you here for sex.” She clarifies and you roll your eyes.

“I know, but that tank top was driving me crazy as it gave me a great view.” You tell her before kissing her again. Melissa has become addicted to your kisses and always immediately kisses you back. You unclip her bra and tear it off her and cup her boobs with your hands. “Mm, I just love them.” You tell her.

“Touch them all you want.” She says and winks at you before kissing you again. She then straddles your lap and trails her mouth down to your neck and begins kissing it.

“No hickeys on my neck.” You remind her and Melissa has had enough.

“Why not?”

“Because we’re not together and I’m a teacher.”

“What does us not being together have to do with it?”

“Because I don’t want other girls getting the wrong idea, I don’t want them to think I’m not available.” You tell her and Melissa feels a tightness in her chest.

“Are you seeing other girls?” She asks you before she stops herself.

“On dates, yes, I’ve been on a date with two girls since we’ve been hooking up.” You tell her honestly and Melissa gets off of you and sits beside you on the couch. She puts her head in her hands as you look at her confused. “Melissa? What’s wrong?” You ask her and you put a hand on her arm.

“I don’t want you to go out with other girls, I don’t want you to be with anyone else.” She says without looking at you.

“What?” You ask her and she looks at you.

“You’re right, I do have feelings for you and I’m scared about that. I didn’t expect to get feelings for you. It did start off as just casual but about a month later I started having a crush on you.” She tells you and leans back onto the couch. You stare at her in shock before you grab her chin and turn her head to look at you.

“Are you telling me the truth?” You ask her and she nods as a tear falls down her cheek. You wipe the tear away before cupping her cheek and she leans into your touch. “I have feelings for you too.” You tell her and she puts her hand over yours that’s on her cheek.

“Really?”

“Yes, why do you think I’ve noticed you acting different? You know I can be oblivious to things like that but I noticed with you because I wanted to know if you felt the same way.” You tell her and she smiles. “And I honestly didn’t expect to tell you while your boobs are out.” You add on and she giggles.

“Are you complaining?” She asks and you shake your head.

“It’s an incredible sight and they’re a big weakness for me.” You tell her and you blush a bit. She then cups both your cheeks and leans in and kisses you.

“Do you want to be with me?” She asks when she pulls away.

“I thought you didn’t want a relationship right now?”

“I didn’t but I want you. I want you to be my girl and no one else’s.” She tells you and you smile.

“So that’s why you’ve been calling me your girl during sex lately.” You say and she nods. “I want to be your girl, but only if you ask me properly.” You say and she shakes her head.

“You’re impossible, you know that?”

“I’ve been told that yes but you want me to put your impossible girl.” You tease her with and she giggles before tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

“I do. Y/n, will you be my girlfriend?” She asks you.

“Yes.” You tell her and seal it with a kiss. “Wait, how is this gonna go as we’ve already been having sex with each other?” You ask her. She rolls her eyes at you and brings you in for another kiss.

Taglist: @esposadejoyhuerta

@imaginesmultifandoms

@idonothingalldays-blog

@sexysapphicshopowner

@dvrkhcld

@lilfartbox1

@ricejucie

@unicorniusfallapatorius

@a-queen-and-her-throne

@sleep-deprived-athlete

@og-kxsh-420

@sasheemo

@midnight-lestrange

@dashbag-art

Let me know if you want to be added!

[kinardsboy]

Buddie shippers have tried to coin the moral superiority and high ground with their ship and I’m sick of it

This not only comes from a place of homophobia but also heteronormativity. Buddie is inherently better because “they’re a family” ignoring the fact that Evan and Tommy could easily build their own, they are constantly pushing buddie into heteronormative roles, ESPECIALLY Buck.

They go out of their way and try so hard to prove Tommy never changed for the better, that he is still the same person he was nearly 20 years ago. That he isn’t deserving of Buck, all to prove their claim of “your ship bad and toxic therefore mine better.” Again, putting themselves on the moral high ground so their criticisms and weird hater behavior seems more justified and acceptable than when we speak out.

When that doesnt work? No problem. They just turn to straight homophobia and conservative talking points.

“Tommy wanted Eddie first but settled for Buck” sure man, I’m surprised you could take Eddies dick out of your mouth long enough to type that sentence.

“Tommy only wants sex, like most gay men do” Yes this is an actual quote from a post criticizing Tommy! Again! Homophobia! If Tommy only wanted sex theres.. grindr.. its fucking LA?? However I do find it interesting that the idea of queer men (Gay men especially) wanting sex and not feeling bad about it is something that upsets these people so much.. i wonder why the idea of gay sex makes them uncomfortable 🤔

Which brings me to their next talking point

The daddy kink scene.

I don’t even want to go into the awful violent things that were posted in response to a gay man flirting with his boyfriend, but I’m sure most of you all have seen them already so I’ll keep it vague. We all know Buck initiated that flirting scene, we all know Buck brought up daddy kink and Tommy reciprocated.

But because they can’t possibly imagine their precious little baby Buck partaking in such heinous kinks? Well then it MUST be Tommy who started it! Therefore BuckTommy is bad because Tommy is into “gross” or “immoral” kinks and makes everything about sex and so..? Yep! Buddie better ! Buddie the safe clean option!

SPEAKING of making everything about sex lets talk about the way buddie shippers tried to say “youre a vision in a cone” was about PUPPY PLAY??

Again I find it sooo interesting that these people are trying to base morals and high ground on two men possibly engaging in kink. Isnt that interesting?

The compliment was obviously not puppy play kink but even if it was who the fuck cares? They’re grown ass men? They can partake in kink???

Why are you twice now claiming that BuckTommy , and lets be honest here, mainly Tommy is a bad person and ship because of sexual attraction? Because of kinks?

Good thing their fave is a fucking catholic cause they all sure act like one

[greenwitchfromthewoods]

a house in the middle of nowhere l Joel Miller

Summary: you and Joel went on patrol together, nothing went your way

Warnings:  angst, guns, switchblade, killing people, allusions to sexual abuse, blood

A/N: your feedback is very important to me and I thank you for all the reblogs, comments and likes. 🖤 sorry for all the mistakes

short stories from life. [masterlist]

# 1/2

"We should be reaching that building in a few minutes."

You nodded and didn't slow down when you heard Joel's footsteps behind you. The leaves crunched under your shoes and the air in the forest was pleasantly cool. It was as if you had done this before.

The flu that had been sweeping through Jackson for a few weeks now had also reached the people patrolling the area. Soon, Tommy had no choice but to ask you and Joel to start working together again. 

Despite his concerns, he was pleasantly surprised - you were a great team. That's why he recommended you check out one of the buildings, which was a bit further from your trail.

"Looks good." You said, stopping in front of a small house standing near the end of the forest.

"Yeah. Too good." Joel mumbled. "Do you remember that..."

"I remember." You interrupted him, because your thoughts immediately drifted to a certain house you had found on your way to Jackson. "I saved your ass that time." You smiled, noticing the grimace on Joel's face.

"Keep telling yourself that, darling." he mumbled, heading towards the entrance.

But this time it was safe. The house was small and it took you a few minutes to check all the rooms. Apart from a few canned goods, a few old blankets and a dead bat in the bedroom, everything seemed long forgotten.

"This will be a good base for further patrols." Joel noted as you spread your things in the living room with the intention of spending the night there. "Once we check the area and make sure everything is safe."

You sat down on the dusty couch. The feeling that all this seemed strangely familiar to you filled you since your first joint patrol with Joel.

He didn't press you, he wasn't pushy. The safe distance you wanted to maintain was perceived by him, although you felt his gaze on you many times. You weren't without blame either. Your eyes often lingered on his broad shoulders for a few seconds longer than necessary. You missed him.

"We'll eat something and you can lie down." Joel announced, pulling sandwiches out of his backpack. "I'll take the first watch."

"There's water in the bathroom. Cold, but it's there." You noticed, doing the same as he did.

"Maybe the house is connected to a well. It's hard to tell right now." You handed him a cup of coffee. "Are you going to the party on Saturday?"

You looked at Joel, surprised. "Since when are you interested in parties in Jackson?"

He shrugged and chewed a bite of sandwich. "Ellie asked."

"Oh, did she say anything else?"

"That this new guy, Walsh, asked her about you."

Warmth crept up the back of your neck and you hoped Joel didn't notice your confusion. You weren't dating anyone, you didn't want to. But you knew what Miller was talking about. You and Walsh had been on a few patrols together, and you'd been seen together in the city too.

"Your coffee's getting cold, Joel." you replied, cutting off the discussion.

The room was filled with Joel's quiet snoring. You had been sitting by the window for almost two hours, observing the area. The first rays of sunlight were breaking through the treetops, and you only noticed a few squirrels and a hare.

Your spine was slowly starting to hurt, so you got up quietly and, trying not to wake Joel, you went to the door. Maybe you should have let him know you were leaving, but you saw how much he needed sleep. The lack of people meant that you were almost always outside Jackson, so that those who had families could rest or recover.

You quietly closed the door behind you and inhaled the fresh air. With your finger still near the trigger, you moved forward. The area was quiet, the fog was rising here and there between the trees, and even the birds were just waking up from their sleep.

An unexpected rustling behind you gave you goosebumps. You turned around sharply and saw a pair of rabbits disappearing behind the bushes.

"You scared me." You mumbled to yourself smiling "Don't do that again."

Then you heard a completely unfamiliar voice "I promise I won't do that again, doll."

You turned around sharply and saw the man behind you, then you felt something hit you and darkness engulfed you.

Something was tugging at you. You felt your wrists being tied. Some pushy hands searched all over you, and then someone patted your cheek.

"Doll, wake up!" the same voice, unfamiliar to you "Mike, you hit her too hard."

More steps and someone crouched down next to you. He brushed your hair away from your face.

"Such a pretty face, and look what you did." the first voice hissed "I hope you didn't break her nose."

"Do you need her nose for something?" Mike sneered and patted you on the cheek a few times "Hey! Get up!"

You moaned quietly and opened your eyelids. You almost immediately wanted to back away, but there was a tree behind you, and two men in front of you, who were staring at you with interest.

"Morning, doll." one of them greeted you with a smile "I'm Patrick, and you?"

You pressed your hands together violently, trying to get as far away from them as you could. It was impossible, you knew that. 

Fuck! How could you be so careless? You had been with someone last time, but now... 

You thought about the sleeping Joel. Maybe you had at least managed to get far enough away from the house that they wouldn't find him so quickly. Hopefully.

"Hey, bitch!" Mike nudged you in the shoulder, and your gaze immediately went to him. "Can you talk? I didn't knock your teeth out, did I?" he cackled as if he had told a good joke.

"No." You replied quietly.

"Good start." Patrick nodded, his eyes lazily moving over your face. There was something strange about him, something slippery and indecent. "Will you tell us what you're doing here, doll?"

"I was walking."

"You were walking." Patrick repeated after you, reaching out and pulling a blade of grass from your hair, there was something in his gesture that gave you shivers "Pretty girls like you shouldn't walk alone. Is anyone with you?" 

You shook your head and Mike immediately spat in the grass.

 “She's lying!” he growled, standing up. “I'm sure someone's nearby.”

Patrick frowned. 'Come on, I'll help you.' He grabbed you by the arm and pulled you to your feet, then pinned you against a tree. 'Who's with you?' he hissed. 

'I'm alone.' you repeated. 

'Wrong answer.'

You flinched nervously as a knife blade flashed before your eyes. It was the same switchblade that Joel had given you. You carried it with you, they had to find it when they searched you. 

“Listen to me carefully, doll.' Patrick moved the blade to your chest and soon you saw the first button on your shirt pop off, then the second. 'You'll tell us what we want, okay? Be a good girl. Maybe then I'll be gentle with you, huh? I wouldn't want to hurt you...' he made a sad face as if he was really sorry, two more buttons popped off. 'But I haven't had a warm pussy in a while, I might be too hard for you. Unless you like that? Do you like it, doll?"

"I'm alone." You managed to choke out, trying to keep your voice from shaking. "I swear. I... I got away from the group."

"That bitch is lying, I can feel it!" Mike growled, looking around the area. "Do what you have to and let's get out of here."

Patrick watched you closely. His gaze slid down to your chest, which was rising rapidly with every breath. Your bra peeked out from under your shirt, the outline of your breasts must have been clearly visible to him.

"You could have been good, doll..." he whispered. "We could have been something great."

"Please..." you groaned.

At that moment you heard a shot. You didn't know where it came from, but you saw Mike stagger and fall hard to the ground. In an instant Patrick looked up, then looked at you.

"Who is it?!" he growled angrily, pressing you against the trunk so hard that you felt something stab you painfully in the back.

"Your Death." you gasped.

Another shot and warm blood splattered on your face. You slid to the ground gasping for air. Patrick's body lay beneath your legs. Strong hands grabbed your arms and then your face.

"Are you okay?"

Joel!

You nodded your head violently. He noticed the bonds on your wrists and when he looked around he saw the switchblade lying in the grass. He quickly cut the rope. In a second your arms were wrapped around his neck and a quiet cry escaped your throat.

"It's okay, I've got you." he whispered, stroking your hair and back "You're safe."

☆☆☆☆

Thank you for your time.

taglist, i think: @picketniffler @orcasoul @bbyanarchist