#and it looks like the ears on the first are round? might just be because of the headphones though

[wireframearson]

hi splatoon community how we feeling about this (found in a video on the official japanese nintendo yt)

(source)

[zephyrchama]

Water Wrinkles

Seven demon brothers sat solemnly in a circle around you. You did your best to ignore them. It wasn't often that you got to spend time at the human world villa, and you were intent on soaking up as much sun as you could before returning to the Devildom.

You reclined your beach chair back, crossing your arms under your still-wet hair. It was a gorgeous day. Perfect for being at the pool.

Leviathan let out a muffled sob. As the demon with the highest affinity for water, he blamed himself.

"Let us take you to a hospital," Satan insisted for the tenth time.

"They're going to laugh us out of the ER," you nonchalantly repeated.

Satan lowered his eyes and muttered, "I couldn't find any traces of a curse in the water... So how...?"

Asmodeus had his head in his hands, unresponsive. Sometimes his fingers curled around the ends of his hair. You briefly glanced over to make sure he didn't pull his hair out - that would be grounds for a real emergency.

"I can't bear to watch. Lucifer, do somethin'," Mammon whined. He was fidgeting all over the place and winced whenever he looked at your feet.

The oldest glared at you. You knew it was out of concern, but his fears were unfounded. Even Lucifer refused to listen to reason when he thought you were in danger.

"Actually, yeah. Lucifer, can you pass me a towel?" you asked. It was embarrassing having seven shirtless demons intensely staring at you. If they wouldn't let you go back in the water, maybe covering up would make you feel less self-conscious.

Lucifer didn't move. It was Beelzebub who plucked a spare towel off his younger twin and handed it to you with a shaking arm. He looked like a wet puppy, having been the one who first discovered your "condition" and swept you out of the pool.

Belphegor hadn't gone in the water that day. He only hogged the plush towels because of how comfortable they were and, following Beelzebub's lead, dumped them all onto your chair. Now he sat, wide awake. He was anxiously squeezing a loose chunk of concrete but at some point, without realizing, it got crushed to powder in his hand.

You had more than enough towels now.

"In half an hour you're going to forget this all even happened," you said to reassure the worry warts.

"In half an hour, you might be gone!" Mammon snapped back.

"You're going to be a wrinkled mess of skin and bones," Asmodeus weeped quietly.

Leviathan pressed his hands over his ears. Though, with nothing to cover his eyes he was forced to look at your wrinkled hands again. Based on the noises he was making, you'd think someone was torturing him.

"As I've said!" you reiterated. "All humans get wrinkly in water. Look, now that I'm drying off it's going back to normal."

Beelzebub grabbed your ankle, raising it for the brothers to observe at eye level. "I don't see a difference."

You didn't expect the sudden manhandling and slunk several inches down the lounge chair while the demons stared at your foot. Kicking and twisting your leg was futile. You modestly crossed your free leg.

"I think it's getting worse," Satan said.

"We need to take action," Lucifer decided.

Asmodeus was actively quivering now. Belphegor and Leviathan had crept behind you and started picking at your wrinkly fingers. You tried to swat them away to no avail.

"Give me 25 minutes! Literally! Probably even less, this will go away on its own! I just need to dry off."

"We need a solution now," Mammon asserted. The cogs in his brain were turning. "We need fire."

You tried to sit up, to jump up and stop Mammon before he burned the whole villa down in an attempt to dry you off, but Beelzebub had not let go and you stumbled. You grazed your knee on the concrete and winced.

A second round of panic overcame the demon brothers. Beelzebub let go, Lucifer picked you up, and Belphegor wrapped your knee with every available towel he could lay his hands on. Asmodeus and Leviathan were crying on each other's shoulders. Mammon came running back, oblivious to the second disaster that just occurred, with a flaming stick in his hand that Satan tried to keep at bay. If you got burnt on top of everything else, they'd probably go insane and destroy the human world.

In the midst of the chaos you caught a glimpse of your hand. It was practically dry. You couldn't even see the wrinkles anymore. You angrily wiggled in Lucifer's grasp as various hands fussed over you.

"Stay!!" you shouted over the clamor.

The brothers went tumbling to the ground, save for Lucifer who fought to stay rooted in place. You could finally hear yourself think again. There was primarily one thought on your mind.

"I just want to go swimming."

[innerfare]

Mirror Sex 

Summary: having mirror sex with them

Characters: Luffy, Zoro, Sanji, Ace, Sabo, Law, Kid

Genre: pure smut

CW: NSFW // Daddy Zoro, Babyboy Sanji, mirror sex (obv), blowjobs

——— 

Luffy:

Mirror sex is also morning sex with Luffy. You wake up before him in the morning and shuffle into the bathroom to brush your teeth, and the next thing you know, he’s behind you in the mirror. Eyes still bleary, black hair ruffled from sleep, he bends you over when he only just fucked you the night before and rubs his morning wood against your opening. “Don’t stop,” he tells you when you put your toothbrush down, “I won’t take long.” The problem is, he’s lazily rubbing his finger over your clit while he pushes into you, making it impossible for you to pay attention to anything else. He fucks you slow to begin with, and you try to keep going through your morning routine in front of the mirror, but the sight of your face contorting with pleasure wakes Luffy up, and before you know it, you’re clinging to the sink while he snaps his hips into you. When he finishes, he places a hot, sloppy kiss on your neck before reaching for his own toothbrush like nothing happened. 

Zoro:

Franky put a mirror in the crow’s nest for him so he has it while he works out, and the idea pops into his head one day when you’re up there and bend over to pick something up. It’s not long before he’s pulling his thick cock out and telling you, “be good for daddy.” He puts you on all fours and pushes your head down as he slips into you. Fucking you from behind in front of the mirror gives him the perfect view of your ass, round and jiggling as he ruts into you. And when he tangles his hand in your hair and pulls your head up, he can see the way your eyes roll into the back of your head when he smacks your ass. For your part, you can see the way the muscles in his abdomen ripple as he thrusts his hips, can see how big his hands look on your body, can marvel at his thick biceps while you’re getting railed from behind. Daddy Zoro isn’t one to cum quickly, but he does when he’s fucking you in front of the mirror. 

Sanji:

This sweet boy had fixed his hair in front of the mirror in your room countless times when he came in to find you in your room. He had also watched you sit in front of the vanity and fix your own hair. It had never occurred to him, though, that he might find himself in the chair in front of it while you ride him in reverse cowgirl. He has to close his eyes and bury his face in your shoulder for most of it because having a front row view of his cock sliding in and out of your cunt, of your bouncing tits and pert nipples, of your every intimate area flushed from what he was doing with his mouth mere moments before, is almost too much for him to handle. He makes sounds you’ve never heard him make as you work his orgasm out of him. He cums even more quickly than usual, but that’s alright because he has basically no refractory period and is hard for you again in seconds. 

Ace:

Neither of you intend for it to turn into mirror sex. He has you naked in his bed, the pillows on the floor and the sheets tangled around you, one of his arms looped under your knee to hold your leg up, the other braced against the mattress while his fingers tug on your messy hair. He rolls his hips against yours, bottoming out in you over and over, your breathless moans like music to his ears. Determined not to cum yet, he turns to the side to focus on something other than your pretty face contorted in pleasure, and he catches sight of your reflection in the mirror on the wall. He sees for the first time how his tattoos ripple with his muscles as he fucks you, how your legs are wide open for him, how your tits squish into his naked chest, and he cums almost immediately. You have no idea what made your tiger cum prematurely until the next time you have sex in his cabin and he grabs a blanket and throws it over the mirror. 

Sabo:

Sabo catches you while you’re getting dressed in front of the mirror, and he’s not going to not do something about it. He stops to stare at you in your bra and panties, but it’s been so long since you’ve fooled around considering both of you have such busy schedules. He steps forward to undress you, and him pulling off the shirt you only just put on turns into you falling to your knees to worship his cock, wringing boyish moans from his pretty lips as you bob your head up and down. And while he’s normally a sucker for a blowjob, seeing your reflection in the mirror so clearly as you wrap your lips around him makes him cum even harder than usual. 

Law:

One of his favorite things in the world is taking your clothes off and putting you in front of the mirror to play with your tits. He’s not sure why, but he really enjoys it. This naturally leads to him sitting behind you and pulling your legs open and playing with your pussy in front of the mirror, telling you to watch closely as he uses his tattooed surgeon’s hands to work two or three orgasms out of you, Law mora than enjoying the extra access to your most vulnerable spots the mirror gives him, the extra close look he can get with your legs open in front of it. Only after the fourth or fifth time doing this does it occur to him that he could fuck you in front of the mirror. Thus, you end up in reverse cowgirl (unusual considering he never lets you on top), riding him while Law sits mesmerized by the way your tits bounce. You quickly learn that if you ever want to be on top, you just have to drop him in front of the mirror and he’ll sit mesmerized as you have your way with him. 

Kid:

He’s pretty kinky, and there are very few things he hasn’t tried. But mirror sex is new for him. It all started because there was a very pretty mirror you said you liked, but the frame was disastrously broken (or rather, you and Killer broke it when you tried to lift it from some poor soul’s house as you were stealing it). Kid said he’d fix it for you, so there it sits in his workshop when you come in late at night like you normally do to get fucked before going to bed, and then it clicks in Kid’s head. It becomes one of his new favorite things, because he normally gets so wrapped up in what he’s doing to you it’s difficult to pay attention to how you look when he’s doing it. The mirror helps with that. He can see how read your tits get when he kneads them while railing you from behind, just how massive his cock looks next to you, the way it slides in and out of your mouth and cunt while tears well in your eyes. Needless to say, the mirror is a keeper.  

———

Hope you enjoyed it! If you want more, you can check out my masterlist here!

[celestiamour]

ft. logan howlett x f! reader — xmen, marvel

╰₊✧ getting fucked by him against the wall┊0.6k words

contains: smut!! dom logan & sub reader┊nasty filth, size difference, creampie & breeding kink

➤ author's note: i can't stop thinking about this

your bodies were impossibly close to each other, covered in a slight sheen of sweat with strands of hair and what little clothing was still on sticking to your skin. a hot mess of hasty desire stemming from longing looks across the room, logan burning holes into you with his intense gaze just begging to fuck you in that cute little outfit you were wearing. he couldn’t even wait until you both got your shoes off when you finally got home before reaching under your skirt and peeling down your panties in the middle of the hallways, smothing you in sloppy, open-mouth kisses and complaining about how much of a vixen you secretly are by teasing him so unintentionally. 

or was it actually intentional? you might not be even half as innocent as you lead on to be, especially when you certainly seemed to be enjoying the way his eyes followed you prancing around like a deer in front of a starved wolf.

one of your legs was tossed over his built shoulder and the other was uselessly dangling, barely even touching the floor because of how damn tall he is. you were completely in his shadow, eyes screwed shut and your hands finding purchase by scrunching up the shirt you bothered to iron the night before. an ache in your thighs developed from being held up between his towering frame and the wall, being propped up by little else than his hand on the curve of your ass and his ruthless thrusts. although, it hardly registered in your hazed mind when you were being stretched out so deliciously by his cock, reshaping your insides to take him even deeper, his tip kissing your cervix and making you see stars as his thumb lazily circled your clit.

“fuckkkk, princess, you’re taking me so well…” he whispered huskily in your ear, half-lidded eyes looking at where you two were connected and the hypnotizing way he disappeared inside of you like you were made for him. “such a greedy pussy, i’ve been thinking about this all day.” you could only whine uselessly at his dirty words, digging your nails into his skin, making him chuckle in response at how his precious girl’s brains were already turned to mush at the first of many more planned rounds. “don’t worry, baby, i got you…”

when you finally succumb to your climax, he follows shortly afterward, unable to resist how your walls spasm around his cock and groaning as he emptied himself into you. you gasped at the flood of heat, breathing like there wasn’t enough oxygen in the air and clutching onto him like he was the last person on earth while slumping against the surface of the wall in exhaustion. you both stood there for a moment before he finally pulled out of you, watching his cum dripping out of your hole onto your thighs and ruining the fabric of your clothing was an even hotter sight than the moments of passion shared just now. 

it was so hot, in fact, that he felt his cock hardening again at the sight of it, wanting to fill you with his seed until your belly was swollen with evidence of him and you were thoroughly knocked up. with one swift motion, he lifted you into the air to carry you into the bedroom, reminding you that the night was far from over and that he’ll allow you to be fucked in the comfort of a bed instead of continuing to lean against the wall like he could have once again because he’s just that much of a gentleman. 

[malereadermaniac]

Exploring ~ Rodrick Heffley x Male Reader

Getting it on with the local emo Top!Rodrick x Bottom!Reader word count: 610 Nsfw / MDNI ~ amab m!reader / FDNI

Imagine weekly makeouts with Rodrick

Him coming over to your house to "do homework" and instead spending the whole Saturday with you in his lap, his tongue playing with yours as his hands rest on your hips

The two of you aren't dating or anything! You're just... exploring your sexualitites - it's perfectly natural as 18/19 year olds!

Kissing slowly becoming not enough to satiate the carnal desires Rodrick feels for you, soft grinding starting to come adjacent to the many hour-long, weekly makeout sessions

The rocker just can't get enough if the sounds you make as he rubs his hard dick against yours through his jeans. And you fucking love the low grunts Rodrick makes in your mouth as he kisses you or in your ear, along with a sexy groan of your name

Eventually, the two of you decided to take your sexual affairs to a new level - your parents had left you the house for two days and Rodrick's dick had hardened almost immediately when he found out

Your poor bed could barely fit the two of you, but you made it work

Rodrick above you, his muscles on full display as he slowly fucked into you turned you on to the max - he promised to go slow and he did, but mainly because he didn't want to cum in 5 seconds!

Your moans are what pushed the rocker over the edge. Your sweet and sexy sounds, along with your tight, warm walls, made the man shoot his load instantly

And from the way Rodrick panted and moaned above you, to the way he held onto your waist his his sexy, masculine, nail-painted and ring-adorned hands, jesus christ you came right away!

Over time, the two of you became more experienced; sex would last longer than the 15 minutes it took your first time, and you would both go for multiple rounds

You found out that Rodrick loves to have you suck his dick, look down at you as you cry from how huge his cock is, his pubes stuffing your nose as he softly caresses your cheek

The rocker had also become a huge fan of eating you out, after you taught him exactly how you like it, the man can't get enough of you! And the man has tricks too! He fingers your prostate to high heaven while eating you out and makes you cum within seconds!

All that to say that Rodrick's shape had pretty much indented into not only your ass but your bed - your parents were convinced that you two were dating from how often the man slept at yours!

But that doesn't mean you two don't mess about at Rodrick's house as well!

His Christian parents just make it a little harder to do so, that's why you pretend to be a part of his band

His parents don't know that Rodrick and you do it in his van every Sunday (lol)

Loud rock music playing from a radio to drown out the pornographic sounds that might escape the violently rocking van

It's safe to say the two of you have become addicted to one another; from your scents to your bodies to your voices, you fucking love all of Rodrick and he fucking loves all of you

So it wasn't much of a shocker when Rodrick randomly asked you to be his boyfriend one day, dick balls deep inside of you

You short-circuited and blue-balled him as punishment for making such a special moment so gross!

But later that day, you two made up and out, the night finishing with your typical make-out sesh and as boyfriend and boyfriend!

[4unnyr0se]

❥ being megumi's kindergarten teacher

warnings: fem! reader, teacher x single dad trope, BREEDING, rough sex, spanking, toji is a whore, not proofread at all (i wrote this while i was at work), toji is a decent father in this, megumi and tsumiki mentioned

MDNI | 18+ content

word count -> 628

i'll be so fr i do not like this but,,,whatever

The first thing Toji Fushiguro noticed about you was your hips. You were bent over your desk, shuffling through some children's drawings, trying to find Megumi’s from the day before. Tojo tried with all his might not to smack your ass, but his kid was watching. Gotta make a good impression, right?

Toji waited until Megumi ran off to play with his playgroup to hit on you; he was a good dad in that sense. He waited until your back was turned, hunching over your form with a smirk on his face. The heat from his breath tickled the baby hairs on your neck, his hands hovering just above your belly. 

“I never knew Megumi had such a fine teacher,” he would purr in your ear, messy bangs hanging over his face. You’d blush and turn around, not expecting Toji to be that attractive. Tsumiki usually dropped Toji off, her class was just down the hall from Megumi’s. But damn, Mr. Fushiguro was fine as hell. You’d lecture him about how he was being entirely too inappropriate, fraternizing with his son’s teacher. But Toji remained smug as ever. Tsumiki never dropped Megumi off again after that day, it was just Toji. 

His favorite part of the weekday was dropping Megumi off, walking over to you, and admiring how your face exploded in a bright red hue the second Toji opened his scarred lips, He loved seeing your modest skirt wrapped so perfectly around your hips, around your waist. How the turtleneck sweater you wore hugged your breasts so perfectly that it had to be intentional. 

Every weekday, Toji would flirt with you. Whispering filth into your ear when the kids were distracted with their fingerpaintings. His large hand would grope the fat of your hips, squeezing them between his fingers while he inserted the most lewd ideas in your head. “I wonder how pretty you’d look bent over for me, hm?” he smirked, removing his hand from your hips as the first bell rang. “My place, Saturday, 10 PM. Don’t be late.”

And you were there right on time, wearing the sluttiest dress you had. Toji practically pounced on you, dragging you up the stairs of his townhouse and throwing you onto his messy bed. He instantly tore that dress off of you and that cute matching underwear set. 

You’d yelp in surprise as his fingers plunged into you from behind, scissoring you open with ease. He’d pull his fingers out of your dripping core, shoving them inside your mouth for you to suck. He wouldn’t even wear a condom before pushing himself into your tight cunt, why would he? Wouldn’t you look so cute with another one of his babies in your belly? Tits full of milk for him and his brat? 

Toji didn’t stop after his second orgasm, no sir. This motherfucker went seven rounds with you; seven fucking orgasms rippled through him as he filled you up once more from all different angles and areas of his townhouse. Bent over the kitchen counter, mating press on the living room floor, riding him on the couch while the TV  played. Toji didn’t care how overstimulated you were, you were his. And you were gonna belong to him even more as soon as he knocked you up. 

Of course, you went to work the following Monday, insisting on not sitting down because it’s ‘important for the students to see an adult not being lazy.’ When in reality, your ass stung so much from Toji’s spanks that it was painful to sit for long durations of time. Every fucking morning and afternoon that week, Toji flashed you his usual shit-eating grin because he knew you would come crawling back to him, begging to be fucked stupid once more.

[heavenbarnes]

Thinking of being Ghost's fiance and making invite the 141 over for dinner to finally meet them and he begrudgingly accepts because anything to make u happy and they're still trying to wrap their heads around the fact that he's engaged

mmm omg your mind 🫶🏼

finally getting older bf!simon to have the 141 around your dinner was the equivalent of pulling teeth.

come to think, pulling teeth would’ve been easier.

“well fuck me for wanting to meet the people the man i’m marrying spends 90% of his time with”

“sweet’art y’know i don’t like bringing work ‘ome”

then you’d gone and put your hands on your hips with just one (1) eyebrow raised-

and the lads were knocking at his fucking door.

“gidday- don’t fuckin’ start w’me”

“some bloody way to greet y’guests, big man”

as he corralled all their snide little remarks about “didnae know ye’ owned a nice shirt” everyone managed to find their best behaviour upon your appearance.

it might’ve had something to do with the stunned silence.

when he’d begrudgingly invited them, they’d all been in a little bit of shock- first of all, ghost had a fiancé? second of all, ghost is letting us into his home?

then it all round off with, third of all-

ghost’s fiancé was a fucking looker, that’s for sure.

sweet, nice, bloody easy on the eyes- how the hell had he managed that?

you were just happy to meet the closest things to friends that simon had.

price took lead by drawing you into a hug, thanking you for your hospitality. followed closely by a sweet talking gaz who was already making your cheeks warm with his manners.

naturally, johnny had to chime in with some stupid little-

“nae wonder L.t disnae want us knowing about ye’, i’d keep ye’ all t’maself too”

he’s too slow to avoid simon’s flat palm coming up the side of his head, but it doesn’t dissuade him much.

he’s peachy fucking keen to meet you.

simon eats his tea with a tense jaw, rolling his eyes every time someone makes you laugh a little too long, tells another ‘embarrassing’ story about him.

he also keeps his palm firmly on your knee, nervous twitch of a thumb running circles over your skin.

when you pop out to the kitchen to fix dessert, they’re on him like starved dogs.

“all this time and not so much as a bloody photo?”

“kinda’ photos i’m gettin’ aren’t f’you lots eyes”

johnny nearly falls out of his seat.

you can hear them whispering all the way from the kitchen, for a bunch of SAS guys- they’re not very subtle.

simon’s got one ear on the shit chatter coming from his team and the other on the kitchen, waiting for the slightest sign that he might be able to join you.

it comes- in the form of a gasp from you followed by “ow fuck”

simon’s out of his seat like a bullet.

“what’s wrong- what ‘ave y���done?”

you know the 141 are watching, doesn’t take a genius to see the way they’re all craning their necks around the kitchen doorframe.

“i’m fine, si- just a little burn from the pan”

“lemme’ see, gimme’ y’hand”

so the 141 see their ghost, unshakeable mountain of a man- a face they never see-

and they see his face, and they see genuine fear on it.

they see simon.

your simon.

“i’m telling you it’s fine, si”

“i’ll make that call, alright”

and they’re all looking at each other across the table, trying to decide whether to be impressed or even a little jealous- they’re leaning towards jealous.

so instead they settle on taking the absolute piss out of him.

not that he minds-

before you could even reach your chair he was pulling you into his lap- having you eat dessert perched on his thigh.

as you settle back into his chest, you could swear you feel him laugh.

that hand settles back on your knee again but there aren’t nervous circles anymore.

more like gentle squeezes.

your simon.

right at home.

[leeloooonfire]

first kiss

There are many rumours about Steve Harrington and Eddie Munson. Steve only gets his weed from the freak because he gives good discount and sloppy heads. (That rumour is on the jocks of Hawkins High. yes, Steve gets his weed from Eddie, no he doesn't get sloppy heads from Eddie though he thinks the metal head would probably be good at it.)

They've once raced against each other and Eddie won. Beamer against shabby, rusty Van. It's said that Eddie pushed Steve off the road and then left him in a ditch. (The truth is that Steve crashed the beamer one night in '85 after weeks of nightmares and the need to drive through Hawkins to make sure that no demodog would attack his kids. Eddie merely helped him and the beamer out of the ditch.)

They've been friends looooong before the Upside Down. (This is from the kids, specifically from Dustin. And it is anything but true.)

Steve and Eddie made out once in 1981. With their hands down their pants, tongue far up in each others mouths. (This is from a cheerleader who graduated in '82).

This is...well...true. To a point! No hands in pants, but yeah, Steve and Eddie onces kissed. To be specific, it was Steve's first kiss, for both of them really.

Winter '81 at Michael Carvers birthday party where Steve was invited as the youngest basketball player in the team and Eddie was there to sell weed.

Somehow, Steve got pulled into a round of 7 minutes in Heaven by said cheerleader (which had been a trick, a little prank on little Stevie because there had been no 7 minutes in heaven, just some giggling cheerleaders and a perplexed Eddie Munson selling weed out off Carvers pantry).

The moment Steve was shoved into the tiny, dark space with no one but the freak, he had 2 options: run and be the joke of the school or stay and become an enigma in his first year of Highschool.

So, Steve stayed.

'Pre-rolled or a baggy?' Eddie, sitting on a chair, had asked with a drawl which would have been intimidating if his voice hadn't broken right then.

'7 minutes in hell' Steve simply said, ignoring both the lunchbox on Eddie's knees and the funny crack of his voice.

the other boy leaned back, head tilted like a confused puppy, 'Isn't it 7 minutes in Heaven?'

Steve shrugged his shoulders, 'probably depends on who's with you, you know?'

And that made Eddie laugh, head bend, eyes squeezed shut, a nice, rumbling sort of sound escaping his lips.

'Good point', he'd said and closed the lunchbox before leaning closer, 'What'cha intend to do about it?'

Until this very moment, Steve didn't know, hadn't had a clue, but when the laughter of the cheerleaders from the other side of the door reached his ears, he shrugged again and said, 'probably kiss you until the 7 minutes are over and then buy a pre-rolled.'

'You don't mind that they might called you a fag?'

For a moment, Steve thought about it, but then shrugged again. He wasn't one, liked girls just fine and if anything, he thinks Lucy from geography definitely would like to hold his hands.

'Nah, I don't mind.'

And before the other boy could say anything, Steve marched closer and bend down, one hand on Eddie's knee, the other on his smooth cheek.

'But I'm not gonna kiss you if you don't want it,' he said right against Eddie's lips. Eddie, who looked startled and wide-eyed, lips slightly parted. Steve knew that he sounded far more confident than he actually felt, and he was just so very grateful that his hands weren't as sweaty with nervousness as the lower part of his back. He just hoped that he smelled nice.

'5 more minutes,' someone called out and Eddie jerked against Steve’s hands.

'OK,' he said quietly, sounding so small and Steve felt for him, so he said, honest and with a bit vulnerability, 'it's my first kiss.'

Before Eddie could say anything, however, Steve kissed him. Just a light pressure of lips against lips. He stopped, leaned back to look at Eddie only to find him with his eyes closed, so Steve leaned in again. One peck, two, a third, and then Eddie's hand closed around Steve's waist to move him closer, right between his parted legs. Another hand reached for Steve's head, slightly cold fingers curled into his hair and Eddie's thumb began to brush almost gently over Steve's ear. It felt electrifying. He hummed. This time, when their lips met, they opened and Steve carefully let his tongue run along Eddie's lower lip. He's met with a heavy exhale and something like a quiet whine. It's sounded like heaven, so he did it again only to feel Eddie's tongue against his. Wet, Steve thought at first, a bit slimey, but then Eddie grabbed his head harder and opened his mouth wider and with it, Eddie's tongue brushed against his, and it felt like nothing Steve's ever felt before. Warm and fuzzy and lovely, and Eddie tasted like mint gums and spit. He groaned. Steve reached for Eddie's hair, short and curly and so soft against his hand and somehow he's not standing anymore but sitting on Eddie's lap, their chests touching. When Steve's teeth accidently dug into Eddie's wonderfully plush bottom lip, he moaned into Steve's mouth. It was as if the sound echoed through Steve's bones. So he did it again. And again, nails digging into Eddie's neck to keep him close. The hand on Steve's waist trailed along his waistband and then under Steve's shirt to tickle his stomach and before thinking too much, he pressed into it.

Eddie tilted his head and brushed his tongue against Steve's and then against his teeth and lips and before he knew what was happening, Eddie's beautiful, unskilled mouth, left his lips and trailed along his jaw to his ear, gently biting into the flesh behind it. And Steve outright moaned loud enough for the sound to travel outside of the pantry.

'30 more seconds' came a snickering answer and the two boys jumped apart. Eddie's cheeks and neck were flushed bright red, his lips shiny with spit, his hair a mess and Steve knew he probably looked just the same. They both panted, Steve's heart running a mile a minute.

'Oh,' he said, still feeling Eddie's touch against his skin (and wanting more.)

He wanted more!

Both of them tried to put their clothes and hair in order, breathing heavily and just as Steve put his hand on the doorknob to leave the tiny room, Eddie said, 'You were my first kiss, too.'

5 years later, after battles and almost dying, Steve lies on Eddie's new (thankfully clean) mattress and says with a small smile, 'best first kiss ever,' only for Eddie to smirk and say, 'We could repeat it, you know?'

They've been best friends for the last few months, similar but so much different from how Steve and Robin are best friends, but when Steve looks at Eddie and his pink lips and the way his cheeks are hot and his eyes twinkle with something more, he knows that they could be so much more...

[xinganhao]

🎸 vernon dates rockstar!reader. (2)

vernon x rockstar!reader who's a foreigner in an international rock band (2) a.k.a the one where vernon tours in your city ➤ see also: series masterlist

‧₊˚✩彡 includes: international rockstar!reader, f!reader, long distance relationship, established relationship, pet names, fluff, best read in order + headcanons under the cut.

🗺️ vernon chwe's guide to new york .ᐟ

📍 Socrates Sculpture Park, 32-01 Vernon Blvd., Astoria

your first date that's not over discord or facetime takes place in new york. vernon's just a little too prideful to have you come all the way to sokor for him and a part of him wants to play it safe. there's a smaller chance of him being recognized abroad than if he were to have you in seoul, so he books the red-eye flight and crashes on your couch for the weekend. he's still a bit jet-lagged when you drag him out to your location of choice. new york has its fair share of parks. vernon is expecting the usual— nature, buskers, the likes— only to find that and so much more. you'd taken him to an artist's park. there's exhibit sculptures, and multimedia installations, and he's just absolutely blown away. you can see it from the look on his face, how taken aback he is by the sheer thoughtfulness of your pick. he doesn't really know the extent of it, not yet, until you clue him in. "do you know what street we're on?" you prompt him as the two of you halve a greasy slice of pepperoni pizza. he raises his eyebrows in response. "i chose this place because it's on vernon boulevard," you say, and oh. oh. (or: this is where vernon realizes he's going to be pretty down bad.)

📍 The Bowery Electric, 327 Bowery

it's far from the first time vernon has seen you perform. he's seen all most of your videos on the internet, has watched you at festivals and concerts. there's something different, though, about the way you take the stage at the staple east village hangout. you're in your element underneath the blue and pink neon lights. your sound is full, and your eyes are bright, and it steals the breath from his lungs. you do an entire set until you're sweating and your chest is heaving. he wouldn't be able to look away even if he wanted to. everything about you is so cool. your oversized flannel, your secondhand fender. he thinks there's no way he can adore you more until you announce that you want to do a quick cover of a 'friend's song. the amps crackle. the drums kick up. you start to croon running 'round the whole city for someone to look me in my eyes and tell me pretty lies, and vernon swears he can just drop dead then and there. you come up to him afterwards, one corner of your lip twitching in to a smirk. as if to say 'so? what did you think?' (or: this is where vernon first thinks he might actually be in love with you.)

📍 The Basilica of St. Patrick's Old Cathedral, 263 Mulberry St.

when you tell him that you're taking him to church for a date, vernon is admittedly a little unnerved. at this point, he's already fairly sure that he loves you. you haven't said it yet, so he tries to keep his own admission under lock and key. a church, though? "are we going to elope?" he jokes to you, trying (and failing) to not sound nervous. thankfully, you roll your eyes and laugh instead of taking offense. "you wish," you shoot back. that puts him at ease enough for him to be completely normal with you in the back of the cab. when you get to the cathedral, though, he immediately puts two and two together. "is this—?" he starts to ask, his mouth agape. there's a smug look on your face as you nod. it's the church in one of vernon's favorite films, the godfather. he's barely even walked past the doors of it before he blurts out, "god, i love you." he freezes. you freeze. and then— "you sure you're not the one who wants to elope, chwe?" you tease. vernon's ears are burning red with shame, but then he hears the quiet way you add, "i love you, too, by the way." (or: this is where vernon learns just how good it feels, to say and hear those three words.)

📍 Staten Island Ferry

throughout at least half of the ferry ride, vernon is convinced you're going to break up with him. he's been a pretty terrible boyfriend. comeback season had been brutal and the upcoming world tour meant that he would have even less time to make up for his shortcomings. he's tried, he's been trying, but it's been hard. and so as the two of you hang on the back of the ferry's lower deck with the manhattan skyline receding, he thinks: this is it. he's going to lose the best thing that has ever happened to him. you start the conversation with "i'm sorry," and vernon resist the urge to get to his knees. you surprise him when you go on to say, "i've been pretty shitty to you lately, huh?" you talk about your temper, your schedule, your occasional unresponsiveness. your voice wavers in the slightest when you mumble, "i understand if you want to—" no. "no," vernon says quickly, immediately. before he can think of it, his hand is already reaching out to hold yours. the surprise and hope that fills your face is almost enough to bowl him over. "i don't want that," he reassures you. "i'll never want that." he means it. he surprises himself with just how much he means it. (or: this is where vernon decides that he's in it for the long run.)

📍 Little Bay Bridge Pier, Queens

vernon's attempt at planning a date on your turf ends up to be an utter failure. you don't see it that way, at least. you're too nice to call him out for the way everything kind of went to shit, from his credit card declining at the restaurant to the museum he wanted to see being closed for renovations. by the time the day is coming to a close, he's desperate for at least one thing to go right. vernon is not a religious man, but he prays, then, to every higher being and deity known to man. please, give me this. he's convinced they all hate him, though, because while the both of you are sitting by the pier— about to try what he researched to be the best churros in queens— a rat steals the snack. vernon briefly considers throwing himself in to the water. he doesn't know if he should be annoyed or relieved that you're laughing it all off. he settles for something in between. "this is not a laughing matter," he huffs, even though there's the smallest smile on his face. it's the only thing he can do to hide his disappointment. then, a little more seriously, he says, "i wanted to do right by you." it's a grace that you know how to deal with him. there's a fondness in your eyes as you press your lips to the back of his knuckles, the action making his heart skip a beat. "hansol," you say sweetly. not vernon, not v. not babe or baby boy or anything else. you assure him, "you're always right for me," and he wants so badly to believe you. (or: this is where vernon changes his prayer; this time, he begs to never wrong you.)

[welty4ng]

TEAR MY WORLD APART!

call transcript; “adapting is never easy. jiaoqiu supposes he only tolerates it because you’re with him”

cw; spoilers for the current quest !!! f!reader, NSFW (mdni) !! hurt/comfort, fingering (soft sex tbh), not proofread, ugh jiaoqiu i love you so much, fic below the cut, 4.7k words

When Jiaoqiu first returns home, there’s a heavy weight in his chest.

It felt horribly uncomfortable, having Moze walk him all the way from the docks to his house. It felt even worse to have his companion fish his keys from his pockets.

In his mind’s eye, he knows where everything is. He knows where you keep your plants and how to avoid running into them; still, he tips one over, the crunch of dirt beneath his feet ringing sickeningly in his ears. He knows where every corner of his house is; yet, he hits his shoulder when he rounds a corner a little too soon.

Shamefully, it takes him longer than he’d like to find someplace to sit. He’d never thought it to be so humiliating, to realize he spent so many years seeing the layout to his own home without memorizing it.

He’s unsure for how long he sits, the silence deafening and the darkness blinding. There’s a gnawing, ever-growing pit in his stomach at the realization that this might very well be the rest of his life. A shiver runs down his spine. He doesn’t think he’ll enjoy having his senses heightened any more than they already were.

Jiaoqiu jolts when he hears the front door open, his ears perking up. The sound of your footsteps reaches his ears before you call out his name, your voice gentler than he’s ever heard it.

“Hey,” you say, hushed. Jiaoqiu shudders when your hand finds his knee, trying to soothe him. His hands ball into fists on his lap.

“Hey,” he echoes, slightly strained. The weight in his chest grows heavier when you thumb at his knee. It’s horrifying, how he can practically picture the pity on your face — he’d never thought he’d be at the receiving end of it.

“General Feixaio told me what happened,” you whisper. Jiaoqiu’s ears twitch when you cup his face and he immediately nestles into your palm. Your thumb is gentle against his skin, caressing his cheek with the utmost of care. “I’m so sorry, love.”

There’s a lump in his throat, a million words on the tip of his tongue — ‘I’m okay. I’ll be fine. It’s nothing serious. I just need to adapt.’

All that he musters is a quiet, shaky, “I want to see you.”

Jiaoqiu wonders if you look as broken as he sounds.

Being molded into a homebody is not unideal, but Jiaoqiu has far too much to do.

He wonders if that’s why Feixiao sent Moze to inform him of the leave of absence he’d been granted.

It should be welcome. It is, to an extent, when guilt doesn’t chip away at his conscience; when he doesn’t feel like he’s a burden—

The clatter of pots makes him jump, his tail puffing up before matting back down. He exhales, low and unsteady as you call out a sheepish, “Sorry.”

Jiaoqiu doesn’t think he can complain. Not when you’ve carved out time from your schedule to look after him — to help him adjust, or whatever bullshit Moze claimed Feixiao had said. So he’ll endure the ringing in his ears when something is just a little too loud, endure the tangy, bitter smell of something burning, and offer a patient smile, followed by a soft, “It’s okay.”

Because he knows you’re trying.

Cooking was never your thing. He’d never let it be, because, why would he ever let you dirty your hands when he could do it instead?

Part of himself feels guilty that you’ve been forced into a myriad of things that fell under his attention. It’s an ever-growing sense of uselessness that weighs on his chest, burrowing deeper with every ‘tap’ of the knife on the cutting board.

He presses his back against the wall, trying to suppress the familiar urge to take over the cooking for you. A knot forms in his throat when he hears you softly hiss, his eyes yearning to open and treat whatever wound you must’ve gotten.

When a soft rush of water reaches his ears, he inches off the wall just enough, taking a step toward the noise. It feels slightly disorienting, trying to guide himself simply through hearing. Still, he tries, awkwardly stumbling in your direction with an outstretched hand.

A shaky exhale leaves his lips when he touches your shoulder, his tail awkwardly flicking to the side when you jolt at the contact.

“Let me help,” he whispers, his fingers instinctively squeezing your shoulder. There’s something so horrid about being able to hear your breaths before you even speak. He loathes how clear he can hear your breath falter as you hesitate.

“Jiaoqiu, you—”

“Please.” He’s tired of feeling useless. He has enough to deal with, now that his eyesight is gone indefinitely. He wants to help — to be of use, even if it’s just a little.

The weight in his stomach sinks deeper when you gingerly clutch his wrist. For a moment, he expects you to drop his hand and lead him back to the spot on the wall he’s claimed as his own. Instead, you bring his hand up to your face, letting his knuckles brush against your skin.

“I don’t want you to get hurt,” you murmur, gentle as you press a kiss to the back of his hand. Jiaoqiu wonders what expression you’re making; wonders if it’s pity or sympathy.

He takes a step closer, his front bumping against yours before his free hand shoots out to hold onto the edge of the counter for balance. “Let me do something, at least,” he pleads, a vague hint of desperation lacing his words.

Your breaths fan his face, tickling his skin in a way that has his tail swaying.

“Please,” he whispers, trying to keep his voice from wavering.

There’s a brief moment of hesitance before you ask, “What do you want to do?”

Jiaoqiu’s heart hammers in his chest, a ticklish sort of hope flooding his being. His hand trembles against your face, softly squeezing your own when you grasp it.

“Anything,” he breathes out. “It doesn’t have to be cooking or cleaning or — just let me do anything.”

When your grip on his hand falters, he grasps it tighter, resting them on your cheek. The smell of something burnt fills his senses, but he can’t find it in himself to care; not when he can feel the faint warmth of your skin. “I want to be of use to you.”

His ears twitch when you sigh, his hand trembling lightly against your face. He can imagine the expression you’re making — pursed lips and furrowed brows, deep in thought. Still, he yearns to see it.

“You can help me stir the pot,” you offer, a hint of hesitance to your voice.

The weight in his chest lightens just a little, his fingers tightening around your own in a light squeeze. “Alright.”

It’s a shred of normalcy, he supposes; even if he’s just swirling a ladle. For a moment, it reminds him of a simpler time, back when he was younger and still learning to fend for himself. The soft ‘tap’ of the knife against the cutting board fills his ears, accompanied by your faint humming.

Will you let him keep helping you? Jiaoqiu can’t help but wonder. Would you let him stop being a burden? Do you even think of him as a burden? He hopes — prays — you don’t. He hopes you let him stay by your side, even if all he can do is rot.

It’s all he wants.

So, when you lead him to your dining table, trying to distract him from the scent of burnt meat, he’ll entertain you. He’ll keep his complaints to himself, even if the soup is far too salty; the noodles are a little too undercooked; and the cubed beef is a bit too charred.

You’re both trying, he reminds himself. Perhaps that’s why he can’t find it in himself to care much when he can hear the ‘snap’ of a noodle between his molars. There’s a slight tingle in his tongue by the time he’s done eating.

Still, Jiaoqiu doesn’t complain. Instead, he smiles, softening when your hand grasps his own beneath the table, squeezing twice in a comforting gesture.

“Thank you,” he whispers, hushed. When your breath hitches, a lump forms in his chest. Quickly, he adds, “For everything.”

For a moment, he supposes the only good thing about being blind is that he doesn’t have to see you cry. Though, he supposes it’s worse, hearing you hold back from it — hearing you struggle to remain composed.

When he opens his arms, you rush into him, leaving your chair behind and opting to perch in his lap — just like you’d always done. He holds you closer, instinctively; though, he rubs at your back with hesitance, almost trying to map out the length of your back.

He shudders when you wet the side of his neck. It feels more present, now that his world is shrouded in pitch black. Your cries sound louder, even when quiet and muffled by his skin.

“I’m sorry.” Jiaoqiu’s unsure if the apology is his or yours, the weight growing tenfold in his chest and ringing in his ears.

He can’t tell if the sobs are still yours, either.

Jiaoqiu learns to rise when you do. His routine morphs into your own, despite your insistence that he rest longer.

Staying in bed doesn’t feel the same without you, he’d argued. You were quick to relent after that.

His feet drag on the floor behind yours, his grip tight around the back of your nightshirt. There’s a dull ache in his head. He bumps into you when you stop, a quick apology tumbling from his lips before he can stop it.

When the sound of rushing water reaches his ears, they twitch, recognizing the familiarity. His hands perch on the edge of the counter, letting go of your clothes. It never takes long for him to hear the soft rustle of fabric falling onto the floor. It never takes long for him to fumble with his buttons, either, before you come to his aid.

“Will you help me wash my hair again?” he asks, quiet as you ease the fabric off his shoulders.

“If you want me to,” you reply, gentle as you help him out of his pants. When your fingers brush against his lower abdomen, he shivers, his tail puffing up as he sucks in a sharp inhale.

Jiaoqiu’s hand leaves the counter, moving to cup your cheek in a practiced (albeit clumsy) movement. Part of himself still feels like a fumbling fool when you move his hand just a little lower, correcting the placement. Still, you never mention it.

A voice in the back of his head tells him he should reject your offer for help — tells him he’s been more than enough of a burden by making you spend more time ensuring he’s clean than you do yourself. Then, a gentler, kinder voice reminds him you’d expressed your satisfaction at being able to aid him. Pride never stands a chance, when it comes to your delight; he realized this soon after meeting you.

So, he lets his finger brush against the apple of your cheek, his voice softening as he says, “I do.”

It’s become almost instinctive, following you. There’s always a certain gentleness with which you hold his hands, guiding him forward as you step into the shower. He hears the quiet scuff of a stool (your insistence, not his) being dragged across the tiles. Your hands remain gentle as you guide him to sit.

“Tell me if I scrub too hard, okay?” The statement is almost unnecessary, truly. You’ve never once treated him with something other than overwhelming delicateness — like he’s made of porcelain. Jiaoqiu considered himself tough, before losing his eyesight. He thinks that shell was stripped from him alongside his vision. He wonders if you know it, too — wonders if that’s why you touch him like he’s seconds away from breaking beneath your touch.

Still, all he says is, “Okay.” Then, after a moment, “Thank you.”

A lump forms in his throat at the beat of silence, his heart hammering in his chest. Aeons, he wants to see your expression — he needs it so desperately. It’s become hard to tell whether he says the right thing or not. Sometimes, he wonders if he oversteps. There are a million words at the tip of his tongue, all of them longing to spill out.

Something soft presses against his forehead, gentle and so, so soft. Two hands cup his jaw, holding him in place before drawing him in. His arms wrap around your middle almost instinctively, his face burrowing into your chest.

“I want to see you,” he whispers, his words muffled by your skin.

Your lips press against the top of his head, tender. Jiaoqiu melts when you cup the back of his head, holding him in place. He wonders if you realize how soothing your heartbeat is to him, currently. Your fingers weave through peachy strands, washing out the shampoo suds from his hair.

“I know,” you reply, your voice barely audible. “We’ll figure it out, love.”

A soft noise rumbles in the back of his throat, his ears twitching and tickling your skin. “Promise?”

“Promise,” you whisper, kissing the top of his head one last time.

For a moment, something akin to hope blossoms in his chest. It’s the first time he’s felt it, since losing his vision, Jiaoqiu notes.

Normal still feels out of place, though not as much anymore. It’s become a faint, lingering feeling in the back of his mind.

There’s still a vague sense of discomfort at being surrounded by darkness constantly. Jiaoqiu supposes it’s only through the habit of touching that he reminds himself he’s not alone.

He’s only grateful you indulge him, even if it must be a bother to have him hovering and pestering just to stick to you.

The streets of the Yaoqing — have they ever been this noisy? Jiaoqiu can’t tell. It’s uncomfortable, how loudly everything rings in his ears. He thinks he would rather trade the boisterous noise for the bright, vivid colors he used to complain about.

“We’ll head home soon,” you reassure, squeezing his hand as tight as you can. For a moment, he wonders if his distress is palpable (he concludes that, for you, it must be).

“You shouldn’t rush,” he replies, his words trailing off into a quick apology when someone bumps into his shoulder. His hand squeezes yours — the mere thought of separating from you makes his heartbeat spike in anxiety. Jiaoqiu softly clears his throat, quickly adding, “I’m fine, really.”

Neither of you seem to believe it, though you don’t call him out on the lie. Instead, you slow your pace even more to loop your arm with his.

“I was thinking,” you start, pulling him just a little closer to you as you walk, “We could get the ingredients for those noodles you like.”

Jiaoqiu hums, trying to ignore the way the corners of his lips curl up. “That would be nice,” he says, trying to keep his steps matched to yours.

“You could help me make them,” you offer, gently tugging him closer before someone brushes against his arm.

His steps falter for a moment. When he takes a second too long to reply, you rush to add, “Only if you want to.”

A lump forms in his throat, agreement sitting on the tip of his tongue. All he does is exhale. His heart hammers in his chest, thundering loud in his ears. You’re looking at him — he doesn’t need his vision to tell. A hushed, barely audible whisper leaves his lips when you call his name.

“Is it still too soon?” you ask, a hint of worry in your voice. Your hold on him tightens just a little. “I-I figured, maybe it had been long enough to try and ease you back into things you used to do. We can just pretend I didn’t say any—”

“I want to,” Jiaoqiu says, his voice wavering. He isn’t sure when his breath picked up, but he can feel his chest heaving. His tail lightly sways when you place your hand above his own, thumbing at his knuckles.

“Okay.” Your voice feels as soft as your touch. It tickles his nerves, sending a flutter through the pit of his stomach and down to his core.

He leans down, pressing his forehead to yours (a jolt of satisfaction in his chest at the lack of clumsiness). His ears twitch when the pad of your thumb lightly presses into his knuckle. 

“Okay,” he echoes, trying to match your tone. Jiaoqiu softens, gently rubbing his forehead against your own.

Warmth blooms in his chest when you whisper. The market’s ruckus feels like white noise as your words ring in his ears. Like instinct, his lips part before replying in earnest. “I love you, too.”

He wonders if it’s your face that’s burning up, or if it’s his.

It pains him a little, just how long it’s taken him to ask this of you.

Jiaoqiu feels you shift beneath him, adjusting your position before wrapping your legs around his waist again. He softly exhales, tracing the slope of your cheek with the utmost of care. His heart hammers away in his chest, his tongue darting out to wet his lips.

“Don’t move,” he whispers, breathless as he pokes at the fat of your cheek. When you sigh, he lets himself cup your face, the pad of his thumb lightly pressing into the hollow beneath your eye.

“How much longer are you going to do this for?” you ask, curiosity lacing your voice. Jiaoqiu softens, his tail swaying when you lean into his touch.

“Until I’m sure I’ve memorized everything.”

“I thought you already knew my face by heart?” you reply. The corners of his lips curl up into a smile when he hears yours. He gently pinches your cheek, drawing a soft chuckle from your lips.

“I do,” he says, loud enough so it’s meant for your ears only. “I just want to make sure I know it, deep in my soul.”

A soft hum leaves his lips when you squeeze his waist. His hand moves, his thumb tracing the shell of your ear.

“How smooth,” you mumble, brushing a few peachy strands away from his face.

“I want to make sure it’s all like I remember,” he murmurs, complying when you pull him up with your legs. Jiaoqiu’s ears twitch when his nose bumps against yours, a breathless chuckle slipping past his lips.

His hand trails down, his thumb brushing your lower lip. When you gently kiss the digit, his breath hitches. He cups your jaw, trying to find an angle. You simply follow his lead, letting him lead.

He thumbs at the corner of your lips, your breath fanning against his skin. His mouth presses against yours in the softest — faintest — of kisses. When you sigh, he lets himself mold against you. His tongue traces the seam of your lips, his tail swaying when you grant him access.

There’s a hint of desperation behind his actions. Jiaoqiu wonders if you can tell, by the way his tongue licks at your mouth — almost like he’s trying to memorize the way you taste.

He barely gives you any reprieve, breaking the kiss to catch the slightest of breaths before he’s attached to your lips once more. When his name leaves your lips between kisses, heat pools in his stomach. It’s a feeling he’d thought dormant since he’d lost his sight.

Jiaoqiu doesn’t think he’d mind its resurgence — not after the way you part with a whined gasp, struggling to catch your breath. His lips press against the corner of your mouth, then lower, until he’s kissing a trail down to the spot beneath your jaw.

When you struggle to hold back a moan, heat shoots through his veins. Your hands find the back of his head, your fingers tangling in peachy strands. He complies when you help him up, cupping his face before capturing his lips with your own.

For a moment, Jiaoqiu wonders if you taste sweeter than he remembers.

“Guide me.”

“Hm?”

A soft, huffed chuckle escapes Jiaoqiu’s lips. His hand moves to cup your cheek, his thumb applying a delicate pressure beneath your eye. He feels you shift on the bed, your legs tangling with his own.

“Guide me,” he repeats, his ears twitching when you yawn. A gentle noise rumbles in his chest, his body pressing closer to yours and his hand moving lower to let his thumb press against the corner of your mouth. Then, he leans down, his lips replacing the digit.

Heat pools in his stomach at the sigh you let out. His tail lightly sways, the ends puffing out when he nips at your lower lip. “You’ve been patient for long enough,” he murmurs, gently ghosting a kiss over your lips.

“Jiaoqiu—”

“No excuses,” he says, “Please.”

After a light kiss, he adds, “Let me do this for you.”

For a moment, he wonders if it’s your heartbeat he hears, instead of his own. He lets his hand leave your face to rest on the underside of your breast, relishing how your breaths stutter.

“You’ve done more than enough for me,” Jiaoqiu reasons, his voice tender as he moves his face closer to the crook of your neck. “I ought to express my gratitude,” he whispers, noting how you shudder as his breath tickles your skin. He presses his lips against the underside of your jaw — right at the spot he knows makes your breath hitch and your thighs clench. “Shouldn’t I?”

“I didn’t do anything with the intention of getting something in return,” you say. He catches on to the quiver to your tone when his ears twitch. His teeth graze your jaw, soft and experimental as he thumbs at the lower part of your breast.

“Isn’t that reason enough to accept my gratitude with open arms, then?”

You shudder, your hand moving to perch on his shoulder when he trails kisses down to your collarbone. “We both know what your gratitude entails, Jiaoqiu.”

He softly clicks his tongue, letting his canines graze against your skin. The hand on your chest inches upward, moving until his thumb reaches your pert nipple. “Even more reason for you to accept, hm?”

His touch softens when you sigh.

“Isn’t it a little too soon—?”

“I think I should be the one to decide that,” Jiaoqiu mumbles. He presses a soft kiss to your collarbone. 

There’s a slight hesitance to your actions — how you seem to mull over his words. His tail sways, lightly rubbing against the bedsheets as your fingers run through his locks.

“Still, I—” your breath catches, your words interrupted by a wanton whine when delicately rolls your nipple between his fingers. 

Heat shoots through his nerves, fueling the fire in his stomach as he pictures your expression — your face all scrunched up, but your lips parted as you pant. Jiaoqiu slows the barrage of kisses on your skin, softy exhaling.

He wants to see it, so, so desperately.

He wants to feel and touch and see. His ears twitch when you sigh his name, breathless. A soft growl rumbles in his chest in response before he presses an open-mouthed kiss on your collarbone.

“Let me take care of you,” he quietly pleads. “You shouldn’t have to suppress your own needs for my own.”

“I’m not—”

Jiaoqiu nips at your collarbone to cut off your words, his tongue gently soothing the spot. “Don’t lie to me,” he murmurs, his words slightly muffled by your skin. “Not when I hear clearer than I ever could.”

Your grip on his hair falters, your breath hitching. He wonders what expression you wear — are you flustered or taken aback? Or is it something entirely different? 

“Just because I’m blind doesn’t mean I can’t touch you like I used to,” he breathes out, gently rolling your nipple between his fingers. You tug on his hair, your breaths uneven. His lips trail kisses along the expanse of your collarbone. “You just need to guide me.”

His fingers leave your nipple, drawing a soft whine from your lips as he trails them down to your hip.

“It’s about time you replace your fingers with my own, after all,” he rasps, kissing a path back up to your jaw, “Isn’t it?”

His ears twitch when a strained whimper slips past your lips. He nips at your skin before pressing a feather-light kiss on the spot. Heat floods the pit of his stomach when you nod against his head, your hand resting atop the one on your hip.

“You’ve been more than patient, love,” Jiaoqiu whispers, his tail twitching against the sheets as you help his hand down between your thighs. He shudders an exhale, his fingers inquisitive as they search for your clit. His breaths become heavy, fanning against your jaw in a way so ticklish that your thighs instinctively press together.

A choked whine leaves your lips, your fingers curling in his hair. “‘s n-nothing,” you murmur, your voice trembling.

He gently clicks his tongue, his thumb pressing against you once he finds your bud. “It’s not ‘nothing,’” he replies, rubbing his nose along your jaw as he begins to circle your clit. “It’s never easy to care for a patient.”

You mewl, lightly jolting when his index finger prods around in search of your entrance. “W-wait,” you stammer, your hand moving to aid his own. His tail thumps faintly against the bed when his fingertips ghost above your folds.

“Here we go,” he whispers, unable to keep the elation from his voice. For a moment, he wonders if you’ve realized the selfish intentions behind his idea to thank you.

Though, he’s sure that even if you have, you probably don’t mind. Jiaoqiu knows how tired you must be from fingering yourself in his stead. Your fingers were never as good as his at bringing you pleasure, after all.

The corners of his lips curl up into a small smirk, his finger pumping in and out of you with practiced ease. “That’s nice, isn’t it, love?” he asks, his voice a soft coo.

“M-mhm,” you shakily hum, slowly rocking your hips against his digit to match his pace.

“Your sweet cunt just needed my fingers, didn’t it?”

He can’t hold back the purr in the back of his throat when you nod, your fingers fisting his peachy strands when he pushes a second finger into your folds.

“N-needed them s-so bad—!” you cry, your voice cracking. Your free hand grasps at his forearm, your breath quick and uneven pants. “‘s never the same when t-they’re mine…”

Jiaoqiu gently shushes you, peppering kisses against the underside of your jaw. “I know, love,” he coos, his voice full of sympathy. “I’ll take care of it for you.”

You moan, your breath hitching as your walls flutter around his fingers. When they curl, you cry, your hips desperately rocking against his hand. “J-Jiaoqiu—”

“Close already?” he asks, though he fails to hide the smile from his voice. You huff and he chuckles, a sense of satisfaction settling in his gut. How long has it been since he’s felt that — felt anything other than a weight in his chest?

Jiaoqiu can’t be bothered to wonder. Not when your cunt spasms around his fingers, your broken cries and moans rising in volume the more he curls his digits against the spongy spot in your folds.

“That’s it, love,” he breathes out, his voice a heavy rasp. “Let go for me.”

When you cry, he can only picture the expression on your face — can only imagine you look just like you’ve always done when you cum. His chest aches for just a moment, then lightens when you mewl his name.

“T-thank you,” you whisper, your words slightly slurred. Jiaoqiu softens when you kiss the top of his head. 

“I should be the one thanking you,” he replies, hushed. He nuzzles into you, slowly pulling his fingers out of your cunt. His chest rises and falls, weightless for the first time in weeks. “For everything.”

[ceilidho]

prompt: forced throuple au; Ghost decides that you and Johnny are his (part 2; ghoap x reader) masterlist

-

The hard part is admitting to himself that he doesn’t know how to function on leave without Ghost’s voice in his ear.

Johnny’s two days into his annual leave when that stray thought crosses his brain. Out with chums even, packed into the booth of an old pub in his hometown, the leather well-worn and a match on the telly that he half watches while one of his mates goes up to the bar to order another round for them. In between his third and fourth pint of lukewarm mild, he thinks something like, wonder what Simon’s up to.

The thought comes and then keeps coming. Keeps cropping up when he least expects. At the pub (wonder what Simon’s up to), in line at the grocery store (wonder how Ghost takes his steak), drowsily puttering around the kitchen while making breakfast (no way he wears the mask at home), listening to some guy in front of him hack up a lung at the dry cleaner (Lt’d do his fuckin’ head in if he was here), and even in the shower with his head tipped back, rinsing out the suds (wonder if he’s got a girl tucked away at home). 

Is it so unusual? Johnny can’t remember a time in his life when someone lived in his head night and day, but Ghost’s presence feels like an extension of his own these days. He’s cycled through girlfriends without a care in the world, without contemplating their existence for half as long, but they never cradled his life like a small bird in the palm of their hands and returned it safe and sound, did they?

Still, he feels it like a knot in his chest. Dreams about Ghost even; wakes up hot and hard, and scrubs his hand down the side of his face when he sits up in bed. Phantom memories of a body heavier than his weighing him down (just the duvet) and a thick hand curling around his dick (his own hand wrapped around his shaft, rubbing one out in his sleep). 

He shakes it off, but it follows him out into the real world. Looking at the door of a coffee shop and thinking absentmindedly, Ghost would have to duck under that. 

Johnny puts it out of his mind. As much as he’s able to, that is. Chalks it up to some kind of hero worship. He’s worked with superior officers before—plenty of times, hundreds of times—but there are few men of Ghost’s calibre, both in skillset and mystique. Not to mention the sheer size of the guy. And what is Johnny if not a moth to a flame?

Better not to ruminate. He casts the memory of seeing Ghost’s dick in the showers after their last mission (monstrous thing, uncut, pubes darker than the hair on his head, more than a mouthful—it’d give him lockjaw) out of his head. Doesn’t think about it. Laughs at a mate’s joke at the pub when he didn’t catch a word of it to mask the way he perked up at the sight of a wide-shoulder man until he turned around, giving Johnny a proper look at his face.

He’s not ready to think about it. Might never be able to really look at why he eats it up, why he struts around with his chin cocked just a bit higher than usual because he knows everyone else is watching him with equal parts envy and curiosity for being Ghost’s favourite. 

Then, one day, he meets a girl.

Johnny’s not winning an award any time soon for world’s best son, but he knows a thing or two. The first thing being chocolates and the second being flowers. His sisters handle the rest; they fuss about the party, get a gift certificate to the spa, send out the invites—all that fun stuff. He’s sent off for the bare essentials. Practically kicked out of the house by his oldest sister—nearly brains himself on the asphalt and tugs his windbreaker on when it’s thrown out the door after him a second later, grumbling about being the errand boy.

He picks up a box of chocolates from the corner shop (not fancy enough, his sisters will probably bitch, but that’s a problem for later) before heading down the road to the florist. There’s a bench out front stacked with tin flower vases, the only spot of colour on a dreary spring morning. He spends a couple minutes chatting with the cashier and flirting a bit halfheartedly (he thinks maybe it’ll be worth it if it gets him a discount, even five percent off) until the florist comes out from the back. 

“Jesus, who gave ye the right?” Johnny breathes, horse blinders on, vision narrowing on the object of desire coming out of the back in a linen apron and simple t-shirt underneath, scissors poking out of the front pocket. 

“The right?” she repeats back, blinking.

“To leave the house lookin’ so fuckin’ gorgeous. Glad I wasn’t driving when I passed you by—woulda been in a twenty car pile up.”

She’s not impressed in the slightest. It’s thrilling. By that point, the cashier is long forgotten. Probably not the best impression he’s ever made, but he’s made worse ones. It’s not every day he comes across an angel. Hard to be polite in front of a real life miracle. 

He wears her down over the week though, showing up each day for a new bouquet. His mam’s never liked him more, so at least there’s that. His sisters side-eye him whenever he ducks out of the house to head down the road to the florist’s, but even they know better than to bring it up and risk pissing off their mam. He interrogates her about flowers and her job, makes his presence unavoidable, a week long siege that ends with Johnny taking her out to dinner and then letting her take him to bed. 

He wakes up nestled in her cozy apartment above the flower shop, stretching out and making himself right at home. When she trades in her linen apron for a terry cloth robe and stands expectantly by the door, Johnny just grins. Shows all of his teeth. 

“Are ye just gonna use me and kick me out?” he pouts. Folds his hands behind his head and digs a foot into the sheets, trying to sink into the mattress. Little king in his castle. 

“You know, you don’t have to pussyfoot around with me. Weren’t you just trying to get laid?” she asks, brow arched. The disbelief thick in her voice makes it clear what she thinks of him. 

“No’ just some playboy, hen,” he scoffs. “I have feelings too.”

Her other eyebrow lifts. He’s tickled pink.

He plays the part well, he supposes. Lounges in bed and eats grapes all morning while she stares at him from the kitchen like he might dissipate at any moment. He’s used to leaving a false impression, like a lake that someone builds their house next to until years go by and someone says I think this was once a meteor. 

When she comes back to bed around mid morning, Johnny wastes no time pulling her up onto the bed until she plants her cunt over his mouth and sinks down onto his waiting tongue. 

Candy sweet pussy, he thinks blissfully, then says it out loud because he can never keep his mouth shut. It must tickle because she yelps and nearly pulls away from his face altogether, but he wrenches her back down, fingers digging into her ass cheeks a bit too forcefully. He’ll pay for that later. 

In the aftermath, when she collapses beside him in bed and rests her head on his chest while he plays with her hair, he itches in his skin to message Ghost. It perplexes him. They never text, he and Ghost; they don’t call, they don’t write, they don’t email. For all intents and purposes, their relationship ends at the perimeter around base, dissolves to nothing. It’s not Ghost’s fault he trickles into Johnny’s dreams sometimes. 

A week goes by. Calm the mind. He thinks of Ghost and his fingers tremble and the phone stays silent and he lets the thought go. Steady. Breathe in and out. His caryatid girl slips in and out of his sheets, hesitant always like he might leave. Johnny doesn’t know if she wants him to, wants to feel vindicated in her assumption, but of all her wants, that ranks the lowest in his mind. 

He spirals deeper into it, infatuated. She’s sweet but snippy, candy sweet with a sour kick—everything he’s ever wanted in a girl. Ever unimpressed, watching him with a small, hidden smile, amused despite herself. 

Johnny wonders if this is the universe waving its hand in front of his face. Yoohoo, missing something?

He looks pointedly away. 

It’s new, but maybe he’s like every other military man in the world, unable to go with the flow, dissatisfied with seeing where things go. He needs instant gratification, everything now-now-now, the certainty of commitment—he spills blood with everyone he knows, so why would his girl be any different?

Returning back to base is harder this time around. The last day of his leave is an exercise in restraint, tempered only by her smile when he sees her off at the door to her apartment, reluctant to leave. 

“C’mon, promise me you’ll call, hen,” Johnny mumbles into her mouth, catching her answer with a languid swipe of his tongue. His arms press her tight to his chest, digging his hands into her back pockets and giving a good squeeze, relishing in the way she squeaks. “How’m I gonna survive without ye, huh? They’re gonna have to jumpstart my heart after it gives out from missing ye so bad.”

“So dramatic. You have my number,” she says when he finally pulls back enough to let her speak.

“No, please, baby, please—promise me—”

“Oh my god, alright, fine—I’ll call. Now get going already.”

The drive back to base leaves him feeling bedraggled, lost. When he gets in, it’s straight to the barracks, an hour long nap before reporting to Price, dragging his feet the whole way over. Moping, for lack of a better word, until he rounds a corner and nearly collides with someone that stops him with a single hand on his shoulder. 

When he looks up to eyes rimmed in black paint, the world lightens. His shoulders lift. 

“Wipe that smirk off your face, Johnny.”

It takes Johnny awhile to bring her up with Ghost. Something keeps holding him back, choking him when he tries to say it outloud. He blames it on uncertainty (had to be sure she was the one, Lt, ye ken?) but he feels the truth at the core of him. When he does finally muster up the nerve to pass his phone to Ghost where her photo is front and centre, no mistaking his intentions, he waits on tenterhooks for a reaction. 

Only breathes out when Ghost asks to meet her. He can do that. 

“Aye, Lt. Just for you.”

[wintertime-in-june]

Reverse Arranged Marriage

Colonel!König x Recruit!Reader

The Colonel.

Your Colonel.

König.

You looked at him, twisting a strand of hair around your finger, big eyes shining adorably up at him, hanging on his every word...

So you can imagine the shattering feeling you felt when he arrived back to the base after a short sabbatical back home in Austria with a woman at his side.

His fiancé.

König has no experience when it comes to women. No previous relationships, no dates, not even an attempt at obtaining one... and his parents to be quite frank were worried.

Their little boy... their not so little boy... turning 30 and not so much as an interaction with a women to their knowledge.

When he had returned to Austria for his birthday, they decided to surprise him. Waiting back home was a woman, Katharina, 'a good Austrian woman' his mother had described her as.

König, well, he didn't say anything. His parents took this as a good sign. They had everything already arranged, the two of them would stay in KorTac military housing, Katharina would work as a nurse at the local hospital and they would return to Austria for the wedding in June.

Katharina was nice enough, there was nothing explicitly wrong with her... but König felt nothing. He didn't even try to feel anything. He didn't kiss her, he didn't hug her, he didn't even speak to her.

Since their meeting they simply just walked together, around his parent's house in Austria, through the airport and now through their house on base.

It didn't take long for König to move his things over, he wasn't a very materialistic person, he helped Katharina unload her boxes from the lorry, still, wordlessly.

That's when she heard it for the first time. You.

"Colonel, do you need help with that?"

And it just progressed from there, like a high pitched drone in her ears, annoying, inescapable.

"Colonel please help me with..."

"Colonel can I show you..."

"Colonel do you want to maybe..."

"Colonel this..."

"Colonel that..."

She was sick of it, and she was sick of you.

How come he would pay attention to you? You were just some dumb little recruit, she was his fiancé and he didn't even give her a word most days.

He didn't even take that stupid mask off in front of her, but he lifted it up for you to kiss the grazes on your knees, the tiniest scratches on your arms, even a frickin' paper cut. He couldn't have his little recruit get hurt in his training sessions and not kiss it better!

They slept in their bed, on opposite sides, untouching, rigid, mask on. But if you had a nightmare, he was there in an instant, tucking you up tight in your covers only to stay and hold you when you said...

"Please, Colonel, I'm scared..."

The final straw was when you had come round to their house one evening, uninvited, to give them some Topfenstrudel you'd baked... because you just so happened you made too much... yeah right.

She didn't buy it, not for a second, you just so happened to make too much of this dessert, an Austrian dessert, an Austrian dessert that just so happened to be the Colonel's favourite.

She was seething with she had one and it was... well, delicious.

As the Colonel showered you with praises, saying what a good young lady you were, how you'd make a man very happy one day, how you know the way to people's hearts. She glared daggers into your very soul, a glare that you answered with a sweet, innocent smile.

I mean who comes round, uninvited, in their little silky pyjamas, acting all innocent and cute, she could see right through you... but the Colonel couldn't.

"It was lovely chatting with you two, see you at training tomorrow Colonel!"

And with that the door shut and you walked with a skip in your step back to the recruit's barracks.

If you hadn't been so all consumed in your own little world you just might have heard the arguing that ensured as soon as you had left...

That next morning the Colonel came in with a smile under his mask, not that you'd have known, he placed a firm hand on your shoulder, looking down. After a pause, he eventually spoke.

"Katharina had to go back to Austria."

"Oh, how come?" you say feigning worry, as though your heart didn't skip a beat.

"It seems we were not a good fit for each other."

You hold back a smile, instead putting on a look of concern. "Aw that's such a shame! I hope she finds who she's looking for."

He chuckles at your sweetness, you were always thinking of other people in his eyes.

"I'm sure she will." He said with a little sigh.

"You know, I was thinking, I still have the military housing until the end of the season, how about you come over and show me how to make that Topfenstrudel, ja?"

You smile up at him, nodding profusely.

"For sure! It'll be cool me teaching you for once." You giggle.

The Colonel may not have a fiancé but he was more than fine with that...

Besides, perhaps his parents wouldn't need to cancel the wedding plans set for June...

[princessbrunette]

puppy!reader trying to break up with rafe or just distancing herself because she overheard someone saying they couldn’t understand how rafe could be with a pogue and it hurts her feelings and has her overthinking :( (obviously rafe later on gets her to tell him who said that and he deals with it)

꒰ ౨ৎ .ᐟ .ᐣ ᡣ𐭩

he was used to you being all over him. if you weren’t constantly yapping in his ear, you were using him like a climbing frame, subtly rubbing your needy cunt on his leg or trying to stick a body part of his in your mouth. so, the difference in your behaviour all of a sudden was palpable.

you’d been at the country club. not particularly because you liked it there, you knew despite recently joining the kook life people still saw you as less than — but you had to say, the icecream they served was top notch, and you wouldn’t keep yourself away despite being told off plenty of times by rafe for overdoing it on the sugar and then getting hyperactive.

you step away from the counter with your cone, smiling to yourself at the small victory when your ears picks up on a conversation round the corner. you stop in your tracks, realising it’s about you.

“i mean she’s definitely hot, i’ll give him that. in like, a weird way. she’s got the whole ‘fuck me daddy’ thing going on, you know. she’s helpless. rafes gotta be fuckin’ her.” a kook you didn’t even recognise comments, sipping at his beer.

“dont be weird, bro.” another turns his nose up.

“its true! i dont care man, i know rafe — he fuckin’ hates pogues, he wouldn’t be caught dead with one, ‘specially not one as obvious as her. the girls a mess, and mommy and daddy suddenly coming into money ain’t gonna change that about her.”

your heart sinks as you continue to listen to the berating. in the north carolina heat, icecream didn’t stay structurally sound for long — and you’re only dragged out of your eavesdropping session when the dome of strawberry icecream slides straight off its podium, splatting on the floor besides your sandals, leaving you with just the cone in your hand. you stare down at it, barely registering the loss.

you’d overthought it— something rather uncommon of you. when a few hours had passed, and rafe hadn’t had you hurtling through his front door with a ladybug on your finger or something of the sorts, he actually wondered where you might be— so he showed up at your door.

you wasn’t expecting him. he never chased you, always letting you come to him first — but something felt off, and his curiosity got the better of him.

“w—what is this, you not comin’ over to bother me today?” he shakes his head and your brows crease, staring at the eldest cameron in your doorway.

“no…” you reply quietly, even going the extra length to avoid his eyes. you weren’t trying to be obvious about it, but you couldn’t help that you were upset. he stares at you for a moment, unnerved by your unusual mood.

“…well can i come in or what?”

you allow him, purely because despite your mood you didn’t like to be impolite.

“whats up with you? i already told you to stop watchin’ those animal planet documentaries, kid. they upset you, alright i—”

“i wasn’t.” you snap, and he looks over — your tone grabbing his attention from wandering around your living room, seeing you standing in the corner clutching yourself like you didn’t know what to do. you were so used to being all over him that standing by yourself felt odd.

he scratches his cheek awkwardly, eyes flickering over you. “shit, you mad at me or somethin’?”

slowly, you sit down on the couch, tucking your feet beneath you.

“i’m just trying to give you space.”

he huffs a laugh out from his chest, thinking you’re joking — but his smile fades a little when he sees that you’re not. “yeah? you were all over me yesterday, now what — you shy?”

“i’m a pogue.” you raise your voice over his just a tad, bringing your knees to your chest. the statement catches him off guard, and he sways awkwardly on the spot, watching you.

“yeah no shit. so what.” he drawls, and his agreement stings.

“you hate pogues. so… you hate me.” you draw the conclusion and he fights an eyeroll, walking over to where you’re sat briskly.

“listen if i hated you you’d fuckin’ know about it, alright? i don’t hate you. you’re a pain in my ass, but… but nah.” he shakes his head, settling down on the seat next to you and pushing his hair back, not enjoying the idea of being vulnerable. it made him a little uncomfortable. “where… where is this coming from anyways? since when did you give a shit ‘bout all that?”

“since the people at the club were saying stuff.” you mutter, and now he’s really invested. his head snaps towards you, arm freezing in the air from pushing his hair out of his face. he could tolerate the weird moods, but he wouldn’t tolerate people disrespecting you or him.

“huh?”

your lip starts to tremble at the memory, voice growing higher as you speak. “there was a group of boys, and they were saying i was a mess and that im nothing and that you had to be fucking me because that’s the only thing i could offer you and i dropped my icecream and—”

“what?” he turns his whole body towards you as you let out a quiet sob, wide eyes darting between your wet one.

“i dropped my icecream!”

“no— kid, who was saying this shit?” his outrage is somewhat comforting and you sniffle, wiping your snotty nose on the back of your hand.

“i don’t know his name. he had a green shirt on.”

he leans back in his seat for a moment, wiping hands down his face — a little frustrated with your inability to identify the culprits. he pushes his palms into his eyes for a moment, realising it’s not your fault — and you were already upset. sighing out his nose, he looks at you once more, shuffling as close to you as he can.

“quit listenin’ to nobodies at the club, a’ight? you… you think people don’t say shit about me? running their mouth about my private business? they — they do, alright— but what i don’t do is cry about it n’let them think they won. i handle that shit, like i’m gonna handle this.”

you blink at him, hanging onto his every word. you really were adorable, and as much as he’ll never admit it, his heart softens at how sweet you were by nature. you didn’t deserve to be picked on by people that weren’t him.

“how do you know who they are?” you tilt your head, really emulating a puppy and he presses his lips together, shrugging a shoulder and shaking his head.

“uh, you’re gonna point ‘em out next time we go to the club. i’ll… i’ll handle it from there.”

you nod, hating that you’ve caused any kind of conflict at all, eyes drifting towards as you burrow yourself into thoughts of guilt. before you can think too much, rafe grips your jaw — meaning well, but still carrying that boyish roughness. “hey. you’re my girl, alright? i don’t let shit slide.”

he’d never called you his girl before, so instantly — you’re all sniffly smiles, launching at him to clamber onto his lap once more.

꒰ ౨ৎ .ᐟ .ᐣ ᡣ𐭩

[fujoshirat]

When the Shouto Todoroki saves you and your kindergarten students at the aquarium during a villain attack, you can't seem to get him out of your head. Bonus: you're quirkless and he's a pro hero, so you live in two different worlds. The glue? His cute nephew that's obsessed with rocks and that just so happens to be in your kindergarten class.

In short: You've become obsessed, you suppose. But that's all right, you're not the only one that's obsessed.

WARNING: I cooked so get ready for a long chapter >:)

1 - I'm Obsessed With You

'Two, four, six... sixteen!' Counting the little yellow hats waddling around the jellyfish exhibit, you make a mental headcount of all of your students. Sixteen little kindergarteners with bold personalities and big hearts all under your care. As their kindergarten teacher and chaperone for the monthly field trip, it was your duty to keep an eye out of all of them.

You were quirkless, but you've accepted it.

You knew that you would never become a hero, and that was okay. You would never be like All Might or the young student hero Deku during the war.

But that was okay.

People still respected you. The convenience store ladies would applaud you when you would tell them your job. 'A kindergarten teacher? Sounds fun!' You family loved you all the same and your friends still invited you to the izakaya bar near the station.

And being a kindergartener teacher was fun. Nurturing the children was your passion, and caring for them came like second nature.

Rounding up the children and having them form a line, you led them to the next exhibit. "Alright! Does anyone remember what exhibit we are going to next?" A chorus of "me! me! me!"s filled the area as you led the group to an outdoor area of the massive aquarium. Scanning over all sixteen children, you call out a student's name. "Himari-chan! Do you know?" The bubbly girl with twin braids eagerly nods her head. "Mhm! Mhm! The penguins!" "Very good!"

The sound of honking and chirping fills your ears, a definite sign of the marine animals. Stopping, you clear your throat and turn around to face the children.

"Alright kids, would you like to explore the exhibit?"

"Yes Y/N-sensei!"

"Okay, find your pair and stay in this room. I will call everyone once it is time for us to move on." You watch all sixteen of your students start finding their buddy and splitting up. They were responsible children that knew not to run off on their own and to go to you when they needed the toilet. As the last pair went off to join majority of the students at the emperor penguin's area, you walk towards the sound of chirping.

Walking closer to the Adelie penguins exhibit, you spot two yellow hats in the same area. Upon further inspection, you recognize them to be Kaoru and Taro, huddled close together as to not get separated.

"Kaoru-kun, Taro-kun, do you like the Adelie penguins?"

Taro, the taller one with rosy cheeks and brown hair nods enthusiastically. In contrast, the white-haired Kaoru just stares at you with his usual blank expression. However, the shorter one's eyes seem to sparkle despite his nonchalant look. 'Ah', you recall, 'he must be excited about the rocks because of his rock collection'.

₊‧°𐐪♡𐑂°‧₊

Kaoru Todoroki was a quiet boy. The five-year-old was respectful and completed all of his tasks at school. He never fought and always participated in the activities and games during recess. However, he preferred not to talk and would just observe everyone. On the occasion that he would talk to you, he would only talk about one thing: his rock collection -> "Kaoru-kun! How was your Christmas?" "Good, Y/N-sensei. My oji-san took me camping and got me rocks for my collection." "Oh wow! That sounds like a lot of fun!" -> It was so nice that the little boy had something he enjoyed despite his cold demeanor. He didn't seem to be abused either: you had met his father, Natsuo Todoroki, at the first day of school orientation. He was a pediatrician who was pretty nice and always greeted you whenever he picked Kaoru up. Just like the rest of the world, you knew who your student was related to. A last name that carried high respect and esteem, you could only wonder why his parent decided to enroll him into your kindergarten. However, you didn't mind it at all. ₊‧°𐐪♡𐑂°‧₊

"Do you boys know why the penguins collect the rocks?" They shake their head in sync. You crouch down and point at two Adelie penguins in the corner.

"Adelie penguin boys give a girl penguin a rock because he loves her. He wants to give her a special rock because he thinks that she is so special. When he gives her the rock, the girl penguin will thank him and put the rock in her nest, right there!" You direct their attention to several pebble-nests in the same area. "When she lays eggs, the boy and girl Adelie penguins will keep them warm so they can hatch safely! They are now all cozy like a little happy family. Do you understand?" You stifle a laugh to yourself when you notice the awestruck expressions on both students' faces. Turning around, you look at the other students wandering around the room, doing a head count to make sure that everyone is there. 'Two, four, six, eight...'

But before you can reach sixteen, the sound of glass shattering interrupts you. Right where Kaoru and Taro were, a villainous man breaks the glass barrier between people and the Adelie penguins. Honking and chirping sounds ring through your ears, your heart thumping frantically in your chest. 'A villain!? Poacher!? On field trip day!? But there aren't any heroes around!' Some of the aquarium staff on duty rush to the masked man,

but more glass shatters and they're knocked onto the floor, unconscious.

Pushing Kaoru and Taro and behind you, you instinctively cross your arms into the shape of an 'x' and shield your face from the villain. You hiss at sharp glass shards bouncing off your skin, small cuts forming.

"Stop! Please!"

Three more masked people enter the room. The man takes no mind to your pleas and instead barks orders to what you think are his subordinates in another language. The three men each begin restraining you, an elderly woman, and a couple with rope. You can hear the other kids crying in the back, all huddled together.

This wasn't good.

Trying to fight back, you jab your elbow into one of your assailants and your foot at another. However, they were much stronger than you and quickly pinned you down.

And then there was ice.

A massive sheet of ice appears and freezes over the main villain. You catch a glimpse of red and white hair, your eyes widening at the sight. Only one man could have that distinct color.

It seems like Shouto Todoroki, number 3 hero in all of Japan, is saving you right now. Ensuring that the masked man is secured, he makes quick work of his minions. A kick here, some ice there, a sprinkle of fire. It was all a blur. The next thing you knew, his nimble fingers easily removed your binds and scanned your body.

"Miss, are you alright?"

And just like that, you were hooked. God, his voice, his physique, his care, you just melted at his feet. He wasn't Japan's hottest hero for nothing, and he sure was living up to that. It takes you a while to snap out of your daze (embarrassing), but thankfully he had time to wait. His team was helping the elderly woman and couple, already checking if they had sustained any injuries. Turning your eyes back to his majestic face, you notice his eyebrows furrow slightly. His larger hand gently grabs yours and you wince. Confirming his suspicions, he spots your arms littered in cuts and your left wrist slightly bruised. "You're injured. Are you able to stand up?" You can stand up just fine and offer a polite smile.

"Yes, thank you so much Pro Hero Shouto! I appreciate the concern but I need to check my students, so-" "Red Riot is already checking up on them. I can promise you, ma'am, that they are in good hands." That professional tone was going to kill you, and apparently it did kill your voice, so you swallowed and wordlessly nodded. The pro hero sits you down on a bench and pulls out a bandage roll from his suit.

"I apologize for the poor substitute of a brace. The ambulance is on its way." You watch him kneel down and pray that he doesn't notice the (furious) redness painted on your cheeks. Shouto respectfully takes your arm and bandages it, careful not to apply to much pressure. You admire his hands, large, rough, and calloused, no doubt from his quirk and hero work. It was admirable (and certainly handsome). As he finishes up, he gets ready to say something when sixteen little yellow hats crowd you and him.

Ritsu, the youngest and smallest out of all of your students, is the one to cry first.

As she bawls her eyes out, you reach out to her. "Hey, Ritsu-chan, it's o-" You wince as a bolt of pain crawls up your right arm momentarily, and that causes her to cry harder. Just like that, most of the kindergarteners begin crying. Red Riot, another famous and good pro hero, walks up with a sheepish expression. "Sorry Miss! I promise that I only turned around for one second, but they all ran to you!" He turns to Shouto after. "Shouto, the ambulance is here and the medics are running in." He nods and turns back to you, giving you a soft nod. Clearing your throat, you address your students.

"Is everyone alright? Is anyone hurt?"

"You, Y/N-sensei!" You smile warmly, heart touched by theirs.

"Don't worry about me. I'm okay. You all are so brave for not panicking when the villain came and instead stayed together. Can we say thank you to pro heroes Red Riot and Shouto?"

"Thank you, Red Riot and Shouto!"

The red-head hero grins in response, and you watch Shouto's unreadable expression shifted into a soft smile.

"It's no problem at all. Now, can I ask that you all stay with Red Riot while I help your sensei?" All in awe at the popular heroes, they nod and eagerly bombard Red Riot with questions. You chuckle to yourself but notice Shouto's gaze focused on your injuries. As he walks you to the medics, you chirp up.

"It really doesn't hurt that bad, I promise." He shakes his head, "Excuse me." Before you can respond, he abruptly picks you up and sits you on the edge of the open ambulance. '!?!' Your cheeks flare up again.

His gaze never leaving yours, two female medics quickly check up on you and properly bandage you up. One of them gently applies ice to your wrist and smiles at you. "Name, please?" "L/N, Y/N." "Alright, thank you L/N-san for being patient! Your wrist is minorly sprained, so we're using ice to help with the swelling. Please ice it when you get home and be careful not to put pressure or overwork it. Your forearms are minorly cut but should heal per usual. Do you have any quirks or conditions such as pregnancy that we need to be aware of?" "Ah, no." You see the handsome man observing you, his eyes widening in slight shock as he listens to what you tell the medic. He remains silent as the other one chimes in. "Alright! L/N-san, you are good to go!" "Thank you very much!" Shouto helps you down to ensure that you don't use your wrists again and bows to the ladies. They wave at the two of you in a friendly manner and start closing up the ambulance.

As Shouto walks you back, you can't help but admire him. He's tall. Unfairly tall. He towers over your body, no doubt almost or at six feet. His skin is fair and porcelain, and his muscular biceps are noticeable (definitely something to drool on about) His scar most definitely complements his facial features. You also notice that his cheeks are slightly plushy, round and definitely soft if one were to touch it. It was... kind of cute.

He ushers you back into the entrance of the aquarium where his team, all civilians, and all staff were gathered. You spot your students and instinctively want to run to them, but with a warm hand hovering behind the small of your back, you stay put next to the pro hero. You expect all of your students to run to Shouto, to bother him with questions,

But Kaoru runs to you and him.

"Oji-san!" The little boy hugs Shouto's leg, his ivory hair only reaching the man's waist. You melted at the sight, knowing that it was rare to get social interaction or even touch from Kaoru. 'Cute!'

Wait...

SHOUTO TODOROKI WAS THE UNCLE THAT HE ALWAYS TALK ABOUT?!?

"My oji-san got me another box for my rock collection for my birthday."

"My oji-san got me a fossil from America."

"My oji-san snores a little in his sleep."

"My oji-san took me camping and got me rocks for my collection."

You obviously knew that your student was related to Japan's Hottest Hero somehow, but you didn't realize that he was his direct nephew! What's more, you didn't realize how close the two really were, and it was so sweet and endearing to see Kaoru so out of his shell. Right now, the five-year-old was blabbing to his uncle, telling him all about the Adelie penguins today and asking if you were alright and if he was going to come home for dinner.

And Shouto? He looked so focused on the little boy, so amused, and so soft. As he talks with his nephew, you notice that some parents have already arrived, looking for you. Walking away from your savior and student, you politely greet the parents and lead them to the children, all being entertained by Shouto's team. The mothers all fawn and worry over your injuries. "You're hurt, L/N-sensei?" "Oh no!" "Thank goodness you're safe!" After about 30 minutes, the fifteen other children are all with their families and gone from the aquarium. In the horizon, the sun has already begun to set, its golden hue mixed with purple and orange.

You're a little surprised to still see Shouto and Kaoru. He already talked to the police and dismissed his coworkers, so what was he still doing here? Walking up to the pair, you look down at Kaoru. "Kaoru-kun, were you surprised that your oji-san came today?" "Mhm!" "Awesome! I'm glad that you were! I was definitely surprised." Your heart beats rapidly as you shoot a smile at his uncle. To your surprise, he smiles back (be still, my poor heart!). Standing back up, you talk to Shouto.

"I can't thank you enough, Shouto-san. You really came at the perfect time."

"It is no problem at all, L/N-san. I apologize for not arriving sooner."

"Aw! Don't worry about it! All that matters is that my kids are safe." You notice him look at you a little curiously when you refer to your students as 'my kids.' Laughing slightly to yourself, you clarify.

"My students are my livelihood and teaching is my passion. I would be absolutely heartbroken if one of them got injured, not as a teacher but as myself." You playfully wink at the pro hero's nephew, his cheeks turning pink slightly because he knows what you are going to say. "Kaoru-kun is a pleasure to have and I am thankful that he is in my class." Shouto nods and ruffles his nephew's ivory hair. Kaoru whines in response. "Oji-san!" When the tall man laughs at the five-year-old, you choke on your breath. "I am glad that Kaoru is behaving, and I'll pass your sentiments along to his father when I drop him off later." He glances at your wrist before continuing. "Do you need help going home, L/N-san? I can drop you off." You shake your head in response. "It's alright! The station is right there and I live one station away." His beautiful eyes observe your face, a hint of worry evident in his jaw-dropping face. Letting out a sigh, he nods.

"Alright, but please be safe and get help if you need."

"Mhm! Thank you."

You bow to him and glance at Kaoru. "Kaoru-kun, have a good weekend, okay?" "Okay, Y/N-sensei. Bye bye." Smiling, you walk to the subway station.

₊‧°𐐪♡𐑂°‧₊

Unlocking the door to your apartment with your good hand, you lock the door behind you and slump down at the entrance. Today's events have just begun sinking and marinating in your mind.

"Oh. My. God."

Glancing at your left wrist, you bite your lip. 'Gosh, I hope it heals before Monday so I can return to normal.' Standing up again, you trod over to the fridge and open it. Inside, you grab leftover fried rice from breakfast and put it in the microwave. As you wait for it, you instantly think of Japan's Hottest Hero, the man that saved you, and then your cheeks seem to catch on fire.

'Oh my God, I just met him and I'm already obsessed!!'

₊‧°𐐪♡𐑂°‧₊

A/N: Whew! What a mess! Thank you all for reading the first part of 'Obsessed' and I hope that you enjoyed it!! (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶) I love pro hero Shouto and his family so writing his little nephew Kaoru was THE CUTEST THING EVER!! Fun fact: His hyper fixation on collecting rocks reflects my own younger brother's dinosaur hyper fixation (like many other young boys).

I promise that Shouto's POV will also cook once I get that started and ready for you (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶) so I hope that you look forward to that! In the meantime, I want to say THANK YOU to everyone's support throughout my Tumblr journey so far! My recent work received a lot of support and love, and I am truly grateful for everyone 🥺🫶🏻I really think that I have been cooking this November (and the last few days of October), so hopefully you all feel the same!

[karlachismylife]

Spotted || The Queen of the Clan pt.1

I absolutely do think about werewolf/dog shapeshifter Johnny every day, because I am a weak little gorilla and want to cuddle a big doggo, but

What if Soap as a hyena shapeshifter. Cuz their manes look like mohawks and he can keep his precious fluffy hairstyle. He's trotting around with his spots and long black socks on those strong legs, round ears twitching when he hears someone - prey, perhaps? But prey doesn't sound so pretty and cute, doesn't laugh and chirp so sweetly. So he keeps his tail high and hurries to the sound source, to find reader there chatting with other people - all with photocameras and other familiar equipment. You're neither prey, nor threat: just a documentary crew here, probably mainly for the lions.

You spot him immediately, his wary stance catching everyone's attention.

"The tail up so high can mean different things, but it might be a sign of agression. Careful, everybody," one of the specialists warns you, and you nod - you're not stupid, that's clear, but the smile you have on your face is so blissfully ecstatic, almost as if every thought left your brain at the sight of a chonky, bulky hyena investigating your filming sight (to be fair, it's probably his everything else sight). But you're just happy to see your first big animal on this trip, and so close!

"Hi, beautiful," you coo softly, brely a whisper, as you pull your camera up and start taking pictures of him - it takes the hyena only a few moments before it suddenly changes his stance to a more imposing one, puffing out its chest, legs wide apart, mane fuffed up. "Aw, are you posing for me, pretty boy? That's right, you're gonna be a star. I can already picture everyone going crazy for these cute pics..."

You tear your eyes away from him to take a look at what you're getting, not sure if the exposition and other settings are right, but when you adjust them and look back up to try and take another picture, the hyena isn't there. You almost let out a disappointed sigh, when you realize that no one of the crew is moving and their eyes are all glued to you - and then something big, fluffy and warm bumps your hip.

"Oh god," you try not to get startled by the hyena so close. It's even bigger that it seemed from afar, probably will be as tall as you if it stands up on its hind legs. Actually, it might be a girl - those tend to be bigger among spotted hyenas, after all. A formiddable force of nature, a deadly predator - not to be fooled by the public perception.

And it's sniffing at you very loudly, fluttering its round ears and bumping your hip again, like a needy cat with its huge wet eyes, before you finally lower your camera - and it shoves its muzzle into the little screen immediately!

"What, you like these? Give me permission to make you famous?" you chuckle when the hyena lets out somewhat of an approving whine. It bumps its head against your palm, but, glancing at your crew, you decide to withhold from petting the wild animal, after all.

The hyena doesn't look pleased with it. It whines again, paws at you, and then huffs, clearly irritated. Leaving you alone and shaking its head to fluff up its mane again, it sniffs around, trotting around your temporary camp, and heads straight to your backpack - your food inside, sleeping bag rolled neatly and resting against its side. While you try to remember if you have anything there that could cause danger to the curious animal, the hyena sniffs around it, making sure it's definitely yours, and then...

"No, no-no-no, please, don't-" it's too late. Turning around with the smuggest smirk you ever saw on an animal's face, the hyena lines up and sprayes your stuff generously. The smell of boiling cheap soap and something else hits you almost immediately on that short distance. No amount of washing will save you. You stand there, absolutely speechless and bemused, as the hyena bursts out into loud cackling, almost rolling on the ground and the sight of you.

And then a response cuts through the air - one, two, three other voices, interrupting that little spotted shit's fit. It immediately stops giggling, casts you one last look with a grin and then bolts away, to its family pack.

What a start to your filming trip. You'll just have to hope that hyena doesn't bring all its friends to your camp to cause chaos...

Another important thing about spotted hyenas? Their packs are matriarchal :)

Part 1.5 | Part 2

Series masterlist | Main masterlist

[writeaboutit]

Donation Boot

How firefighter Abby and Reader met

Hello hello it’s been a bit so sorry but I had this idea for a series of sorts following firefighter Abby x Reader through life. I have ideas for a couple more stories but if you have any suggestions leave them in my inbox for sure 🤍

Word Count: 1.1k

Warnings: none just fluff

Part 2: Damn the Chief

Part 3: Silly Abby Candy's for Kids

You heard her key jingle in the lock from the kitchen. The metal on metal scratching noise was like music to your ears despite it being like nails on a chalkboard to others.

That noise meant your wife was finally home. All day you had been waiting for her to come home, missing her warm cuddles. She left for the station before you had even woken up.

Usually you stirred awake for the briefest of moments in those early hours when you heard the shower start, you made it a point to stay awake just long enough to say an I love you as you sent her off to do her work. You never knew when it might be your last so you didn’t chance it.

But last night the melatonin must have hit you extra hard because you didn’t even register Abby’s movements when she leaned down and pressed a warm kiss to your brow bone before clunking out of the room in her steel toed boots.

You regretted not waking up; no more melatonin for you.

The front door creaked open and you heard your dog’s collar jingle as she ran to greet your wife.

Abby must have been following the dogs lead to your presence in the kitchen because you heard her mutter, “Come on, where’s your momma?”

Your heart was instantly a mushy puddle on the tile floor following the comment. Just as you finished drying your hands the love of your life rounded the corner.

She was wearing her normal uniform. Not the big, bulky, fireproof suit but the fitted jeans and the navy blue t-shirt with the station’s logo over her breast.

You were such a sucker for a woman in uniform, it’s how she caught your attention in the first place. But what kept you around was that blinding smile she had plastered across her face that first day.

You and your friends decided to visit your local farmers market during second year of college. It was a fluke really, you weren’t even planning to go with them but after days of them whining that you could spare a couple of hours away from the text books and come have fun you agreed.

The local fire station had a booth set up collecting donations and the truck open for kids to climb in and take pictures.

One of your friends thought a fire fighter was hot and insisted on getting a picture with him by the truck (her very obvious way of flirting). You couldn’t blame her though because you had your eye on one of the younger trainees.

She was working the booth, tracking donation levels and you knew you would hate yourself for the rest of your life if you ignored your gut.

So, despite you being 19 and a broke college student you approached. They were collecting cash donations in one of the big fire suit boots.

You slipped the only cash you had on you into the dark depths of the boot, ten dollars, and were planning to make your way back to your friends, chickening out of talking to her, when all of the sudden you heard, “Hey, wait!”

You turned around and there she was. She had gotten up from her perch and made her way around the table. It was a bit jarring at first. She was tall, muscular, that tight ponytail made her look very sever, and here she was leaning over you with an expectant look.

“Yes?” you asked hesitantly.

“Don’t you want your coupons?” she asked suddenly realizing that she was close and backing up a step.

“Sorry?”

The confusion must have been written on your face because she immediately explained in a sort of rambily but very cute way, “When you donate you get a coupon to the local grocery store… and some other stores but honestly there all the old lady stores in the mall. The grocery ones the only one worth it.”

You just smiled softly at her over explanation. You expected her to be this over confident, maybe slightly douchy character from the way she approached before but really you could see her nerves peaking through now.

It only made you more attracted to her in all honesty.

“Oh right, yeah thanks.” you took the coupon sheet from her and after a moment of tense silence between the pair of you, you both went your separate ways.

It wasn’t until later that night when you went to cut out the grocery coupon and throw out the rest that you realized she had messily scribbled her name and number onto the think colorful price of paper.

You squealed, your roommate asked what was wrong and then you both quickly plotted on what you should text her.

It was simple really just a quick hey this is so n’ so, how are you?

Your phone only sat face down for a total of three minutes before you heard the chime of her reply and the rest is history.

Now seven years later your wife, the nervous fire fighter with the tight ponytail, was coming home to you. You would share a meal, a shower, a bed. It was the life you always wanted and all because you went to a farmers market on a random Sunday seven years ago.

That blinding smile that caught your attention all those years ago was plastered across her face now in the small kitchen of your small house.

Her setting her bag down on the island brings you out of your memory.

“Hey honey,” you greet, making your way to her.

“Hi baby, what were you thinking about just now?” she wraps her arms loosely around your waist.

“Hmm nothing much just your pretty smile,” she rolls her eyes, never one to take a compliment, “Speaking of which, that smile usually means you’re plotting something. What is it?”

She looks down at you and smiles, “You know me too well. I was plotting on what we are going to do over the next three days that I have off of work.”

That gets you excited. It’s not often that she gets time off of work. Sometimes you don’t even see her for days at a time when she has to sleep at the station. Three days off in a row is practically unheard of.

“Really?”

“Swear,” she kisses your forehead.

“Eek, so what were you planning?”

She chuckles and belts her arms just under your thighs, lifting you into the air, “Oh I think you know exactly what i have planned.”

Her voice turned seductive and husky. You squealed as you became level with her face. You both laughed into a soft kiss, one that was definitely going to lead to a forgotten dinner on the stove and a closed bedroom door.