#and makes sure EVERYONE is drinking when they should >:(

[madamechrissy]

Baby You're a Star- chap three preview

Pornstar Gojo WILL be out tomorrow!!! One more preview <3 Do NOT read if you haven't read part two!

Pairings- Pornstar! Satoru x shy f!reader

Warnings - NSFW- oral sex (m recieving) mentions of cum, Gojo's dick is broken bc of reader poor baby! Mentions of sex, filming porn, dom/sub undertones -taglist closed but everyone on it will get tagged in the update! rough draft and not edited so excuse any typos!

It's here

“Fuck, I’ve made a mess, need someone to clean me all up.” Satoru whispers, while you barely are able to hold up the camera any longer, the livestream is avid with questions, namely - who is filming Satoru Gojo? And offers from many viewers to lick every bit of him up.

Satoru should stare at the camera, but he’s looking up into your eyes instead, stroking his cum soaked length slowly, just pumping more cum out of his tip, so much it’s ridiculous, dripped down to his balls and inner thighs. You swallow nervously, tummy clenched with desire, knowing you needed to stay quiet for the stream of curious viewers.

Satoru murmurs cut then, and  you do just that, shutting off the feed, and setting down the phone with a shaky hand, clearing your throat. “They loved it I think.”

“C’mere.” He crooks two fingers, and you eagerly obey, walking up to him now, tempting him to no end with the way your eyes drink him in. “On your knees, sweetheart.”

You obey again, eagerly in fact, looking up at him under lowered lashes as his clean hand slips up the side of your pretty neck, then around to the nape of it, entangling in your locks. Your soft whine and shift of your hips are all he needs to know you’re enjoying it, your hands obediently on your thighs, as if waiting for his every order, so sexy he feels his cock twitch back to life.

“Do you want to clean me up?” He asks softly, but the command in his tone is there, you nod and he exhales, tugging you towards him then. “Then do a really good job, sweets. Lick every bit clean like a good girl, and I’ll reward you.”

“I’ll do a good job.” Your whisper wrecks him, as he guides your head down, and you suck him, still hard, into your hot, eager mouth. Your soft whine vibrates around him, his head falling back as your mouth moves.

He can’t help but think of earlier.

A date, you were gonna go on a date, and he hates the idea, no, he fucking detests the idea in fact, the rage alone making him fuck your throat deeper, harder, feeling you gag and choke on him instead of anyone else. He shouldn’t feel possessive over his friend, a friend who’s sucking his cum, who’s swallowing him up, all he can think is his, his, his.

But you weren’t his.

How could you ever be?

Satoru’s never felt anything better than your throat, except he’s a million percent sure your cunt is better, he knows it would suck him up so greedy. When tears fall from your pretty eyes, it’s hotter than any blow job he’s had on set, the eagerness and desperate need to please far surpasses experience, your glasses fogging up when you pull back to take a breath then.

Satoru looks at his slick, spit covered cock, to thin trails of saliva disintegrating between your lips as you pull back, swiping at your lower lip. “How did I do?”

“Perfect.” His whisper is genuine, the words feel too good, you know you should stop, that you already wish he was yours, but you’re too addicted to how those blue eyes make you feel like you’re the only girl there is.

Even if it’s an illusion, a trick of your brain, or a practiced look.

The feeling is too euphoric not to be corrupted by it.

“You did such a good job, look at it, not any cum left. You sucked it all down, so greedy huh?” His hand comes under your chin, squeezing your neck gently yet so possessive, he wants to say it - his - but he knows he can’t. But it’s too easy to teeter off the edge, when your breaths come faster, breasts pressed up in that dress, rising and falling with each one.

“Satoru… I can keep going.” Your soft voice nearly ends him, little hand stroking his cock again.

“I was thinking of something, but if you don’t want to, it's okay.” You blink a bit then, tilting your head, tendrils falling against your bare shoulders.

“What is it?”

“A scene with me, but not showing your face at all,” your gasp and pull back makes him sigh. “It’d be like me eating your pussy, we could have it zoomed so no one sees your face.”

The thought, along with Satoru's sweet cum down your throat makes your tummy clench, while he brings out more and more of you that you did not know existed. Your hands tense on his thighs now, taking a shaky breath, fingers along the downy hair on his thighs. “I don’t… Satoru you have a million options for costars-”

“I want yours. It’s the prettiest I’ve ever fucking seen.”

“Satoru…”

“It is. Wanna argue about my expertise here?” You just get more flustered and flushed, looking down nervously, but he tilts your chin with his big hand, angling your gaze upward. “I’ll split all the pay, you get eaten out, and anonymously. I’d never tell anyone, I’d never risk your career or anything. But I do need to do one, and I hate the thought of it not…” Satoru trails off now, the words sinking in.

“You like eating me out that much?” Your whisper makes him chuckle then, nodding and swallowing nervously.

“That pussy is perfect. How about we film it, and you watch it, and if you don’t want to, I just keep it to jerk off to…” Shit, he said that.

He’s so desperate and pathetic.

I'm exciteddd, it's almost done bbs <3 It's gonna be angsty, smutty and MESSY

perm tagsss- @alt--er--love @nanasukii28 @cuntphoric @loafteaw @n1vi @indiewritesxoxo @miizuzu @beachaddict48 @honeybunnnnie @re-tired-succubus @gojosukuna2268 @waterfal-ling @1brii @wise-fangirl @moncher-ire @orikixx @uhnosav @baepsays @designerpvssy @orixxxana @airandyeah @nina-from-317 @evelynxxo @naammiii @soyokosuguru @espresso1patronum @tomboy-disaster @iam-souless @lanii-i @cristy-101 @doeeyestoji @cvixmei @mutsu422 @ivyvenus333 @g00seg1rl @suki91 @satoao-main @fairygardenprincesss @theonlyjuggernaut @huntyhuntycunty @lovelockdownff @ibreathesmut @s777athv @twinklywinkly @akiii143 @squeezyvalkyrie @cookielovesbook-akie @oinksa @grignardsreagent @shokosbunny

[floodflameschosen]

Noah and "This doesn’t mean anything." – "Then why are you holding me like that?"

Please?

CW: protected sex, p in v, friends to lovers, a little angst, a little fluff, and lots of feelings i guess?

🔞 nsfw below the cut, minors please dni.

You and Noah had always been close, right from the very start—laughing too much, leaning a little too close at parties, teasing touches that lingered longer than they should.

Everyone could tell there was something more than friendship between you, but you always denied it, brushing it off with timid smiles and awkward laughter.

That didn't mean it wasn't true, though—both of you knew it was, but neither dared to name or act on it. Maybe you were scared. Maybe it felt easier to pretend.

So when things finally exploded—after one too many late nights, after too many loaded stares—you made a deal.

“Just sex,” you said, already breathless against his lips, aching to be touched. “Doesn’t have to mean anything.”

“Yeah.” Noah agreed, smiling that crooked smile that always made your stomach flip, hands tightening around your waist. “Just friends having fun.”

It should’ve been that easy, that simple.

It wasn’t.

It never was with Noah.

And it kept happening, too—every time you went out with friends, every time you promised yourself you’d behave, you’d keep some distance—he was the one taking you home. Not because you asked him to, but because he wouldn’t let anyone else.

He’d watch you all night, drink in hand, that unreadable look on his face. Every guy that so much as looked your way for too long earned a dark, possessive scowl. Every time you laughed too loudly, leaned too close to someone else, he was right there, at your side—arm around your waist, pulling you into him like he just couldn’t help it.

You didn’t fight it, never stopped him.

And no matter how hard you tried to pretend you could keep it casual, pretend that it didn’t mean anything—your body always betrayed you the second he touched you. It was a dangerous game. Addictive.

So when the night ended, it was always Noah’s hand wrapped around yours, leading you out the door. Always his voice low in your ear, telling you to come with him. Always him pressing you into his bed, driving you crazy without a word, with just a simple look, a possessive touch.

Always him.

Only him.

Now you’re in his bed again—tangled up in messy sheets, gasping into each other’s mouths, your bodies slick and desperate. His hands bruise your hips, holding you down against the mattress like he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he doesn't, and he fucks you slow—too slow—dragging it out, savoring every second, drinking in every broken whimper he pulls from your lips.

Your forehead stays pressed to his, his nose brushing yours, breath hot and ragged, like he needs the connection. Like he needs you.

And you know you’re lying to yourself when you try to say this doesn’t have to be anything—know he is, too. Because there’s no way this is just sex.

Not with the way he moves inside you—deep, reverent, almost painful in his intensity, making sure you feel every inch of him with every delicious thrust. Not with the way his hands tremble when they caress your skin. Not with the way he shudders when you kiss his swollen lips, when you cling to him like you need him just as much.

You rake your nails down his back without thinking, wanting to claim, leaving angry red trails he hisses at—and he only fucks you deeper, like he’s chasing something neither of you can name. Your legs wrap tight around his waist, locking him in, greedy for more—for everything he’ll give you, for everything you’re terrified he won’t.

Noah groans low in his chest, burying his face against your neck, grinding into you so deep you see stars.

“Baby,” he pants, moans, voice wrecked and aching, “fuck, you’re gonna kill me.”

And you just hold him tighter, arms locked around his torso, fingers digging into the skin of his upper back like you can keep both of you from breaking apart if you never let go.

“Noah—” you gasp, overwhelmed, drowning in the way he feels—so hard, so thick, so fucking perfect it almost hurts.

You can barely breathe with how full you are, with how he keeps hitting that devastating spot inside you, rolling and grinding his hips like he’s trying to carve himself into your body permanently.

He curses low under his breath, the sound dark and desperate, and fucks into you harder—angling his thrusts until you’re crying out shamelessly, back arching off the bed, chasing every single wave of pleasure he gives you.

You don’t even realize how hard you’re clinging to him until he suddenly slows down to a stop—freezes there inside you, panting hard against your neck because right now, you’re holding him like he’s everything.

“This doesn’t mean anything,” you whisper before you can think better of it, voice shaking with the lie you don’t even believe yourself.

Noah pulls back just enough to see your face properly, the tip of his nose faintly brushing yours, his breath fanning hot over your lips. You see the flash of hurt in his eyes—feel the way his whole body goes rigid against yours, like you stabbed him right through the heart.

The way he looks at you—eyes wild, glassy, blown black with everything he’s feeling, searching yours like he’s begging you to take it back—almost breaks something inside you.

“Then why are you holding me like that?” He murmurs, voice rough and cracking like he’s barely holding himself together, and not from the pleasure alone anymore.

You open your mouth to answer, your chest aching, your heart pounding out of control, but nothing comes out. You want to deny it—to laugh it off, pretend his question is just a joke, a playful teasing because you're not holding him like anything.

All you manage to let out is a broken, needy whimper as you pull him back in with no hesitation before crushing your mouth to his, tasting your own desperation on his lips. Because that's what you are, both of you: desperate, aching for this, whatever this is, whatever it means.

Noah doesn’t say anything, doesn’t ask again. He doesn’t need to.

He just kisses you—hungry, demanding—before fisting a hand in your hair, anchoring you there while he thrusts into you harder, messier, losing the rhythm completely in favor of raw, frantic need.

He fucks you like he’s trying to fuse your bodies together, like he needs to erase the distance you just tried to create between you.

“Say it again,” he growls, voice wrecked and shaking, mouth dragging hot over your cheek, your jaw. “Tell me this is just sex. Fucking say it.”

But you can’t. You can barely breathe.

You’re so full of him—of this aching, overwhelming thing between you—that all you can do is cling tighter, shaking your head in broken, desperate denial. Because it’s not just sex.

It’s never been just sex, not with him.

Not when he touches you like you’re the only thing in the world that matters, not when he fucks you like it's the one thing he wants to do for the rest of his life.

Your nails scrape down his sides, leaving more red lines he won’t feel until later. Your legs shake around his waist as you moan, helpless against the way your climax is building—so fast, so inevitable—your body betraying you, loving him, needing him.

Noah curses against your skin, a broken, desperate sound, and drives into you even harder—grinding deep, pushing you over that sweet edge whether you want it or not.

You come apart around him with a choked cry, tears rolling down your temple, body shuddering violently with the intensity of it all, nails sinking into his shoulders like you can’t bear to let him go.

And Noah breaks right after you—buries himself as deep as he can, groaning loud and broken against your throat, his body locking tight to yours as he spills inside the condom, shuddering through every heartbeat of it.

Neither of you moves for a long, long moment.

You just stay there, clinging to each other, breathing each other in like it’s the only thing keeping you alive. Noah’s arms wrap around you instinctively, pulling you closer even though you’re already as close as you can get.

He leans in and presses his mouth against your temple, still breathing heavily but kissing you there with a tenderness that makes your chest ache.

A few more tears slip from the corners of your eyes—silent, overwhelmed—and Noah feels them. Without a word, he licks them away, slow and careful, like he’s trying to erase your sadness with his mouth, his touch.

His love.

His breath shudders against your skin as he kisses you again and again, temple to cheek to jaw, as if he still can’t get enough of you. All you can do is hold him back, hold him tighter, heart splitting wide open in your chest, because you know now, you both know—there's no room for denial anymore.

This thing between you, it’s not just sex.

It never was.

[jijournal]

WORSE THAN VERITASERUM! | H.P

Summary: Something went wrong while you and Harry were brewing Veritaserum—the potion you created now causes you to read each other’s minds.

Word Count: 900+

⊱ ─── ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ ─── ⊰

It was another day of potions class. This time, instead of dreading every lesson, you were quite excited to attend, because it wasn't gloomy, greasy-haired Snape teaching potions anymore.

The classroom was slowly starting to fill up as you sat down. Professor Slughorn soon followed, wearing a cheeky grin on his face.

"Today, we will be making Veritaserum! Would anyone tell me what—" before he could continue, Granger immediately raised her hand.

"Sir, Veritaserum is a potent truth serum. A few drops are enough to cause the drinker to reveal their innermost secrets, even those they may not be aware of. It's odorless, colorless, and tasteless, making it easily concealed in drinks.”

Slughorn beamed. “Spot on, Miss Granger! Ten points to Gryffindor.”

You tucked your quill behind your ear, glancing around as he gestured to the instructions now appearing in silver script across the chalkboard.

“Pair up, everyone! You’ll be brewing the base today—no accidental truth-telling just yet!” he chuckled.

You were just looking around when—

“Mind if I join you?”

You glanced up. Harry Potter stood beside your desk, that boyishly shy smile on his face, his messy hair sticking up in every direction like it always did.

“Oh—sure! Yeah, go ahead.” You shifted over to give him space, trying to ignore the flutter in your chest.

Harry took the seat beside you, setting his textbook and ingredients down. You tried to focus on measuring out the root of valerian, but your arm brushed his and suddenly your brain wasn’t working right.

Halfway through preparing the bicorn horn, both of you reached for it at the same time.

“Oh—sorry—”

“No, you go—”

The jar tipped.

A bit too much of the powder dumped in.

The potion hissed. A strange pop! sounded from the cauldron, and a faint puff of purplish smoke swirled directly into both your faces.

You blinked. Harry coughed.

And then—

“Blimey, she’s pretty up close. No, shut up, Potter—focus. You’ve only been obsessed with her since third year, no big deal.”

You froze as you slowly look at him.

Harry stiffened beside you.

“Wait. She heard that. SHE HEARD THAT—oh no. Oh no. She can hear me—can I hear her?!”

“Holy Merlin, he likes me? Wait, don’t think anything stupid. Don’t think about how nice his arms look when he rolls up his sleeves. DON’T THINK ABOUT—ugh, too late.”

Harry choked on air. “My arms?!”

You slapped your hands over your mouth. “That wasn’t out loud!”

“I know!” he groaned. “This is going to kill me. Or make me cocky. Honestly, maybe both.”

You scowled. “He’s smug. Why is smug so attractive on him?”

Harry grinned, victorious. “Stop that!”

“I can’t help it, I’ve been bottling up these emotions for years, Potter! YEARS.” you whisper yelled.

“Okay, okay, truce,” he said quickly, hands raised. “Let’s try not to think too hard.”

You both went silent.

For exactly two seconds.

“Her eyes are unreal. Like… how does anyone focus when she looks at you like that?”

“His smile is unfair. He should come with a warning label. Or a fan club. I’d be in it. Wait. That’s weird.”

You both groaned in unison.

“This is worse than Veritaserum,” you muttered.

“Way worse. At least Veritaserum doesn’t broadcast your every embarrassing thought.” Harry ranted.

You glanced up at him, cheeks burning.

“She'd be the president of that fan club.”

“Stop talking! You’re making this worse!” You scold.

“I’m not talking—you’re in my head, remember?”

You glared at him, cheeks burning.

He smirked. “She’s cute when she’s mad. Ugh. No. Don’t think that. She heard that.”

“I heard that!”

He looked mortified. “Yeah, I know. It’s a nightmare. A dream and a nightmare. A dreammare?”

You buried your face in your hands.

“Oh my God. I can’t believe I used to fantasize about this. Actual real-life Harry Potter noticing me. And now here we are—brain-melding during potions.”

Harry tilted his head. “She used to fantasize about me? Wait. Is she serious? Am I dreaming?”

You peeked through your fingers, lips twitching.

“And he smells so good. Why does he smell good?! It’s not fair. I wasn’t prepared for the olfactory part of this trauma.”

Harry looked scandalized. “My smell?! What even—?”

“I don’t know, it’s like—cedarwood and Quidditch and… and a boy.”

He burst into laughter. “I smell like a boy? That’s descriptive.”

“You smell like handsome boy, okay?! Leave me alone!”

He leaned closer, chin resting in his palm, eyes twinkling. “I think I could get used to hearing what you really think.”

You gaped at him. “Don’t get cocky!”

“Too late.”

You groaned. “This is so unfair. I spent years being subtle. I was a mystery. I had mystique.”

“Yeah, and now I know you think about my arms and my smell and want to join my fan club.”

You glared. “You want me in your fan club.”

“Damn right, I do.”

There was a beat.

A small, soft silence beneath the chaos of other cauldrons bubbling and parchment rustling. A glance that lingered longer than it should’ve.

And then Harry's voice, quieter in your mind now, came again:

“Okay. But seriously. Now that I know she likes me back…”

He caught your eye and grinned softly.

"Maybe now she’ll finally let me take her to Hogsmeade.”

You blinked. “Are you… asking?”

Harry's breath hitched "Yes."

"Unless she thinks that’s lame.”

You smiled shyly. “It isn't, but I never thought you'd be the shy one here.”

“Only with you.”

And somehow, despite the chaos, the lingering smoke, and the fact that Seamus' cauldron had just exploded across the room, you realized something:

"This might be the best Potions class I've ever had."

"This might be the best Potions class I've ever had."

You both looked surprised for a moment, then burst into laughter.

⊱ ─── ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ ─── ⊰

masterlist!

[temis-de-leon]

Pick me boys and MC - Part 1

Characters: Lucifer, Mammon and Levi (x gn!reader, separately)

Pick me girl variant

Main Masterlist

CW: pick me boy behaviour, but Mammon's part has a literal stalker lmao (I got carried away). Jealousy, possesiveness, mentions of marriage, a bit of violence. Mostly fluff, but also cringe

@gayideatraschan not what you offered initially, but you did inspired this <3

.

Lucifer

Look handsome and don’t drift away.

Those were the only two requests you had asked from him when you turned the last corner of the hallway and the banquet hall’s doors appeared right before your eyes. There was a high school reunion waiting on the other side and, although you��d never admit how nervous you were out loud, he could still hear the violent pounding of your heart and the shakiness in your breath.

Thankfully, one of the requests was always accomplished without being asked to. Sadly, you were the one who drifted away from his grasp as soon as those rusty metal doors closed after you; one moment he was holding your hand and the next someone was calling your name and making you say hi to everyone willing to recognise you.

It’s not like he’d ever blame you, obviously; especially when you had spent that last week stressing over what to wear, who would be at the party and what to say to them in order to satisfy their curiosity while literally hiding your demons and still giving yourself some credit for your merits. In the end, all you’d decided to tell was that you had been studying Human Relations at a private academy and were now an apprentice under the tutelage of a prestigious scholar. Of course, it was all too vague, but the truth was far too complicated to explain and your audience seemed satisfied with your answers.

But it was now your turn to listen to your former friends, and even some acquaintances, which Lucifer perfectly understood, still, damned it if he wanted at least to know where you were!

The melody of your laugh and your voice teased him, floating in the air and merging with the rest of the noise without giving any clear directions of your exact location. Unfortunately, although superior, your magic was also fused with weaker power sources in the large room; probably green or divination witches, which were incredibly common in modern times.

A long half-hour passed before he finally surrendered and let fate reunite you both again.

You deserved to enjoy your time with your past peers, anyway.

So there he was, mindlessly wandering amongst the crowd with a plastic cup of watered-down wine in his hand. It somehow tasted sour and expired, but there was nothing better at the table and he wouldn’t be the one bringing his own bottle to a gathering where he didn’t know anyone. A couple of strangers had stopped him a few times, sure, but conversations were short and strict; Lucifer never told more than he needed and he never wandered away from what you’d previously agreed upon.

His brother had been your supervisor at the academy and soon you became friends with the whole family, ultimately forming a relationship with him by the end of your first year.

Cute and simple.

Shouldn’t have caused any trouble.

And yet.

And yet.

What he was hearing wasn’t a voice. It was a whine. A pitiful moan. A pathetic show of affection that fell on deaf ears and forced a familiar sadistic smirk out of him.

Behind him, protected by a circle of reluctant listeners, a weasel-looking man hunched over his drink with a pout and a frown. He gestured wildly, shamelessly looking at you with longing and at Lucifer with envy; even when his back was turned, he could tell. Plus, the jealousy and resentment in his words did nothing to keep him discreet.

“I just don’t understand” he was saying, his rant resembling more a childish tantrum than an unwanted opinion. “I mean, they’re so cool and carefree and he looks so boring! They should totally be dating someone else”

“I don’t know, man” answered someone else, clearly trying to keep the peace. “They seem pretty happy to m-…”

“That’s what he wants you to think!” the weasel interrupted them. The others’ chuckles and sighs only seemed to add fuel to the fire. “Yeah, sure, MC’s entitled to date whoever they think it’s best, but he doesn’t love them! It’s obvious! Look, they’re miserable”

Something in the sour speech, Lucifer wasn’t sure of exactly what, irked him the wrong way. He could feel the familiar tingling in his back and his head, hidden limbs begging to be released along with his magic in a demonstration of power, but he liked to think he had always been good at staying calm until the time was due.

And also, it was your moment.

Thankfully, by some sort of miracle, the crowd slowly parted before him and started to form small groups. You were in one of them, talking lively to a pregnant woman. He could see a blush in your cheeks from where he was, the nervous jerk in your movements when the other human pointed at your hand obvious to his trained eyes.

Of course, the Ring of Light.

His chest puffed slightly when you spread your fingers and let the lady gasp in delight. Made out of gold and a small diamond, it probably looked like a wedding or an engagement ring for anyone who didn’t know what it truly was.

“Yeah, dude, they’re crying and everything”

The small group behind him laughed, finally giving him a reason to turn around.

Lucifer was surprised to see the weasel man so quiet, actually expecting him to stomp his feet if his reddened face and bulging eyes were any indication, but quickly pushed down his expectations when he saw him walking in your direction. For what, he wasn’t sure. To be your knight in shining armour? As if you needed one to begin with.

His movements were quick and elegant as he hurried towards the human to stop his heroic stride, but there was nothing graceful in his grasp when he closed his hand over the weasel’s shoulder.

He winced at the pain but kept looking at Lucifer’s dark eyes with fragile self-assurance.

Lucifer snickered, amused.

Cute.

“You don’t deserve MC” he said with a deeper pout, as if Lucifer towering over him and making him bend with the force of his hand was just a slight inconvenience.

He had to give him points for trying, that he had to admit, but his patience was wavering and he really didn’t want to make a scene.

“They don’t deserve you” he finally said, spitting the last word with distaste. Then, he cleaned his hand on the other man’s inappropriate graphic t-shirt and turned around to walk straight towards you.

His smile was calculated, innocence and charm pouring out of him while he shook your friend’s hand, but he knew you knew better.

Good luck getting away from him now.

Mammon

Your stare was fierce, murderous even, but it was difficult not to act bitter when he had been promised a date downtown only to be betrayed by his own partner and the worst older brother in existence.

Falling from the heavens? A mere warning.

Forced to work on club activities for extra credit? Actual divine punishment.

Sure, maybe he had skipped class too many times and perhaps his grades were plummeting at an embarrassing speed, but what else could he do when, even after all those years, Levi was still so careless about his figurines’ safety and a new pawn shop had opened right next to the House of Lamentation? He hadn’t seen so many coins and bills in his hands ever since he sold Asmo’s bath towels to his fans during Valentine’s Day! And that was for sure something else…

Honestly, why couldn’t anyone see that the true one at fault was the owner of the establishment? Mammon was, sadly and simply, a victim of circumstances.

And you? You were a damn traitor. It didn’t matter that you were wearing that cute outfit he bought for you on your birthday or that your jewellery matched his; at the end of the day, your words were empty and he should’ve known as soon as you kissed him good morning earlier.

It was so obvious! Why else would you be awake so early on a Saturday morning?

And why was RAD open on a Saturday to begin with??

He sighed again, louder that time, and made sure to avoid your eyes when you turned to glare at him with an even deeper frown. Before he could think about it though, you apologised to the sad-looking incubus goggling at you and marched straight in Mammon’s direction.

His body tensed and he felt himself shrink, but he made an effort to keep ignoring you as you sat on your heels and grabbed both of his knees to create more space.

“Baby” you cooed sweetly.

He knew better than to trust the welcoming tone.

“Ya better be here to apologise, MC”

He closed his eyes showing an indignant expression, even turning his back on you and crossing his arms over his chest to really drive the point home. Hopefully, you’ll feel guilty enough to regret your actions, kiss him a couple of times and take him out of school for the promised date.

Luck was not on his side that day.

“You wish”

“Oh, c’mon!”

Mammon’s interruption came out as a whine as he let himself sink deeper into the couch before, not even a second later, sitting up straight to point an accusatory finger at you. Your gaze seemed innocent, but he knew you enough to accurately guess how much you were enjoying his suffering.

“We were supposed to be out there shoppin’, not here watchin’ pictures of… yourself!”

“Why, I thought you liked watching my pictures”

You spoke in a low voice, yet he still understood you. Warmth quickly rushed to his face and his hands didn’t waste a moment in covering your mouth, but he could feel your smile under his skin.

“Doncha say those things in the open like that, idiot! Besides, ya know the pictures I like are in my room… These are just super creepy!”

Behind you, the incubus you had been previously talking to was listening with little to no discretion, standing in the middle of the room and talking to no one despite the endless activity surrounding you. His body was slightly turned in your direction, but his eyes were stuck to the floor.

Mammon squirmed in his seat at the shameless eavesdropping. A wave of irritation spread through his body and an uncomfortable weight sat in the pit of his stomach.

“They are… weird” you admitted, getting up only to sit on his leg. Had you been the only ones in the study room he would’ve melted instantly, but there were too many demons around and one of them was seriously getting on his nerves. As if sensing his discomfort, you cradled his face to force eye contact, clearly annoyed at his attitude but also slightly regretful. “But this is my fan club, Mammon. What did you expect they had on the walls? Honestly, I’m surprised you’re not more excited; you know, since you’re so… obsessed with me and everything”

“I am… What-! Obsessed??”

“You’re in love with me, Mammon”

Thankfully, you were merciful enough to sing your teasing in the lowest tone possible, right next to his ear so no one else could hear. Still, he covered up your mouth again like you were shouting profanities.

Laughing cheerfully at his bashfulness, you gave him a quick peck on the cheek and got up.

“We’re almost done here. Act like you’re doing something and then I’ll take you to Majolish and the cinema or wherever else you like. My treat!”

He perked up at your words, immediately jumping away from the couch before walking towards one of the tables. Your giggles followed him with each movement, but he was too stoked to mind.

Finally! Finally, you were getting out of there!

However, he couldn’t help but feel a bit annoyed at the situation.

Lucifer, no doubt showing the loving and caring personality that gave him his infamous reputation, knew what he was doing when he made Mammon reach his required semester credits by going to your fan club.

Since it was relatively new, most of their activities revolved around investigating you; your habits, your hobbies, what you liked and disliked, food, school subjects, clothes…  They had newspaper cuts with your interviews, fliers and tickets for events that involved you and, of course, pictures. Taken from your Devilgram account, from the newspaper, from the brothers’ Devilgram accounts and your friends’, but also from real life. Pictures taken behind your back in the Cafeteria and even in class.

It was creepy. It irked him and sent a shiver up his spine.

Compared to the pictures in his walls, taken with that plastic junk you’d bought on the human internet for less than the average minimal wage, the images scattered around the surface of the table in front of him looked like a stalker’s love letter. While Mammon got to wake up every day to your immortalized smile and the priceless memories you’ve made together, the lead photographer in your fan club was clearly hidden behind bushes on at least half of his creations; there were leaf-shaped shadows on the corners of the photos and some of the angles were off, coming from the ground and making a certain part of your body stand out more than the rest.

And look, he knew what his brothers would say- What anyone would say if he complained about this weirdo, but this went way beyond what he felt for you as his partner. The newspaper and the Devilgram stalking, he could understand from a bunch of losers, but the rest? Following you on your way home? Eavesdropping private conversations?

He turned around, searching for the incubus that was becoming too comfortable for his own good, and found him standing right behind you while you talked to some of the other members.

Too close, head tilted down, shamelessly staring where no one but Mammon was supposed to look.

He didn’t realise he was walking until he got there.

Something hot and electric rushed through his body, making the ends of his hair stand out. He felt like an animal ready to pounce, like one of his crows defending their territory, chest puffed out and feathers ruffled.

But it wasn’t the moment, nor the place.

The only reason he was there was because he’d borrowed some toys from Levi, and Lucifer was a miserable demon who couldn’t see anyone around him being happy without convulsing. If Mammon dared to show any sign of ill behaviour while on this… glorified detention, there was no way he’d get out of the staircase and the familiar burn of the rope around his body for a long while.

And he wanted you to have a good time with him, dammit. A date where the both of you could go around town spending some money and, hopefully, kiss a little at the very end.

But he wouldn’t have any of it if he beat some nobody to a bloody pulp.

Ugh.

What a hassle.

“Hey”

A faint touch in his middle section caught his attention. Your hand, dancing over the skin of his clothed hip-bone, brought a teasing chill with its touch. Mammon looked at you with a raised brow. Despite the way you hugged his waist to bring him closer to your embrace, which was nothing short of caring, your eyes were narrowed and filled with suspicion.

“We’ll leave in a minute, okay?” you murmured under your breath, just for him to hear.

However, the weirdo seemed too interested in what you wanted to say. His silhouette moved in the corner of Mammon’s eyes, leaning forward in an effort to capture the meaning of your words, and ultimately managing to trip over his own foot and fall over your back. Unsurprisingly, and as sweet and understanding as always, you just smiled politely and watched as he blushed and stammered some half-assed apologies. The rest of the group only giggled at his clumsiness.

Mammon seethed.

He took a deep breath and stepped away from your side, raising both hands above his head and stretching as much as his body allowed him to. His bones cracked and the hem of his shirt rose up, bringing your eyes to the exposed skin in his tummy.

“All this hard work got you tired?” you chuckled, playfully bumping your hip with his.

He fought the urge to squeeze it, and instead let his arms fall to clasp the incubus nape. The slap echoed across the room, and the noise lowered down almost immediately. His fingers curled around sweaty skin.

“Oh, I’m exhausted, MC” he teased back, sharp nails sinking and making the incubus squirm.

Like clockwork, your gaze changed into one of concern and focused in the weirdo’s direction. You opened your mouth, clearly wanting to ask what was going on, but nothing came out, and Mammon took the opportunity to side hug the demon beside him and forcefully drag him to the doorway.

“Wh-…” he muttered, frantically looking around as Mammon pushed him to the hallway. “Where are we going?”

“Mammon…!”

“I’m taking interest in the club” he shrugged, sporting an unusual innocent voice.

“Mammon” you repeated, sterner that time.

In any other occasion, your crossed arms and your flaring nostrils would’ve had an effect on him, but that day was different.

That day, he had been lied to and bamboozled, forced to stay in a classroom full of needy puppies when he could’ve spent a perfect Saturday dragging you by the hand from one store to another. He was dressed up, looking more handsome than ever, and you looked like a dream, yet the one under his arm was the creepy photographer from your fan club and not you.

No. Today your ire was not enough.

Hiding a smirk behind slender fingers, Mammon winked at you and finally stepped away before closing the door. He knew he’d pay for it in the long run, but he tended to enjoy punishment as long as it came from you.

People called him a masochist for a reason, right?

“What are we doing here?”

Mammon turned, his face expressionless, and stared at the incubus in complete silence. Although the incubus was trying to sound nonchalant and casual, the tremor in his voice was painfully evident and he couldn’t stop his hands from shaking. Noticing how interested the Avatar of Greed himself seemed in them, he eventually put them in the pockets of his uniform.

Big mistake.

No way to get rid of Mammon if his hands were tucked away.

So, without losing his stone-cold composure, and faster than the incubus would’ve ever processed, he grabbed his throat and pushed. Pushed, pushed and pushed until all he could feel was muscle, tendons, bones and the cold stone behind them both. It was a miracle that the lower demon didn’t choke when he tried to gulp down his nerves.

It was gratifying, in a sense, feeling the panic coming out of his pores as he pathetically tried to scatter away, kicking his legs and scratching Mammon’s arms.

“You think you’re so smart, doncha?” he murmured, grip seemingly effortless despite lifting the other demon in the air a couple of inches. “Going after my MC, taking pictures and sharing them with the class… Being so good at hiding, you could’ve done so much more, but you stayed there. Why?”

He stayed silent for a couple of seconds, not really expecting an answer. Although the incubus could open his mouth and let out some sounds, there was nearly no air in his lungs to form a sentence.

Still, giving him the illusion of choice was entertaining.

“Thought you could learn enough to make them fall for you?” he ended up saying in the end, already knowing the answer. That time, however, he didn’t wait for anything to happen. He could feel the embarrassed heat from his cheeks. “Just how pathetic are ya, huh?”

He retreated.

The thud of the body falling to the ground wasn’t as satisfying as he hoped it’d be, but seeing the incubus grimacing in pain and blushing with shame did bring some amusement. His teary eyes were the cherry on top.

“You act like a child” he sobbed, glaring at Mammon with defiance despite the pathetic state he was in. “I was studying them, so what? I understand them now. I’d treat them better; make them feel better. Someone like them has to be with someone that gets them. And there’s no one like me…”

His coughs interrupted his little monologue.

Mammon crouched as the other demon cleaned his mouth with a sleeve and fanned himself with a hand, still hot and flustered from almost being suffocated to death.

A part of him, the one with poisoned spines and sharp fangs, wanted to finish the job and come back to you after everything was done. The other part, soft and pliant, yearned for a long deserved date with no hard feelings and no fighting between you.

Still silent, but now smiling, Mammon gently grabbed the demon’s chin and slightly lifted to bring it forward.

“What are you doing?” he asked, horror rooted deep in his voice.

Mammon pursed his lips and tilted his head, teasingly, but there was no humour in his tone when he talked.

“Making sure I don’t forget who you are”

Leviathan

Until he met you, Levi thought there was nothing in the three realms that could compare to the beautiful complexity of what the 2D media offered, less alone be better. The fluid motions in animation, the range of emotions displayed with the simple stroke of a pen, voice actors reaching their limits in an effort to show what the character was feeling… And that was only the technical part. If he started talking about the possible plots, the character developments or the values and lessons thought through anime and manga, then he wouldn’t go to bed for days and he would talk himself to death.

Everything outside of his room was just so… fake. Playing pretend all of the time and rejecting individuality for the sake of fitting in. The same thing everywhere, over and over and over again, predictable and devoid of meaning. Why would anyone settle for that?

However, even someone as strict as him could accept when some specific things were occasionally similarly enjoyable to his lifestyle.

For example, ever since he became your friend, and eventually your boyfriend (thank Lord Diavolo this is inner dialogue, because he would’ve never been able to say that out loud), Levi came to discover that said beautiful complexity was even more beautiful when you were there experiencing it with him.

Daily marathons and gaming sessions became common in your couple activities repertoire. You also exchanged books on the occasion to share opinions, but there was something about sitting in the same room without constantly interacting that made your relationship feel intimate and cared for. He wasn’t talking to you, but you were still absentmindedly playing with his hand while absorbing what you were seeing on the screen; and you were talking to yourself as you brutally decimated the final boss in his newest RPG, but his tail was comfortably wrapped around your leg.

Not needing to repeatedly reassure the existence of your relationship was far more comforting than he could ever put into words.

Today was just further evidence to prove his point.

Hours had passed since dinner ended, yet you both were still awake, eyes glued to different screens in his gaming setup as your characters separately covered the terrain, slayed enemies and healed the rest of the team. He’d chivalrously given you the chair, opting himself for the bean bag, and although his back was killing him and he’d had a sore neck in the morning, there was no way he would let you be so uncomfortable in his presence. Sure, you’d offered to sit on his lap while he sat on the chair, but of course he’d rejected it!! That was too much!!

Anyways…

Back to game.

Normally, you liked to keep your sessions private, especially when you played choice-based games, but this time was different. This time was your first with his online friends: kind strangers he’d met over the years who understood him better than anyone in his own family. Some were other, lower demons, and some were humans who had no idea of who or what he was, yet treated him with the same comradery as an old childhood friend would.

The idea of you meeting them and potentially befriending them as well made him giddy. So giddy, in fact, that he had long gone abandoned his screen to focus on yours.

And you were incredible at it, blending perfectly with his group and working like greased machinery even on survival mode. You knew how to use your character and which were your favourite weapons, annihilating every monster that came in contact with merciless brutality and the tiniest of teasing miles.

He felt like his heart was about to burst from excitement.

And his friends thought so well of you too!

@/mym0mm4demedothis: Make sure to shoot him again MC, I think he still can breathe lmao

@/pigeonsRDgvmnt: Damn, I didn’t even have to grab the controller for this 0-0

@/omegakitten4display: Can you suffocate me?

That last one unnerved him a little bit, but he was well aware of this particular user’s sense of humour; nothing worth worrying or being jealous of. Besides, you’d made sure to kiss him on the cheek extra loud right next to his microphone for everyone to hear and tease him about, so he really didn’t have any reasons to complain.

Except… Well…

Did he, though?

You weren’t especially annoyed about It, but he could see it was slowly getting on your nerves, judging by the way you occasionally rolled your eyes and clicked your tongue. Still, playing hero for you when you were ignoring the problem so gracefully didn’t sit right with him, so Levi stayed silent and let his head rest on your shoulder while he watched you play.

@/grinninManIac: try support next time, mc, itll be easier :)

@/mym0mm4demedothis: Boy, shut up and improve your aim

@/grinninManIac: just offering advice

This wasn’t one of his friends, but rather a friend of a friend of a friend who didn’t have anyone to play with that night. He’d sent countless messages to the groupchat asking for their friendship codes, and at one point you’d felt so much pity for him that your human nature had flourished and your compassion made you immediately offer your code first, pushing the others to do the same.

Levi was sure you were regretting that now, though.

But what did he expect? If you were nice and good to even the scummiest of scum on earth, Mammon, then everyone else was prone to be treated just as sympathetically.

@/TheOvineGOAT: thanks, but I’m good with my main

The response was instant.

@/grinninManIac: r u sure? i can teach you how to use the others

@/TheOvineGOAT: Lev can do that just fine

@/grinninManIac: u can depend on other people, u know ;)

You paused, staring blankly at the screen before quietly turning off your mic and forcing out a gag. Levi was so offended on your behalf that he couldn’t even laugh at your exaggerated disgust.

He opened his mouth, ready to shoot back and defend your superior abilities in the game, but you eagerly took your index finger and shushed him with it. The warmth of your skin and the intimacy of the contact dragged a tiny whimper out of him.

Thankfully, though, the microphone didn’t capture it.

@/mym0mm4demedothis: Teach them?? Do you even know how to play??

@/grinninManIac: i’ll have you know that ive been playin for more than a year, every day, the whole day :)

@/grinninManIac: you could call me an expert haha ;))

@/pigeonsRDgvmnt: How about you put that controller down…  -_-‘

@/omegakitten4display: Suffocate

@/TheOvineGOAT: No need :3

Levi shook his head in disbelief and slight embarrassment. He had been so focused on the conversation that he hadn’t seen what you were doing on the screen: sneaking under the enemies’ radar, stealth mission style, and placing yourself behind the newcomer in his friend group.

Your friend group.

Silently, with a smile so wide it could brighten his days forever, you powered up your ulti and blasted your teammate without mercy, loot falling to the ground and a small penalization for enemy fire appearing in the corner.

A couple of seconds passed in silence where no one in the call talked.

Then, and rather uncontrollably, everyone started laughing. Loud and shamelessly, like a pack of hyenas. No one noticed the new guy leaving the call under all the noise.

@/grinninManIac: u didn’t have to b such a bitch about it >:(

Surprisingly, you just rolled your eyes at the written message before blocking the user. If the crass word bothered you, it didn’t show on your face, and Levi couldn’t do more than stare in awe and blush uncontrollably as you focused on the game again and got ready to forget the whole incident.

His friends continued laughing for a while, applauding your lack of hesitation, and it didn’t take too much before they started teasing him for his sudden silence.

But what could he say?

You leave him speechless.

.

.

Taglist: @simpdeaether @sleepy-gamer-mom @deadflycomputerlogs @mysstical-siren @completelyshatteredbrokenmschf @hello-gloomy @the-sassiest-toaster @hero-nii-blog @yourlocalyin @elaemae @eliciria @darkflowerav @ilovecandys2010 @ollieoven @kingofspadesdelusion @whimsybloom @mia4gotcookiez

[onepiece-polls]

One Piece Crack Ship War - Battle For 3rd Place

CoraBelle art by @halacska-fins

Propaganda under the cut.

Reishigi:

Vinsmoke x Swordsman That one cover page.

Reiju being a sapphic icon was already canon in my heart but the way she cuddles up to Tahigi in a recent cover illustration just convinced me further. Good for them, Tashigi deserves a badass gf and Reiju someone who will treat her right.

That color spread is very lesbian

All of the manga readers have seen THAT cover page, and the tumblrinas probably did too after tumblr blew up.

Reiju is definitely looking at Tashigi with lust in her eyes.

LETS GO LESBIANS! There was literally no reason for Oda to illustrate Reiju leaning down on Reiju with her tongue out like that, the both of them in short dresses while drinking. Reiju cradling her face…

Oda's personal crack-ship, apparently. He drew them in a color spread because apparently he had a vision that no-one else shared and he needed to let it out in the world. And honestly, Oda cooked with this one.

Oda drew all the propaganda I needed.

There is SO much chemistry in the colorspread alone, but if that isn’t enough to convince you, please imagine Reiju flirting in the exact same loser way as her brother. But for her somehow it works because Tashigi is an even bigger loser.

I think Reiju should kiss all the pretty girls and according to the 1108 cover Oda agrees with me.

I don’t know if you’ve seen the recent color spread but there was nothing straight about how Reiju was holding Tashigi. She had her arm around her and is licking her lips. Tashigi looks very flustered. I’ve now decided they are gay for each other. Just trust me everyone

CoraBelle:

A surprisingly popular ship considering they never interacted, but I see the appeal. Both former Marines, both loving and caring adoptive parents.

Two of the best parents in One Piece, imagine if they both lived and raised a happy little mixed family together.

Best adoptive Dad + Best adoptive Mom. I think they would vibe.

Cora is Bell-mere's malewife failure and she loves him. She enjoys making him flustered and tripping him up. He is just heads over heels in love with her, he loves her so much Just the thought of Bell-mere making a man who's twice her size completely melt for her fills me with joy. They were both apart of the Marines and ended up adopting children while on the job. I'm not exactly sure who died first but learning about your lover's death (if it wasn't covered up) is amazing angst potential. They're watching over their kids in the afterlife together.

Dead serial adopting Marines smokers, what else is there to say?

hi i’m back with my corabelle agenda. these two are a match made in heaven. literally. they have so many narrative parallels, it hurts. they both sacrificed themselves for their adoptive kids’ longevity, they’re both former marines who deserted their positions in order to give these kids a better life. they were both killed by a flintlock, and their last words to their kids were “i love you.” !!! it’s uncanny!! they could have known each other when they were marines, too! bell-mere is just one year older than rosinante. they were from different blues, but there’s a chance they could have run into each other or even trained together for a period of time. bell-mere would be the perfect friend for a young rosinante who’s preoccupied and stressed over his brother. in terms of personality, that’s where we get some of that juicy opposites-attract theory into play. they do have a lot in common tho! some common flaws, (hotheaded, a bit irrational, impulsive), and some common strengths as well, (determined, fearless, values the strength of a smile)! but otherwise, bell-mere isn’t afraid to lay the flirt on and seems a bit more extroverted, where rosinante is a little more reserved and keeps a very small circle of friends, (literally one and it’s sengoku). someone direct like bell-mere could easily draw him out of his shell, and someone down-to-earth and occasionally goofy like rosinante could help keep her grounded.

Both marines with rough lives who seemingly picked up children when they weren’t expecting it. Bellemere would make a great mom to Law and Corazon would make a great dad to Nami and Nojiko. Both of them would bond over the bullshit of the world!!

Art by @gendervapor14

[penkura]

found you! [2/3]

Summary: Twice Penguin found you. The third time you found him.

Notes: yes it's been a whole year, I apologize greatly. Everything else took over and I left poor Penguin on the back burner. :( But not anymore! This fanfic WILL be finished! I'll be working on our final chapter over this weekend! :)

Note 2: HAPPY BIRTHDAY PENGUIN, I LOVE YOU SM.

Once Law reunites with the rest of you in Zou, after the formation of the alliance to take down Kaido, the party that’s thrown is one you hadn’t expected. Its huge, even with the Straw Hats missing Sanji at the moment, all of them seem fairly content to eat and drink without worry, they all have faith that Luffy and the group he takes with him will bring their cook back.

You spend a decent bit of your time with Ikkaku, Robin, Nami, and now Carrot and Wanda, your group having moved to a more private room to chat and tell stories, making each other laugh before Robin smiles at you.

“So, you and Penguin seem close.”

You grin and nod while Ikkaku throws her arm around your shoulders.

“They’re our resident couple! They’ve been together for almost ten years and still going strong~!”

“Ten?!”

Laughing, you nod at Nami’s surprise while she has to shake her head to get out of shock. She can’t really believe you two have been together that long, you act like your relationship is still brand new, that it’s only been a few months, not a full decade.

“Nobody was surprised when they got together, we all knew for months that they liked each other!”

“You guys aren’t that much older than us though!”

“Oh they’re both 28 now,” Ikkaku grins now, while Nami is still surprised by all this, “Together since they were 19, they’ve been through a lot and haven’t broken up once!”

It makes you laugh as Nami tries to get all the information she can out of you, wanting to know all the details even though you all barely know each other. Every little bit she gets makes her more confused on why you two aren’t married yet, but you look so happy and in love that she thinks you may not care either way. If you’re happy and Penguin is happy, that’s all that matters, isn’t it?

“Its been ten years and he hasn’t asked you to marry him?”

“Nope, but I don’t care,” Ikkaku smiles when you fall backwards hugging a pillow, your own smile on your face, “Even if he never asks me, that’s okay. I love Penguin and he loves me, that’s all I need from him.”

There’s a few ‘aww’s in return, but Nami rolls her eyes a bit before taking a drink.

“Well if he ever does ask, he should get you a really fancy ring for staying with him so long!”

You all laugh at the comment but you don’t take it to heart. Nami hasn’t had a front row seat to your relationship like Ikkaku has, she’s seen you two through every fight and argument that led to you making up and being all lovey dovey around everyone again. Every time you’ve thought a gift was cheesy only for Penguin to give you something just as cheesy and you both ended up loving it in the end.

She thinks she’s probably the only one who knows that Law helped him pick out the ring for you, and she’s still certain you’ll love it whenever Penguin finally asks you.

The rest of the evening is filled with other conversations, your relationship no longer the hot topic as Ikkaku tries to ask if something is going on between Nami and Sanji or Robin and Franky, Carrot is fully invested in the romance talk still. You start to get a bit tipsy as time goes on, nearly falling asleep before there’s a knock on the door to the room you’re all in.

“Hey there ladies,” Penguin grins as he opens the door, making your eyes light up when you see him, “Came to get my favorite girl, if you all don’t mind!”

“Yeah sure, go ahead and take her,” Ikkaku waves her hand towards you and laughs hearing you almost whine out his name and reach for him, “She may have had a little too much to drink, she’ll probably pass out once you get her in a bed.”

“That’s okay. Figured she’d be ready to sleep soon anyway,” Penguin nods as he lifts you up, letting you wrap your arms around his shoulders as you lay your head on his chest, “I found you, my love, now let’s get you off to bed~”

“Okaaaay…”

Penguin is careful as can be while he takes you to another empty room he found, he made sure to ask in advance and got permission for the two of you to take it over for the night. He really does try to he quiet too, he doesn’t want to wake you up when you’re already dozing off before he even has you laid in bed. Luckily he’s able to gently kick the door closed before laying you down, though you don’t let go of him and it makes him chuckle softly as he joins you.

“You’re such a clingy drunk, [Y/N].”

“Noooo…” yawning you snuggle up closer to Penguin who wraps his arms around you tightly, kissing your head, “Am not…”

“Yeah you are, pretty thing. But that’s okay, I like how cuddly you are.”

“Cause you’re warm…”

You’re so cute it almost makes his heart ache, Penguin loves you so much. Every day he’s glad to have met and fallen in love with you, he’s beyond grateful that you found him and Shachi that day so long ago, and that Law agreed to having you join the crew. Penguin knows just how lucky you two are to have found each other when you did, he doesn’t think he’d be with anyone else if you weren’t around, there was just something about you that day that told him you were the one and to not lose his chance when he finally asked you out. He’s more than glad you reciprocated his feelings and you’ve been together ever since.

“Love you, Penguin…”

“Love you too, [Y/N]…after we get to Wano, do you—"

Penguin stops himself when he hears you snore lightly, snuggling closer to him in your sleep. It makes him sigh, but he does smile, hugging you tightly and kissing the top of your head. Ikkaku was right, even though you tried to stay awake, you couldn’t do it any longer. You’re passed out cuddling the love of your life, and Penguin couldn’t be happier for it.

“Sleep well, we’ve got a lot to do in Wano.”

After that’s all settled, I’ll ask you.

+!+

“What are you guys doing?”

“Shhh!!!”

Being shushed by his crew is something new, seventeen-year-old Law recognizes as he watches the now twelve-member group stick their heads out the Polar Tang’s main door, turning back after they’d all told him to be quiet for some reason. He quickly scans over the group and notices you and Penguin are missing, wondering where you are before Shachi waves him over, causing the young captain to join in staring out the door. All he sees is Penguin with his back to the ship, but a small bouquet of flowers behind his back.

“Is he—”

“Yeah!” Ikkaku nods as she nearly squeals, grinning brightly. “He’s finally going to ask her!”

“About damn time.” Law huffs slightly, watching his friend fidget a bit when you start to walk up, shouting his name with a smile.

Practically every one of the Heart Pirates so far knew how smitten Penguin was with you. He’d do anything to be by your side, helping you with chores, training, restocking supplies, helping you cook whenever you needed it or wanted his opinion. Some of the crew swear he rips holes in his shirts and boiler suit on purpose just so he can sit by you while you fix them up.

It’s been agonizing for them to watch Penguin, at nineteen-years-old, almost fall over himself multiple times a day just to be near you, and somehow it seems like you never even notice. You simply let Penguin stay nearby, not bothering to push him off if he leans against your shoulder, or when he’s been bold enough to wrap his arms around your waist and set his chin on the top of your head while you cook. Your friends wonder if you know what he’s been doing, or if you’re that oblivious to his affections.

Once you make it back onto the Polar Tang’s deck, your crew can only see you smiling away as you talk to Penguin about the things you found in town, while he nods as he listens and responds, until you both seem to quiet and he finally shows you the bouquet he’d been hiding, something simple with daisies, lavender, and your favorite flower mixed in, making your eyes light up.

“I, I um…” Penguin’s sudden stuttering has your crew silently cheering for him to continue, as your eyes start to soften and you take the flowers from him, “I…really, really like you…w-would you…you know, um…be my…girlfriend?”

Everyone, even Law, just about holds their breath to see what you say, since you don’t respond for a moment, looking like you’re thinking, and it makes Penguin even more fidgety than he already was.

Maybe this was a mistake? Maybe you don’t feel the same, even after the few times he swears you’ve leaned into him for comfort, the last time you’d both drank a little too much and he thought you were about to kiss him before Uni spilled his drink on you both.

Its too much for him to wait, and he’s about to speak again, but you don’t give him the chance by leaning up just enough to kiss him briefly. Penguin’s face turns bright red as you pull away, giving him another smile, this time a shy one before you try to hide your face behind the flowers he’d given you.

“Yeah…I’d love to be your girlfriend, Penguin.”

Your response causes Penguin to pull you into a tight hug, lifting you off the ground, and you both hear your crewmates cheering for you from the doorway. It all makes you laugh, even when Penguin sets you back down to take your face in his hands and kiss you again, giving you the brightest smile you’ve ever seen from him.

“I’m so happy to have found you.”

[mtcloudsworld]

OKAY I HAD A DREAM

Where like reader is an important person in the community like the person who takes care of children outdoors and every thing right? NOW image the reader losing her passion for it until she meets Jason (who’s stuffed in a dumpster side why not🤷🏽‍♀️) and she takes him home and cleans his wounds

Good nightttt (drink water dawg dehydration is not sexy)

Okay listen.... hehhehhehhehheh.

Taking care of kids is like, a lot.

It's really a lot.

No seriously it's LITERALLY way too much. 😭

But you?

You're not heartless no?

You'll take them, feed them, clothed them-- do the bare minimum, do what any and every parent/guardian should do and then some.

Lately it's been rough though. It's been draining the living shit out of you. People don't know how you do it but they commend you for having such a heart for it. It's nothing really, it's just you doing the right thing. Who's gonna care for them if nobody else does?

And because you like to get shit done the way you want and how you want it-- very independent. There are times where your just.. lagging a little? It's starting to feel like a job now rather than just doing it out of human decency. The passion? It just hasn't been there anymore.

And it's not the kids, no.

It's the fact that you're doing it all by yourself, and you know deep down inside you need help.

But you don't want to let go. You've built this orphanage from the ground up. Memories of joy and love was hard to give away, when you've all grown attached. I mean they call you mama for crying out loud😭

It's like you're on the fence about it and you feel guilty for feeling that way but it's true.

So, like I said before taking care of kids is a fucking full time job, paid or not, you gotta go through the steps to make sure everyone is good. Are you good? Because babygirl you're tired, and you're this 🤏🏾 close to crashing out and it's not looking cute baby, not one bit.

Luckily you have some people in your circle who sees the obvious right?

They see you're not your usual, right?

So a break.

You just need time to yourself.

You need a years worth of a vacation really but is that even ideal? No not really. You've been known to be a working hard sista who never liked to be seen as lazy, who always wanted to give give give to the community and help others.

So, vacation it is.

Vacation is what you need right?

Most suggested you travel outside of Gotham. Go somewhere far far away for awhile.

But how could you? Have you seen them prices lately? Shit is kinda expensive nowadays ya feel me? 😂

Nonetheless, you're gonna try to stay home and not do much. You're gonna try to relax or whatever.

Fast forward, five months in, you're living in your peace. Taking care of yourself. Doing what you want. You call the oraphange every now and then just to check in on everyone but no hasn't really seen much of you.

And just when you were getting comfortable, feeling kid free. Something happens, something wild yet not beyond your character happens.

You found yourself standing before a dumpster side watching as a pair of legs dangle from outside of the smelly object.

You were just out at a nearby coffee shop getting a cinnamon roll (because you were just randomly craving something sweet and they were the only place open) when you just so happened to hear someone call for help out of the very dark suspicious alleyway, and as you got closer you just see little legs, dangling.

You gasp, "oh my gosh!" You run over to the dumpster and start helping them out.

"Are you okay? Are you hurt?"

Removing the trash and debris, you're able to finally see them.

He nods. Light skin, strawberry blonde hair and blue eyes.

Your frown grows deeper when you see all these bumps and bruises all over his skin, some scratches here and there-- clearly he's been abused and you're afraid he's gone through much worse.

"Who did this to you?" You ask, "Are your parents or guardians around?"

Stoic and voiceless, he looks down at himself, where your hands were located-- wrapped around his tiny torso, he stood still in his grasp feeling slightly bothered but also realizing that they were gentle. He also realized your voice was soft with concern. You smelled nice and looked perfect, almost as if nothing could really harm you, you also look familiar but couldn't quite put a name to you.

Knelt before him, your eyes scanned between his, in hopes he'd give you a response. But he doesn't, instead he just stands there and observes you curiously.

You sigh, already knowing he wasn't gonna say a word from the way he was looking at you.

You have a kid.

You have a kid. In your house.

You have a kid in your house after you distinctly promised not to take care of anybody else.

But you're not heartless! You weren't just gonna leave him out there like that! What if something happened to him? It'd eat you alive knowing you could've done something to prevent it.

And so you sat there, at the table beside him watching carefully as he rushed to eat his food, making a mess in the process.

"Hey, hey, hey, slow down. There's plenty okay? No need to rush, just enjoy it yeah?"

Poor thing, he's hungry. Whoever was responsible for this has clearly been starving and abusing the kid for sometime now

You groan, running your hands over your face. You stand to your feet going back into your guest room to find the first aid kit and something for him to wear.

After he gets done eating, you give him privacy to clean himself. Proceeding to get dress before coming back to you, proceeding to care and dress his wounds.

"We'll go out tomorrow and find you some clothes and toiletries. I doubt you'd want to smell like me for much longer." You say halfheartedly, giving him one last bandage before pulling away.

You ushered him into the guest room he was previously in and tucks him into bed for good measure. Telling him you're not that far if he needs anything. He just nods and buries himself in the covers.

Days turned into weeks, weeks turned into months.

He moved with caution and watched your every move. He was very quiet unless spoken to. Trust wasn't there yet but eventually he opened up to you little by little.

Let's just say it took awhile for him to say anything to you. For him to tell you his name was Jason, for him to tell you his likes and dislikes, for you to understand his family wasn't really there for him. For you to understand that he doesn't ever want to leave your side.

Soon, he finds out who you are. The face of the community, the one who built the orphanage not that far from you. He finds out that there were other kids like him who came from the same background as him.

And as you stood back and watched him interact with other kids, it made your heart swell. To see this boy who was (and still is) so introverted, wouldn't go to anybody for anything, was slowly starting to open up.

It made you realize right then and there you were to just building this orphanage for kids to stay in. You built this place for kids to feel loved and safe. To feel like they have a home. To make them understand they are not alone in this world. They have every right to feel secure, happy, to feel... wanted. That nothing is their fault. That they're not the cause of other people's problems. They're innocent.

And so little by little you started to feel like yourself again but more refreshed and uplifted, now that you have a management team of your own is able to work things out smoothly, you manage more than just one orphanage in the city.

And Jason? Well...

You've adopted him as your kid now ☺️

Goodnight anon (Lol I'm drinking water as we speak. Gotta keep the body hydrated ya know?)

- ☁️

[rusalka52]

Disc Discourse

Sirius Black x Fem!Slytherin!Reader

Summary: An unlikely companionship between you and Sirius begins to form after you two share a cigarette at the annual pureblood Christmas party. Everything seems to be going very well until an argument over whose music taste is better arises.

cw: mention of bloodpurist attitudes, mention of drinking, smoking, Sirius and Reader are both a bit sleazy lmfao, Reader is a Beatles fan

4.5k words

A/N: this is a rewrite of a fic I wrote last year. I really liked the idea but hated how it was written so I redid it. It ended up completely different than the original one but the premise is still the same, enjoy!! 🫘

masterlist

This year’s annual pureblood Christmas party-gathering was by far one of the most boring ones you had to endure and your body was desperately aching for a cigarette. You hope that it will take the edge off and give you a much needed break from all the small talk you had to get through today.

Barty managed to convince his father, Mr Crouch Sr., to let him stay home and not drag him to this stupid party by using the excuse of needing to complete this three page essay assigned by professor Slughorn over the holidays. Or maybe Mr Crouch is a bit too embarrassed to be seen outside with his son’s pierced face and ears, messy hair and disruptive personality.

The Rosier twins, Evan and Pandora, were engaged in a “riveting” conversation with your classmate Mulciber. You would quite frankly rather sit through an entire two hour period History of Magic class, listening to professor Binns talk at length about another goblin war, than hear about Mulciber’s family trip to Venice or Paris or Mykonos or the Bahamas for the thousandth time with no escape.

That left you with your friend, and host of this year’s party, Regulus Black. Reggie was a really really good friend, trustworthy, reliable, helpful, and despite being a year younger than you he was really mature and a great conversation to have. However, regardless of all his redeeming qualities, he was so uptight! He would of course sit with you while you smoked to keep you company if you asked but that also meant having to endure the diatribe he was bound to launch into about all the health hazards of nicotine and its effects on the human body.

You essentially had no choice but to go looking for a quiet, secluded space in order to have a smoke. Your objective now is to find an empty balcony at the Black manor where you could get at least five minutes of peace. You carefully open the door of the gathering room, making sure no one sees you, and you slip out of the room into the long hallway. You scurry down the ornately decorated corridor, eyeing the various portraits suspiciously, praying that they don't decide to question why you're not with everyone else. If your mother finds out you smoke you're dead. Right before you reach the staircase you hear a familiar voice behind you.

“Where do you think you're going, young lady? The guests should be in the other room, not wandering the corridors” Mrs Walburga Black asks in a shrill voice. You turn around panicked, your eyes widening like a deer caught in headlights. You relax slightly when you see that it is in fact the portrait of her likeness speaking and not the real one.

“Good evening Mrs Black, lovely party tonight, thank you so much for inviting my family.” You reply hoping this distracts her; she stares at you with her gaunt, piercing eyes, waiting for you to continue.

“I was just, uh, looking for the bathroom. I need to touch up on my make-up you see.” You explain looking around nervously.

“Well the guest bathroom is the first door on the left of this hallway. You are not permitted upstairs.”

You are about to give up on your mission when suddenly Kreacher appears from the kitchen holding a tray of cakes.

“KREACHER,” she shrieks, “No, no, NO! How many times do we have to tell you that these cakes are served AFTER the wine, not before, stupid elf.” She turns her piercing gaze to the poor house elf, who just apologises to his Mistress and returns to the kitchen to fetch the wines instead. You almost feel bad for him. Almost because his mistake acted as the perfect distraction for you to slip away up the stairs unnoticed.

You tiptoe up the grand staircase that leads to the upper floors of 12 Grimmauld Place, grimacing at the shrunken house elf heads that were mounted on the walls. Merlin, no wonder Sirius behaves like that in school, if this is his childhood home. Sure, your parents were blood purists too but this was madness!

~

You finally reach the landing of the first floor and you look around, making sure that it’s empty. You make your way towards the door that is furthest down the long hall, admiring the intricate wallpaper decorating the walls. You stifle a laugh as your gaze lands on a framed photograph of Sirius when he was approximately five years old, crying because a lollipop got stuck in his hair. The next photo in the line is him with a shaved head and a pout on his plump toddler cheeks. Your hand lands on the snake carved door knob and you twist quietly hoping that the room is empty. Luck seems to be on your side tonight as you find the drawing room empty — what a perfect place to have a smoke. You enter the long, high-ceilinged room and take a moment to admire the dark olive green striped tapestries on the walls, the lush, expensive looking persian carpet beneath your feet, the roaring fireplace that kept the room warm despite the freezing London winter that controlled the weather outside. You approach the large windows that overlook the street below and, pushing aside the dark velvet curtains, you open the window and step outside, exposing your skin to the harsh elements. You curse at your past self for deciding to wear a short sleeved, knee-length dress because now you were absolutely freezing. At least the thick material kept your core somewhat warm but it was nearly not enough for you to feel comfortable.

You reach your hand into your handbag and pull out a nearly empty pack of Winston cigarettes along with a metal lighter. You put a cigarette between your lips and cup your hand around the lighter in order to prevent the wind from blowing out the fire but, unfortunately, to no avail — the wind was simply too strong. You turn over, facing away from the direction of the wind and looking out towards the courtyard of the Black household, effectively blocking the wind and finally lighting the cigarette, burning your hand in the process. You take a drag from the cigarette, wincing and shaking your hand in hopes it alleviates some of the pain. You look down at the Muggle cars rushing past, people either returning from or heading to various Christmas celebrations.

Your attention seems to be too focused on observing the various cars and couples stumbling down the street to notice the door to the drawing room creak open behind you and the footsteps, muffled by the soft carpet, that are steadily approaching.

“Boo!” You hear a male voice whisper directly in your ear and you jump in shock letting out a noise of surprise. You spin around to face the person that had just startled you, accidentally dropping your cigarette from the balcony. Your gaze lands on the dark grey coloured eyes of none other than Sirius Orion Black staring back at you with a teasing glint and a taunting smirk playing on his beautiful lips.

“Shouldn’t you be downstairs rubbing elbows with ministry officials? What are you doing here all by yourself?”

“Nothing.” You reply a bit too fast.

“Oh right, nothing…” he walks past you and leans over the balcony rail, “I’m assuming that the still lit cigarette below just apparated here by itself then?” He smirks, turning to gaze at you lazily, supporting himself on the rail with two elbows propped against it.

“I- uh, it’s not- look, please don’t tell anyone.” You plead, you were way too worried about someone discovering your unhealthy habit and telling on you. Sure you were no longer a kid but that didn’t mean you stopped being anxious of your parents. You chew on your lower lip nervously, waiting for his reply. Black finding out was one of the worst outcomes, besides being caught by your parents of course, he definitely could — and would — use this against you.

“And why shouldn’t I?” Sirius asks, a lazy smile plastered on his lips. “I mean, seeing as you are the one littering on private property.”

“Please don’t, my parents will be very cross with me!”

“Alright, I won’t tell anyone…” You exhale in relief, “if you give me a cigarette.” A wolfish grin spreads on his face.

“Are you blackmailing me, Black? And here I thought Gryffindors were honest and virtuous.” He chuckles in response and you dig into your handbag retrieving two more cigarettes. You really didn’t mind sharing, especially now that Sirius wasn’t being a total arse like he was in school. Being around his friends and trying to impress James really seemed to make him act out, but now that he is by himself, with no one around worth impressing and gaining the approval of, he was actually being quite tolerable, you'd even go as far as to say that he was even being slightly pleasant! Probably just trying to make the best out of a bad situation like you, and you can sympathise with that.

You take out your lighter, placing the cigarette between your lips and attempt to light it again. The wind however seems to have other plans once again. Sirius watched you, an amused expression on his face, and he snorts when you hiss in pain as you burn your thumb again.

“Shut up!” You chide, eyebrows furrowing in annoyance as you rub your thumb in pain.

“Here let me do it.” He fishes in his trousers pocket for his lighter and takes out an intricately chiseled silver lighter. You go to grab it from his hand and he brushes past your arm and brings the lighter close to your face. “Allow me.” He whispers; he was so close you could smell the lingering scent of alcohol fanning across your face, and he could no doubt sense the two glasses of wine you managed to sneak without your parents catching you.

“You have to inhale, remember?” He chuckles, teasing you. You quickly do as he says, turning around once your cigarette is lit, hoping that he didn't catch the faint blush prickling at your neck and rising to your cheeks. If he mentions anything you can just blame it on the freezing December weather.

“I know that…” You roll your eyes, mentally berating yourself for acting like such an idiot in front of a guy. You didn’t like him or anything but it still is embarrassing to make a fool of yourself like that in front of anyone, not just him!

You take a long puff of your cigarette looking around at the entrance to the Black family home. The drawing room balcony overlooked the street below and you could faintly make out a couple, tucked away and hiding behind a tree across the road, snogging. No doubt two guests that had snuck out of the party for some alone time. The atmosphere could have been slightly enjoyable had it not been for the dry, winter breeze that picked up as the minutes go by. You shiver, taking another quick drag of your cigarette and expelling the smoke. You just wanted to finish your smoke, go back inside and warm up, and maybe tell your mother that you feel unwell and that you want to return home to rest.

“No need to be so uptight, love, there’s no rush, just enjoy the smoke.” Sirius mentions off handedly from beside you; you almost forgot that he is still next to you. He is being uncharacteristically quiet tonight, especially juxtaposed to his loud, raucous attitude during school.

“I’m not being uptight.” You roll your eyes. “I’m cold and I don’t want to freeze to death on your balcony.”

“Oh, my! Well, where are my manners?” He gasps dramatically, taking off his black suit jacket with a grand, theatrical gesture.

“No- Stop, you don’t have to.” You begin to protest but he dismisses your objections, grabbing your upper arm and turning you to face him, he wraps his jacket around your shoulders.

“Now what sort of gentleman and proper host would I be if I didn’t take care of my guests, hm?” He quizzes, his grey eyes locked on yours and his arms still placed firmly on your shoulders, keeping his jacket on you. His scent engulfs your senses as you breathe in; the perfume he put on before the party started, smelling strongly of musk, leather and citrus, alongside the cigarettes he has smoked and the drinks he has drunk, is making your head spin.

“What’s wrong, love? Cat got your tongue?” He teases, his smirk deepening. You tut and pull away, turning back around to face the balcony, leaning on the railing in hopes he doesn’t notice the blush forming on your cheeks – you can’t blame this one on the cold anymore.

A comfortable silence forms around you two, the only sounds that can be heard is the muffled classical music from downstairs, people laughing and glasses clinking, the whistling of the wind and the rustling of the trees from the park across the street.

“We should go back in…” You sigh, putting out your finished cigarette, and throwing the butt in an ashtray on the balcony table nearby. You turn to go back inside the drawing room when Sirius’ arm stretches out in front of you, trapping you outside on the balcony with him.

“Wait, no! Don’t go.” Sirius exclaims, almost frantically, while putting out his cigarette, discarding it and stepping in front of you, completely blocking your exit. You cock your head in confusion.

“I just- look none of my friends are here and I’m so bored.” He slouches, relaxing his shoulders.

“Alright, can we at least go inside the drawing room, I don’t want anyone coming up here looking for us and seeing two fresh cigarette butts in the ashtray.” He grins at your acquiescence, stepping aside allowing you entry back inside the house.

“Ladies first.” He bows dramatically and, despite yourself, you giggle at his antics.

~

You both take a seat on the mahogany carved couches. It felt almost illegal to sit on such an intricately designed couch.

“You still have my jacket, you know.” Sirius mentions flippantly as you both get comfortable.

“Oh, sorry.” You make a move to take it off and return it to him but he puts his hand over yours.

“No, no, keep it, you look good like this.” He says, his eyes trailing over your body as if you’re not even there.

“Okay…” You draw out. “So what do you want to talk about?”

“Well, I wasn’t exactly planning on talking much.” He replies, his tongue sticking out to wet his lips, as he glances down to yours and back to your eyes. You catch his hint immediately and your thoughts start to race. A popular, albeit rude, attractive boy from your school wants to kiss you. Sure it won’t exactly mean anything special, but you’re not looking for that deep of a connection either. You’re both two bored, unsupervised and slightly intoxicated teenagers. Fuck it, what’s the worse than can happen?

“Oh yeah? And what were you planning on doing then?” You smirk playfully.

“Oh, I think you know.” He replies leaning in closer but you pull back, leaning on the velvet armchairs.

“Hm, I don’t believe I do, you’ll have to tell me what you want.”

Without missing a beat, and with no reservations whatsoever Sirius replies. “I want to kiss you.” His piercing gaze makes your heart beat in your ears and heat rise to your cheeks as you try to come up with a witty response, but no words come out of your mouth. You were not expecting him to be so straightforward but with such an arrogant man you should’ve known that this was the approach he would take.

“Can I?” He smiles smugly, taking note of your flustered and startled expression. Trying to outwit Sirius Black was a futile act and you should know that, especially after being in the majority of the same classes with him for the past seven years. You can only muster up a pathetic nod in response to his request.

He slithers over towards you, his one arm wraps around the back of the couch, around your shoulders, and his other rests on the arm of the sofa, cornering you.

He leans down closer to your face, your lips almost brushing and you wait for him to lean in.

“Don’t you want to kiss me too?” You hum in response.

“Use your words please, can you do that for me?” Your breath hitches. You can smell the alcohol and nicotine on his breath and it’s making you reel.

“I want to kiss you.” You reply.

“Well, go ahead then.” Without taking a moment to think about the fact that you're the one leaning in to kiss him and not the other way around, you’re already crashing your lips against his. You feel his lips form an insufferable smirk as you're kissing and you curse yourself internally for giving into his charms so easily.

His arm snakes around your waist as your hands root themselves in his raven hair, pulling him impossibly closer. You both pull away for air but your brief moment separated is quickly gone as Sirius buries his face in the crook of your neck, peppering soft, yet hungry, greedy, kisses along the exposed area of your neckline.

Your eyes glance towards the unlocked oak door of the drawing room and back down to Sirius who was busy planting kisses along your collarbone.

You give his hair a tug, pulling him back as he groans in annoyance.

“What?” He questions, rolling his eyes, his lips red and puffy from the kiss.

“Sirius,” you push the boy away, catching a glimpse of the door again, “someone might come looking for us…”

“They’re too busy downstairs to notice we’re missing, it will be fine, no one visits the upper floors anyway.” He explains, leaning back down, but you put your arm on his chest, stopping him.

“I mean guests, family members, classmates might stumble in looking for the loo, you never know. I don’t want word to spread that we’re shagging or something. You can guess how Slyherins are with rumours.” You roll your eyes.

“We can go to my room. It has a lock. Please?”

You nod in response. Seeing Sirius be so needy for you made your chest swell with pride. He takes your hand in his and leads you out of the drawing room, his jacket laying abandoned on the room’s ornate couch. You follow behind him up the stairs, past the scornful and disapproving look that the portrait of Phineas Nigellus Black shoots his great-great-grandson on the second floor.

“You ought to be ashamed of yourself, young man!” You hear him shout from downstairs as you reach the third floor.

“Ignore him, my room is on the last floor.” He tugs your arm, pulling you upstairs quicker, heat rising to his cheeks from his being embarrassed by the portrait’s remark.

You finally reach the topmost landing and you’re faced with two doors; one leading to Sirius's room, and the other to Regulus's. The latter was marked by a sign on the massive oak door — “Do Not Enter Without the Express Permission of Regulus Arcturus Black” —what a dork, you think to yourself. The former had a Gryffindor banner hanging from the top of it and a red tie fastened to the serpent shaped doorknob. It’s painfully obvious which door leads to Sirius’ room.

As Sirius opens the door a sudden foul stench infiltrates your senses. It’s a vile concoction of spray deodorant, wet dog, body odour, unwashed bed sheets, cigarette smoke and dirty socks. You think you are going to vomit. How can boys be so disgusting?

He walks in and turns on his lamp, illuminating the high ceilinged room.

“Ta-da! Welcome to my humble abode.” Sirius says, returning next to you.

“Merlin, Black, do you ever open any windows here?” You turn to look at him, your face grimacing in revulsion.

“Do you open the windows in the Slytherin dorms?” He raises his eyebrow, pushing you inside the room and closing the door behind you, locking it.

“Touché, you know we can’t, we’re under the Black Lake.” You roll your eyes, turning to look at him. “I mean seriously, Black, do you ever clean up in here? The room is filthy!” You continue your complaining, your eyes landing on the mess on the floor. Discarded clothes everywhere and vinyls strewn about next to his shelf, at least his record player is taken care of. You’re pretty sure you can see his underwear tossed on the ground beside his desk. You don’t have enough time to make a fuss about the obnoxious posters of motorcycles and half naked women plastered on his wall when he starts to push you towards his bed –and unmade bed sheets.

“Well I sincerely apologise, your majesty, I wasn’t exactly expecting guests tonight…” He whispers pushing you down on his bed.

“Do you need to have guests in order to clean? These aren’t acceptable living conditions, you're a grown man.” You say, your hands resuming their previous position in his hair as he lays on top of you, supporting himself on his forearms.

“Look, are we going to snog or will you keep chastising me for my unkempt room?” You answer his question by pulling him down by his hair and crashing your lips onto his again. He returns the kiss almost immediately, kissing you with much more fervour and urgency than before. Your one hand is still tangled in his messy hair while the other wraps around his neck pulling him even closer. He bites your lip, making you yelp. He takes advantage of your parted lips to slide his tongue in your mouth. His mouth leaves your lips as you take a deep breath. He starts peppering kisses down your face, over your jawline towards your neck. His hungry, drunken kisses turn into light nibbling and sucking in an attempt to leave a mark.

“Fuck, love, I want you so bad.” He whimpers against your neck.

“Oh Salazar, what would Regulus think if he saw you here like this with his brother. Merlin, what would mother and father think if they saw marks all over your neck?!” Your thoughts start to race but still, you’re too caught up in the momentary pleasures you’re feeling to push Sirius away. You feel his hand trail up your thigh, hiking up your dress and at the same time you turn your neck to give him better access. Your gaze then lands on the record shelves by his bed.

You learned about the muggle contraption from one of your classmates in third year and you fell in love with it. The idea that the ridges of a vinyl, when put in that machine could produce such lovely tunes without the use of magic simply amazed you. The record player is perched on a dark oak bookcase that contains at least fifty different vinyls, all from some of the most popular bands of the past two decades. Some of the records are worn out and tattered from the years of use, probably second hand, and they’re placed either on the bottom shelves or they’re messily thrown on the carpeted floor, while others are in pristine condition and delicately placed on the upper shelves of the case, those are his favourites, you assume.

Sirius is, of course, quick to notice the lack of attention being given to him and he follows your gaze.

“What sort of music do you listen to?” You turn back to look at him and you see his hair dishevelled and a strong blush staining his otherwise pale cheeks.

“No offence, darling, but I didn’t bring you to my room to talk about music.” He whispers leaning into your ear.

“At least tell me your favourite band.”

“Fine. I guess I’ll have to go with the Rolling Stones. Can we go back to what we were doing now?” He replies exasperated.

You pause.

“…what?”

He pulls back more, laying on his forearms now, and looks at you quizzically, head cocking like a confused puppy.

“What’s wrong with the Rolling Stones?”

“I mean there’s nothing wrong with them per se but how can you say that the Rolling Stones are your favourite band when the Beatles are right there.” You scoff, pulling yourself up more so you can properly look at his face.

“Ugh don’t tell me you’re a Beatles fan…” Sirius groans, rolling his eyes. You sit up fully now.

“Yes actually, I am.” You continue. “And they’re much better than the Rolling Stones for your information. I mean Paul McCartney and John Lennon are lyrical geniuses!” You explain.

“Oh are they now?” He says, the teasing tone returning to his voice.

“Yes, they very much are!”

“You know,” you continue, “I bet you fancy yourself as another Mick Jagger or something and that’s the only reason you like his band.” You giggle, twirling a strand of his hair at the nape of his neck around your finger.

“Well of course I do, honey, I have the hair, the eyes, and most importantly the sex appeal, wouldn’t you agree?” He teases again, lightly pinching your thigh on the exposed part of your leg after he hiked up your skirt.

You hum in response.

“Go on then, enlighten me. How are the Beatles that much better than the Rolling Stones? Because last time I checked John Lennon wasn’t the one who came up with “Sticky Fingers” or “Let It Bleed”…” He asks, his voice dropping an octave .

“Well, you must be daft if you think those albums are better than “A Hard Day’s Night”! And besides, the Beatles have albums filled with hits while the Rolling Stones have what? Maybe three good songs spread across ten albums”

“Hah, James always says the same thing!” He laughs. “Well, to me it seems that you just have shitty music taste and you hate listening to fun stuff.” He sticks his tongue out and blows a raspberry in your face. You laugh at his silly antics.

“I’m so sorry that I prefer something with a little more substance and meaning than the Rolling Stones.” You roll your eyes, smile still plastered across your face as your hands bury themselves again in his hair. You pull him back down.

“Oh finally, you’re apologising!” He exclaims in faux surprise, eyebrows raising dramatically.

You shake your head mirthfully. “It’s okay to admit that the Beatles are better than the Rolling Stones, you know? I won’t tell anyone. Promise!”

“But they’re not though.” He mumbles against your jawline, underneath your ear.

“Yes they are.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

He’s about to reply with yet another “no” when your legs wrap around his waist and a sharp tug on his hair brings his face back up to your lips, making his brain short circuit and completely forget any part of the conversation you two just shared.

[luckypunklemonade]

| I Wanna Crash

“Maybe it’s true / you never learn / you’re past the point of no return / and you’re so sad / knowing the truth’s like holding a gun / I’m going down like Ritchie / I’m going out like James Dean”

[Fluff!; friends to lovers; friends with subconscious benefits lmao; drunk!reader; cw underage party; not proofread lol; 3k words] Best friend!Stiles Stilinski is always the first person you call.

This work belongs to me, luckypunklemonade (Minte_Condition on AO3). I do not give anyone permission to distribute or share my work without consent.

“You look half dead—“

You were drunk.

“I’m a lightweight.”

You took his hand and pressed it against your neck so he could feel your heartbeat. You held it there by his wrist, wrapped around your neck limply, looking up at him and blinking slowly, more showing him your teeth than actually smiling. “See? M’alive.”

He could’ve squeezed just a little. Not for power or control, but to show you he liked it when you put him in compromising positions with you. He liked it when you leaned on him when you were tired, or the way you’d fix his hair and wipe graphite off of his face. Or when he got to brush your hair out of your face and open doors for you. It made everyone around think you two were dating. He wasn’t even sure himself what it meant but he liked people assuming you were together.

Stiles felt you swallow against his palm, and his eyes flicked back down to you. Eyes closed, almost asleep in a state he’d never seen you in. He wanted to haul you into his arms and take you home like a good boyfriend would. Of course, a good friend would do it, too, but everyone would see him holding you close and whispering something to you, and it would only make their assumptions truer. It wasn’t selfish if it was a truth he hadn’t accepted yet. He found you in the upstairs hallway on the ground with your legs sprawled out in front of you. Your head was tipped back and your mouth was open. Stiles quickly dropped down beside you, thinking you were passed out, but his hand on your cheek had your eyes blinking open. First, you nodded. Your drunk mind somehow knew he should be there when you needed him. Always.

He probably knew his surroundings better than you did, even though this was his first five minutes in this house. You used your hands to feel around the area to help your eyes take everything in more clearly. Stiles took your hand before it felt the carpet further away from you, where a girl was trying to step past. He ran his thumb over your wrist. You put all your focus into your words. Stiles smiled at you, being the only one between you who noticed how forced it sounded.

“I don’t like drinking very much.”

You shrugged, falling limply against the wall to get a better view of him crowding you backward so you didn’t fall forward. He tried to get your eyes on his, and he succeeded by ducking his head lower so his face was right in front of yours.

“I think we should get you home.”

You nodded, taking a minute to stand with his help, laughing when he laughed. Stiles knew you had no idea what was funny, but he was okay if you wanted to keep him up all night laughing like that. Mumbling soft encouragement while you attempted to walk sober, his eyes kind of softened when you stood next to him to mirror how he carried himself. Your back straighter like you’d ever meet his height, and your eyes following his feet when he took a step. Someone would walk by and you’d lose focus, shaking your head when you resorted back to using Stiles’s shoulder for better balance while walking down the stairs. Stiles sighed and ducked down to pick you up. You could walk, he told himself. There was no need to carry you out bridal-style with your head leaned on his shoulder in front of everyone. He wanted to, though. For everyone to see that you called him, not anyone else, and that you felt safest with him. It was easier to get past all the people and to the bottom of the stairs that way. Your head leaned against him heavily as he guided your feet back on the ground. You mumbled about people, parties, and whatever you set your eyes on. Stiles was surprised; he’d never seen you drunk. You were so stiff all the time; It was nice seeing you let go, although a little unnerving.

Your shoulder collided with a stranger’s, and he translated your apology as he swept past them to follow you. It gave Stiles immeasurable pride to guide you outside past all of the noise. He actually couldn’t believe you were even there, though it was likely you took your friend out with you. She was currently making sure you were okay on the porch. Apparently, she had walked away for twenty minutes and, by the time she came to check on you, you had already called Stiles. It wasn’t a big party; there was no way you could’ve gotten lost. You got drunk, and your first order of business was calling him. Stiles assured her he’d get you home and made sure she had her own way before she walked back inside. When Stiles looked back at you, you were staring at him. From a few feet away, with that intensity in your eyes, it felt like you hadn’t seen him in years. It made him feel charged. You did that sometimes. You’d look at him or take a breath, and so easily, he started to weigh more than the moment itself. You looked at him like he was more important than the music booming from the house, or the blur in your vision, or the buzz in your stomach. It was usually at that point where his attention to how he’d be seen with you veered off. He was caught by your eyes when you tilted your head, speaking like he knew what you were thinking, “I don’t wanna go home, Stiles.”

Stiles turned his head, looking down the street. He liked it when you acted like he could read your mind, giving him hints cause you knew he couldn’t. He was faking thought, he knew what he was going to say, but you didn’t care. He just looked good.

“If you wanna walk off some of that awful cheap vodka, there’s a park up the street.”

You looked down the street as if you could see the park in the darkness if you just squinted, but it was further than you could see sober, much less like this. Stiles watched you walk up to him, not to the Jeep or to the curb or headed for the street, to him. You finally looked at him and nodded, that smile back on your face like he had successfully read your mind without your help.

“I put it in Gatorade.” You announced as you both started down the asphalt, “The vodka.”

“Oh, yeah? That’s…Well, that’s one way to stay hydrated.”

“Mhm. I’m smart like that.”

“Yeah you are.”

Stiles felt you take a hold of his arm, trying his best to keep his eyes forward. Walking past parked cars, nodding his head at a few people crawling into a Honda Civic. You rested your temple against Stiles’s shoulder as you started to hear cicadas in the distance. He could tell the sound was making you more and more drowsy, even as you continued to put one foot in front of the other. In this moment, Stiles didn’t feel like he should play up the intimacy between you both. There wasn’t much else he could ask for. So, he let you hug his arm and use him as an anchor while you fought sleep against his shoulder and the street beneath your feet. While the cars along the curb got sparser, the streetlights had come on and they offered goalpoint after goalpoint for your mind.

“Why’d you come?”

He let out a breath. Not one he’d been holding; one he’d been saving. He never dreaded explaining anything to you. Stiles was used to finding the words with you, not for you. It all seemed to work out as if you were there to make each other better. He’d been chewing on the idea of you helping him find the words to ask you out for maybe a week. No rush since, of course, he was confident it would be okay regardless. You, incidentally, weren’t so confident. You spent your days within the intimacy you allowed yourself around him. Almost sure you could find a way to fuck it up, you were grateful for whatever he let slide. He could never stress you out, but you were holding back on a lot of moments. You knew your friendship was a safe space for both of you, in which you had both grown a lot. You wanted it to stay that way, but evolve into something you could allow yourself to kiss him in.

Stiles’s attraction to you was one of the calmest things about him sometimes. Of course, he had spent evenings with a pillow over his lap on movie night when you wore that pretty tank top and years wondering how to get his heartbeat where it should be around you and not in his throat or his stomach or even lower. It just became one of those things he knew he had no choice but to work out either way. You were going to have to be a constant in his life so he started to savor his crush on you. Stiles was just glad to be having it in such close proximity. It wasn’t a secret. What with all the comments friends made and how much time you two spent with each other, the only thing that hadn’t clicked for the both of you was that it was a wholly mutual possibility if you just took the step. It was just his friends telling him you were in love with him and your friends telling you that he was head over heels for you.

Regardless, the whole confession to resolution pipeline got lost between everything going on, and you and Stiles settled comfortably where you found yourselves: in each other’s space. Exactly where you found yourself right now, Stiles walking for both of you towards the park. Once you had balanced yourself on a swing, Stiles braced himself for that heavy look up at him. But you were staring down at his shoes, and he had to coax you into raising your eyes with a hand on your shoulder.

“Stay with me.”

You finally set your eyes up and leaned your cheek against the metal of the swing’s chain. Stiles could see the curiosity working it’s way into words. He grabbed the opposite swing chain to make sure you didn’t fall backward while you thought.

“Have you ever wanted to kiss me?”

Another breath Stiles was saving. You watched his eyes scan the park, jump from bench to bench, and you didn’t think you had ever seen him so content. He laughed nervously, taking into account your state and embracing your capacity for honesty. “Uh, yeah. I have.”

He made eye contact with you and you found yourself just as assured in these uncharted waters as he seemed. Truthfully, his heart was racing and he was cycling through more deep breaths than he could take at once. You smiled, “Tell me about that.”

A confused and admiring smile at your transparency. “What?”

“Tell me what that would be like.”

He stared at you for another moment, keeping his thought process to himself, and then he walked over a step to the swing beside you. Sitting down, he slowly pulled your swing closer to his and you held on so as not to be tipped off. Stiles was known for his erratic, high-energy, talkative side, but it was midnight and the moon in your eyes made you smile and the cicadas were at the edges of the park, singing you to sleep. Cars drove by on the residential road in the background and the streetlights were just far enough away that you were highlighted by their amber hues. Stiles was tired, but he wanted more than anything to tell you whatever you wanted.

“Well.”

You broke out into a smile at a word and he had to search for cicadas in the treeline to stay focused, “If I kissed you.” He took another breath. “If I kissed you, I think I would try to make you laugh first. That always helps.”

Stiles picked at the chains of the swing, seeing your expectant focus in his periphery, “I would make you laugh, and it would take the whole time of you catching your breath to psych myself into actually doing it. By then, of course, it would be too late and you’d be asking me why I was staring.”

You were entertained by that. What you were too tired or drunk to notice is that what he said had actually happened before. More than once.

“Maybe I’ll keep thinking about it, decide that it would happen when it needed to. Maybe I wish, for a little, that I could just rip that band-aid off, y’know? One night, you’re at my house. Helping me put all the pictures and string on my board.” He continues with more specificity as you watch with an unwavering smile. “And maybe you point something out and say something I hadn’t thought of yet. You and I get to work out the issue together and you say something so incredibly smart that I make up my mind. I would try to get over how smart you are and how that’s your one of many great qualities. Then, we’d probably get distracted by the pictures and the string and the supernatural.”

Stiles hums out a conclusion. He feels your hand on top of his, the hand that is holding your swing closer to his. “But what about when you do it? What would that be like?”

“Best case? Fancy dinner, long conversations, I make you laugh. Then, y’know, boom.”

You laugh, and he feels himself becoming heavier than the moment. “Boom?”

“Yeah.” Your eyes haven’t quite met his again since he started on his retellings. He doesn’t want to think about which of you are at fault for that, though. “But- I mean, ideally…

Ideally, it would just be with you. Wouldn’t need expensive dinners and…maybe I wouldn’t have to take the flannel and converse off. It would be good if that was…If that was it, too.

He had thought about it a lot. Maybe you’d be catching a ride home with him, his Jeep would break down, you’d sit and keep him company while he tried working on it. You’d hand him the roll of duct tape again, turn the key in vain a few times when he asked, and he’d cuss with his fists balled. You’d put a hand on his shoulder, pull him away from the hot engine, wipe the oil off of his face, and kiss him.

He can sense the focus radiating from beside him and decides to savor that, too. “Well, it would probably still be after you laugh or after you say something smart. I would get all worked up, screaming at myself, that you would have to read my mind and do it for me. I think, after that, I would smile like the helpless idiot I am.”

Stiles turned his head to you, revelling in how you looked at him. Like he had opened doors that weren’t opened before or released pressure from between you two, but he was just thinking out loud. Your voice cut through the amber hue for a split second.

“Can you check if I’m alive?”

Stiles laughed, commenting something about being that good with his words, but he realized how you meant it. You wanted a gesture of connection. You wanted to feel him. You just couldn’t come up with any better ways to say it. Stiles slowly put his fingers to the side of your neck and felt your pulse. Once he could make out the steady rhythm, he covered it with his whole palm.

“Still kickin’.”

Your head lolled forward, tucking your smile beneath a curtain of hair. He slowly lifted his fingers from your neck and held your head up. Looking up through squinted eyes and knitted brows, you let him cradle your chin. He had successfully read your mind without your help again.

“Let’s get you home.”

He waited for you to nod and bent down to slide his arm under yours.

On the car ride to your house, you reached over and held his hand. You pulled it over the armrest and tucked it between your cheek and your shoulder. It was stupid to wish you were this affectionate with him all the time, but he let you keep it there. He thought about taking his hand away when you started pulling it further across the middle console, and he did, but he couldn’t bear the thought of taking away your comfort. So he put his hand on your back and focused on the road. He traced shapes on your back and listened to you hum. Stiles pushed away the vague hope his Jeep would break down and you’d both be stuck together on a county road. When you slumped your head forward, he coaxed your forehead from the dash, “That’s not safe.”

You laughed and curled up in your seat, asking him if he’d stay the night. When he said probably not, you frowned; and you kept that frown as he helped you inside your empty house and up to your room. Your parents were always working away from home. They didn’t ever think you were the type of kid that goes off to parties and gets drunk. Stiles opened a few cabinets in search of something to give you to settle your stomach while you tried to wash your makeup off in the bathroom. He came back with a cup of water and toast to find you failing. He stopped laughing when you asked for help in an oblivious voice with a wide smile. He still wasn’t sure if you knew what was funny, but he set everything down to help. Stiles picked up a towel and dried your face and you leaned against the counter, yielding completely.

“Do you want me to grab you some pyjamas?”

You nodded, soothed into a sleepy trance by the way he spoke to you this late, this vulnerable. This side of Stiles felt like forever. Like you’d been coming home with him for years now. You were so comfortable in this forever. When he came back with the clothes, he let you change, even if it took you a while, and, when he opened the door, you thanked him. You wrapped your arms around to his back and he let you lean yourself into him, swaying slightly as you repeated for the one hundredth time tonight, “I’m tired.”

“I have a cure for that.”

You opened your eyes at the word “cure,” as if it were going to be something interesting. It didn’t matter, though, all you could see were the threads of his shirt. All you felt was the weight of his arms around you and the slow sway back and forth. The bathroom light was off, the hallway light was off, and the desk lamp in your bedroom drew your eyes away from counting threads.

“Sleep.”

You agreed somehow, with sounds instead of words, but, just like he understood you needed another minute in his arms, he understood you. In your head, though, you made him chuckle. “You’re one to talk,” you said, and his smile would reverberate through his chest and you’d get to feel him laugh. You weren’t sure you’d be able to watch him close your bedroom door and leave you tonight, not with the way you were starting to feel. You felt caught up in him; the image of him looking up at the stars in the park burned into your brain. You felt like, if he were to leave, all of you that was connected to him would snap like old rubber bands. He walked you to your bed, pulling back all the bedding, and watching you climb in without protest.

As he pulled the covers over you, he readied himself to exit. He prepared himself to lock the house up for you, get in his Jeep, and drive home in silence. It was responsible; he’d text you tomorrow, and it would all be okay. You watched him get the blankets over you while silently thinking. When Stiles had you sufficiently tucked in, he felt you take a hold of his hand. Sitting up and pushing all of the bedding back down, you moved the edge of the bed and pulled him back to meet you. Stiles watched you falter, swinging your legs over the side to face him. He tried to decipher what you were trying to do, to read your mind, but it was really surface-level now. Slowly, you wrapped both arms around his waist and leaned your forehead into his abdomen. He started to reason, mouth opening and hands gingerly on your shoulders, ready to softly pull you away and put you back in bed, but your hand came up and pulled his arm down from your shoulder and onto your back.

“Stay.”

Stiles suppressed his smile and let his heart beat faster, “Okay.”

He held you while he kicked his shoes off and took his flannel off one arm at a time. You stayed leaned against him until he started crawling into bed. He first pulled the covers over you and settled beside you, making sure to leave room, but you pushed the blanket down and laid on top of him. Stiles ran a hand over your head, finally able to pull the blankets up over the both of you. He stared at the ceiling for a moment, contemplating how he got so lucky at every turn tonight—how he ended up here without really trying, what would happen if he started trying—when he spoke, “Can you check if I’m alive?”

Lifting your head, with all the precision you could muster, Stiles felt you press your lips against his pulse point and lay your head back down on his chest.

[steven-g-rogers]

Steve’s eyes well up.  It’s not fair.  None of this is fair.  He doesn’t understand why god would have made them this way if it was wrong.  His ma had always said it wasn’t and that some people just loved differently, but god loved love regardless.  But the church certainly had a different take on that.  As did most of the rest of the world. Bucky was a good man.  The best.  And he didn’t deserve to have to decide between living a miserable life where he faked loving someone to fit in, or a miserable one where he chose love and was ostracized for it.  He deserved to be happy.  Why were his cards dealt the way they were?

“This is different,” he whispered, his gaze dropping.  “This isn’t me drinking a milkshake when I know it’ll make me feel sick, or picking a fight with some loser trying to bully someone.  It won’t pass in a couple of days.  It’s forever.”  He sighed and let out a breath.  “They want us dead, Buck.  The Nazis.  They’re out there doing it.  And we’re going to try and stop them, but we can’t pretend that it’s because everyone here thinks it's wrong to kill people like us.  If Japan didn’t bomb Pearl Harbor, America would still be sitting here twiddling their thumbs and not saying out loud that maybe they’re right and people like us should go.  I go out and I sell these papers and they have full page ads saying that only the healthy seed should be sown.  We go out holding hands, and we get busted on a misdemeanor of degenerate disorderly conduct.  We go all the way and that’s considered a sin against nature and it’s a felony.”

He looked back up at him. “You’re right though.  It’s your choice.  And I can’t force you to do anything.  God, Buck.  I want you to choose me.  But you gotta be so sure.  We can have this week.  We can.  You can go to war at the end and never mention it again.  And if… when … when you come back, you can do what you’re supposed to do.  I’ll still be your friend.  But you’ll be safe.  Maybe even some version of happy.  I bet you’d be a great dad.  Or you can choose me, but if you do.  I want you to really think hard about what you’re signing up for.”

Bucky grins at the sweet way Steve kisses him, one hand resting over one of the ones on his cheek. He shakes his head though, "I know what we're supposed to do, and..and I bet a lot of guys, they do that anyway. Regardless of how they feel, of what they actually like, they marry women and have kids and pretend and...and I don't know how they do it."

He presses a soft kiss to Steve's cheek, "I don't want to do that. Even if I come back from this war and we get a chance at forever together, I would rather have this with you. You're right, we would have to make sure no one else could find out, but we've been roommates all this time. But we can figure that out if it comes to it"

He grows a little serious though, shifting to be able to look at Steve straight on, "Stevie, how many times have you actually punched me for making choices based on what I thought was best for you? You hate when I do that, and I understand why. It should always be your choice how you want to live your life. You don't want me to fight for you, and I don't unless I need to. If I wanted to live as an outcast with you, that's my choice. I would rather be with you or be alone, I don't want anyone else," he says firmly.

[prettysatomii]

Angel

FOR A MOMENT I WAS HEAVENSTRUCK...

Synopsis: You caught a certain white haired boys attention! This takes place during the Hunter exam arc. Inspo from Kokomi Teruhashi :) Its hard being so perfect. The blossoming of something new. Meeting killua in the hunter exam.

Ridiculously pretty. That's what Killua thought when he saw you. His eyes widened so much you thought that you had accidentally committed a crime.

It wasn't unusual for eyes to linger on you. In fact, if someone didn’t look you would assume something was wrong. But this gaze was different. The bluest eyes you’ve ever seen stared right back at you when you looked across the room.

You were picture perfect. An angel on earth could be debated to be an understatement. You were the kind of girl others tried to replicate. There were girls with some of your features, sure. But on you? They just made sense.

Of course, you always defended them whenever you heard these comparisons! Kindess to everyone was one of your priorities.

Your eyes reflected the sunlight and shined despite the lack of sun. Your hair, face, energy, it was unbelievably perfect. You had a strong aura surrounding you before you even knew what nen was. His eyes lingered on your face before slowly scanning you as a whole. The tunnel was long, and you kept a soft, practiced smile, looking straight ahead. The typical stare never bothered you, but his was... different.

‘Geez..even her bodys nice.’

Killua shook his head, looking down suddenly finding his skateboard way more interesting. He was embarrassed at how obvious he was being.

‘So many poor people are struggling to keep up..maybe I can help motivate them! They’ll be so appreciative.’

You thought to yourself glancing around the exam. The smile-and-wave combo was a classic of yours. It always seemed to brighten the mood.

‘They look so happy! Honestly, I should be thanked by the hunter corporation..’

Despite the interesting crowd, boys would always act like boys. You heard the soft whir of skateboard wheels before spotting him again.

When you'd first entered the exam site, you saw him drinking a soda. Tonpa had offered you one too. You took it politely, saying you’d drink it later. Lucky for you, someone warned you not to, said it was dangerous for a girl like you.

You heard Tonpa ask for his name to cheer to a new friendship.

Killua? If you remembered correctly… he’d drunk two.

Unlucky for you, you zoned out looking at him. He definitely noticed. You tried to recover by waving at him.

‘Oh shit, Me?’

He blinked rapidly, cheeks tinting pink. Killua had stares you down for a moment before trying to save himself and gave a halfhearted wave back.

Was this is his way of trying to act uninterested? That irritated you… not that you’d admit that out loud.

‘How dare you take for granted something other people would die for—‘

Your inner rant was cut off by a boy suddenly next to you.

“Hey, what’s—how—uh…”

Damn, The poor boy regretted even approaching you. He cursed at himself for thinking he could be normal around you when he never talked to anyone. Let alone a girl he found attractive. He fell silent so you decided to step in.

“Hi, my name is (y/n) , what's your name?”

(Y/n)…(y/n)…it suited you. He gulped, eyes darting away from you.

“Killua,”

it came out more passive aggressive than he wanted it to. He was nervous and the poor attempt at acting cool didn’t help. He didn’t want to look at you, but you caught him sneaking glances every few seconds.

“Nice to meet you, Killua. I’m glad you said hi to me.” You offered him a small smile.

He blinked, surprised by how easy you made it sound. No teasing, no pressure. Just genuine warmth.

A beat passed before he nodded, almost to himself. “Yeah. Me too.”

It was quiet for a second, not awkward, just enough to make the air between you feel different. You looked forward again, keeping pace with the crowd, and for the first time since the exam started. Killua found himself slowing down just a little - like he didn’t mind matching your pace.

“You have a nice name,” A second later you added, “I’ve never heard it before.”

The smile plastered on your face only grew. His face twitched as you spoke. It seemed like he didnt recieve much compliments… You almost felt sorry for talking so much.

Killua was cute. His nonchalant attitude intrigued you. But you weren’t here for that.

You were here to become a Hunter. To prove that you were more than perfect—you were one in eight billion. Not just a pretty, pampered girl. You could pass this exam. And you’d do it with ease.

He opened his mouth again, trying to find the words to thank you or say something. But before he could, he noticed… the intruder.

A girl had slowly drifted to your side.

Pon. Ponzi? No—Ponzu.

You’d approached her back when the first phase started, and now she was talking to you. You made easy small talk with her. She seemed comfortable, even a little nervous, avoiding eye contact with anyone else. Odd.

Killua, meanwhile, was practically shooting daggers at Ponzu.

He had clearly talked to you first. And she had the nerve to interrupt?

With a huff, he pushed off and skated to where he eventually stopped near a green-haired boy.

You noticed his absence. Eyes scanning the crowd until you spotted him again. He was beside the other kid, but his gaze flicked directly to you before looking away.

You smiled to yourself, this exam was going to be more entertaining than expected.

[sakachichi]

Drabble!Nanami

Yall ever think of Teacher!Nanami? Because I always do, and this is how I imagine it 🤓 picture this, two high school teachers; fairly young, single, and very in touch with their students. All the kids at school love them, their classrooms are right in front of each other, and every morning when you and nanami open your doors, he waves and you wave back — smiling briefly at each other. You can’t lie, he’s handsome, but you’ve never thought that you’d fall in love with him. In the beginning of the school year he introduced himself to you since you were new, he seemed so professional and respectful, he told you if you had any questions/problems to feel free to contact him. You thought he was so sweet for that and thanked him, and that was it, no further conversations just small casual waves throughout the day. During the faculty Christmas party he saw you sitting alone, drink in hand as you observed everyone around you, he walked up and politely asked if he could sit next to you — you agreed.

“How are you liking the school so far?” He asks, voice rumbling as you sip on your drink. “Uh well, everyone’s very kind, and it’s a lot calmer than my last school.” He nods as he engages in more small talk, later wanting to get to know each other a little more. He found out you were the same age as him, and that you had gone to the same high school as him. “Really? I don’t remember you-uh not in a bad way..” he raised a hand as he reiterated his stance, “no no it’s okay, I was very shy, I didn’t have many friends.” You say giggling, “ooh I see. The world is so small isn’t it?” You nod, muttering a small yes. After the party, Nanami would come by your classroom to say hello and goodbye, his smile small but still so captivating. Slowly he began to fall for you, the way you carried yourself, how nicely dressed you always were, hair always pinned up, your enchanting perfume, and your makeup — so polished. So beautiful.

His everyday greetings went from small polite compliments, and sometimes he would bring you a coffee or a sweet treat to “get through the day.” The harder he fell for you the harder it was to suppress his confession, he knew he couldn’t break that code, the relationship between you two should remain highly professional — he can’t pursue you in any way. But one day you came in, hair down, curled and teased to the gods — hair bouncing with every step you took. Heels clacking as your perfume followed behind you, you wore a black pencil skirt and a blue button up; similar to his. A few buttons were left untouched, but still keeping it modest enough for school. He was already standing at his door, leaning against it, and when his eyes landed on you he held his breath. You looked amazing, as you stopped at your door to unlock it, you turn to wave your fingers at him, “good morning Mr.Nanami.” you say with a smile, “g-good morning…” he replies back, your words knocking him back to his senses.

As the day went on, he kept looking over to your direction, watching as you greeted students, as you laugh with them, and how serious you look when you were teaching — there’s no way he can hold back anymore. After the day ended he went over to knock on your door, it was already open as he popped his head in to make sure you were inside, “hey…” he called out to you, you instantly turned and smiled at him, “hi, come on in!” You chimed, hand pointing at a chair in front of you. Now Nanami wasn’t a shy man, he’d like to think he was rather confident and liked to be straight up with people. So why is he feeling extremely nervous right now? As he sat down on the chair he let out a shaky breath, hands on his lap as he cleared his throat. You tilt your head to the side, expression concerned, “every okay, Nanami?” The way you say his name sends him over the edge, it just rolls perfectly off your tongue he fucking loves it.

“I was just wondering if you’d like to go to dinner with me?” He straight out asked, “if it’s okay with you — this weekend…” your eyes widened, a smile creeping up on to your crimson lips. “Finally you asked!” You say clapping your hands once, slightly leaning in. He flinches a bit as he grins, “you’ve been waiting for me?” He sounds shocked, but should he really? I mean the signs were there, and you were sure he couldn’t miss them. “Ever since the Christmas party, actually,” you reply, your tone velvety and soft, “after that I’ve noticed how you changed your behavior towards me, I wondered if you noticed the same in me…”

Nanami chuckles, arms now crossed over his chest, muscles threatening to burst out of his sleeves, “honestly, I thought you were just being nice.” He chuckles nervously, “but now I know.” He smiles, that usual smile he always flashes towards you, “this weekend works just fine, Nanami.”

“Great I’ll pick you up!”

Heheheheh hi 🤤 I’ve fallen for nanami 🤤 anyways lmk if yall want a part 2 cuz ik u want it 😈🙏 (I’ll post the part 2 anyways lol) happy Saturday primas 🫶🫶🫶

[nizhspo]

saltwater secrets

chapter eighteen: sea-glass promises

genre: haikyuu fic, slow burn

pairing: tooru oikawa x reader

links: m.list

he doesn’t bring it up at work.

not once.

not when the kitchen floods and you freeze. not when a table of kids throws their water cups across the booth and you go stiff. not even when you almost have to explain why you always take your breaks in the shade and why your hands are always dry.

oikawa just… covers for you.

quietly. casually.

like it’s nothing.. like it’s everything.

“yo,” he says one day, sliding into your side of the booth with a soda in hand. “is the new grill guy always that intense, or does he just hate me specifically?”

you blink at him, then down at the napkin you’d been quietly tearing to pieces under the table.

he doesn’t mention it. doesn’t look at your hands. just takes a long sip of his drink and bumps his knee gently against yours, like the question was the only thing he came over to ask.

but the timing’s not lost on you.

you nod. “yeah. he’s weird.”

“figured.”

you don’t talk about the pool, but you do text him, once.

[you: thx for not freaking out.]

[oikawa: thanks for not luring me out to sea and drowning me]

you roll your eyes, but you smile nonetheless.

three days later, it rains— and not the drizzle kind. it’s a full downpour. sideways. loud. sticky. smells like earth and sky colliding. you’re supposed to be leaving work.

oikawa’s already halfway to the parking lot.

you stand under the awning, frozen. you can’t walk in that. not even a second. not with your tail.

then— his hoodie hits your face.

you catch it. blink.

he jogs back, hair already wet, grinning like a smartass. “wrap it tight,” he says. “i’ve seen high school musicals with more subtlety than your tail.”

you gape at him.

he shrugs. “i’m just saying.”

you laugh. can’t help it.

and maybe he does too.

by the end of the week, it feels like breathing again.

you talk. sometimes during late nights, closing shifts where you two are the only ones left up front. other times it’s car rides to and from work. mainly, it’s been long walks on the beach.

he asks if you and akaashi were ever a thing.

you brush it off—say it was short, not much to talk about. and you make it sound casual, like it didn’t matter, even if it kind of did.

you ask if he’s ever been in love.

he says no, but refuses to meet your eye. you know it’s a lie. but you don’t call him on it, and he doesn’t call you on yours.

he asks what you miss about swimming.

you tell him about the mornings you and yachi still sneak out sometimes, early, when no one’s around. how you slip into the water with your tails out, swim past the markers, float in silence until the sun breaks over the ocean. dry off behind the big rock by your house before the world wakes.

he asks where you’re going for college.

you ask if he’s excited to have new girls all over him.

he grins, quiet and sure. says something about already having his hands full—then leans in, presses a kiss to your temple like it’s nothing.

your stomach flips. you don’t say a word. you just sit there in the sun and let it.

the days pass like sunlight through gauze.

you keep working at tide & table: refilling napkin holders, dodging water buckets, catching oikawa’s eyes from across the restaurant when he thinks you’re not looking. sometimes your breaks overlap, and you sit in the back booth, sharing fries. sometimes he drives you home, and your feet rest in his lap. you talk about nothing and everything. you don’t label it.

when you manage to buy a new one, he starts walking you out to your car after shifts, just because. he never complains about what you play on the radio, even when it’s something soft and annoying and stuck in his head for three days.

you’re not a thing. but it’s something. and everyone knows it.

then one night after work, he leans against the counter and says, “there’s a party this weekend. you should come.”

you arch a brow. “a party you’re going to, or a party you want me to come with you to?”

he grins. “both.”

you say yes.

you show up to the party with him. not beside him. with him. he opens the car door for you, hand brushing yours. he tells you you look good. you tell him to shut up. he laughs.

inside, the vibe shifts—lighter, curious.

a couple girls glance at oikawa, but he doesn’t glance back. his hand rests on the small of your back when you walk in, casual but obvious. like he’s not leaving room for questions.

and honestly, no one really asks.. besides yachi, of course.

you catch her eyes from across the room and it’s seconds before she’s pushed through the crowd to get to you, both brows raised as she drags you towards a quiet corner. “okay,” she says, voice low. “you’re so gonna debrief me later.”

you nod. “yeah. yeah, okay.”

but the party moves around you.

when girls try to flirt with him, he barely looks up. he’s watching you instead. subtle. gentle. just always aware of you.

he keeps brushing your wrist, your waist, the back of your neck. nothing heavy. just there.

then later, way later, when the party thins out and the music is quieter, he finds you again. yachi’s in the kitchen, bokuto’s yelling at someone to shotgun a soda, and oikawa leans close to murmur:

“hey. can i steal you for a bit?”

you blink at him.

he glances toward your friends. “i already asked. they said yes.”

you look over. yachi and bokuto both raise their eyebrows at you. bokuto gives a thumbs-up so exaggerated it makes your face warm.

so you nod. “okay.”

you walk. down the boardwalk, then onto the sand. neither of you say much. you’re not even holding hands at first, but then his fingers brush yours and you don’t pull away.

it’s quiet where you end up. a curve in the beach, tucked away from the usual chaos. no people. no noise. just the ocean, breathing slow beside you.

you pause at the edge of the water.

he glances at you. “you okay?”

you nod. “yeah. just—give me a second.”

you step in first. the water welcomes you like it always does. your legs shimmer, shift. the transformation doesn’t sting anymore. it never did with saltwater.

you float just off the shore, hair wet, tail curling beneath the surface. the moon makes everything glow.

he wades in after you, slow, hesitant. not afraid. he’s close enough to reach, but doesn’t touch you yet.

“you’re beautiful,” he says softly, and your breath catches. not in a dramatic way—just a quiet, involuntary pause. like your heart paused too.

“like this,” he adds, voice even quieter. “and also… always.”

and then, gently, he does touch you. his hand finds your face, thumb brushing your cheekbone like you’re something delicate and rare.

you don’t look away.

you lean in.

and when you kiss, in the water, in the quiet, in the glow of a summer night, it’s not rushed or breathless or wild. it’s soft. like something earned.

he kisses you like the ocean touches the shore: soft, reverent, again and again and again.

and for the first time in a long time, you don’t feel like hiding. you just float there, in his hands, letting yourself be seen.

you don’t feel the water anymore.

just him.

[margoteve]

A suit for Kafka. Suit designed specifically for Kafka. Kafka's suit.

Summary: After the Meireki kaiju was defeated it was time to celebrate. But when alcohol flows people ask stupid questions and then try to test a theory.

Rating: T, very strong T

Warnings: Use of alcohol, people being drunk, Unsafe attempt on the use of katana and a gun, swearing, OSHA is crying.

Read on AO3

A/N: This is a crack idea. IDK man I'm very sleepy, this took me like 3 hours lol. I wonder if I should just stop writing lmao. Have fun! Reblogs and comments much appreciated, thank you

The Meireki Kaiju has been defeated. The destruction and deaths uncountable but they did it. Japan will need to rebuild and lift itself from the rubble but it survived. The celebration was huge.

As soon as the majority of kaiju carcass was removed and some rubble pushed off to the side and the heroes had time to recover parades were thrown. Everyone who had direct hand in the final battle were made to participate. That meant Captain Ashiro and Narumi, Vice-Captain Hoshina, Kikoru Shinomiya, Reno Ichikawa and most importantly - Kaiju no. 8.

Kafka didn't want to go. He still struggled with accepting the fact he would never be human again and still had troubles maintaining human form. Most important - he just didn't feel like he deserved as much attention as everyone wanted him to get.

"You deserve it, sir!" Reno argued.

They all gathered in Hoshina's and Narumi's hospital room to discuss the upcoming event.

"Yeah, you dum-dum, you were the one who punched through that core!" Kikoru reminded him.

"I don't know guys, it was everyone's effort, if it wasn't for all the troop members–" Kafka tried to defend himself but then got interrupted by Hoshina.

"It's not just a vanity project," he said. "The more you show up as a part of Defence Force, the harder it will be for the Brass to eliminate you."

"Late Director General Shinomiya believed in you," Mina added. "While Director Itami plans on honouring that I'm not sure if he would fight as hard for you if HQ changes their minds."

"They are trying to protect you with the power of public opinion!" Narumi threw in. He barely said anything until now, scrolling social media and at the same time testing the special glasses the R&D department made for him to offset the damage to his eyes. "You better strike that iron while it's hot. People are going nuts on SNS over you."

That was a hard argument to beat.

"Alright, I'll go." Kafka had no choice but to give in.

And so the parade was held as soon as everyone recovered. Afterwards the victors were invited to a party in their name. Kikoru was sulking because she was still not old enough to drink with everyone. It wasn't really a problem until later in the evening when all the adults were slowly going over the 'tipsy' stage.

Hoshina and number 10 were bickering (yes, the suit came with Hoshina as it wouldn't stop yapping to the techs and everyone decided to let the Vice-Captain babysit it), Mina was going off on karaoke machine with Shinonome singing 'Pink Pony Club'.

"Heeeeyy, Izumooooo," Kafka rolled over to Haruichi. "Can't you seriously talk to your folks and make me a better suit? Why is my release force a fucking 2%. I'm the strongest kaiju in all history man!"

"Didn't we have this conversation before? It's still skill issue!" Haruichi replied, trying to push Kafka's face away. Seriously, strongest kaiju in history was a light weight apparently.

"But what if it isn't?" Aoi suddenly spoke up. He had his usual stoic expression on but those who knew him could tell he was close to wasted.

Both men looked at him. "What do you mean?" Haruichi asked.

"What if because Kafka is a kaiju… he can't wear other kaiju?" Aoi said slowly.

His companions slowly processed his words and ended up still confused.

"That makes sense!" Hoshina suddenly spoke up, approaching the table.

"It does?" Kafka slurred out.

"If you think about it, you're the most powerful monster on Earth and you hide behind a disproportionately weaker kaiju turned into a suit," Okonogi joined him. "On some subconscious level your body must be rejecting it."

"Exactly that!" Hoshina nodded along.

"Huh." Kafka stared at his beer.

"I guess, if we could use something from your body… we could make you a fitting suit," Okonogi thought out loud.

The men exchanged a look. Immediately, Kafka had his kaiju arm on the table.

"Okay, just hold still, Hibino," Hoshina was already unsheathing his katana.

"Wait, whoa, hold on a second!!" Okonogi yelled.

"Cut it off!!" 10 yelled.

Haruichi and Aoi were on Kafka's side holding onto him just in case.

"Captain!" Okonogi called for Mina.

Captain Ashiro looked up from the next song selection and approached the group. "What's going on?"

"We're trying to get a sample of Kafka to see if we can make a suit for him and have his battle release force higher!" Hoshina explained.

"Oh, I see." Mina nodded in understanding.

Okonogi was about to sigh in relief to have someone take control of the officers but then Mina reached for her pistol. This time everyone jumped back.

"Captain?!"

"Whoa!"

"What?" Mina asked confused.

"We don't want Hibino to explode, Captain," Hoshina explained kindly, using 10's tail to take the gun away from her.

She sulked.

"Let's just get back to karaoke, Mina," Shinonome suggested gently dragging her away.

When she left everyone sighed with relief.

"Now, where were we?" Hoshina turned to the remaining officers. Everyone got into position again. "Suck it in, Hibino!" The blade reflected a spark of light as the Vice-Captain raised it up. "On three! One! Tw–"

Suddenly everything got covered in ice. "What the hell is going on, sir?!" Ichikawa appeared in the door way back from the toilet with Shinomiya behind him. "Are you all insane!?"

"Boo! Killjoy!" Iharu hollered, he was one of the few spared from the ice. Immediately, he got bonked in the head by one of Ichikawa's floating frost guns.

"I left for five minutes!" Reno scolded everyone.

"You tell him, Reno!" Kikoru joined in.

"This is so irresponsible! You have to first secure the limb before you cut it out so you don't bleed out!" The ice around people began to melt, while Reno encased Kafka's arm in ice. Appreciative chorus of 'ooohs' responded to him.

"Yea—, wait what?" Kikoru blinked confused. "WHAT?!"

Before she could give up a shadow loomed over her and then precise blows have been delivered to all by one and only Vice-Captain Hasegawa. Kikoru looked up at him. When did he—

Her eyes fell on Narumi who was holding his phone up, with a wide, shit-eating grin on his face. No doubt he recorded everything. He gave her a thumb-up.

She sighed. Adults were so stupid after alcohol. She swore she wouldn't be drinking any of it in the future. None.

Tag list:

@sonicasura

@kafkahibinomybeloved

@mechazushi

@j4yslayz

@ashiraismyname

@kaijuice-z

@iceclew

@quinowskie

[plainsviemenace]

"Good because I'm not sure I could stop spoiling you but I'll admit that I am enjoying all of this. It makes me feel special knowing you want to do things for me." When she moaned he nipped at her neck to ensure she did it again. "I think you'll enjoy it. I'll try not to wreck you too much but no promises." He grinned at her as he thought about what he was going to do and how wet he thought she would get for him. "I enjoy tasting you as much as you enjoy being tasted." He teased, she was insatiable and addicted to sex as much as he was. He loved that she was so willing to try new things with him. "That's your fault, shoving me into the spotlight, arresting me and making everyone want to be me. " He loved when she complimented him and his ring work even if she hadn't seen him wrestle live yet, he would make sure it happened soon.

"It wasn't as bad as I thought it would be and definitely took the edge off of things." Alex had asked why he was drinking but she didn't freak out over it. Had had an occasional drink at the holidays but it just wasn't his thing. She knew they were just enjoying themselves and she loved Sab so it was fine. "I wouldn't mind an occasional drink or two. It numbed the pain that I'm in at times." He didn't want he to think it was a bad thing. She liked to drink and he could see the positives of it. The not touching her was the hardest part because he loved touching her and could barely keep his hands off of her but he was trying to make this as real as he could and that was something no one on her payroll did. It was strictly professional although they all got along it seemed. 'I love stretching your pussy out, making you moan for me.' he said in his head unable to voice it right now. "I'll give you my best, boss. Thank you for letting me keep my job." His cock twitched as her voice grew stern and she tugged his head back to kiss his neck. "Mmm, yes." His hand moved to her breasts, teasing her rosy buds before bringing his mouth to suck and nip at them. "That feel good, Miss Carpenter?" His hand moved to her clit teasing it as she bounced on his cock. "Wanna pound you real good, boss. So good you give me raise." He wasn't even teasing now, he was fully into the roleplay and returned her hungry kiss, biting at her lip. As her hips moved faster on him, he could feel himself getting close. "Yes, ma'am. All my cum is yours, every drop." he moaned as he started to unload into her. His finger still teasing her clit, stroking and pulling at it. This was fast because they were naked in public, fucking but it was definitely a turn on from the thrill of being seen. "Oh….fuck, soo good." He lay back catching his breath looking up at her. "Did I do good, Miss Carpenter?" He said with a knowing look on his face. "I should get you back to your hotel before we're seen."

“I’m glad that it’s bothering you less as we talk about it. I do love when you spend your money on me. I live for presents.” She laughed. But it wasn’t wrong, she was a girl and loved getting gifts. She looked forward to it when she knew there was a chance that she could get something. She let out a small moan as he kissed her neck, her hands gripping onto his biceps. “I can’t wait to see what you have planned for me,” she smirked. She did love when he planned things, for the bedroom. They were always a surprise, and so far she had liked it all. Maybe she was just obsessed with sex, and that’s why she was into almost everything. “Yeah, daddy can only taste. I can’t deny you from eating my pussy, I know how much you like to do that.” She murmured, letting her hands move up to his shoulders.  “An unknown partner? That’s a lie. It would definitely say, Maxwell Jacob Friedman, the best wrestler in the world, dies from having his cocked gripped so tight by her pussy,” she corrected him. He was definitely becoming more known in her world, especially after the Juno arrest. The videos of them were everywhere online. They had been talked about so much in such a short period of time.

She laughed, nodding in agreement. “The drinking won’t happen much. Not like that. That’s for special occasions.” She loved going out with her friends and having a few drinks. But to get blackout drunk, or close to it, that didn’t happen to often for her unless she was in Vegas or a big parties of sorts. Especially since he didn’t drink, she didn’t want to drag him into the big old partier world. That would just give his family more leverage to not like her in the long run. Or even for him to start disliking who he had became just by dating her. As she started moving, she was surprised he didn’t start touching her, or even thrusting into her. But she quickly realized that he couldn’t. No one that worked for her, touched her.  She let out a louder moan as she felt him finally thrusting into her. “I love how your cock stretches me out,” she said softly.  Her gaze dropped onto his pleading eyes as he begged to keep his job. It was a different side of him, a more weak one that he was letting out for her. And this was new for her, she had never been in control before. Or even role-played something like this. “you can keep your job, but only if you can make me cum.” her voice more stern as her hand moved the back of his head, her fingers tangling into his dark locks as she tugged his head back. She leaned in, pressing kisses against his neck, going up to his ear. “you can touch me and kiss me,” she finally answered his question from earlier. “but no thrusting. i want to fuck your cock. If you’re a good boy, I’ll let you pound into me later.” She told him, her hand moving to his chin and tilting his head up as she bent down to kiss him hungrily. She knew this had to be fast, she wasn’t sure if anyone would come out of the building. Her hips moved hard and fast. Sabrina’s nails digging into his shoulders. “I’m so close,” she moaned into the kiss, but broke it. Her walls clinging to him as she hit her high, “fill my pussy up with your cum.” She murmured, “I want all of it.” The blonde kept moving her hips, purposely squeezing her walls harder around his cock. 

[chimerical-daydreams]

How does the king stay hydrated when they cry so much?! I'm genuinely concerned for his health at a certain point!

Bonnie the hydration hero saves the day once again!