#ankle ankle ankle ankle THE CAT!!!! THE CAT!!!!!!

[mossangelll]

stray cat rescue

vi x reader

i’m so down bad for vi i could write like 20 absolutely filthy fics about her I NEEEED HER… ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

tw: detailed smut, reader is fem - 18+ mdni!!

Strobe lights flashed in the dingy club as you sobbed hysterically into your watered down martini.

Life was going great! You got a new job, adopted a cat and were even looking for a house with your boyfriend - you hated to brag but you knew you had hit the jackpot.

And then you found out your boyfriend of two years cheated on you. Two long years down the drain in the blink of an eye.

That was that. Your perfectly curated life was crumbling before your eyes and there was nothing you could do to make the situation better. No matter how loudly you protested, your friends, bless them, decided to drag you out of your depression-induced hibernation in order to lift your spirits. Needless to say, the night was a major fail.

You down the rest of your drink and stand up from the booth, resigning yourself to another night of sobbing into your poor cat’s fur.

Before you could make your escape, you bumped into a charismatic, muscular, attractive, no, very attractive woman - Vi.

She had a wicked smile and cocky demeanour as she told you she’d been watching you for a while, that she hated to see a pretty woman cry, that she knew the best way to cure a broken heart.

Now your makeup was running for a whole other reason.

Vi’s strong arms had manoeuvred you into a mating press, ankles dangling precariously over her shoulders as she lay off the edge of the bed and you watched her tattooed biceps bulge under the low light. Shit, she was so hot that just watching her made you wetter by the second.

“Fuck, princess,” she groaned into your pussy, the vibrations forcing another wail from you, making your eyes roll back into your head, “you’re absolutely dripping wet. Think you can squirt for me again, cutie?”

Her own low pants grew louder as she lifted her head from between your legs to look up at you. Her chiseled face was flushed a deep red, eyes glazed over and, fuck, the lower half of her face was drenched in your juices. If you didn’t know any better, you would think she was the one getting ate out.

But you weren’t one to question a gift horse in the mouth so you settled for roughly tugging tufts of her cropped hair in your hands to guide her mouth back to where it belonged. She groaned at this and you felt another pang of arousal hit deep within your core.

Her mouth returned to your sopping cunt but instead of eating you out like you hoped, her scarred lips left teasing, feather light kisses on the insides of both your sensitive thighs before plunging two thick digits inside of you without warning.

“Shit, you’re so tight, cupcake.” She hissed as her wrist flexed from the force of pistoning inside and out, fingers curling up towards the spongy spot with a come-hither motion that had you drooling from the mind numbing pleasure.

“Right there! Please, please don’t stop!” You keened and writhed, unable to keep still which made Vi chuckle, dark and full of sensuality.

“Can’t believe your ex just gave this up. Sure as hell can’t complain though.”

A rough hand manhandled your left tit, squishing and squeezing it in the palm of her large hand before she flicked your pebbled nipples, making you squeal in surprise.

Her eyes shot up from where they were glued to your heaving chest and a devious smirk spread across her face. She quickly yanked out the hand that was finger fucking you, blue eyes rolling playfully at your noise of indignation, to give attention to your neglected tit.

“You’re such a slut for me, crying out for me like this and I barely had to touch you.”

Her wet fingers left behind a trail of your sticky arousal that she promptly licked up so she could lather wet, sloppy kisses all over your chest that turned into sharp nips when she reached your delicate neck - you moaned breathlessly at every kiss and the thought of the dark marks you would find blooming tomorrow, only having enough energy to stroke her silky hair.

Once she had her fill, she dove back down to continue lapping up your wetness like a man starved. The way her tongue flattened against your crying pussy to lick a wide trail up to your clit made you feel like you were on the verge of passing out, nothing could feel better than this. Mounting pleasure built up inside of you, snaking up from the tips of your toes all the way to the top of your head like a pressurised can under a flame - you’re all but ready to burst.

But then she pursed her lips around your swollen clit and sucked down so hard your vision went white and you were convinced you must be convulsing as you came so forcefully.

You knew you squirted again as Vi’s pleased chuckles and loud slurps were a good enough tell tale sign for you - where had Vi been your whole life?

Her gravelly voice called out to you from beyond the thick fog that smothered you, the only thing that tethered you to the waking world, borderline snarling in the throes of satisfaction, “Think your little boyfriend could’ve fucked your brains out like this? Bet he didn’t know the first thing about making you feel good, doll.”

You started to come down from your high, thighs trembling and so, so sticky. The world had finally stopped spinning and you think it must be over, that you can turn over and go to sleep content and happy for the first night in a very long time.

It seemed that Vi had other plans as in your haze, she had enough time to put on an impressive a strap-on. Well, know you had proof she definitely wasn’t overcompensating for anything.

You gawked at the sheer size of the strap but somehow your pussy had became slicker at the thought of being pounded by her huge dick. Her sharp teeth flashed ravenously in the dim room as her well defined and sweaty body loomed over you- it was clear she was proud at the cum-drunk reaction she elicited from you.

She leaned down and tapped the side of your cheek and you instinctively opened your mouth, watching in morbid curiosity as she spat inside and claimed another part of your body. You yelped as she easily flipped you over and positioned you in doggy with a warm hand on the small of your back to arch it further.

You felt hotter by the second and another gush of arousal leaked from your pulsating core as you felt her plush tits and hard body drape across your back. Her hair tickled the side of your love-stained neck and you could feel the faintest touch of her chapped lips against the shell of your ear.

There, she whispered so lowly you had to strain just to make out the words, “God, I love ruining innocent girls like you that don’t know the first thing about a good fuck.”

[allpiesforourown]

I'm sure you can tell from your notifications I've binged the entirety of your asshole roommate bingge au today, so here's my contribution

You know the meme of guys watching horror movies with girls so they'll be scared and cling to them? Well Binghe tried that, but Shen Yuan is extremely unphased by horror movies, so it usually ended up with Binghe acting scared so Yuan-ge would cuddle him (good, but he wants it to be the other way around.) Anyway, at some point he figures out that if he finds cool nature films to watch, Shen Yuan will grab onto him to point out cool facts. Basically,

Watching a horror movie:

Shen Yuan: Well that was fucking stupid of them

Binghe: *Exaggerated squeak of fear* Gege, I'm scared!

Binghe, internally: This is not going to work

Watching a documentary on the natural adaptations of various wild cats:

Shen Yuan, grabbing Binghe's arm: Oh, I love these! Did you know that margays can actually reverse their ankles 180 degrees to go up and down trees more easily? Isn't that cool? See- they've got a video. Gods, that looks so weird. But isn't it fascinating? Tropical birds actually evolved something similar-

Binghe, focusing on not sobbing because gege is looking at him with such a delighted expression and he's holding onto his arm and his eyes are so pretty and: Mhm

SO TRUE ... but also while they're watching horror movies and binghe is moping about yuan ge not being scared, shen yuan would be the one to go "binghe is being so quiet... I'll hold him, he must be terrified" and binghe is having the time of his life

[comatosebunny09]

soft kitty, warm kitty [ one ] | sylus

— summary: the one where the adorable stray cat you take in is not all that he appears to be. — cw: silliness, fluff, slight injury and blood mention, shapeshifting, hybrid au, self-indulgent af — now playing: carousel - evgeny grinko

There was this pretty stray kitty you’d been feeding and playing with outside your job for three or so months. 

At first, it wasn’t your biggest fan. It spat, hissed, and swiped at you whenever you got too close—you learned to carry band-aids in your bag from thereon. But it still quietly nibbled on the food you left out when you were at a safe distance. You made a point to refill its bowls each time you came to work. Started leaving a cardboard box with a solar-powered heating pad outside to help it battle the glacial nights that often befell the city. 

Eventually, it grew accustomed to you. With baby steps, it came closer and closer each day, sometimes perching itself on the bench you sat on during your lunch or smoke breaks to keep you company. With time, it allowed you to pet it. Its ivory fur was surprisingly soft beneath the street sludge and grime it accumulated throughout the time you knew it. It also had striking, scarlet eyes you brushed off as a genetic mutation. Plenty of weird animals inhabited the city, so an uncommon eye color wasn’t particularly unsettling. 

The adorable stray only allowed you to touch it, reverting to its initial attitude when your coworkers got too close. It seemed to specifically take a liking to you, bunting its little cranium against your hand and ankles, marking you with its scent, grooming you with its barbed tongue, and purring like the low rumble of a Mustang. 

Finally, you decided to catch it. You noticed a red, crusted ring adorning its tiny ankle. It must’ve been injured. You weren’t sure how long it would survive on the streets before infection set in, and your caring instincts were screaming at you to save it. 

So, you did.

It was surprisingly easy to lure the little guy into a cat carrier with treats. It crawled into the bag effortlessly, almost as if it wanted to be rescued. That afternoon, you took it to the vet. They cleaned its foot, gave you cream and antibiotics to ward off infection, updated its shots—the whole nine yards. 

It had also been revealed to you that your feline friend was a boy. The vet offered to neuter him, but you staved it off, promising to return later. You could barely afford the bill he racked up from his treatment alone.

With a warm smile, you cradled the carrier, holding your new companion in your lap as you rode the subway. The pretty, sedated feline purred nonstop on the commute home. 

It took some time to adjust. Of course, you hadn’t expected his transition to succeed overnight. 

When you gave him his first bath, he wasn’t the happiest camper. He adorned your arms with angry, red streaks to illustrate his discontent. His coat was lustrous and white beneath the grime and fleas. And though he was initially a hissing, snooty ball of fluff following his bath, he purred continuously when he curled up beside you that night in your bed, seemingly grateful to be off the street.

You find with time that old habits die hard.

You bought him a red leather collar to compliment his eyes. With it came a bell and pendant, and your address was carved into it. The little guy loved to slip out of your apartment at night, often returning to the streets he was so accustomed to. He always came back, sometimes days after disappearing. He brought you little presents, ranging from dead mice to shiny, crimson gems that looked like they could’ve been worth a fortune. Snowball, as you had fondly named him, was truly a marvel. He was adjusting to domestic life well, but you didn’t stifle him when he wanted to spend his nights perusing the city and stirring up little cat mischief.

You were grateful for the company. You’d been living in the city for about a year, having relocated to its heart for your job. You didn’t have any family in the area, so you relied heavily on your coworkers for social interaction. Otherwise, you were on your own. 

It was pleasant to have a little fur ball bouncing around your home, knocking things off your dresser, shacking up in your pantry, or hiding under your dining table, ready to attack your ankles. He brought excitement to your otherwise humdrum life, keeping you on your toes while curling up at your feet, expressing his gratitude for everything you’d done for him thus far. 

You were content despite your solitude, looking forward to what your furry companion had in store for you each day.

You awaken to sunbeams coloring the space behind your eyelids. To the melody of birds chirping and cars occasionally easing by on the street. 

A quiet smile rounding your lips, you reach beside you to pet through familiar tufts of white. Snowball routinely curls up next to your head on the pillow when you sleep. You haven’t yet opened your eyes, so you’re a little caught off guard when his fur feels slightly shorter than usual. 

Still, you wear a smile as you fondly coo at your kitty, your voice rough with sleep. He doesn’t purr in response, which is strange given his purr motor’s always been broken. He never knows when to stop. Perhaps he doesn’t feel well today? 

Cautiously, you pry your eyes open, your vision blurry from the sun's rays. Through the haze, you ingest a familiar wash of stark white. Your eyesight gradually corrects, and you can discern shapes and colors. Upon taking in the scene beside you, you stiffen, your silly little smile frozen in place.

On the other side of your bed, where Snowball would usually be roosted, quietly waiting for you to stir from your slumber, lies a tan stretch of skin. Recognizable red eyes watch you beneath short, swept lashes, blinking sluggishly, a humored cant to pink-petaled lips. 

Reality slowly trickles in. There is very much a warm-blooded man beside you in place of your darling feline. Your smile melts away, traded for something of confusion. And once you’ve fully processed the moment, you do what any logical person would do given this situation: you scream.

The strange man beside you winces, a searing, heavy hand shooting out to cover your mouth. Your voice dies in the back of your throat, and the stranger takes you in with mild irritation donning his features.

“Must you be so noisy?” he grouses, the rough slide of his voice furling in your stomach. You blink owlishly at him, his hand still clamped over your mouth. 

As the adrenaline spuming through your body tempers, and you’ve taken more time to breathe and assess your situation, you fully observe the intruder.  And with a mixture of horror and confusion, you intake a familiar set of ivory, tufted ears twitching atop his head.

Again, you let your instincts guide you, and you do what one would typically do in this situation: you reach out to tweak said ears, confirming the familiar glide of silken fur beneath your fingertips. The stranger sucks in a breath, jerking away from your prodding. He fixes you with an iron gaze that pierces straight through to your soul. A look you’re all too familiar with, Snowball having pinned you with it at random times throughout your day.

You scream again, the sound of it muffled behind the meatiness of the stranger’s palm. Only, this is no stranger.

Is this—is this Snowball?

[weapon-xox]

Anything Wade could have said would be an understatement when it came to how much Logan fucking loved the snow.

Like the sweetest little puppy Wade has ever seen, next to Mary of course, the Wolverine would run up to the window, chirping at the snowflakes, clawing at the glass in a feeble attempt to play.

How could Wade deny him? He couldn't, simply wouldn't, because that would be cruel and in Wades eyes, means for a nosey neighbour (or a blind roommate) to call animal control for Logans own protection with how fucking loud he whined up at the Merc.

Eyes wide and wet, the saddest pout on the plumpest of lips, it was rare for Logan to be so vulnerable and atuned to his inner animal. But on soft days like these where the pair could be lazy, not a care in the whole entire world, with the snow falling light but landing heavy on the ground, Logan seemed to mellow out.

Wades working theory was that the snow reminded him of the harsh winters of Canada, where he'd stand in a storm and howl for hours and never get cold. Maybe he missed the freedom, to play and pounce, to just let go.

He'd think back to warm summer days, too, where Logan would take his shirt off and lay on the floor where a warm beam of sunlight shone in, much like a cat he would soak up the sun, Wade would try hard not to squeal and squirm when he'd hear the man purr.

Now, Logan was sat on his knees between Wades legs, metal joints nestled into a pillow on the floor and his scruffy cheek pressed to Wades thigh, while strong fingers cradled his ankles and Logan sighed sadly.

"What's the matter, Peanut? Thinking about that barren waste land of hell frozen over you called home?"

Logan huffed from his nose. Wade scratched behind his ear.

"You wanna... Play? Huh?"

Logans ears fucking twitched, Wade was sure, and he looked up curiously with a tilt of his head.

"That it? You wanna play, boy? Wanna jump around in the sno-" Before Wade could finish Logan was up, boots on and laced, the new winter coat Wade had bought him on and zipped up. He looks so cute, Wade thought to himself, because Logan would probably argue-

"I ain't cute, bub. Let's go."

Did he say that outloud?

"Yes," Logan growled.

"Did I say that outloud?" Wade asked, and the Wolverine couldn't help but smile, small and barely there, but it was there, and Wade saw it and it was glorious.

"Gosh, everytime a Wolverine smiles, an angel dies. Or however the saying goes." Wade droned, on and on, Logan growing impatient, huffing and tugging at Wades arm to just get him to come on already while Deadpool took his time putting on his coat and shoes.

Wade gave Mary a treat, yelled a "goodbye bitch!" to Al, grabbed his keys and let Logan drag him outside.

They walked to the park, no one was there. Wade could hear Logan sigh in relief, watched him shrug off his coat and shoes. He furrowed his non-brows and mock scowled with his hands on his hips, said "you're gonna catch a cold!", and when Logan honest to god laughed Wade nearly threw up his heart.

Logan dropped his coat, shook his head when his soft hair had a little too much snow pile up, and slowly backed up, predatory, baring his teeth at Wade while getting down to his haunches and in position, hairy toes burrowed in the snow.

Wade grinned in return, rolled his neck, and opened his arms wide. If Logan wanted to play, he'd play.

"Come and get me, Peanut. Paint the snow red with our love."

The Wolverine snarled, pounced and drove his claws into Wade, who in turn laughed and shoved him off easily. While Logan was distracted, biting at the air to try and eat each snowflake, Wade tickled his sides and Logan crumbled, falling into the snow where he was wrestled with and roughed up.

He looked so happy, all happy growls and playful nips, fingers sinking into the snow for a firm grip but faceplanting when the snow turned out to be too soft for any real leverage.

They stayed outside for hours, Wade tapping out when he got to cold and just wanted to watch Logan play. The Wolverine, ever the gentleman he was, set his coat down on a bench for Wade to sit on. The snow soaked through fast, the jacket already damp from Logans carelessness, and Wades ass was now wet, but it was so worth it to watch his boy play, smile, have fun.

The Merc let him play for hours, face half buried now in his scarf, hugging himself for warmth because his personal space heater was rolling around in the snow, his clothes were soaked, and while the Wolverine didn't seem to bothered Wade figured soaking wet jeans just couldn't be comfortable.

He whistled, got Logans attention who perked right up and bounded over to Wade, shaking his head like an overexcited puppy, the water and flakes from his hair smacking Wade in the face. He just smiled, wide and bright.

"There's my pretty boy. Did you have fun in the snow, Kujo? I know, a little less blood shed and murder than you would've liked, but you really showed those snowflakes whose boss!"

They head back home, Logan shed his clothes at the door. Wade admired Canadas ass, whistled, and followed the feral turned domestic into the bathroom.

They showered, warm and comfortable, Wade washing Logans hair while the other washed Wades body. They got out, put on their comfiest pj's consisting of plaid pants with no shirt, and Wade wearing one of his longest, softest sweaters, nothing underneath because the bottom of the sweater made it halfway down his plush thighs and covered just enough to keep Logan guessing.

Logan growled, hands on Wades rear, and pulled him into his lap where the Merc yawned and sighed with content, cheek pressed against a forest of hair, the rythmatic thumping of what Wade would call a heart beating from behind the bushes.

Mary hopped up, did a little spin, then flopped and pressed herself up against Logans thigh, a hand on her belly that made her tongue lull out of her mouth. Wade looked awful similar, the same blissed out look on his face.

"That was... Fun," Logan muttered, eyes half closed in sleep. Wade looked up at him, felt his stomach clench with the aggression he felt for Logans sweetness, and pressed a hand to his cheek. Logan leaned into the touch.

"I know, baby. We can go out and play again tomorrow, deal?"

Logan smiled, closed his eyes, and sunk further into the couch with a gentle hum and a quiet "mhm..."

Wade fell asleep, dreaming about their day, and all the new ways he could get Logan to smile again.

Playing in the snow was just the start.

[exololyunho]

make you see god

masterlist

wc: 5.1k

summary: your dad had always warned you nothing good would come from relations with navy boys, but you were never one to listen

warnings: kinda e2l, drinking, this fictional mingi would be a red flag to me but its fiction so its hot, sexualizing the US military, oral sex, unprotected sex, cream pie, multiple orgasms, mingi picks the reader up, kinda rough sex, very minor sacrilege but its probably only offensive if you're super catholic, role-play??, tentative daddy kink but 'daddy' is never mentioned, reader does call him 'father' but I promise it's not as weird as it sounds

an: I wrote half of this over the summer when I went through a phase where all I could think about was glen powell so I watched like all of his movies and this was the result. I am aware this is very much a summer fling fic but it's cold where I am and the summer vibes feel fun. also sorry I've been gone so long but since I last posted I moved across the country, broke up with my bf, got a cat, got better antidepressants and got diagnosed with adhd so I've had a bit going on lol. I probably won't be posting often but once again I am soft launching a return. kinda. shits complicated

taglist: @staytinyinmybpack @jeonride @becky4733107-blog @ignoretheskies

Being raised by your dad and his navy buddies had taught you many things. Chief among them being not to mess around with navy guys. And to never surf at dusk. Of course you never learned your lesson.

It was during a surfing session at dusk that you met the navy man who would rock your world.

Sitting on your board, you took in the gentle rocking of the small waves as you waited for the swell that would carry you into shore. The sun was setting, casting a beautiful orange glow over the water. It was serene, peaceful, a gorgeous warm summer evening.

Until a shout broke through the air.

“SHARK!”

Immediately you drew your legs up on the board, frantically scanning the water around you. The only sharks around Miramar were white sharks and that meant almost certainly losing a limb if not your life.  When your eyes failed to find the telltale dark shape, you turned to look back at the shore.

Standing there, chuckling at his shitty joke, was a man. It was too far to make out the details, but from what you can see he was tall and lean, wearing a white short sleeve button down and khaki shorts.

“Just kidding!” he yelled. To say you were unamused was putting it lightly.

With a sigh, you decided to call it a night, having not seen any surfable swells coming your way anytime soon. Putting your feet back into the water and pivoting your board back towards the beach, you paddled in. 

Reaching the shore, you unclipped your ankle tether, gathering your board under your arm and storming up the man.

“Did you think that was funny? Everyone knows you don’t do that,” you glared at him. Up close you could see this man was a lot more handsome than you’d expected. His eyes were covered by aviators, but his jawline was strong, and his smile was cocky. His clean cut appearance and the way he carried himself gave you an inkling that he had military training

“I thought it was a little funny,” he quirked his head, nodding at you. “What were you doing out there?”

“Surfing, dipshit,” you moved past him. “Don’t do that again.”

“Are you going to at least tell me your name?” he shouted after you.

In response, all you offered him was your middle finger.

Working at the Hard Deck was a great job. It got tedious at times, dealing with overbearing and overly flirtatious sailors, but it was overall great. You loved bartending, loved meeting new people, loved eavesdropping on ridiculous conversations, and loved the lively atmosphere.

As with every usual night, you were enjoying your shift. You’d made friends with a few spring breakers, serving them tequila sodas and making plans to meet the girls at the beach the next day. 

The night was still young, so you balanced chatting with them while pouring beers and shots for the other patrons. The music was loud and so was the chatter.

Until a new group walked in, wearing service khakis. When the other patrons spotted them, they went quiet for a moment, raising their glasses in appreciation. You watched them make their way in, indifferent, as all it meant for you was more beer to pour. 

Your mood suddenly changed as you made eye contact with your prankster from last night. Rolling your eyes, you returned to polishing the glasses before you. 

“Hey surfer girl,” there he was, standing before you on the other side of the bar. Without his sunglasses, you could see his brown eyes looking back at you with a glimmer of something that had the dual effect of making your stomach flutter and making your fists itch to hit him.

“Hey asshole,” you kept up your work with the glasses, averting your eyes from his.

“So welcoming,” he placed a toothpick between his absurdly straight teeth. 

You sighed, setting down the glasses. “Can I get you something?”

“A friendly conversation and your name would be nice,” his eyes looked over you.

“Sorry we don’t serve that here,” you braced your hands on the counter. “How about a beer?”

“That’s a start,” his grin was blinding.

You rolled your eyes again, grabbing a freshly cleaned glass, pouring him the shittiest beer you had on tap. You placed the glass in front of him. Neither of you said anything for a moment, him staring at the glass, you staring at him expectantly.

“Weren’t you going to ask what beer I wanted?”

You raised an eyebrow. “Weren’t you going to pay me?”

“Makes no sense but here,” he threw a card on the counter. “Close me out, would ya?”

“It’s $2.50 with a military discount, you don’t have any cash?”

“Nope,” he popped the ‘p’, picking up the card and dangling it lazily between two fingers. He waited for you to take the card, and after a moment of glaring at him, you snatched it. Quickly running the card, you returned it to him. 

“Anything else I can get you?” your tone was dry.

“Your name,” he responded, taking a small sip of his beer and grimacing.

“Yours first,” you countered.

“Priest,” he grinned.

“That’s your name?”

“It’s my call sign,” he looked smug.

“I wanted to know your name, not your call sign, douchebag,” you picked up another glass to polish.

“Give me yours first.”

“Nice to meet you, Priest,” you gave him one last smile before turning to serve another guest.

“Hey!” Priest called after you. “Your name?” 

“Next time!”

Next time came sooner than you had expected. 

It was the following day, you were with the two girls you’d met the night before, relaxing on the beach, your board next to you. The three of you were making small talk about the books you were reading mixed with questions about your backgrounds.

“So, Y/n, did you grow up here in Miramar?” the blonde, Yeji, asked.

You opened your mouth to respond, but you were interrupted before you could.

“So your name is Y/n, then.”

A shadow fell over you, forcing you to remove your sunglasses to face Priest. It was the first time you’d seen him shirtless and as much as the man annoyed you, you were very appreciative of the view above you. His chest was chiseled, strong and muscled, but lean. His thighs were equally as strong and toned, covered by navy blue swim trunks that hung low on his hips.

“My eyes are up here, babe,” he was grinning, his own eyes flicking over you.

Leaning up on your elbows you grinned back. “So are mine, Priest.”

“Touche,” he took his own sunglasses off. “Who are your friends?”

“This is Yeji and Lia,” you gestured to the two girls.

“Hey.”

“Hi.”

“Nice to meet you,” Priest gave a half-hearted wave. “Hey, Y/n, you wanna take a walk?”

“No not really,” you lowered your sunglasses.

“I’ll buy you a daiquiri.”

“What makes you think I like daiquiris?”

“Everyone loves daiquiris.”

“Fair enough,” you took his hand, letting him help you up. Grabbing the oversized button down you used as a cover up, you threw it on. “Watch my stuff?”

“Sorry, babe but we’re heading out soon,” Lia looked between you and Priest apologetically.

“No worries,” Priest grabbed your tote bag and surfboard for you. “We can leave it with my friends.”

“You think I trust your friends?” you put your hand on your hip.

“Just cooperate for once in your life,” Priest rolled his eyes.

“You’ve known me for 3 days and you just learned my name.”

“Let’s fix that,” Priest grinned down at you.

“Fine, fine,” you waved him off, then waved to the girls. “See ya.”

The two of you started down the beach, Priest holding your bag and board. A few hundred feet down the beach, you stumbled on his friends. A bunch of men, all toned and laughing as they tossed around a football. 

“Guys, this is surfer girl,” Priest called out to them. The seven men before you all turned, waving hello. “Introductions can wait. Watch her stuff?”

“Sure,” one of them called out and Priest dropped your stuff on a towel.

“Come on,” he took your hand. Priest was dragging you along, but he only made it a few paces before you were jerking your hand out of his.

“I can walk on my own, you know,” he started chuckling. “I don’t know what you think this is, but I'm following you for a free drink.”

“I like to think that my company also has something to do with you following me,” he slowed his pace to match yours.

“Presumptuous,” you stared straight ahead, refusing to have to look up at him.

Priest grumbled something under his breath, but you weren’t listening. Instead you were focused on the beachfront bar you were rapidly approaching. It was tacky, decorated with tiki torches, fake coconuts, and plastic leis. The bartender was wearing an open Hawaiian shirt.

“Aloha and welcome to Miramar’s premier Hawaiian style beach bar!” Priest made small talk with the man as you scanned the menu, picking out the most expensive drink you could find since it was on his dime.

“I think I’ll take the Ultra Aloha,” you gave your best smile to the bartender.

“Coming right up, pretty lady,” he turned his focus to Priest, his smile dying. “For you?”

“The same,” Priest was pulling out his wallet.

As the blender whirred away, you turned to him.

“So where did Priest come from?”

“Oh come on now,” he ran a hand through his black hair. “I can’t give away all of my secrets on the first date.”

Your eyebrows shot up. “I thought I told you I was just here for the free drink.”

“You’re the one who called me presumptuous,”  the bartender set your drinks on the counter, taking the $40 from Priest. “Keep the change.”

The two of you took the drinks, walking away as the bartender called after you. “The change is 50 cents!”

You followed Priest down to some chairs nearby, slowly sipping your drink. It was actually pretty good. So good, you couldn’t taste the rum over the pineapple. Dangerous.

“What were we talking about?” he asked as he sat in the chair. His legs were spread tantalizingly. Seeing him like this made you so mad for a reason you couldn’t put your finger on. Something about how lazily and confidently he looked over the beach before you, the casual confidence with which he held himself. What was really getting to you was the way his tongue played with the straw of his drink.

Shaking yourself out of it, you cleared your throat. “We were talking about how you thought this was a date.”

“Ah yes,” he nodded sagely. “Two people, getting drinks, talking alone on a beach, getting to know each other. Not a date.”

You snorted, gesturing to the quite busy area around you. “First of all, we’re not alone, there's a million other people on this beach. Second of all, we are not getting to know each other, you won’t even tell me your name.”

“You wouldn’t tell me your name either, I had to find it out from other people,” he shifted to face you. “So, in exchange for buying you a second drink, can we cut the crap? I think we can both agree that I clearly find you attractive, and I have a sneaking suspicion that you feel the same about me, and I want to know more about you.”

You were quiet for a moment, taking in his words and thinking over yours carefully. You moved to look at him better. “What’s your name?”

“Now we’re getting somewhere,” his grin was wider now. “It’s Mingi.”

“Mingi,” you repeated with a smile on your face. Taking a moment, you started sucking down your drink, rushing to finish it.

“In a hurry for that next drink?”

“Sure,” you finished your drink, handing him the cup. “Mingi’s a nice name.”

With that, you were standing up, and walking away from him.

“Where are you going?” he called after you.

Turning and walking backwards, you lifted your middle fingers. “To surf!

It was a week before you saw him again. A Thursday night to be specific. It was your day off, yet here you were, sitting at the bar of the Hard Deck, chatting with your coworkers between them serving other patrons and you sipping on your vodka cran.

Your night was peaceful. Not quiet, with the music playing and the few other patrons chatting, but still peaceful.

Until, once again, your peace was ruined by someone sliding into the barstool next to you. Glancing up, you weren’t surprised to see Mingi sliding into the seat. He was dressed casually, jeans and a t-shirt. He didn’t look quite as cocky as he usually did. In fact, he looked almost irritated. 

“Rough day?” 

Mingi snorted, and ordered a beer. “You have no idea.”

He took a long drink. “Made worse by you running away from me last week.”

You glanced at him. You hadn’t felt bad before, but seeing him so frustrated now made you feel slightly shitty. “I’m here now. Wanna talk about what’s got you in a mood?”

“I didn’t think we were close enough for that. You know, since you ran away when I said I wanted to get to you?”

“I get it, I get it,” you waved your hand. “So what’s wrong?”

Mingi sighed. “Shitty instructor.”

“Wait, you're still in flight school?” you looked at him quizzically.

“Kinda. It’s complicated but I graduated a while ago, top of my class by the way, but a bunch of us got recalled for extra training. Top secret mission, y’know? If-”

“If you tell me you’ll have to kill me?” you smiled at him.

His cocky smile was back. “Exactly.”

You laughed, finally willing to admit to yourself that you were starting to enjoy his company. 

“So, if I buy you another drink, are you going to run away from me?” he arched an eyebrow. 

“I think it’s my turn to buy you a drink,” your eyes met and both of your smiles started to fall, the tension building between you.

Before it could build anymore, you cleared your throat. Looking away, you ordered both of you a new round of drinks. As the bartender poured them, you glanced back at him.

“So, where’d Priest come from?” new drinks were placed before you and you eagerly accepted the glass.

“If you were to ask me, I’d say it’s because I could make you see god,” Mingi’s smile was salacious, his eyes dropping to scan over your cropped t-shirt and daisy dukes. 

You swallowed hard. “And if I were to ask anyone else?”

He took a gulp of his beer. “If you were to ask anyone else, they’d say it was because I fly recklessly. Make the guys I’m flying with need their last rights.”

You were silent for a minute, taking in his words. “Why?”

He looked at you, clearly confused. “Why what?”

“Why do you fly like an ass?”

He chuckled, watching for a moment as you took a sip, waiting for him to answer. “I fly like I do because it gets the job done.”

“You don’t worry your buddies won’t have your back if you put them in danger?” your eyes scanned his face over the rim of your glass.

A faint smile graced his lips. “Our missions are important. And sometimes they call for drastic measures.”

You hummed in response, still focused on his face. You could see his face shift ever so slightly with what could only have been memories of past missions.

“So have they ever needed them?”

He quirked his head, not quite following your chain of thought. All you could do was hope that this hot man before hadn’t actually killed someone because of his own reckless nature.

“Needed their last rights.”

He laughed again, but it wasn’t nearly as joyful. “Not through any fault of mine, thankfully. I’ve lost people, sure, but I’ve never been the reason.” Mingi took a deep drink. “As much of an asshole as I can be, and my call sign aside, I don’t think I could live with myself if it ever was my fault.”

You nodded, finally tearing your eyes away from his face to fiddle with the two tiny straws in your glass.

Mingi clearing his throat drew your eyes back up. “Do you want to get out of here?”

At your raised eyebrow, he backpedaled. “We can just take a walk that’s totally fine but I-”

“Yeah,” you interrupted. “Let’s get out of here.”

Your back slammed against your closed front door. Mingi’s lips were on yours the moment the two of you made it inside your apartment. A combination of the furious kisses and the sudden impact of your back into the door had knocked the breath from your lungs, but not a single cell in your body wanted to pull away from Mingi.

He was intoxicating. He tasted faintly of beer and something indescribable that was just him. His lips were soft, his tongue insistent, and his hands wandering over every inch of you was exhilarating.

Eventually, you did have to come up for air, pulling away from him to let your head rest back against the door. Mingi didn’t miss a beat, his mouth migrating to your neck, nipping and sucking and kissing across your pulse point. 

Your left hand was grasping the front of his shirt and your right was on his back, feeling the flexing of the muscles there as he held onto you as if you’d disappear if he loosened his grip for even a second. 

Without missing a beat, his lips still attacking your neck, his hands slid to your thighs, picking you up in one fluid motion. A gasp escaped your lips as he settled your legs around his waist, perfectly situating you to feel exactly how hard he was under his jeans. 

The pressure of that length pressing right between your thighs combined with a perfectly targeted bite to a sensitive point on your neck had you releasing a breathy moan. 

Mingi’s lips parted from your neck as he now looked up to face you. One of your hands instinctively went to tangle in his hair as you crashed your lips onto his again. The force had his mouth dropping open as you took your turn to entwine your tongue with his. The two of you were aggressively fighting to see who’d come out on top.

You had thought you were winning until it was Mingi’s turn to grab your hair. He pulled your mouths apart and the act had you clenching around nothing as his face nuzzled into your neck, licking a stripe up the side before he spoke in a low tone. “Where’s your room?”

“Down-” you were cut off by his hips grinding into yours. Painting, you pulled yourself together enough to answer him. “Down the hall, first door on the right.”

Mingi immediately pulled you away from the door, his steady hands holding on tight as he seamlessly navigated your small space. He damn near kicked your door down, slamming it open before he was tossing you onto your bed. 

You let out a startled yelp before laughing. Scooting farther up your bed, you gave him your best bedroom eyes and spread your legs, suddenly remembering his call sign.

“Forgive me, father,” your lips curved into a faux pout as you made your voice as sultry as you possibly could. “For I have sinned.”

Mingi stopped for a moment before he put his head in his hands. For a moment you feared you’d made a mistake. Until you saw his shoulders shaking with laughter. He managed to compose himself, crawling towards you on the bed until he was situated between your spread legs on his knees. He still looked as if he was trying to hold it together.

“I don’t know if that was the corniest or the hottest thing I’ve ever heard.”

Both of you were trying to hold back laughter, but his hand making contact with your thigh sobered you up. His long, nimble fingers stole your attention away from the joking atmosphere.

“So how should I repent?” your teeth bit into your lower lip as you laid back to pull your shirt over your head, revealing you weren’t wearing anything underneath. Mingi’s laughter disappeared as well as he took in your breasts. 

His lips curved into a wicked smile as he leaned over you, laying a kiss between your breasts, his eyes meeting yours. “I think 3 orgasms should be enough to forgive your sins.”

Your breath caught in your throat as his lips found one of your nipples and your hand once again found his hair. His own hand rose up, those long fingers playing with your other breast. 

He savaged it with the same vigor he had attacked your neck with earlier. His teeth left small nips all around as his tongue soothed the bites. You were panting, holding him tight to you with your eyes closed. 

Leaning back slightly to admire his work for a moment, Mingi quickly switched his focus to your other breast. He lavished the same treatment, leaving small marks all over. 

When you were thoroughly decorated in hickeys, he finally sat back up, admiring you splayed out before him as you caught your breath. As he stared, his hand came up to grab his shirt by the back of the collar, pulling it over his head.

Now it was your turn to ogle, thoroughly enjoying his broad muscled chest and a light dusting of hair that trailed down his abs and disappeared into his pants. 

You were broken out of your trance as his hands came down to pop the button on his jeans and then your shorts. Recognizing his goal, you lifted your hips, allowing him to pull your shorts and underwear down in one fluid movement. He flung them across the room.

Once you were naked beneath him, his hands fell to your thighs. They slid up until they reached your hips. Mingi slid himself down the bed until he was on his stomach, face level with your core. 

His hot breath fanning over you was enough to have your breath hitching and body tensing as you waited for him to touch you where you so desperately needed him. But he didn’t move, his eyes locked on yours. 

Both of you were frozen for what felt like a century, until he was suddenly moving forward, parting your folds with his tongue. The exhalation of relief that left you quickly morphed into a moan as his tongue found and circled your clit. You were so distracted by the bliss of finally feeling the pleasure you’d been hoping he’d give you that you didn’t even notice his hands moving. 

One hooked under your thigh, finally coming to rest on your stomach, right above your pelvic bone. The other slipped a finger inside of you. You were practically dripping at this point.

Mingi’s tongue never stopped working tight circles around your clit as his finger quirked up, stroking along your walls in a way that had your legs shaking while you gasped out moans and whimpers.

He slid a second finger inside you, alternating between scissoring them and swirling them around inside you. The pressure in your abdomen was tightening more and more every second. Your hand was fisted in the sheets, your head thrown back, breath coming quicker and quicker.

Mingi could tell you were close. He kept the same rhythm on your clit, but focused his fingers' attention purely on your g-spot, applying more pressure.

You were right on the edge and then you tumbled into the best orgasms you’d ever had. Your whole body tensed and your moans were silenced for a moment as your muscles clenched around him before whimpers were escaping you as your hips jerked and your breath came in shaky spurts.

Mingi hadn’t let up with his fingers or his tongue, keeping your high going until your body was trembling and you were pushing his head away. He relented, pulling back and wiping his mouth.

Your eyes were closed as you laid there, panting, legs still twitching as you tried to recover. You could have sworn you blacked out for a moment when he kept your orgasm going.

“That’s one down,” Mingi’s smug tone had you opening one eye to glare at him before it slipped shut again.

“I think any more might kill me.”

In response, he grabbed your hips, jerking you down the bed and pulling your legs over his thighs until your core was pressed to the front of his boxers. He’d pulled down his jeans at some point while you were recovering.

You could feel the heat of him against you, the hardness of his cock pressing into you as he subtly ground his hips into yours.

“I think you’ll probably live,” his hands slipped from your hips to grab your ass.

“I highly doubt it,” you shook your head, then a smile crossed your face. “At least you’ll be here. I can get my last rights and finally have a hope of going to heaven.”

He smiled, but was quickly pulling down his boxers. “I told you I could make you see god. I just hope I can do it without actually killing you.”

You would have laughed, if not for the fact that as he finished removing his boxers, his dick finally came into view. He was bigger than you’d thought he’d be. He wasn’t horrifyingly big, but he looked long enough to reach the deepest parts of you and thick enough to stretch you out enough that you’d be feeling it tomorrow.

Mingi tracked your gaze focused on his cock and grinned. “I think it’s time we finish your penance.”

His words had you swallowing as he guided his length into you. God damn were you right. He was moving slowly, but you felt every inch of him sliding into you, stretching you and filling you in all the right ways. 

When he bottomed out, you were expecting him to give you a minute to adjust, but what you weren’t expecting was for him to not move at all. He stayed seated all the way inside you as his fingers moved to your clit. 

“What are you-” you cut yourself off with a whimper as his fingers began moving in quick circles. 

“We’ve got to get you to three orgasms,” he leaned over you, his lips once again connecting with your breasts. “And I am so hard, I won’t last if I try to get you through two by fucking you.” 

His teeth gently bit down on your hard nipple. 

“That, and I really want to be able to focus on how fucking good you feel when you cum on my cock.” His voice was low, his eyes flicking up to meet yours.

Already you were so close. Still sensitive from the orgasm you just had, his fingers were pushing you right up to the edge once again. It was all you could do to cling to his strong arms as your back began to arch and your legs tightened around him.

Mingi kissed up from your breasts to your ear. He took your earlobe between his teeth before brushing his lips along the shell of your ear. “Cum.”

And you did, thankfully, not as intensely as before. But still, you cried out as you held on to him, your hips twitch up on their own and your muscles contracting around him.

“Fuck,” Mingi groaning in your ear had a high pitched moan leaving your lips. 

This time, he didn’t prolong your orgasm for too long. He gradually slowed his pace before pushing himself back up onto his knees.

“Thats. Two.” he punctuated each word with a thrust. Your head dropped back, the feeling of him finally moving was ecstatic. The slight upward curve of his length dragged across your g-spot every time he moved in and out.

“God, fuck, I think I could watch you cum all day,” he was settling into a rhythm that combined power with deep, slow thrusts. The force of each inward push was moving you up the bed. Mingi’s solution was to simply drag you back down to meet every one of his movements.

Each time your hips met, your skin slapping together combined with your moans and his low curses and grunts. It was music to your ears as you lost yourself in the sensation.

His thrust gradually grew in speed as he got closer. You were still a ways off from your third orgasm and he could tell. You yelped in shock as his hand on your hip shifted so his thumb could softly brush over your clit. 

“I-I can’t” you stuttered out.

“Yes you can,” he slowed his thrusts ever so slightly, leaning over you. “Gotta finish your penance, yeah?”

You laughed, only for it to be broken off into a moan as he leaned back up, increasing the speed of his thrusts and the rate at which he rubbed your clit. Your body was tensing up again, the pressure building up alarmingly quickly.

“Mingi- I-”

“Do it,” he grunted, thrusting even faster. “Cum. Cum on my fucking cock. You can do it. Cum for me.”

And you did, one last time. Everything was so intense. The sensation washed over you, an all consuming wave of pleasure that quite literally had tears falling down your face. Your vision went white and you felt like you were floating.

Mingi continued thrusting into you rapidly, prolonging your orgasm, although he did thankfully take his thumb off your clit to spare you some overstimulation. 

You were just starting to come down when Mingi was finally moaning out his own release, spilling deep inside you. His hips stuttered and his head hung as he rode out his own waves of pleasure.

Both of you were panting heavily, but he stayed inside you for a few moments after he came. 

Finally, he pulled out of you. He flopped down beside you on the bed, pulling you into his side. You happily snuggled up to him, resting your head and hand on his chest and throwing a leg over his.

The two of you basked in the silence. 

Until you broke it. “So, am I forgiven for my sins?”

Mingi was silent for a moment. 

“Mmm, I don’t know. Three might not have been enough.”

You lifted your head to look up at him incredulously. He met your gaze with laughter before he pulled you into a kiss.

[biggest-gaudiest-patronuses]

getting older can be so amazing? you get more familiar with yourself. learn tips & tricks for troubleshooting your own brain. trial & error helps you build routines that minimize discomfort, maximize reward. your preferences/interests don't get set in stone, but you do find out which ones are going to stay with you in the long-term, and which ones are fun but transient joys to appreciate in the moment.

you learn that the world is so much more complex than you were taught, and that that's okay, and that there's an endless supply of things you can learn or watch or experience or think about if you want to. if you're lucky, you loosen up, stop putting so much pressure on yourself. if you're lucky, you learn to recognize that negative inner voice, and whack it with a baseball bat until it hushes up. if you're lucky, you learn to treat yourself gently, not because you are fragile but because you are worthy of gentleness. (i hope you are lucky.)

and some things will change. some things will get better. some things will get good. and maybe you start to recover from the dehumanizing stress of childhood/education. maybe you learn the power of your own autonomy. maybe you learn how to walk away from bad situations (which is a superpower even if you don't realize it yet). and you get to choose your own clothes. and your own food. and which relationships to pursue! and what you do with your free time. and with your life (but don't worry you get to choose that gradually). and that's crazy! and sometimes scary. and extraordinarily, indescribably precious.

[savethepinecones]

sorry for being overdramatic every time i somehow hurt myself being obnoxious distracts me from the pain

[comraderoscoes]

i'm looking for a man in finance, vegan, 5'8 (allegedly), brown eyes

[souporsaladnatural]

I know ppl have all kinds of theories on why jackles opinion on destiel seemingly did a 180° out of nowhere, but my personal favorite is that he just went back and like. Watched the show

[teaboot]

The don't bite me bottle? Do you spray him when he bites you?

I started with just yelping and disengaging when he bites

Then I tried hissing

My mom said to pinch him when he bites, but I'd rather maintain our level of trust rn without him thinking I might hurt him for any reason

I tried making abrupt noises or movements to spook him off

I tried playing dead

And, finally, I have resorted to the spray bottle

Which.

Also does not work.

God help me

[themathomhouse]

this disability pride month, stop making jokes about people in wheelchairs standing up or walking.

can I stand and walk? sure, for a short while and with pain. the consequences for trying to be out all day without a wheelchair are that I'll be in bed for the rest of the week, too tired and in too much pain to move.

but the government won't give me my own wheelchair because they have the same attitude as these jokes - I can stand up, so I don't need one. exercise is good for you, you should walk!

it keeps me trapped in the house, unable to do anything more than short stints anywhere without borrowing or hiring a wheelchair - one that causes me pain to sit in and relies on someone to push me (usually with difficulty), because they're not going to have a high-end chair for that sort of thing.

it's not a miracle that a wheelchair user can stand or walk. it's something we should aspire to see more often.

[bioluminescentcat]

Skk are like two cats from a shelter who constantly fight, but have to be adopted together because they will refuse to eat if separated.

Kitty!Dazai over-grooms himself and attempts to eat any non cat safe thing he can find. Also throws himself into any body of water

Kitty!Chuuya is just aggression incarnate. WILL BITE YOUR ANKLES

[marlynnofmany]

Here, have an album cover. I know one of the tracks would have to be the space shanty, but what else would they sing about?

[kazenorth]

Me and a friend finally watched Nimona

[catinasink]

mutual cudlel pile when. mutuals come over and hold me when. mutuals come over please

[marragurl]

Not the first to say it, but damn can’t believe Galladay really went from toxic yaoi to doomed tragic yaoi.

Alright fellow Galladay trash, where’s the modern AU fix-it fics?

I need to see Gallagher single dad with Misha plus their dog/cat Sleepie falling for entertainment company CEO Sunday. Don’t ask me how they met, fuck it, throw in bodyguard AU Gallagher who works part-time at a bar, boom there that’s how they meet, idk I’m making this up on 3 hours of sleep.

You’ve heard of slow burns, now get ready for Galladay blaze it.

They’re speedrunning the relationship from hate -> annoyance -> mild disgruntlement -> weirdly vibing -> ok wow never knew I needed that in my life -> Sunday is way too ok with spoiling Misha -> ok so we got married -> alright we’re dismantling the government now -> Sunday went to jail for 5 minutes for attempting “peaceful” world domination, don’t worry we (Gallagher) forgave him -> Sunday’s stepping down as CEO to run a coffeeshop idk look someone get him some therapy -> Robin is president now while she still goes on tours -> Misha won an engineering competition while this was all going on

Bottom line: Robin is out living her best life while Sunday is in the back somehow having the most insane week of his life. I have no other notes for her here except that she is happy, and successful, and is Sunday’s last remaining brain cell. She and Misha are having some fun Aunt/Nephew bonding times while Galladay are accidentally-on-purpose committing multiple war crimes.

No, we don’t have time to unpack 2.2 and all its trauma, we cope with modern AU :)