#but i keep telling him he needs to stand up for himself more in the workplace so whatever

[kammazi]

★ katsuki and yourself weren’t big drinkers. sure after you two had graduated, you had gone to a few parties here and there but you were never a fan of the whole spinning dizzy feeling that alcohol brought with it, especially since you two are heroes. patrolling while hungover under the heat of the hot summer sun was dreadful.

so when you get a call from katsuki one evening while you were on patrol saying how kirishimas and the rest of the guys were going out for a few, who were you to say no? even though you knew the invitation for yourself always stood, katsuki needed some time for himself and by the time you would get off patrol it would already be past midnight.

so after exchanging some ‘i love you’s’, you disconnected the call and got back to whatever strolling you were doing.

and as the night went on you got more and more notifications that buzzed in your back pocket from who you assumed was your boyfriend. you eventually had a quick break and chugged an energy drink while fishing for your phone.

you let out a snort of laughter and looked around to make sure no one heard you before looking back down at your screen. there you saw multiple pictures took by denki of him standing on what you assumed was a stool while taking 0.5 picture’s of katsuki. what made you laugh even more was his flushed face and droopy eyes that held no fight in them as he stood there with his hands by his sides.

you could tell that he had drank quite a bit and as your break came to an end you had a short two hours left of your shift before you were able to finally get home and most likely take care of your said boyfriend.

and you were correct because as soon as you even such as stepped in through the doors of your shared apartment your phone once again started buzzing, this time it was a call.

“hello?” there was a shuffling noise before shouting hit your eardrums along with the music that blasted in the background.

“HEYY LOOK, ARE YOU-” you grimaced as you hear a glass breaking alongside some yelling. “huh? hello?”

the phone was picked back up. “THIS IS KIRISHIMA, KATSUKI IS KINDA REALLY DRUNK AND-” you then heard a whooshing sound and another crash. you stood there looking at your phone and then brining it close to your ear again. “uhh..kiri..shima?”

you heard the phone being picked up and panting into the microphone. “SORRY I JUST LAUNCHED MY PHONE HALFWAY ACROSS THE DANCE FLOOR AND IT HIT SOMEONE IN THE FACE.” you had to physically distance yourself from the phone before answering.

“kiri you don’t have to yell i can hear you!” you felt as if it was a screaming competition at that point. you heard a cackle before kirishimas finally got to the point.

“sorry, sorry! it’s just that bakubro got hella drunk and he’s kinda unmovable right now. he keeps saying your name and won’t really listen to anyone, would it be alright if you could come and pick him up?”

you were already picking up your keys and sliding on your shoes. “of course, be there in five.”

and so here you were pulling into the parking spot outside of the front doors of the building.

as you stepped in, you already felt exhaustion hitting you as you strolled around to try and find your boyfriend and those goons.

and then you saw him, sitting in a corner seat, with a cute sleepy look on his face, arms still crossed as always. kneeling in front of him, you saw denki, sero and kiri sitting across as they helped gather his stuff. you placed a palm against his face and patted his knee with the other.

“kats, love?” he groaned and slightly opened his eyes. “hey i’m gonna take you home okay?” and then suddenly, he moves his face away from your hand as his face held something like a mix of disgust and offence.

“get those damn hands away from me. i’ve a girlfriend.” although his speech was slurred you blinked before letting out a chuckle as the guys behind you hollered and stumbled over eachother.

you raised a brow, amused to see him act that way. “oh really? sorry about that kats, i won’t do it again.” his face whipped around to face you as he grimaced again. “oi. don’t call me that. only she can and you ain’t her.. so back off...” his sentence held no malicious intent as his head slowly tipped back. “where is she. i miss her.”

kirishima then came up next to you and patted his back. “bro shes right here! see?” in response to his words, katsuki raised his head and squinted at you for a while before slowly smiling. “heyy it’s my girlfriend.” immediately his head landed on your shoulder. he started babbling as he wrapped his arms around your frame, almost knocking you to the floor from the sudden weight. in the meantime, you glanced at his red headed friend.

“i’m sorry how much did he drink?” in response he scratched the back of his neck before holding up three fingers. “JESUS KIRI THREE BOTTLES?” kirishimas shook his head before cackling. “three drinks.”

now you knew your boyfriend was a lightweight but this was a tad too funny to you, not that you would ever tell him.. obviously.

with the help of kirishima, you managed to walk out a stumbling katsuki and just about sat him in the passenger seat before strapping him in as he babbled on about how much he missed you. sero and denki handed over his wallet and phone to you and you thanked them before saying your goodbyes as you sat behind the wheel.

on the drive back katsuki acted like he hadn’t seen you in months by the way he held your hand and kissed it every two seconds. with him telling you how much he loved you and how beautiful you where. in that moment you could not only feel somewhat giddy but be thankful for having this man in your life. no matter how tough he looked or acted, it really was true that he was a softy, drunk or not.

after arriving, getting him into bed wasn’t even a problem. he listened to your every word as he clung to you like a koala. you helped him brush his teeth on the toilet seat as you sat on his lap. even while drunk, his grip was still firm but gentle.

you then got him changed, him getting stuck in his t-shirt a few times, and you both finally climbed into bed. there was pure silence other that his quiet snores as he rested on your chest. as expected, he ended up passing out the second he wrapped his arms around you.

as you pressed a kiss on his forehead, you could once again feel the wave of exhaustion crashing over you as the warm pressure of katsuki’s body lulled you to sleep.

and in the morning katsuki awoke with not only a headache but also a lovely picture of his drunken state as a 0.5 printed and framed photo hanging in the living room as a forever reminder of that night.

[leftoverghosts]

'til death

art donaldson x cheating wife reader. mentioned you x pat.

"I don’t think I could survive seeing you with someone else."

warnings: nsfw!!! some curse words. use of she/her for reader. no use of y/n. dom art. smut. art is a munch. finger in butt. cheating reader. more gross than i usually write. not beta read.

nori says: please!! please!! read my warnings! xoxo. i have a few more asks to get through for my xmas game! but besides those (and ones pending from sof) i am closing it!! thank you so much for playing!!! here is a little gift of what i would have selected!

word count: 1,400~

"Tennis Legend Art Donaldson’s Wife Seen Kissing Mysterious Man."

The title elicits a scoff from you, while Art's teary eyes gaze at you as if you've castrated him.

Yes, you kissed Patrick. Yes, things went further than just a kiss. But for some asinine, no-name fucking blogger on Instagram to refer to you as "Art Donaldson's wife" is the real travesty here. That's libel, that's slander.

Your knee throbs with pain.

"Why didn’t you tell me Patrick was in town?" Art weeps, and you drag your eyes back to his face before cringing.

Martyr, martyr, martyr. It’s his favorite role. You want him to be angry, to be calculating like he used to be. You want him to manipulate his way back into your good graces.

"Art," you sigh, "ask me what you really want to know."

“Did you fuck him?” He asks it almost as soon as you finish speaking.

"Twice." You shrug, wanting to wound, longing for the real him to shred through the flesh of the docile facade he's hiding behind and fight with you.

He sucks in a breath, fingers drumming against the table before he...smirks?

"I don’t think I could survive seeing you with someone else. Especially not him.”

“You’re barely surviving as is, Art. Sometimes I feel like if it weren't for your blinking, I wouldn't be able to tell the difference between you and a doll. I have to sit you here, change your expression there. Fuck. Who are you?"

He blinks at you. "I am who you made me."

"I want you to be who you used to be."

"If I change, will that make you stop seeing Patrick?"

You pause, confused. "Patrick doesn’t matter to me. He's not the man I chose to marry. But when I'm with him, I can pretend it's the real you again. I like the familiarity of it, like we're back in that hotel room and he fucking listens. Having to explain this is beneath me.”

"Mhmm," Art takes a moment to process your words before getting up and walking around the table to stand beside you. He hovers over you, waiting for you to face him, and when you do, his hand is in your hair, yanking.

Art pulls you out of the chair with little effort. It crashes to the ground with a loud clatter before he kicks it aside. He steps behind you, needing even less effort to press the side of your face against the table's wood grain. His hand grips the back of your neck, firmly holding you in place.

"You don't just want me to listen, you want me to fucking snap, don't you baby? It's not like you to work backwards.” he sneers. “And if anything is beneath you, it’s still sneaking off with Patrick Zweig in your thirties. He’s ranked two hundred,” your skirt is pushed up to your hips, “and seventy fucking fifth.”

Art rarely curses, but you've pushed him over the edge and caused him to reveal that he's been keeping track of Patrick's rank.

This was what you wanted all along.

You start to complain when he rips your expensive pantyhose, but Art silences you with two quick slaps on your ass and rips enough of your underwear to have access to you.

“Shut the fuck up. You’ll use my Amex to buy new ones anyway.” He lets go of your neck and swipes his pointer and middle finger across your wet center like a credit card, squeezing your labia and working at your clit. You can't see his smirk but you can feel it. “Don’t you have any self worth? Or are you that bored with the life I bankroll for you?”

When you don’t answer, he pauses, peering down at you as he restrains himself. His expression is tinged with fear when your eyes meet, as if questioning whether he’s gone too far. Consent has always been important to him; even after five years of marriage, he never touches you without asking for permission.

“I’m okay, Art. You’re doing well.” You reassure him, not lifting up from the table, but turned on by how quickly the apprehension in his eyes transforms into lust.

"Okay." He nods and drops to his knees, "open your legs for me, baby." You oblige eagerly, yearning for his touch. His strong hands grip your soft flesh, spreading you open before him. Your heart races with anticipation as you feel his hot breath against your most intimate area. He teases you with a long, slow lick, his tongue warm and wet as it glides from your clit to your asshole.

A moan escapes your lips as he begins to work you over with his mouth. Art points his tongue and probes at your ass, prodding and swirling around the rim. He alternates between flicking his tongue rapidly across your hole and pressing it inside you, wiggling it deeper.

You're drunk on the vulgar slurping sounds as he laps at you, greedy and insatiable. He sucks and nibbles at your rim, taking you apart piece by piece.

He pulls back to spit thick gobs of saliva over your fluttering hole, the crude act making you clench and shiver. Rivulets run down your crack and over your thighs. He dives back in, sealing his mouth over your entrance and sucking hard, his tongue writhing against your walls.

You cry out and push your ass back into his face, desperate for more. Art’s hands grip your hips as he tongue-fucks your hole with abandon, plunging in and out, swirling around your rim. He devours your ass like a man who has been starved for days, moaning with pure bliss at the taste of you.

Your thighs begin to tremble, overwhelmed by the unrelenting pleasure and his grip is hard enough to bruise as he feasts on you, giving both your holes the attention they crave. He knows just how to please you, taking care of your every need before indulging in his own desires.

You would laugh at how even in his dominant role, he still prioritizes your pleasure first, but the sensations are too exquisite to do anything but feel.

Art works you over with his tongue, bringing you to a shuddering climax before standing and shifting his sweatpants down to free his throbbing erection. He fucks into you and one hand grips your ass cheek while his thumb circles and probes your puckered entrance, slipping inside to the first knuckle.

"Does Patrick fuck you like this?" Art pants heavily as he thrusts into your slick heat. "You think he could afford a woman like you? The jewelry you're wearing right now costs more than that piece of shit's entire car. And he thinks he can put his hands on what belongs to me? Fucking tell me."

"No, never!" You babble incoherently, grasping at the table for purchase as the dual stimulation threatens to overwhelm you. The sensations aren’t new, but this tension is. "I only keep him around because I miss you so much, Art. It's always been you."

“Lying. Fucking. Whore.” he grits out, each word punctuated by a sharp snap of his hips and a twist of his thumb buried in your ass. "You miss someone you were trying to get rid of? But you'll never be rid of me. 'Til death do us part, say it!"

“Til’ death, baby.” You eagerly agree, tears flowing from your eyes pool on the table under your cheek. It feels like a baptism, like you’re coming back to your religion.

“Cum for me. Slut.” He dribbles a little more spit down onto his thumb and quickens the pace of thrusting it in and out of your asshole, matching the rhythm of his cock inside your pussy. “Show me what you did for him in that cheap hotel room.”

He's always vocal during sex, but the degrading words are hitting you in all the right places. Your legs start to tremble and you tighten around him, signs that you're close to orgasm. Just as you think you're about to come, he pulls away, stroking himself until he finishes and ejaculates all over your backside and legs.

“What the hell, Art?” You whine, turning to glare at him. But he shoves the same thumb into your mouth and when you recoil, he laughs. His expression is deadly serious.

"If I catch you with Patrick again, I'll divorce you. Don't test me."

[rosegolden13]

"I'll be home for Christmas"

This is my first lil post on Tumblr! Hope y'all like it!! It's just some Christmas fluff with our collective husband, John Price <3

The cute divider thingy is by @anitalenia !

~900 words, all fluff, sfw

John promised he’d be home for Christmas but you’ve received enough false promises from him to not let your hopes get as high as to imagine him tomorrow opening the presents you’ve so carefully wrapped and laid under the tree. Still, you’re stirring at the sound of tires pushing through the slushy snow that has accumulated on the roads all day long. Drifting between the gentle hands of sleep and slow, lazy thoughts of your plans for tomorrow, you can hardly keep your eyes open, the blankets’ embrace drawing you towards slumber each time you wake when a car passes.

The time on the cable box flickers at you when you wake again. 11:52. Disappointment is a familiar, dull sting. John values optimism over accuracy when he tries to predict what time he can get home to you- both because of his own eagerness to see you again but also because of his constant need to protect you, even from something as minor as misfortunate news regarding his return. You knew better than to hope that he would be home for Christmas but you had hoped anyway.

Turning on your side, you face the couch cushions and pull the blanket snugly around you, closing your eyes to ease the sting of tears. Sleepy and sad on Christmas Eve, it’s easy to slip into a doze when you know there’s nothing to wait up for. Your husband will not be coming home tonight.

But he does. Despite the snow, despite the jetlag, he’s keeping his promise. Wild in his chest, his heart beats, ready to calm and beat in time with yours. His windshield wipers stubbornly push the fat flakes of snow that try to coat his truck. The tiny glowing green clock reads 12:16 by the time he cuts the engine in your driveway. 

The world outside his truck is silent, as if the world was lulled to sleep by the frosty white which covers almost everything. Multicolored lights twinkle from under the snow that covers your bushes. Perhaps he would have taken a moment to appreciate the peace after a month of constant chaos but there is a greater peace to be found inside rather than out. 

His entrance is nearly silent, assuming you’re asleep because all the lights are off except for the warm lights wrapped around the Christmas tree that stands in the front window. Snowy boots stomping gently on the welcome mat, he spots your sleeping form on the couch and something in him relaxes, something that has been tense since he left your side. 

Seeing your face soft with sleep, body cuddled beneath a blanket, having failed in staying up in wait for him- it was nearly too much to take after so much time away. The domesticity of the sight was overwhelming.

His gloved hand placed a poorly wrapped gift under the tree before he crouched down by the couch, gently rubbing your shoulder to wake you. “Love…” His voice was a grumble from exhaustion. It was enough to make you stir, eyes fluttering open to meet his. 

He could only admire your adorably surprised expression for a moment before you were launching yourself into his arms despite how cold his jacket was against you. “You’re home,” was all you could manage in a shaky murmur. 

His chuckle rumbled through you as he held you closer to his chest so you were leaning more on him than the couch. His big bear hands press your warmth to him. The snowflakes in his beard wind up in your hair as he presses a kiss to your head. “Didn’t I tell ya I would be? So little faith in me…” he chides gently as he moves to scoop you up in his arms, cradling you against him.

Even as you curl into him, you lightly smack his shoulder. “You told me you’d be home on Christmas Eve. It’s Christmas day now.” He just tsk’s, finding this specification ridiculous.

“Ungrateful, naughty lil thing,” he teases and earns himself another playful smack. “With this attitude, you won’t be gettin’ a thing from Saint Nick.”

“I’ve already got what I want,” You murmur in response, eyes closed and an amused smile on your face as he places you in bed and fixes the blankets around you. 

��Oh, yeah? What’s that, pet?” You can hear him rummaging about the room, likely changing into some warm comfortable clothes. Normally, you’d be fussing over him, brewing him a tea and forcing him to sit but you know he’ll protest if you even try to get up. 

You only answer when the mattress dips beside you and two strong arms pull you in tight. He sighs right into your ear, clearly pleased with all this comfort after the horror that is military-issued cots. “This,” you reply, voice soft with content as your eyes peek open to look up at him in the dark room. “This is all I wanted for Christmas, being in your arms again.”

His expression softens as he meets your gaze, clutching you tighter with one hand while the other gives your cheek a gentle caress. “Missed you, lovey. Missed you and your sappy nonsense.” His hand gives your hip a playful squeeze to which you kick his leg under the covers, the both of you smirking. He gives you a kiss to stop the quick remark he knows you’re forming. 

When he pulls away, you smile up at him, sleepy and content. “Merry Christmas, John.”

He presses one last warm kiss to your forehead, his thumb gently rubbing your waist. “Happy Christmas, pet.”

Thank you for reading!! I'm absolutely open to comments/critiques because I'm really new to this! Have a merry Christmas! <3

[cinnablu3]

RECKLESS - We listen and do just judge

Masterlist

Officially we have 5 more chapters to go! As Reckless is reaching its end. There might be more if I can't finish within the five chapters.

In your apartment early peaceful silence, Utahime and you are quietly eating cereal.

"Name, I wasn't going to bring it up but it's bothering me..Well with how everything went down." Utahime speaks up

"What exactly is bothering you Hime?" You responded calmly, maybe too calm. She raises a brow at you.

"How did Satoru reach you or even kiss you? Did he force himself ?" She sounded upset.

"NO! Never! Satoru isn't one to do something without consent." You sigh. "But I need to get something off my chest."

"Which is?"

"I agreed to the kiss." You blurt out, immediately Utahime stands up and hands are slammed on the table.

"EXCUSE ME!" She yells scaring you, she blinks before sinking down back to her seat. "Sorry.." She mumbles looking off to the side. "You need to tell me everything." She looks up at you.

"One moment I'm waiting for Choso and the next Satoru pops up next to me begging me back and he kisses me, well to sum up everything in a nutshell." You look ashamed, "But if I told you the whole story, you can't judge." You look at Utahime, who's already making a face.

"Do you know who you're talking to?"

You sighed in response knowing she's going to regardless and you don't really blame her.

The party is in full swing, everyone dancing, drinking and music. Choso and you were standing talking and drinking before he excused himself to grab water for the both of you.

Maybe 2 minutes, maybe 3 minutes went by, a familiar pair of arm wraps around your shoulders. Immediately tensing up, it couldn't be him right? Knowing who these pairs of arms belong to. You turned around and see him. "Satoru." Immediately leaving your lips.

He gives a small painful smile. "I'm happy you can even say my name still." He gives you a tight hug, a familiar grip you deeply miss. "Please let go of me Satoru."

"Name please, I can change."

"I left her."

"She meant nothing."

"Please I'll be more supportive and be loyal to you once more."

Hearing his excuse after another just trying process why are you still letting him hold you immediately pulling away.

He noticed you pull away trying to find a way to keep you close once more. "Can I kiss you? He begged.

"Yes." Like an instinct response to you. He pulls you close cupping your face before pressing his lips against yours. Yet it didn't feel right, this kiss just proved it. The realization hits you just a bit too late. Unaware someone had snapped a picture.

The kiss breaks forcibly as Choso pushes Satoru away, separating him from you. "ARE YOU INSANE FORCING YOURSELF ON NAME!" He barked, Satoru shaking his head. "It's not like that, we were just talking."

"Name did you like the kiss? Was it the same?" Ignoring Choso as he tries to get closer. "You still feel the same spark right? Name tell him, you did please?" He sounded desperate as Choso looks disgusted, pushing Satoru away the more he tried get closer.

He eventually got fed up with the pushing as he closed his fist and swung a punch at Choso's face. The crowd is starting to get drawn, as people start reaching their phones to record. Choso was stunned immediately punching back. Everything was a blur from that moment.

You try to piece your memory, how both were on the ground as Choso got the upper hand as he repeatedly bruised Satoru's face. Geto and other guys stepped in separating the two, Sirens are closing in the background. Everything had become white noise, realizing this is all your fault.

"Name you're crying again." Utahime spoke, You look up at her in tears.

"Hime this is really my fault." You whimpered hiding your face in your hands immediately she reaches over to you and hugs you.

"Yeah it is." She hums, You look at her. "Well did you want me to lie? Name, you put two people in jail."

"No but--"There's no excuse." She injects, "Name, are you serious about Choso?"

"I want forget about Satoru and be serious with him hime."

"Then tell Choso about everything and officially cut ties with Satoru. Completely." She sounded serious.

"I will, I want to be a better person especially for Choso. Gosh I'm actually stupid.." You wipe your tears.

"Just a little. Though I know he'll understand, he just seems like that type of person." She kisses your forehead. "Everything will be fine in some twisted way I know, I promise."

Taglist is now closed and full 💞 @miiiturix @superdonkeypatroleggs @inthedarkshadows000 @kumori-suwan @chilichopsticks @prized-jules 1ndee @lov3vivian @yuuuumii @chiiinglebells @sakurayashiro @ghostlyfanenemy @cisseadven @totallygyomeiswife bemebiu @chckn-pi @for-hearthand-home @sh0ot1ngst4r @muthic @lukaerith-morningstar meowforluv @uniquenicefangirl @4rmins @corvid007 @beautifulwitchcandy @iluv-ace @tartartagliaboo @genxnarumi lafrone @coffee-addicted-demigod @cupidsblonde depressedemosantaclaus @drownedbytears @s777athv @linaaeatsfamilies @lun4rchive @moonlitwitchdaisy @kooksbunnnn @shoma-nom @reagan707 @kaged-kitty b0nez9 btsinthesoop @shokosbunny @sleepykittyenergy @sad-darksoul @ghostswhoretbh @raquel12 @missthatgirl @explosivelywuisa @bunviixo @rifran @therealanxiety @harryzcherry

[xmads-omensx]

Word Count: 1,356

Pairing: Noah Sebastian X Reader

Content Warnings: smut, body worship, detailed description of physical appearance, very brief mentions of insecurities surrounding appearance, oral f. receiving

Tags: @collisionofyourkissmakesitsohard @lacy1986 @collidewiththesav @kenjipepsi1 @follow-me-down-to-wonderland @alwaysfightforwhoyouare @chey-h

The room was dark.

The curtains had been drawn quite some time ago since it was late into the evening.

Noah had his strong arms wrapped around my waist as he snored softly into the back of my neck.

It was nice.

The darkness was too.

I thought about Noah sleeping soundly behind me, a sense of jealousy consuming my veins.

How dare he be sleeping too well whilst I lie here and toss and turn.

It wasn’t his fault that my mind wouldn’t shut off.

Maybe it was.

I didn’t know.

My issues often kept me awake. I worried if people could see me. If someone were to break in and see me, and think I was too big. I wasn’t too big. I never was. But my brain didn’t agree.

It was hard to navigate. Especially at night when Noah wasn’t there to fight off the voices.

I didn’t want to wake him.

Not tonight.

He had just come back from the biggest show of his career thus far and needed his rest.

But so did I.

I was utterly exhausted.

My brain would not shut off, making it hard to do much else.

I lay in the darkness, enveloped in my boyfriends large frame, and thought.

I always thought.

I hated it.

Thinking took up too much of my time and I wanted to stop.

My brain needed to stop.

Everything needed to stop.

It wasn’t like my brain was telling my horrible, nasty things. It just wouldn’t stop thinking of possible perceptions of me.

Not all negative.

But all too much.

Most of the time, Noah would help me shut it off, but I doubted he would do that tonight.

My tossing had awoken him.

He rubbed his eyes and kissed my cheek.

“Why are you still up, babe?”

I shrugged.

I didn’t know what to tell him. Or how to tell him.

I just shrugged and snuggled my back further into him, my ass brushing his semi-hard cock.

He groaned quietly.

I giggled slightly at his reaction.

He gripped my hips with his large hands, stilling me in place.

“Baby, you gotta stop.” Noah groaned into my neck, making all the hairs stand up. I felt myself grow wetter as his chest vibrated behind me.

Fuck.

“Is it the thoughts again? Are they keeping you up?” He asked, sounding a little more concerned.

Wow, way to kill the mood, Noah.

I nodded.

“It’s nothing bad, just a lot of them at once.” I replied in a timid whisper. I didn’t want to divulge what my brain was saying just yet as I was hoping that the steamy atmosphere that had been created was still lingering.

“Can I show you something?” Noah whispered.

I nodded once again.

He pushed himself up slightly and wiggled his large body down the bed until he was hovering over my stomach.

His larger hands crept up my torso, pulling the baggy t-shirt that I was wearing up until my breasts were exposed. The chill in the air making my nipples perk up.

He motioned for me to lift up so that he could remove the shirt entirely. I complied, curious… and horny.

Noah’s beautiful brown eyes were alight with something other than lust and love. It was more intense. I couldn’t quite place it.

“Look at you.” He said, running his fingers up and down my sides, making me shiver under his delicate touch.

I could feel his hot breath against me as he leaned closer, as if he were marvelling at the very texture of my skin.

He seemed mesmerised by my body as he began to pull the black cotton panties I was wearing down my thighs until he had removed them completely.

His hands still wandered the expanse of my body, not yet touching me where I wanted him to so desperately.

“You’re the most beautiful creature I have ever had the privilege of seeing with my own eyes.” He whispered as his eyes remained transfixed on my skin.

He marvelled at every scar, every stretch mark, every freckle as if they were individual works of art.

“I could look at you forever.” He whispered, still not looking at my face.

Noah was so close to me, his body barely millimetres away from my own.

So close, in fact, that I could feel every hair on his body brushing against my own.

I felt his hard cock that remained restrained in his black boxers brush against my leg as he moved up higher, closer to my face.

“You amaze me in every way.” He whispered in my ear before capturing my lips in a tender, yet intense, kiss.

I moaned loudly and reached up to cup his cheeks, pulling him closer into me.

Taking the opportunity, with his body in such close proximity to my own, I raised my lower half up to grind against his own, hungry for some kind of friction, be it tiny.

He began to grind against me in return.

We remained like that for a short while, just enjoying each other’s presence, until it was all too much to bear and Noah pulled away.

“I gotta taste you, honey.” He murmured, transfixed in some sort of trance as he lowered himself down towards my pussy that ached with anticipation of what was to come.

First, I felt the tip of his nose brush against my clit.

Then, I felt his tongue expertly navigate through my folds as he began to eat my pussy.

He started slowly, as if he was making love to my sex with his mouth.

It was euphoric.

If there was some kind of award for eating pussy, Noah would win every damn category.

His hands traced delicate artworks on my thighs as he licked and kissed away out of my view. It grounded me, his fingertips dancing across my skin.

My body began to tingle, letting me know I was close. I was sure that Noah knew this too as he didn’t move his position in order to make me cum.

Despite me knowing that I was close, my orgasm always took me by surprise. A white hot light erupted in my brain as it painted bright fireworks across my eyelids, filling my body with overwhelming pleasure as I came on Noah’s stunningly handsome face.

He slowed his movement before pulling away from me, still wearing that tranced expression on his face.

The wetness on his chin reflected the slit of moonlight that shone through the gap in the curtains, making him look completely ethereal.

His large hands still sat on my thighs, caressing the skin gently.

Noah leant forward and brought his body up closer to my face, capturing my lips in a tender kiss. The kiss told me everything that I needed to know in that moment.

He loved me.

It warmed my heart, the fact that he didn’t need to say anything to tell me this.

He smiled down at me warmly, before lying back on his side and pulling me into his warm chest.

I could hear his heart beating quickly in his chest as my face was pushed up against it. This was where I felt safest.

“Baby, you are a work of art.” Noah whispered.

Unsure of what to reply with, I simply smiled up at my boyfriend.

“Seriously. You are. I don’t really know how else to show you.” He began, a pussy-drunk smile across his face. “So, I’m going to make love to you tonight, and worship you and your body like you deserve.”

My heart leapt in my chest.

“Let me worship you baby.” Noah whispered as he placed two fingers under my chin, raising it up enough to place a chaste kiss onto my lips before rolling back on top of me.

“I’m so lucky to get to see all of you.” He said before sliding his cock into me.

The rest of the night, and well into the morning, Noah made love to me.

Maybe he was right after all?

Maybe I do deserve to be worshipped?

[literatureloverx]

Could you make yandere prisoner fyodor x prisoner reader? From meursault arc??

Such a nice request! ♥️ (Also… I’m so sorry it took me so long!) I wrote a scenario since you didn’t specifically mention which format. ♥️

Fyodor x fem!reader

prisoner reader, Meursault arc, Fyodor being himself, yandere-ish (it’s Fyodor…).

Fyodor’s attention shifted from the pages of his book, his pale fingers pausing for the briefest of moments as his deep violet eyes settled on you. The words on the page blurred as his mind, sharp and calculating, turned toward the enigma that had appeared before him.

You were a curious thing, lost in a world that was not your own, fumbling in the shadows of a place like Meursault. He let his gaze linger, silently studying you—your delicate presence, standing out in a way that unsettled the grim, oppressive atmosphere of the prison.

Who are you?

You were not an ADA agent, that much was certain. And yet, you didn’t seem like someone who belonged here at all. The prison, with its cold, dark corners and the fetid stench of hopelessness, should have been a place for the irredeemable, the broken. But you? There was a spark in you, something that betrayed your outward appearance of meekness.

His eyes narrowed ever so slightly as you blinked, an ordinary enough action—but not quite. There was a pattern to it, a rhythm that immediately caught his attention. It wasn’t a simple blink of fatigue; no, it was something more deliberate. A message.

How quaint.

His lips curled into a barely perceptible smile, the corners of his mouth turning up ever so slightly. He watched, intrigued, as the message unfolded, the delicate taps of your eyes telling him everything he needed to know. Morse code.

He sat up a little straighter, his fingers lightly grazing the edges of the book he had abandoned, the pages still and silent now. His gaze never wavered from you.

Fyodor’s lips parted slightly as a cold smirk tugged at his mouth. How interesting. What could you possibly know about him to seek him out in this way?

His gaze hardened, as if savoring the challenge you had unwittingly placed before him. He could see through the cracks in your carefully constructed exterior—you were no ordinary prisoner.

No, you were here for him.

A cute little mouse, venturing into the den of a predator, unaware that it was already ensnared. There was a delicate beauty in your folly, a naïve courage that made him lean forward slightly, an ever-present amusement dancing in his eyes.

Every inch of him was drawn to the puzzle you presented. Your attempts to reach him, to break through the silence of this forsaken place, were not lost on him. And now that he had noticed, now that his attention was fixed on you, there was no escape.

He watched you, his gaze sharp as a blade, and let the silence stretch between you both, thick with unspoken words. You had invited him into your little game, and now it was his turn to decide how it would play out.

Oh, how delightful.

The air in the cell is heavy with tension, each breath you take a quiet, deliberate action, as you try to gather your thoughts. Fyodor’s gaze is unwavering, his violet eyes never leaving you. The silence between you stretches, thickening as he studies you, his fingers delicately brushing the edges of his book, as though the pages are no more than a mere distraction from the game unfolding before him.

You had hoped for a response, had silently prayed that your attempt at communication would not go unnoticed. And then, a subtle shift—his fingers move, tapping lightly against the wall. The pattern is familiar, the rhythmic beat a language you understand all too well.

Morse code.

Your heart skips a beat. He’s answering you.

You watch him intently, your breath shallow, as you try to keep up with his deliberate message. Each tap seems to echo louder in your mind, as if to remind you that this moment is unlike anything you’ve encountered before.

His message is calm, controlled, and yet, there’s an underlying thread of something more dangerous, more enticing. Your pulse quickens as the realization hits: he knows exactly what you’re trying to do.

You feel a chill run through you, but it’s not fear—it’s something far more complex, a curious sense of thrill. You had sought him out, reached through the silence to this man who felt so impossibly distant, and yet, now that he’s noticed, now that his attention is entirely fixed on you, you can’t bring yourself to look away.

And then, as if the tension in the room wasn’t enough, the door to the cell rattled open, revealing a new cell that seemed to materialise out of nowhere.

Your gaze shifts instinctively.

Dazai.

“Looks like I’ve found a little gathering. How delightful.”

Your heart races, and for the briefest of moments, you wonder if you’ve made a mistake by reaching out to them. But then, Fyodor’s fingers tap again, a soft rhythm against the stone wall, as though to remind you that the game is far from over.

His fingers tap once more, the sound sharp and deliberate. Let the game of prison break begin.

[xxgoldie]

for your event: can I request seth and q, p, z please? tysm!!

i've been on such a seth kick recently for some reason so i'm taking any excuse to write for him main event page - event masterlist

P: PDA - do they like PDA? how do they react to it from you? When it comes to more innocent, basic PDA, Seth is all for it. Hand holding, hugs, light kisses, compliments and petnames, it's all stuff that makes him really happy whether you're in private or in public. He likes when people can tell at a glance that the two of you are together, and besides, he's such an earnest and straight-forward guy - he's not trying to put on a persona to anyone, he loves you a lot and isn't going to deny himself the pleasure of your affection. But with every step past the basics, he gets even more flustered. He won't ever stop you (unless you catch him on patrol and you're feeling mischievous) because he definitely enjoys it, but he's blushing like an idiot and completely forgets what he was saying. Kiss him with tongue in public, or heaven forbid in front of his coworkers, he becomes a puddle of a man; can't help but melt into the kiss but the fact you're in public is in the back of his mind so he's bright red when you pull away, tries to start like twenty sentences at once but just gets out some garbled sound, tries to give you an annoyed look but he just ends up looking lovesick and pleading (which is exactly how he feels, he could never get annoyed at you, especially not within thirty seconds of your lips on his)

Q: Quirk - what's a little oddity / beige flag they have in relationships? When the two of you are hanging out around the house, Seth has a tendency to follow you around. It'll basically always happen when you're having a conversation, where you can walk around and he'll follow you while talking, but a lot of the time it'll be just when the two of you are just sitting together doing your own separate thing and you get up to do something. He just has an instinct to be where you are, even if he's still scrolling on his phone while doing it. It's cute most of the time, but sometimes you'll need the toilet and he'll trail after you, barely paying attention until you stop and stare at him until he snaps out of it and realises that he's standing in the doorway of the bathroom. Then he'll get out of the way and let you pee in peace.

Z: Zzzzzzz - how do they sleep with you? what's it like to share a bed with them? Seth sleeps pretty peacefully, but also pretty lightly. Between his job keeping him aware of his surroundings and being a cat Thiren, a proper deep sleep is quite rare for him. He sleeps deeper with you, though, the comfort (both physical and psychological) of having you beside him lulls him into full relaxation. However, if you move around a lot in your sleep, he will likely at least partially wake up from it - though he is one of those lucky sods that can fall asleep as soon as his head hits the pillow, so as soon as you're settled and comfortable again he'll doze back off like nothing happened. When it comes to sleeping positions he's basically happy as long as he's holding you, but if he had to choose, it'd be when you're facing each other, legs intertwined and his face nuzzled into your hair; the smell of your shampoo and your soft breath on his collarbone being the first and last thing he experiences every day makes him smile immensely, to the point it's not uncommon for you to wake up to him almost grinning in his sleep.

[andreilscat]

Neil was running through the empty streets when the first snowflake landed on him. He tilted his head back, taking a deep breath in, and watched as the fog formed when he exhaled. The morning was cold and peaceful, without a soul in sight. He closed his eyes and thought about the warm bed and Andrew who was still sound asleep. He thought of Jean who was probably already up and making the breakfast for them.

He thought about what they were going to do during the day. Andrew would wake up and complain about the cold. They would eat and go out. Jean and Neil would drink tea and Andrew hot chocolate. He would taste sweet when they kissed afterward. Andrew would drive them around and they would call Kevin. They still weren’t used to traveling anywhere without him but he insisted they should go since he was trying to spend more time with Wymack. ****************************************************

“Just how stupid are you, Josten?” Jean said the moment he heard the front door open. “Did you not realize how cold it was outside, or did you acknowledge it and just decided to ignore it?” he continued, turning around to look at Neil who had just walked into the kitchen, wearing nothing but a hoodie and sweatpants.

“I needed some fresh air.”

Jean looked him up and down, before softening his voice, “You should have woken me up to go with you, you know I don’t mind.”

“Oh sure you don’t,” Neil laughed walking over to him, “But you just love to complain after. Besides, I wouldn’t want you risking getting sick.”

“Is that because you suck at making soup, or because Kevin would kill you?”

“Oh let’s not get into details,” Neil tried to sound annoyed, but his eyes were filled with an entirely different emotion as he got closer, looking up at him until Jean was bending down, and letting Neil give him a quick kiss.

“Drew still asleep?”

“Yeah, you should go check on him though, he is going to suffocate under all those covers.”

****************************************************

Andrew was curled into himself, his figure barely visible with all the pillows and heavy blankets.

“Jean is afraid you might suffocate under all that,” Neil whispered, sitting at the edge of the bed.

Andrew’s arm emerged from under the covers and wrapped around Neil’s wrist, pulling him closer.

“Better this than suffocating in the cold,” he said, eyeing Neil carefully. “At least wear something warmer.”

“Worried about me?” Neil smiled, leaning in.

“Fuck you,” Andrew muttered, closing the distance between them with a kiss.

****************************************************

“Stop running,” Jean yelled after Neil.

They were running round the park, despite it being so late at night. They could scarcely see each other under the street lamp that barely gave out any light.

Earlier that day Neil had asked them to play in the snow, but of course, he knew that Andrew would just roll his eyes at that. That meant that his only other option was Jean who wasn’t particularly fond of snow but was very fond of the blue-eyed boy who had kindly asked them, and he just didn’t know how to tell him no. That was a big mistake.

“Your problem for not being able to keep up,” Neil said, stopping suddenly and causing Jean to crush into him, almost falling on his ass.

He grabbed a hold of Neil’s arm to keep him in place, “Can you please stop running away, I can hardly see you.”

“Really? You threw a snowball directly at my face!”

“Not on purpose,” He whispered, “It’s so dark and I couldn’t see properly. I’m sorry,” he continued, standing up to his full height, wrapping his arms around Neil and kissing the top of his head.  ”I’ll be more careful next time. Forgive me?”

“Oh don’t try to sweet talk me,” Neil started, but before he could say anything else, a shiver ran down his spine and he yelped as Jean showed a handful of snow down his jacket, laughing as he did so.

“Oh you will pay for that,” Neil said, grabbing Jean around the waist and tackling him. They both hit the ground hard. Jean groaned when Neil climbed on top of him, settling himself on his lap.

“So fucking tall,” Neil mumbled as he leaned down to kiss each of his cheeks. His nose was so red and Neil couldn’t resist giving it a little peck before taking his face between his hands and kissing him senselessly.

Jean smiled as he deepened the kiss, pulling him impossibly close. When Neil finally pulled away, they were both breathing heavily and holding tightly onto each other.

“You know, as much as I’m enjoying this, I do think we should head back if we don’t want to get hypothermia.”

Neil giggled, letting Jean pull them both off the ground.

“Oh, Andrew would actually kill us if we did.”

They were still giggling and as they made their way down the street, hand in hand, their fingers intertwined.

[presleyslilbaby]

~A Little Gift~

(70’s!Elvis X OC!)

(TW: Potential misspellings-)

(This is just a short little story I wanted to write for Christmas. I really should be resting, but I can’t rest until my brain is empty, lol-)

“Gianna,” Elvis called for his Girlfriend, grabbing her attention, though scaring her a little. “Y-Yes…?” She softly stuttered out, subconsciously pushing her glasses up, a nervous habit she’d recently developed. Sighing, Elvis sat down next to her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and pulling her to his side. “Angel, you’re hangin’ out alone.” He motioned around. “We got a whole Christmas party to tend to, Baby.” A guilty frown tugged at Gianna’s lips, wrapping her arms around herself instinctively. “I know…I just- You know I’m not good with people, El…” She mumbled. “A-And besides- I-I can’t really relate to any of the Guys…I’m not very fun to talk to…” “Oh, sure you are,” He patted her on the head, trying to make her feel better. “You’re heaps o’ fun to talk to. Why do ya’ think I asked you out, hm? ‘Cause you’re sweet, adorable, and you’re real silly. Don’t you let them thoughts get to ya’.”

Gianna hummed softly, leaning into Elvis’s plush body, turning more toward him to snuggle closer. “I just don’t want to embarrass myself…And besides, I don’t want to hear Joanne complaining about how I need to talk more…” Elvis frowned at that, pulling his aviators off before grabbing her jaw gently to make her look up at him. “Do not let your Sister dictate your life. If you ain’t ready to socialise jus’ yet, then you ain’t ready. I know how hard it is for you.” She smiled. “Thank you…I just feel guilty because you want to go mingle and stuff, and here I am…Keeping you here…” He shook his head, running his hand through her brown hair. “You ain’t keepin’ me here. I know I can go back out if I wanted. But I’d much rather prefer takin’ the time to make sure my best Girl’s doin’ all right.” Leaning in, he pressed a soft kiss against her nose. “Because I care ‘bout you, Honey. You’re my heart, my world. I’d do anythin’ to make you feel better.” At his heartfelt confession, Gianna’s lower lip began to tremble with emotion, tears starting to gather in her eyes. She sharply inhaled, fanning her face as she made a silly sound. “Don’t say things like that! You’ll make me cry!” She partially joked, blinking rapidly. Elvis let out a laugh, the sound echoing in her ears. “Well excuse me, li’l Lady! I was just’ tryin’ to tell you that I cared!” He grinned.

“Oh-“ Suddenly standing up, Elvis quickly excused himself from moment before returning with a small, wrapped gift. “For you, Angel.” He spoke with such softness, his voice in its own feeling like a warm blanket as it reached her ears. Taking the gift from his hands, Gianna began to carefully unwrap her present, having kept the habit of not ripping the paper like a barbarian from when she was a child to save for next Christmas. Opening the small velvety box, a quiet gasp escaped her lips, and tears sprang to her eyes yet again. It was a beautiful Golden band adorned with real diamonds on top, the size and shine of the ring reflecting the expenses of the gift. “Oh, Elvis…” She gasped. “This is so gorgeous…H-How much did you spend on this…???” As much as she loved the present, she couldn’t help but worry over the price.

Elvis chuckled, shaking his head. “Don’t you worry ‘bout the price, Gigi. It’s just a li’l gift I got for my Baby.” “A little gift? Elvis, this is more than just a little gift…It’s- Fuck, it’s so amazing…” Gianna watched on as he took her hand in his, then after having taken the ring out of its box, he slowly and reverently slid it on her finger. “Not as amazing as the beautiful Girl wearin’ it.” He said, lifting her hand to his lips and pressing his lips to the back of it like a Gentleman. “…I love you so much…” She whispered as a tear slipped past her eye. He gently brushed it away with his thumb. “I love you too, Cookie.” He said.

“Merry Christmas, Gianna.”

Merry Christmas…”

[askvectorprime]

Dear, Vector Prime.

Are there other Transformers that transform into deer besides Scrapper? I would like to know the female ones if possible.

Dear Antler Appreciator,

The Scrapper you mention is far from the only one. Some non-Hybridizer incarnations of Thunderhoof turn into deer. The Autobot Herne, when outside of his Pretender shell, transformed into an electro-elk—as did Sero, a Maximal Resistance member who underwent the Beast Upgrade. Now that you mention it, it’s curious that of all the individuals who come to mind, from across the multiverse, not one of them is female. I wonder if there is some underlying metaphysical principle that precludes the adoption of the doe as an alternate form…

This reminds me of a story, which—if my chronometer is to be trusted—should be seasonally-appropriate. Gather around the energon furnace, and I will tell you of the time Sky-Byte learned the meaning of Christmas.

Between schemes, Sky-Byte’s personal mission to understand human literature was well underway. Having already enjoyed A Tale of Two Cities, he next set his sights on that seminal classic, A Christmas Carol. So moved by it was he, that Sky-Byte was inspired to spread the “Christmas Spirit” to his fellow Predacons—and thus he enlisted the help of Slapper, Gas Skunk and Dark Scream, to play the role of the three spirits in his own re-enactment… and as for the miserly Ebenezer Scrooge, why, that part would be played by none other than Megatron, of course.

The production went about as well as you might expect. Nevertheless, having been alerted to the magical properties of the “Christmas Spirit”, Megatron couldn’t help but covet this power for himself. He turned once more to Doctor Onishi’s memories, and in doing so, learned of the existence of the being known as “Santa Claus”.

Megatron reasoned that Santa Claus was the being who commanded the Christmas Spirit, and plotted to hijack the holiday. That night, he travelled to the North Pole to lie in wait… and when the sleigh appeared, he used his flying hand mode to snatch Santa Claus and all the presents! Having stolen Santa's list, he checked it twice, identifying the nicest humans with the most Christmas Spirit to take. On the back of the sleigh, he mounted the Predacons’ psycho-probe, which had been modified to absorb this psychic energy, stealing the hopes and dreams of children asleep in their beds. Dragging it behind him, Megatron changed into his reindeer mode… and took flight.

On Christmas morning, the Autobots were surprised to find a miserable Koji Onishi, who didn't even want to get out of bed to open the Autobots’ gifts. Their attempts to cheer him up only irritated him further. X-Brawn wondered if Koji was upset to be spending Christmas without his father, but Side Burn couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong…

Meanwhile, at the Megastar, Sky-Byte had been left to guard Santa Claus—as Predacon intelligence suggested the old man had a preternatural ability to break in and out of buildings unnoticed. But when Santa Claus revealed to Sky-Byte that his name was near the very top of the naughty list, the Predacon shark had a crisis of conscience. He sent out a transmission, which was received by T-AI at Autobot HQ, to warn them of Megatron's scheme.

Unfortunately, the number of humans affected by the psycho-probe was rapidly snowballing, causing a wave of humbuggery that would give even old Scrooge himself pause. Combined with Santa's magical sleigh, Megatron was moving faster than the Autobots could possibly keep up with! Only Rail Racer stood a chance of catching him, but Team Bullet Train was off-duty, as trains don’t run on Christmas Day. Thinking quickly, the Build Team modified the Global Space Bridge to lock onto Megatron and trap him in the transwarp field, allowing Prime and the Autobot Brothers to intercept. Cornered, Megatron needed more power if he was going to stand a chance—and unfortunately for the Autobots, the Christmas Spirit had unlimited power to give. Absorbing the stolen energy into himself, he supercharged his body into a menacingly festive new form, decked out all in red and gold. The victory he had chased for so long was finally within reach. The Autobots always got what they wanted. Why shouldn’t he?

Koji shouted to Megatron that he would never understand the meaning of Christmas. After all, it’s not about getting what you want—it’s about giving to others. But Megatron only let out a wickedly jolly laugh, for he did indeed have something for the Autobots… and with that, he began to charge his devastating Cutter Beam. Koji begged for him to listen. All the young boy wanted was to spend Christmas with friends and family—to see his father again, to have just one day without fighting. Why should such a dream be impossible? If only he promised to stop fighting, even Megatron would be welcome at their table.

And though Megatron laughed, some part of this warm sentiment touched his icy spark. It triggered a chain reaction in the Christmas Spirit coursing through his circuitry, which fought with his natural evil impulses… before finally exploding. Free once more, the Christmas Spirit returned to all the good little girls and boys. Bitterly, Megatron asked Koji if he had truly meant it. But before the boy could respond, Megatron saw a rift in the transwarp, and took his chance to retreat. Optimus Prime thanked Koji, and renewed his promise to rescue Doctor Onishi—though he regretted that they had not stopped Megatron sooner, and that all the children would be waking up without presents…

When Megatron arrived back at the Megastar, he was furious to discover that Santa Claus had vanished—and Sky-Byte, too! Meanwhile, all over the world, children found gifts had mysteriously arrived under their trees. A little girl looked out of her window, and caught a glimpse of a bearded man in a big red sleigh… pulled by a flying shark.

Merry Christmas, everyone.

[morningsharksworld]

Ok consider this... Hazard gets sick and refuses to admit he needs to be cared for until he all but passes out from fever and then gets all flustered and sappy when his S/O starts doting on him and forcing him to lay down and rest.

Fever

Hazard x Reader

A/N: Writing this as I have a cold is great therapy ngl anon, nice ol’ blanket and some soup.

Summary: some of the phreaks have been noticing that hazard hasn’t been taking care of himself lately…even when he’s sick

Hazard was as stubborn as a mule—and twice as proud. You’d noticed something was off for days now. His usual sharp movements had grown sluggish, his voice rougher, and his face was a permanent shade of red. But every time you tried to confront him, he’d brush it off with some gruff excuse.

It wasn’t until Boomslang, ever the watchful eye, cornered you in the hallway that you realized just how bad it had gotten.

“Hey” she called, her voice calm but firm. She crossed her arms, leaning against the wall. “I think you need to check on Hazard.”

You blinked at her, confused. “Why? What happened?”

“He’s been sick for days” she said, her expression unreadable. “I told him to rest, but of course, he blew me off. I saw him nearly fall earlier. He’s too stubborn to admit he needs help.”

“That does sound like him” you muttered, already heading toward where you’d last seen him.

Boomslang called after you, her tone dry. “Good luck. He’s impossible.”

When you found Hazard, he was exactly where you expected—still working, hunched over a desk with sweat dripping from his temple. His movements were jerky, and his shoulders sagged under what seemed like the weight of the world.

“Hazard” you said, stepping into the room.

“I’m busy” he snapped, not even looking up.

“You’re sick” you countered, your voice firm.

“I’m fine” he barked, his thick Scottish brogue rougher than usual. His accent always deepened when he was agitated, and now it rolled off him in waves. “I’ve nae got time fer this. There’s work tae be done.”

“You can’t even stand straight” you said, moving closer. “Boomslang told me you nearly fell earlier.”

His glare could’ve melted steel. “That wee tattletale’s got nae business stickin’ her nose in! I told her I dinnae need help, an’ I dinnae need yours either.”

You didn’t argue with him. Not yet. You just stood there, arms crossed, watching him sway on his feet like a leaf in the wind. His pride was his worst enemy, and you knew the only way to break through it was to let him run himself into the ground—literally.

It didn’t take long. Not five minutes later he stumbled mid-step, his knees buckling as his body gave out. You darted forward, catching him before he hit the ground.

“Jesus, Hazard!” you snapped, lowering him onto the couch. “What did I told you?”

His eyelids fluttered open, his gaze unfocused but still defiant. “Ach, dinnae fuss over me” he muttered weakly. “It’s just a wee fever.”

“A ‘wee fever’ doesn’t make people pass out” you shot back, pressing a cool cloth to his forehead.

He flinched at the touch, his face flushing even more. “I’m nae some bairn who needs coddlin’” he grumbled, though his voice lacked any real bite.

“Well, you’re acting like one” you said, dabbing at his sweat-soaked skin. “You should’ve come to me, Boomslang or hell even Susie the moment you started feeling like this. But no, you had to be all macho man about it.”

Hazard groaned, his arm draping over his eyes as though to block out your scolding. “Yer nae gonna let this go, are ye?”

“Not a chance” you said, your tone softening. “You scared me, Hazard. You can’t keep pushing yourself like this.”

For once, he didn’t argue. Instead, he let out a resigned sigh, his brogue softer now. “Yer too good tae me, love. I dinnae deserve it.”

“You deserve to be cared for” you said firmly, brushing a strand of damp hair from his face.

His cheeks darkened, though whether it was from the fever or embarrassment, you couldn’t tell. “Ye’ve got a way of makin’ a man feel like a right fool, ye know that?”

“Good” you replied with a smirk. “Now, shut up and rest you big baby.”

He huffed, muttering something under his breath in Gaelic, but he didn’t fight you. As the fever began to break, he mumbled a quiet, “Thank ye” before drifting off to sleep.

Boomslang was right—he was handy work. But he was your handy, and you weren’t going to let him go through this alone.

[chasingbutterfliesintoeternity]

A very self indulgent, all the tropes, PJO/EPIC crossover/time travel fix-it plot

(Ithaca Saga spoilers ahead)

So I have another crossover idea (not the one I’m planning to write) that’s been living in my head, and it’s so self indulgent and ridiculous it was only ever meant for me. But post Ithaca Saga listening party, I want to write down my thoughts and share them for reasons mentioned in my previous post. I would also like to note that I have an unhealthy obsession with C-novels and this is part of the inspiration.

So this AU opens in the EPIC timeline with a very old Odysseus on his deathbed, thinking about his life and his deepest regrets: letting his crew die and never properly reconciling with Athena. And in true C-novel fashion, his regrets (and probably Athena’s) are enough let him be reborn and have a second chance to fix his life. So Odysseus dies and the next thing he knows he opens his eyes and he’s young again, standing on his ship sailing out of Troy and Eurylochus is telling him that they’re running out of supplies.

Meanwhile in the PJO timeline, Percy and Luke/Kronos are facing off in the battle for Olympus and as Luke decides to sacrifice himself Kronos lashes out one last by cursing Percy and throwing him backwards in time. Olympus is saved but Percy is missing and Poseidon isn’t happy with that result and finds a way to follow Percy through time. So now we’ve got a reincarnater meets transmigrater situation going on.

Back in the EPIC timeline, despite all his attempts to avoid it, Odysseus still has to resort to going to the cyclops island to find food. But now Odysseus is more careful and tricks Polyphemus into breaking guest right immediately before taking him out using archery or something. Unfortunately Polyphemus still finds their identity before he dies because some crew members start a war chant or something. Fortunately, no crew members die and Poseidon is a little distracted from sending more revenge than a storm because he senses forces intruding on his domain (Percy and PJO!Poseidon).

Anyways Percy gets yeeted onto the cyclops island after being flung through time and runs into Odysseus as he’s packing up supplies in the cave. Odysseus is immediately suspicious because Percy looks a lot like Poseidon and Odysseus is like 90% sure this is a mortal disguise and he’s being tested. Percy is also very on guard because he can sense that Odysseus doesn’t like him and tries not to reveal anything about himself aside from being lost and stranded, which doesn’t help this misunderstanding. Neither does the storm that follows them as they leave the island. Then Athena shows up and makes some cryptic comments to Ody about killing one son and picking up another. She equally cryptically mentions she’s not going to be around for a bit because she senses a disturbance in time and needs to check that out but treat the kid well and you’ll probably be fine.

Where’s PJO!Poseidon? Well unluckily for him he’s landed on the wrong side of the world. Luckily for Percy and Odysseus this means that EPIC!Poseidon is to busy heading that way to check out the larger domain intrusion to bother them and Percy calms the storm pretty easily. No mortal can pass Poseidon’s storm? Sure. But a demigod son of Poseidon is a loophole. By this point EPIC!Poseidon and Athena are both trying to track down PJO!Poseidon, but he keeps losing them. Not intentionally, he actually doesn’t know he’s being tracked and just haphazardly transporting from place to place because he a bit disoriented and has his powers dampened from travelling through time.

Eventually EPIC!Poseidon decides to check on that pesky mortal who killed his son… and what do you mean he’s reached his homeland? So he goes spawn camps outside Ithaca, but when Odysseus and his fleet pulls up, his attention is drawn towards Percy, the second intrusion into his domain. Which leads to this encounter

“There you are! Of course you’re with the coward”

“Hey! leave my son alone!”

“Why are there two of you!?”

That last one is Athena, who’s finally tracked down the disturbance in the force.

So they’re all doing the Spider-Man meme right outside of Ithaca.

Anyways PJO!Poseidon convinces his past self that having a grudge against Odysseus isn’t worth it. Odysseus, who has already lived through this is probably darkly amused. But also very bemused at how easily he managed to get everyone home. Athena figures out how to get the PJO timeline seaweed brains home and everyone lives happily ever after.

[fangel]

always, attic angel — jake [ 심재윤 ]

synopsis : jake’s hidden secret isn’t so secret anymore, but he’ll go to great lengths to keep it. he reaches his breaking point when faced with betrayal. he relinquishes any remaining sense of sanctity, surrendering to everything he's spent his life trying to suppress. ⇀ read part 1 here ⸝⸝ updated playlist

pairing : jake sim x fem. reader featuring : heeseung genre : psychological thriller, smut, yandere word count : 7.7k content advisory : dark content ⚠︎ sexually explicit content, obsessive!jake, possessive!jake, jake in general, corrupt!reader, choking, dubcon, somnophilia, spanking, unprotected sex, stockholm syndrome, religious themes and concepts, violence, blood, mentions of homicide/death, open ending - mostly proofread

“can you keep a secret?”

jake wasn’t only asking heeseung the literal question, but he was questioning himself. how long could he realistically hide you away? were you, his sacred secret, something that he could actually keep? he’s thought about it a lot. often losing hours in a day just going over the agonizing idea of not.

heeseung at a loss for words, just watches jake’s body language. jake is like nothing he’s ever seen before. jay and sunghoon have brought up jake’s odd behavior with concern, but he always brushed it off. now heeseung is here to witness it himself, stunned with his brows furrowed and a mouth opening and closing, looking for words he can’t find. he looks back up to the top of staircase, the room that he knows is occupied with someone. hundreds of questions flood his mind but he doesn’t know where to begin. 

“jake,” he says quietly, eyes darting from the door up the stairs and to the boys huddled in the living room. “what did you do? who is here?” even if jake did have a girlfriend, or just someone he’s been seeing, why would he need to act this way? with the way the air feels around them, heeseung is sure that there’s much more going on. and whatever it could be, was far from good. 

jake still can’t look at heeseung. he just stares to the floor with a death grip on heeseung. his breathing picks up in slow, deep heaves. he holds onto his hyung like a lifeline. heeseung feels genuine dread. the chill he feels run through his body makes every hair stand up. he wants to pull away from jake, to go investigate before the others get nosy or cause a scene. but he can’t. his instincts are telling him that if he moves too quickly that jake will break.  

“jake… if i go up there—” he begins to say slowly, quietly. and that’s when jake looks up at heeseung. his eyes look wild, almost like they’re threatening him. heeseung swallows hard, sensing that maybe he is silently threatening him. 

heeseung tries to step back but jake only digs his nails into the flesh of heeseung’s arm. he hisses at the sting and attempts to tug his arm away from the hold. jake’s strength is something heeseung never knew he had; he thinks that jake might just fucking break his arm at the elbow right here and now. 

through clenched teeth, jake seethes under his breath, “i’ll explain, but get them all out of my house first. and i swear to god if you tell another soul you’ll be buried out back too.” 

what the fuck, is all heeseung can think. his eyes wide from the venomous threat. he complies with jake out of fear. these were treacherous waters and he wasn’t going to test it out by diving in. especially with the tension growing too thick and too fast for heeseung to waste any time. 

jake follows heeseung to the living, standing behind him, watching and listening. he doesn’t say a word as his older friend handles the situation. he just shifts on his feet while staring into the back of heeseung’s head.

heeseung stumbles over his words, nervously attempting a lie to get the rest of the boys to leave. the words catching in his throat that he masks with a cough whenever one of them makes a questioning expression. 

although disoriented and perturbed, they all listen to heeseung. heeseung being obviously troubled with something serious made them gather their things with haste. they were rushing out to the car in minutes with no questions asked. there were many to be had, but they assumed they would find out eventually. 

jake and heeseung watch as they drive away, from the front door. neither of them say a word even when the vehicle is out of sight. the taillights fading into the snowscape treeline of gravel road is all to be heard and seen. 

there’s a pregnant pause before jake closes the door and locks it, all 5 different locks. heeseung raises a brow, stepping back slowly. his eyes watching as jake stuffs the ring of keys into his front hoodie pocket. he makes note of it. 

jake, still yet to utter a word, just walks into the living room area to clean up the leftover mess. heeseung, unsure of what to do, just helps in stillness. the tv remains a static screen displaying no signal: (1) check the cable connections and settings of your source device. the kitchen oven light flickers every so often. and the darkness of the night bleeds into the house. it’s eerily quiet between them. 

after some time, there’s a slow creak of a door to be heard. both of the boys heads shoot upward and down the hallway. layla trots away from them and sits at the end of staircase. her head tilted, ears raised, and mouth open in what would be interpreted as a smile. 

slow footsteps make their way down. the space between each creaking step of the wooden floorboards shows how apprehensive and timorous you are. once halfway down, there’s a pause. you’re standing there, waiting for a noise or response from jake. you saw the group of his friends leave, but there was still another car parked outside. and after waiting for so long, listening to silence, you had to see why jake hadn’t come up to see you, to tell you it’s safe to come out. 

jake stands from his crouched position, dropping the wet wipe he was just using to clean the low coffee table. he throws off his jacket to the edge of the couch. there’s a clink of the cluttered keys, but only heeseung hears it. jake’s already in tunnel vision. he gives heeseung a daring glare before walking away to meet you halfway. heeseung sits down on the couch, his hands folded over his lap while his leg picks up an anxious bounce. he looks at the pocket of the abandoned material. a glimmer of metals peak through the opening. 

jake walks up the stairs that you stand in the middle of, layla hot on his trail. he gives you a small smile as he places his hands on your shoulders to turn your body back around. “i didn’t tell you when to come out, did i?” he whispers with small anger, trying to keep his tone light but what’s deeper surfaces regardless. 

you very rarely made jake angry. a feeling of disappointment envelops you like instinct. as if you had to feel bad for going against him. 

“i’m sorry i made a noise,” you mumble, “i got excited when i heard them mention me.” it’s an honest admission. you turn your head back to jake and your guilt drops to something empty. the color fades from your face when you see him. he looks disgusted. “i-i’m sorry, i-” your mouth open and mind trying to find the right thing so say. 

he grabs the back of your neck and begins to walk forward, forcing your body back up to the bedroom. you stumble over your feet, nearly falling. his footsteps stomp against the wooden stairs. his hold on you is squeezing with fingers pressing into the sides of your throat. you want to cough away the feeling but decide on struggling to remain quiet instead. someone is still here. i promised to behave. 

when back in the room, he shoves you forward with the release of his grip. the door slams behind him. you lose balance but catch your own feet, your ankle shooting in a great affliction that you’ve become accustomed to ignore. your hands reach for your throat to massage the ache. you whimper at the touch. 

“it was a perilous decision, making you my attic angel.” his heavy footsteps march forward. he picks you up from under your arms and tosses you onto the bed. you bounce slightly before gathering yourself. you push yourself back into the corner of the bed, hugging your knees to tuck into your body, like you’re protecting yourself. you watch as he places his knee onto the bed, his hands too, leaning towards you. “i am trying so hard, so why isn’t it enough?” his head shakes in disbelief. “i’m just not enough for you? you want everyone to see you, to know you. why? as if they would need or love you as much as i do.” the last sentence is a scoff, spat with hate. he just stares at you with a tilt to his head. you feel that he’s mocking you in some way with his ridiculous words. 

tears brim your eyes, your hands forming small fists that tremble in a rage you’ve always felt within you. “i never asked you to.” your words are firm, a tight lip frown wears your face. you want to argue that this isn’t love and he’s just a sick man, but you don’t want to spill more tears over him. you’ve been drained enough.

jake’s face flashes with an array of emotions. his fingers curl into the blankets so tight his knuckles turn white. he looks irated and dejected, but mostly broken.

“you didn’t have to.” his face is a scowl, glaring at you for the first time. how could his attitude change so quickly? “you wanted me, and now you have me. let it be enough.” he pushes himself off the bed and picks up the metal cuff chain from the floor with one hand. you instantly try to scramble up off the bed but he’s faster; he takes your bruised, weakened ankle in his free hand to drag you into him. you yelp with agony, trying to kick your leg around in a struggle that would hopefully prevent the entrapment. but he secures it onto you with a low growl, warning you that your actions have been enough. 

with a burning gaze, he pushes you back down onto the bed before making strides to the door. he’s never been so blatantly mean towards you. it hurts far more than you could’ve ever expected. you slide yourself off the bed with urgency, tripping up behind him. you want to cry so badly, but you also want to show you’re stronger than he allows you to be. your hands reach for him to grab at the back of his shirt, a try of pulling him back from the door. “take it off! take it off now!” you stomp your metal clad foot, the chain rattles against the floor. 

layla begins to bark loudly from the other side of the door. her paws scratch at the closed white wood. 

jake spins around with your raised voice and slaps his hand over your mouth, “shut the fuck up!” he whispers with heated aggression. his other hand grabbing the back of your head, fingers tangled in your hair and craning your neck back to look at him. crazed eyes stare into yours like they want to rip you apart. you can no longer help it now, tears escape and wash down to meet his hand. your entire body is now shaking in fear. “angel, i thought i taught you better than this… haven’t you made yourself known enough tonight?” he softens in tone, but his expression and hands don’t match. they’re strong, keeping you still. 

you shake your head frantically under his hold. his large hand taking up half your face, making it hard to breathe. your mouth and nose only taking in larger breaths of air that just isn’t sufficient. fat tears run down your face as you continue to shout muffled pleas into his palm. 

“take it off!” 

“let me go!” 

“stop, stop!” 

“help me!” it’s a deadened attempt of a shrill scream.

it’s all lost against his skin. you try to slap his hand and arms off of you but it’s to no avail. you’re simply too feeble to put up the fight you want to. you’ll always be overpowered by man. 

his hold doesn’t let up. he just watches you struggle in blazing silence. your lungs losing oxygen make you see bright white stars scatter your vision. the burning tears only make it all the more hazy. your body feels weak, like it’s about to collapse in on itself. is this what it’s like to lose consciousness? weird, it feels kind of good. you use all your strength to keep your eyes open, but they blink slowly to a close. 

“please.” is the final beg to be said against his palm.

“i love you.” is the final words he promises before it all goes black. 

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 　when jake finally comes downstairs, he looks like he’s seen a ghost. 

heeseung—who was in the kitchen—heard jake’s descent with the settling creaks of the house’s floors, returns to the couch. he nervously watches jake, who was yet to look over at him, as he stuffs something back into the hoodie that jake left behind before going up to that room. 

jake just stands at the bottom of the staircase with a dead stare, eyes unblinking and unfocused. he looks pale, stuck in a state that heeseung is not ready to approach or question. heeseung heard nearly everything from upstairs. it was jarring, and enough evidence to understand that the house is dangerous for everyone in it. 

to think that he’s been here before without a clue of what was happening behind closed doors makes his skin crawl. he never could have imagined that his own friend, or himself, would get wrapped up in a scenario like this. was it all merely a matter of time? 

heeseung slowly stands up. due to the silence, even the slight sound of movement has jake’s heard turn in a split second to his friend's direction. 

unknowing of what to do, heeseung just stays still like a deer in headlights. frightful in nature as if he was the one to be caught in the wrong place. he’s frozen under the cold, black eyes that bore into him. 

jake stalks over to heeseung slowly. the unbreaking eye contact and lack of words sends chills through the older male. the kitchen oven light hums in the background, and it’s all to be heard. jake places himself on the other couch in the living room. the light flickers off and on again when heeseung follows jake’s actions, sitting once more. 

“i’ve never hurt her before,” his tone hostile, as if to defend himself from whatever he was imagining that heeseung was thinking, “not physically at least, i don’t think.” 

heeseung feels a cold sweat take over. his palms sweaty, squeezing his own thighs for a sense of stability. this can’t be real. he couldn’t process any of this. how could this be what jake is? he sucks his bottom lip between his teeth and gnaws with anxiety. eyes trained on the intense presence before him. 

jake speaks up again, his voice breaking like he’s about to cry, “she looked at me so.. she looked terrified of me, seung. and i made her cry again.” jake has his elbows resting on his knees, his head hung low with hands fisted in his hair. he pulls on his dark locks in distress. 

heeseung glances from jake to the front door. then back to jake. and then the staircase. and then the front door again before going back to jake. he feels like his lungs are going to burst, his breathing something he now has to force himself to manually maintain. 

“but fuck, man!” jake hits himself in the head once, twice, three times. his smack echoing through the room, sending shivers of panic through heeseung each time. “i-i can’t think! what the hell am i supposed to do!?” there’s a pause. “i want to be good for her. she’s supposed to help me but i’m getting worse everyday.” his hands drag down over his face, covering it. 

“jake, i don’t know—”, heeseung’s voice didn’t reach. 

“i went to church. i prayed. i couldn’t confess though. i was too cowardly to say what ill thoughts consumed me.” jake looks up to heeseung with tears in his eyes, “too cowardly to admit to what i’ve done. i want to be clean, man. but i am full of greed, lust, and wrath. i can wash my hands over and over, but i still remember the feeling. a damned confession wouldn’t take the weight of that away.” he laughs lowly, shaking his head. a hand lazily wiping his tears from his face. “and i see it every night. the stains that painted me, that should’ve made me feel dirty. it didn’t.” 

heeseung needs to get the fuck of here now. he can’t keep up with jake’s insane behavior or confession. this has gone far beyond his expectations; his flight or fight instincts are screaming that this is unsafe territory. 

“but when i have her, it’s not so bad. i can’t--i can’t have you getting in the way, or anything, anyone else, for that matter.” jake is hanging on by a thread, it’s clear. he was going to snap soon. “do you understand that?”

heeseung nods his head but can’t bring himself to say a word. 

“well say it, damn it! say ‘jake, i won’t get in the way.’” his voice loud, demanding. 

“jake,” he stands on shaking legs, “i won’t get in your way. i w-won’t say a thing. this has nothing to do with me, man.” his hands up in a defending position as he makes brave steps that lead to the front of the house. “you can trust me…” 

“i hope so, or you’ll end up like her parents… somewhere in the back of those woods to feed the maggots.” 

heeseung nods again then darts for the door and out to his car. he wastes no time in getting far away from that nightmare. as he starts the car, he looks up to the window at the highest point of the house. the light is off and there is no face peaking through with hope. heeseung exhales deeply. he recalls the smile jake wore with his leaving statement. closing his eyes, he knows that he is no hero, and certainly won’t be made a victim. 

but, he also isn’t someone to do nothing. so, he’ll leave for now. 

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 　jake’s mind is in a whirlwind. he needs to release the weight of everything that’s suffocating him from the inside. he feels as if all his organs have corroded and are crawling up his esophagus, like hundreds of little centipede feet, only to get stuck in his throat. 

he doesn’t even recognize how he got back to the bedroom since heeseung’s escape; unable to realize that some has passed. 

he stands in the middle of room, blinking his eyes back to a state of awareness. he was watching you sleep in the bed he placed you in. or perhaps he was just looking through you. he made you pass out in and from his own hands. he despised himself for it, and how it gave him a sense of god-like power. 

jake moves towards the bed and creeps in next to you. his hands find a place on your hips to pull you on top of him. the subtle movement of your chest and small breaths assure him of your liveness. he hugs you close like that for a minute.

his fingers trail up and down your body, squeezing and caressing his favorite parts of you. they stop at your ass, full in his hands he begins to move your body back and forth. his growing cock pressing up into your pussy, grinding with the maneuver. the back of his throat releases a soft, guttural sound. 

his large hands slip up your night dress and pull your underwear to the side. he runs a finger along your folds, feeling every detail of your womanhood. the callosed tips rub over your core until a layer of wetness leaks through.   

you shift on top of him, not awake, but subconsciously sensing an uncomfortable intrusion. a small noise leaves your lips, something of a whine. 

“i know you’re not all there. you’re too compliant with all i’ve done. you listen too well.” he’s whispering against the side of your face. his free hand working to take off his pants and boxer briefs. “you’re like me.” he licks a strip up your face, wet saliva leaving a trail. you stir again, face scrunching before rubbing onto jake’s shirt. 

he grins at you, thinking you’re cute all out of it and on top of him. his eyes find the teeth marks on your shoulder. the thin spaghetti strap of your dress falling from it, revealing full sight to the scarring mark of his possession. “i can sink my teeth into you and you will do nothing but watch me lick it clean. and you would still let me hold you. kiss you. and,” he’s rubbing his leaking cock against your pussy, humping up into you so the head dips in and out. “fuckkk.” he moans, feeling himself being teased with the enveloping of your creamy, warm hole. 

you make another tired, bothered sound with eyes squeezed shut. 

“possibly i have let you think of me as tender, but i will prove to you i am everything but.” he thrusts his hips upwards, his cock pushing into your tight core. he moans at the feeling of you wrapped around him, hugging him with wet heat. “i’ve always had these tainted thoughts with me. i could never admit to anyone, or myself, what i longed for.” his arms are wrapped around you, holding you close. his legs propped up, knees bent and feet pressed down to the bed, as he begins a brutal pace to pound himself in and out of you. 

your eyes open along with your mouth, a sound in between a moan and gasp leaves your lips. you look up to the man who is fucking you, confused and disoriented. you feel a deep pain between your legs and in the bottom of your stomach. you try to pull yourself back, to sit up, but jake grounds you to his chest. 

“i prayed for all the disturbed thinking to come to an end. my mind became more grotesque, morbid.” he looks at you and all you see is misery. his eyes are so empty yet he forces a smile. “i am haunted like a sick man.” i know, you think. your head rests tucked by his chin and neck. you just watch him, letting your body make little moans and chases to his touch like it’s trained to. “i always wanted more. i didn’t want to just think it, i wanted to do it all.” 

“mhmm.” your eyes blink slowly, watching the faces of pleasure he makes through your eyelashes. maybe this is all a dream, you imagine wishfully. 

“i stopped praying a long time ago, yet kept stepping into god’s house. i knew something, someone, would come for me.” he grunts, squeezing the skin on your back to bruises. his trusts become messy as squelching sounds of your pussy. skin slaps and fragmented noises come from the both of you. “in the bible; tell me, angel, who did god send to fulfill all his obligations?” he nibbles on your ear. sometimes licking and leaving his spit coating it. 

him pistoning his cock at his assaulting speed and force, elicits a loud mewl from you. you wish he would fuck you even harder. violent enough that it rattles your brain and body senseless. you don’t want to think at all, just want to see those stars again. 

jake is pissed when you ignore his question. one of his hands slides up your back while the other moves down to slap your ass. you whine at the sting. he grabs the back of your neck like he did earlier and you can’t help but grin a little. he yanks your head back and your body sits up on top of him. he feels so deep inside of you. you hum at the feeling, not even realizing your hand drops down to rub over your lower stomach. 

you still wear the faint grin on your lips as you look down at him. “hm?” 

“who carried out his judgements, served punishments, and set examples?” he fucks into you slower, focusing on your body. noticing how your hips move in small swivels and bounces on his cock. how your nipples peek through in needy points of the thin material. 

he gives your ass another slap and your head tips back with a moan, “ngh, the angels.” 

he squeezes your neck from behind at your response. your eyes rolls back as you continue to fuck yourself down onto him in severity. a slutty sound leaving you with every kiss of his dick to your cervix. 

“yes,” he pulls you back down to his face. his hand is still tight around your neck, borderline suffocating in pressure. “and he sent one to me too.” he feels your pussy pulse around him, signaling you’re close to cumming. “he sent you to me. but instead of learning a lesson i became obsessed just as my thoughts.” jake always had a dangerous personality, hiding inside of him. his obsessions becoming an illness was nothing he should be shocked by. or maybe it’s the other way around and he was always sick so he became it. “i so badly wanted you to be my savior… to tell me lies of purity and goodness.” he feels his cock throb, aching to release. he chases the feeling of pure want, pounding relentlessly into you. 

“open your mouth,” he demands with a low growl. you listen without a second thought and he spits into it. his saliva meeting your tongue only to be swallowed down. 

he pressed a kiss to your lips while you cry out in a mix of pain and pleasure as you cum. your body collapses on top of his like an act of defeat. your breathing so ragged and lungs suffering; jake releases his hold on your neck only to use both hands on your hips to bounce your body on him. 

while your body makes small quivers in overstimulation, jake groans loudly as he cums inside of you. as you feel the deep warmth coat your insides, a sense of drowsiness takes over you. 

“i feel like a besotted rot has taken over me, and it’s been growing evermore since i met you.” he whispers, relaxing his body flat against the bed. with you still on top of him and his cock still buried in you with his seed, he hugs you. “it’s killing me from the inside out. you’re going to kill me. i can feel it.” 

the quiet and gentle honesty of his fearful ending confession lulls you to sleep. 

he continues to fuck you until he’s too tired to not. 

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 　when you wake up the next morning, you feel your entire body is in pain. there’s a throbbing pain in your head, a dull strain in your neck, and a heavy ache in between your legs. 

you sigh as you sit your body up, hands place slightly behind you at your sides. you make slow circles of your head to stretch your neck muscles. there’s a pang of sharp pain for a split second but you relax once reversing the movements around. 

with lazy eyes, you scan the surroundings of the bedroom. the sun shines bright through the thin lace, white curtains. the clock reads that it is half past 10 in the morning. on the white, wooden night stand beside the bed is a note, a cup of water, and a plate of cut up fruit that has probably been out longer than intended. the door is slightly cracked open and the cold, heavy weight is missing from around your ankle. 

you stretch your arms and back before leaning over to chug down the glass of water. you think of eating the fruit presented for you, but decide on not. it's hard to have an appetite these days. 

you move yourself to sit at the end of the bed, legs and feet dangling off the mattress. you realize how quiet the house is. normally, jake is always with you when he’s home. if he’s working from home then he is next to you, or at least at the desk with his work laptop. but it’s saturday, so why would he be working? 

“jake!” you call out his name, but there is no response. your voice doesn’t sound like normal, it’s rough. you call for him again and still there is nothing. only layla comes up the stairs to push past the door. she too looks confused. 

you look outside the large window next to the bed and realize that his car isn’t there either. 

you look back to the nightstand, remembering there was a note left for you. you pick it up and read: had to run out. i will be back soon. rest and eat well, angel. 

with the note in your hand, you squeeze your hand into a fist, crushing and crinkling the paper in your palm. you stare at the destroyed paper, enclasped in your hand, before releasing your fist and letting it fall to the floor. 

the sound of a car driving makes you turn around. you don’t know if it’s annoyance or ease that washes over you. but once your eyes see the car, you know that it’s neither. because it’s not jake’s car that you see outside. you can recognize it’s one from the other night though. 

you’re quick to stand up and make your way over to the side of the clear glass. you peek over the side of the window, suddenly not comfortable to be seen. is it because you know jake isn’t here? your heart rate picks up rather quick, along with a feeling of anxiety. who is here? why? 

a tall man with dark, brownish.. no reddish hair, steps out of the now parked vehicle. he glances around before jogging over to the side of the house. you furrow your brows in confusion, wondering what he could be doing. you bite at your lip, trying to look around the house as much as the window allows.

then you walk over to the bedroom door and close it quietly, leaving you and layla inside. you lean your back to the door and slide down to the floor. your ear presses against the wood, listening to anything that you can. there isn’t much to be heard for a minute or so. and then there is. there’s a landing thud from somewhere downstairs. a clashing of objects hit the floor with it. something like a glass bowl or cup, if you had to assume. you can tell it’s coming from the kitchen based on the direction alone. 

your heart beats harder now and you don’t even realize how your hands hold a small tremble. you’re frozen in place; you don’t know what to do. jake always tells you what to do. he tells how to handle situations, how to react, how to respond. 

the footsteps of the intruder are rushed. quick feet move through the house and up to the stairs, only to stop right outside the door that you’re in front of. you feel a dangerous panic coarse through you, and unknown to you, you’re holding your breath as if it could give you away. 

seconds feel like minutes followed by a knock at the door. it’s slow and just as scared as you are. 

you place your hands over your mouth, silencing yourself from uttering a sound or a word. meanwhile layla lets out a guarded growl. you shake your head as you look at her, as if she could understand the notion. 

“i know you’re in there. i’m here… i’m here to help you.” the voice is sweet, familiar. it’s a friend of jake that’s been here before. he must have been the one who stayed longer than he should’ve last night. 

for some reason, you still remain silent. why would he come back? 

“i don’t know what exactly is going on between you two, but i know when something isn’t right. and jake isn’t…” his voice goes soft. he’s worried and nervous. 

“he isn’t what?” heeseung hears your melodic voice, weak yet defensive. 

“can you open the door? i don’t know how much time we have.” the door knob turns but doesn’t push open. it’s not locked. you both know it, but neither of you bring yourself to break the barrier. 

you stand from the door, your legs uneasy as if a baby fawn learning to walk. you grab the door handle with a timid hand. you turn it slowly and pull back the door just a crack. you look up with wide eyes. you’re face to face with someone other than jake for the first time in what feels like forever. someone is finally seeing you, talking to you, acknowledging your existence. why isn’t it as exciting as you anticipated? 

heeseung gapes at your disheveled appearance. his eyes quick to find the many bruises that litter your body, from your neck to your arms and legs. then to the scarred bite mark that’s discolored and horrid along your shoulder. and lastly over your face: dry, bitten lips and dark circles around your sad eyes. “i’m sorry.” is all heeseung can say. you think his voice sounds disappointed. 

“why? it’s not like you did anything.” you pull the door open a little more, unintentionally though. it furthered the exposure of the room when your hand pulled back to wrap around yourself. your eyes scan over his face, taking in the up close new appearance. you think he’s very cute for a second before a dread of guilt becomes you. you wrap your arms tighter around your midriff, as if to conceal what you’ve begged to be seen. you avert your eyes from his, suddenly embarrassed. 

heeseung steps into the room, and you step back. your eyes watch his feet. it feels like you weren’t given the permission to look at him; like you’ve already overstepped jake’s boundaries and broken his rules by seeing and speaking what you already have. yet your heart races with adrenaline. 

“that’s the problem. i didn’t do anything the minute i knew something was wrong.” 

it’s nice to hear something rational for once.  

“i tried to come up with some sort of plan as soon as i could. he left and i found his keys,” you immediately look up at heeseung when he mentions the object you fantasize about. keys. unlocked cage. freedom. “i figured the kitchen window would be the less susceptible.” he attempts a laugh but it’s clearly full of nerves. his eyes dart from you to the outside window. it reminds you of yourself. that feeling of waiting for jake, always mixed with too many emotions to really decipher. 

“but for real, you need to get a jacket and shoes on. we have to leave right now.” heeseung deadpans. his eyes watching yours that refuse to look back. you just stand still in the room, shaking like a leaf in the wind. your focus trained to the floor, spacing out from the scenario. 

“is this real?” your voice is quiet, unsure. “did jake put you up to this to test me? i don’t want to cause more trouble with him. i don’t like when he’s…”

heeseung begins to frantically search the room. he goes to the closet and shifts through the hanging clothes for the thickest jacket he can find. he grabs a big one with faux fur lining and heavy material, “put this on. where are your socks?” he hands it to you but you just hold it low in your hands, letting it hit the floor. he opens drawers of the dresser nearby, finding a pair of socks. 

still spacing out, feeling dreamlike, you sit down at the edge of the bed. the large winter coat still hands in your fingers, half over your lap and exposed legs. 

heeseung crouches down in front of you with socks in hand and a pair of boots by his side. he looks up at you with despairing eyes, but you just watch the floor below him. i should sweep the floors. there’s dog hair and dust everywhere. 

trepidatious, large and unknown hands pick up your foot. the cold fingers brush over your abused ankle. a sick feeling of flutters fills your stomach, you jerk your leg back from his touch. this isn’t right. something like a stray cat who doesn’t let strangers touch. 

“what happened to this?” he lightly taps the bone, “you need to see a doctor.” he tries again but faster this time. gentle hands pulling the sock over your foot and then the other. next he reaches for the boots to put your feet into. “come on, get the jacket on.” he says as he stands, a hand reaching out to you. you stand from the bed and ignore the offered gesture. 

you take a few steps forward and stop. heeseung takes notice of the slight limp in your walk. his eyes follow the floor from your feet and that's when he sees it. the long silver chain that’s attached to the bedpost, mounted to the floorboards. 

“jesus fucking christ…” he exhales, taking the coat from your hands to put it on you himself. 

“i used to try and break that whenever i had the chance, but i ended up hurting myself in the process.” you laugh a little. he sees your blank stare and lost smile. “he would ice my ankle for me though. and he wrapped it up, changing the bandages everyday when it was worse.” 

“i’m gonna get you somewhere safe.” heeseung promises, taking your hand in his own to lead you to the door. “you won’t have to live like this anymore, okay? do you have more family somewhere, someone we could call?” heeseung is doing his best to remain calm, but inside he senses immense uneasiness. you can feel how his palms are sweaty and holding too tight of you. you don’t like it. 

“my parents…” it’s a whisper. he helps you down the stairs and to the kitchen. your heart feels like it's a ticking time bomb set to explode. each beat a warning that screams louder and louder.

“well, how about anyone else.” there’s consternation. 

you stop in your tracks, heeseung tries to pull you forward. his eyes begging to leave through the window he left open for you two. “why anyone else?” you question. you feel heavy again, a boil builds in your body, your heart racing faster than you know it was capable. your breathing becomes quick and panicked. heaves and wheezes now leaving your body. “what? w-what do you m-mean?!” 

“they… jake, he…” heeseung stammers, his head moving side to side in a slow display of sorrow. he reaches out to you, to pull you into a hug of comfort. 

but you just stand there, unbelieving of what the man is trying to imply to you. “no, no… he wouldn’t—” your bottom lip quivers and eyes sting. 

from the corner of your eyes, you see a dark shadow approaching heeseung from behind. a large object hangs high in the air with the shadow. you let out a blood curdling scream, eyes looking past heeseung. the tall man turns his head around before the held object comes crashing down into the back of his head. heeseung drops to the floor in an instant, his hand slipping out of yours. 

it all happened so fast. 

you’re in a fit of panicked sobs now. your eyes can’t look away from the man who tried to help you; the man you didn’t try to believe in. there’s an open gash in his head, bleeding and matting into the hair. you feel sick. 

your attention is removed from the man when a familiar hard grip pulls on your hair. “where the hell did you think you were going!?” jake’s voice is terribly sad, loud and croaking. he’s dragging you back down the hall and up the stairs to your room. 

“i wasn’t going anywhere!” you squirm around trying to look back at him, “i was never going to leave! i swear!” 

jake sits you down at the chair by the desk, his hands place on your shoulders. he looks down at you with disquiet heartache, “you promise?” he’s fixing to cry. you hate when jake cries. 

you nod your head quickly, still having a panic attack, still frightful and overwhelmed. 

jake swallows hard, staring into your eyes. he’s trying to trust your word, and ultimately he just does. he places a long kiss to your forehead. you feel a drop of wetness land against your skin. and you just sit there, watching him leave the room with hands of shaking fists. 

you hear a lot happening downstairs while you’re glued to the chair. there’s loud commotion and aggressive words being passed between the two. heeseung is still alive. they’re fighting. 

unknowing of what to do, you squeeze your eyes shut. you curl your body inwards and cover your ears, gently rocking yourself back and forth to ease your mind of the chaos. this isn’t real. it’s all a bad dream. it’s another bad story you conjured up. 

and then someone yells. a painful, agonizing noise that you can’t disassociate from. it sends shivers through you. you can’t open your eyes, you can’t leave the room. if you don’t see it then it’s not happening, right? 

the clashing of aggression comes to a halt. and the usual eerily silence of the house stands still. 

a few minutes go by. 

you lift your head and open your eyes when you sense the door being weakly pushed open. 

you gasp and stand up, quickly moving over to jake to help him stand up straight instead of leaning on the door. 

“j-jake…” you’re crying, “hey, wha-what happened?” you’re trying to support his weight but it’s too much. you both somehow manage to make it to the bed. did he do it? did he kill heeseung? 

jake is covered in blood and he’s crying too. he simply shakes his head and presses wet kisses your cheek, pulling you down to lay next to him. he can’t say anything. 

confused and scared, you ask him again, but he doesn’t speak yet. he just holds onto you as tight as his body allows. the blood begins to stain your clothes, the bed sheets and blankets.

he breathes a ragged sigh, looking at you with wet, thick lashes, “i thought god hated me. ya know, for making me the way i am and expecting me to follow him.” he coughs, turning his head away from you, hiding. “but why would he hate me and still give you to me?” he laughs with a small cough, he feels his mouth tinge with metallic iron. 

you watch from the side of his face, crying quietly. then you feel it. the warm, seeping of thick liquid spilling onto you. your eyes track down your body and his, landing on the gash of his shirt. an open wound punctured in his side. a wrecked sound slips past your lips with your cries. 

“even if it was a punishment, you’ll always just be an angel to me.” his head turns back to face you, his mouth painted red with slips of blood passing the corners of his smile. 

you push yourself from his hug, crazed to find some material to wrap around jake and stop the bleeding. but he pulls you back to him, his eyes closing. “h-hey, hey. stop, it’s okay. just hold me close a little longer.” and you do. through all your whimpers, hiccups, and tears. you wrap your entire body into him, legs entangled and arms wrapped never this tight around him before. 

eve was made from adam’s rib. so is it really your fault for wanting to crawl inside the man you’re closest to? 

jake’s breathing is starting to become dangerously slow, along with the pulse of his heartbeat. 

heeseung, who managed to crawl his way up the stairs, waits outside the door. blood is dripping down his face and neck from his head. he coughs, grabbing your attention. 

you sit up just enough to not let go of jake, swollen eyes watching heeseung sit at the edge of the stairs. his body is struggling to stay upward, he wobbles and sways. his eyes not able to stay open. he asks you if you could drive them to the hospital, in hopes that there is still time to save them. 

you don’t take the risk of losing the only family you have left, so you do what he asks.  

 　time passes by in a blur. you end up back at house a day later to take care of layla. jake and heeseung are still in the hospital. you don’t know who will recover or die first.

when you return to the house, you do all the things that jake would normally do. you take layla outside for a walk around the house. you make sure she has food and water. you make yourself a meal that will be left untouched. 

and then you trudge up to your room and you crawl into the blood stained bed. you attach the metal cuff to your ankle, and lay there in silence. you think of praying but end up crying yourself to sleep instead. 

the first man you knew to really sin, not just true nor venially but mortally sin, you can’t help but want to wait for the return of. to be damned with him may be his punishment and your fate, but whatever happens is in gods hands now. maybe it doesn’t really matter anyways because you’ll be his attic angel, always.

© fangel ┊ do not copy, repost, modify or translate my content ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ — feedback and reblogs are appreciated 🗝️ !

꒰ tags & those who asked for part 2 ⸝⸝ if you want removed lmk ꔛ @nshmrarki @enhalxvr @jaengwon @taeminsboogers @beomsdoll @immelissaaa @pshfan0812 @supershy3 @hauntsoul @jenniferecand @randomanothercreature @numnomn @en-heedeungie @hwasangel @thatonedaragirltho @hooneverse @maliakealoha @kon-ss @laybensu @whateveridontcaresheesh @strawberrynull ꒱

[st4rpiece]

needing space after an argument pt. 2

SFW

characters: luffy, zoro, usopp, sanji x reader summary: they earn your forgiveness CW: groveling, making up, fluff, and over 600 words each

pt. 1 | pt. 2

────────────────────₊˚.༄

Monkey D. Luffy

Luffy wasn’t himself. It was the first thing everyone noticed after you left the ship. His laughter, usually loud and contagious, was quieter, forced. Mealtimes felt emptier, and the energy on the Sunny had shifted. He tried to act like nothing was wrong, but even the crew could see the shadow of regret lingering in his eyes.  

But now, here he was, standing in front of you in the quiet port town where you’d taken refuge after leaving the crew. His usual confidence was gone, replaced by a desperate determination.  

“I’m sorry,” he said for what must have been the tenth time. His voice was raw, almost breaking. “I didn’t mean it. I shouldn’t have told you to leave. I was stupid.”  

You stood with your arms crossed, your expression guarded. Seeing Luffy like this—so uncharacteristically vulnerable—caught you off guard, but the sting of his words still lingered, fresh and sharp.  

“Luffy, you can’t just say whatever you want when you’re mad and expect everything to go back to normal,” you said, your voice steady but tinged with exhaustion. “You told me to leave. So I did.”  

“I didn’t mean it,” he repeated, stepping closer but stopping just short of touching you. “I was mad and didn’t think. I... I need you on the ship. Not just because I want you there, but because you’re part of the crew. You’re important to us all and i shouldn’t have made you feel otherwise.”  

You searched his face, his big, earnest eyes pleading with you. You could see the regret there, the weight of his mistake hanging heavy on his shoulders. For a moment, your resolve wavered, but you quickly shook your head.  

“I can’t just come back because you say you’re sorry, Luffy. What happens the next time we fight? Are you going to tell me to leave again?”  

“No!” he blurted out, shaking his head vehemently. “No, I swear. I’ll never say anything like that again.”  

You frowned, unsure what to make of his declaration. “Luffy, words aren’t enough.”  

He nodded, his straw hat shadowing his eyes for a moment before he looked up at you with renewed determination. “Then I’ll show you. Whatever it takes.”  

True to his word, Luffy didn’t give up. He didn’t force you to return to the ship, but he didn’t leave the island either. Every day, he showed up—whether it was to bring you a freshly caught fish for dinner, fix something around the small inn you were staying at, or simply sit outside and wait in silence. He didn’t push, didn’t demand, but his presence was constant.  

When the ship needed supplies, he was the first to volunteer, taking on tasks he’d usually leave to someone else. The crew later told you how he’d started taking more responsibility, trying to step up as a better leader.  

Even when you didn’t speak to him, he never faltered. Every action, every small gesture, was his way of showing you how much he regretted his words.  

One evening, you found Luffy sitting on the dock, staring out at the ocean with his straw hat resting in his lap. He looked smaller somehow, as though the weight of his regret had worn him down.  

When he noticed you approaching, he stood up immediately, his expression shifting from surprise to cautious hope.  

“Why do you keep doing this?” you asked, crossing your arms.  

“Because I was wrong,” he said without hesitation. “Because I hurt you, and I have to make it right. Even if you never come back, I’ll keep trying. I don’t care how long it takes.”  

His sincerity stopped you in your tracks. He wasn’t making excuses, wasn’t brushing over your feelings like they didn’t matter. He had made changes—small ones, but noticeable—and for the first time, you truly believed he understood the gravity of what he’d done.  

You sighed, letting the silence linger before speaking. “Luffy... I’ll come back.”  

His eyes lit up with hope, his lips parting as though he couldn’t believe what he’d just heard.  

“But,” you continued, holding up a finger, “this only works if things stay different. I’m not going back just to deal with the same problems again. I need to know you’re taking this seriously.”  

“I swear!” he said immediately, his voice brimming with determination. “I swear that things will be different. A good different. No more reckless fights for selfish reasons or saying things I don’t mean, I promise.”  

You studied him for a long moment, the sincerity and determination in his eyes unmistakable. Finally, you allowed a small smile to tug at the corners of your lips. “Alright, Lu.”  

Relief washed over his face as he heard the familiar nickname, and for the first time in weeks, you saw his grin return, bright and full of life.  

"I missed you so much, baby," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion and certainty, as he wrapped his arms around you.

The comforting warmth of his embrace, felt like home—safe, secure, and exactly where you wanted to be.

Roronoa Zoro

Zoro wasn’t one to grovel. Stubborn and prideful as he was, apologies didn’t come easy for him. But as he sat alone on the Sunny’s deck, replaying his words from the fight, regret gnawed at him like a dull blade.  

The memory of your face—shocked, hurt, and then resigned—kept flashing in his mind. He hadn’t just lashed out; he’d cut deep. You were trying to help, and he’d thrown it back at you, calling you controlling and annoying when you didn’t deserve it.  

He groaned, pressing his palms against his face. He hated how small he felt for failing to show up to the dates you’d so carefully planned, how your suggestion—simple and kind—had poked at an insecurity he didn’t want to face. And now, because of his pride, he’d pushed you away.  

For days, you’d been distant, giving him space, but that only made the guilt worse. He needed to fix this.  

You were sitting on a quiet hillside overlooking the ocean when Zoro found you. The breeze tugged at your clothes, and you looked peaceful—too peaceful, considering how much turmoil you’d left him in.  

“Hey,” he called softly, his voice unusually hesitant.  

You glanced at him, surprised to see the normally stoic swordsman looking... sheepish. He stood awkwardly a few feet away, his hand rubbing the back of his neck.  

“What is it, Zoro?” you asked, your tone calm but distant.  

He swallowed hard, his fingers twitching at his sides before he took a step closer. “I wanted to apologize.”  

That caught your attention. Your brows lifted in mild surprise, but you said nothing, waiting for him to continue.  

“I shouldn’t have snapped at you,” he said, his voice low and gruff, but steady. “You weren’t being controlling or annoying. You were just... trying to help.” He exhaled heavily as if forcing the words out of himself. “And I was an idiot.”  

You blinked, his sincerity throwing you off guard. “Zoro—”  

“Let me finish, please,” he interrupted, his eyes meeting yours for the first time. There was something raw in his gaze—an uncharacteristic vulnerability. “I’ve been thinking about it, and... I hate that I’m always late. I hate knowing you’re waiting for me while I’m stuck wandering around like an idiot who can’t follow a simple route. It’s embarrassing.”  

Your expression softened, but you stayed quiet, letting him speak.  

“When you suggested we go together, I know it wasn’t because you thought I was useless,” he continued, his voice tightening. “But that’s how it made me feel. Like I wasn’t good enough to get it right on my own. And instead of dealing with that, I took it out on you. I shouldn’t have done that.”  

He took a deep breath, his shoulders relaxing slightly. “But I don’t think you’re controlling or annoying. You’re the most patient and understanding person for putting up with me. So you deserve better and I want to be that.”  

The sincerity in his voice was almost overwhelming, and for a moment, you weren’t sure how to respond. He wasn’t just saying the words—he meant them.  

“I know I can’t just say sorry and expect everything to go back to normal,” he added, glancing away briefly before meeting your gaze again. “So, please baby just… give me a chance to make it right.”  

Your lips parted in surprise. Zoro wasn’t the type to take the initiative when it came to things like this, but the determination in his eyes was unmistakable.  

After a long pause, you let out a soft sigh, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “One last chance.”  

He nodded, relief flashing across his face, but there was also a quiet resolve in his expression. This wasn’t just a promise—it was a vow.  

The next time you guys went on a date, Zoro was ready. He showed up early, finally getting the chance to wait on you. He led you to a quiet clearing overlooking the sea, a picnic already set up with food he’d personally asked Sanji to help him prepare.  

The effort was clear in every little detail, from the way he chose the spot (easily accessible, no chance to get lost) to the careful decorations and crafts you mentioned liking/wanting to try. Showing that despite his stoic nature, he was listening to you during previous dates. Even now as you spoke, he would chime in at just the right moments.  

It wasn’t perfect—he stumbled over a few of his words and complained when a seagull tried to swipe the food—but it was Zoro, trying in his own way. And that meant everything.  

By the time the date ended, you leaned back on the blanket, gazing up at the stars, feeling closer to him than ever before. When he reached for your hand, you let him, squeezing it gently.  

Zoro glanced down at your intertwined fingers, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. His gaze softened, and he took a deep breath before speaking. “I know you agreed to give me another chance, but I need to know if you’re still interested in giving me that chance.”

Your heart softened at the rare vulnerability in his voice. You turned to meet his eyes, and they were steady, full of quiet determination.  

A soft smile tugged at your lips, and you leaned into him as the waves crashed gently in the distance. For a man of few words, Zoro was surprisingly good at them.

“Well,” you began, tilting your head with a teasing glint in your eye, “that depends. Are you going to keep being so dramatic about it?” You bit back a laugh as you watched the tips of his ears turn red, his expression shifting into a familiar scowl.

“Tch, not being dramatic,” he grumbled, looking away, but the redness in his ears betrayed him.

You chuckled softly and squeezed his hand, drawing his attention back to you. “I was being serious about giving you that second chance,” you said warmly. His shoulders relaxed slightly, and the tension in his jaw eased.

“But,” you continued, your tone more firm, “next time aone thing like this happens, promise that you’ll communicate it properly. Okay? No more bottling things up.”

Zoro stared at you for a moment, his expression unreadable, before nodding once. “You have my word.” His voice was low but steady, carrying the weight of his promise.

“Good.” You smiled, squeezing his hand again as a soft breeze brushed past, carrying with it the sound of the waves.

God Usopp

The day had been quiet, almost too quiet, and the silence weighed heavy between you and Usopp. Since your argument, things haven’t been the same. You still spoke, but the words felt hollow, and the laughter you once shared now seemed distant and forced. He noticed it all—the way your smile never quite reached your eyes, the strain in your voice when you tried to act like nothing was wrong.  

And it tore him apart.  

Usopp sat on the deck after dinner, absentmindedly fiddling with a half-finished invention. His fingers moved on instinct, but his thoughts were stuck on your last conversation. He hated himself for the way he’d lashed out, for the way he’d let his insecurities push you away.  

As the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sea in shades of orange and pink, he made up his mind. He couldn’t let this fester any longer.  

When you stepped onto the deck for some air, Usopp hesitated, watching you from a distance. Finally, he stood, his hands clenching at his sides as he approached you.  

“Hey,” he called softly.  

You turned, surprised to see him. “Oh, hey.” Your voice was casual, but your guarded expression told him you were bracing for something.  

“Can we talk?” he asked, his tone uncharacteristically serious.  

You nodded, following him to a quieter spot on the ship where the others couldn’t overhear. The soft sound of the waves filled the silence as Usopp struggled to find the right words.  

“I’ve been... thinking,” he began, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “About what I said. About the fight.” He looked down, unable to meet your gaze. Your brows furrowed, but you stayed quiet, giving him the space to explain.

“I know you don’t see me as weak,” he continued, his voice growing tight. “But hearing you scream for him... it made me feel useless.” He exhaled sharply, his hand tightening around the railing. “And I hate feeling like that. I know I’m not like Luffy, Zoro, or Sanji. I’m not the guy who can punch through walls or take down ten enemies at once, but... I at least want to be someone you can count on. Someone you can feel protected with.”

He paused, his words faltering slightly. “But instead of talking to you about it, I projected my insecurities onto you, and made it seem like you were wrong for asking our friends for help. For that, I’m sorry.”

The vulnerability in his words hit you hard, and guilt pooled in your chest. “Baby...” you started, your voice soft. “I’m sorry, too. I never meant to make you feel that way.” You stepped closer, resting a hand on his arm. “But you are someone I can count on. Someone who’s saved my ass more times than I can count. Your strength may not look like theirs, but it’s just as important.”

He finally looked at you, his eyes wide, searching for any trace of doubt. “You... you really mean that?”

“Heck yeah, I do,” you said without hesitation. “I trust you, Usopp. I always have.”

A small, hesitant smile tugged at his lips, and he let out a shaky breath, relief flooding through him. “Thanks... I needed to hear that," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion.

After a moment, he straightened and rubbed the back of his head, suddenly looking sheepish. “Actually, uh, there’s something I’ve been working on. For you. I wanted to make something that could help you in a fight.”  

Your brows lifted in surprise. “Really? What is it?”  

Grinning now, Usopp reached into his bag and pulled out a small, compact gadget. “It’s not finished yet, but it’s kind of like a smoke bomb, but better. It creates a flash of light to blind enemies and a smoke screen to cover your escape. I thought... you know, it might come in handy.”  

You took the gadget from him, turning it over in your hands. “Usopp, this is amazing.”  

“Yeah, well,” he said, scratching his cheek, his grin turning bashful. “I wanted to make sure you had another thing to keep you safe. In case no one else is around.”  

You smiled, warmth blooming in your chest. “Thank you, Usopp. I mean it.”  

He relaxed then, the tension between you finally melting away. “I’ll finish it soon,” he promised, his confidence returning. “And who knows? Maybe I’ll come up with even more stuff for you with full bragging rights.”  

"Thanks, now I can let everyone know just how my amazing boyfriend is," you laughed—genuinely this time—and Usopp’s chest swelled with pride. He knew he still had work to do, but for now, the weight of your fight had lifted, and the bond between you felt stronger than ever.  

Vinesmoke Sanji

Sanji stood alone on the deck, the moonlight casting a silver glow over his slumped figure. He leaned against the railing, a cigarette burning low between his fingers, though he hadn’t taken a drag in minutes. His mind replayed every moment of your relationship—the laughter, the stolen glances, the warmth of your touch. And then, inevitably, it would circle back to the breakup.  

He’d failed you. The person who mattered more to him than anyone else in the world. His actions—so thoughtless, so wrapped in habit—had made you feel second to strangers. The realization haunted him, clawing at his chest.  

Sanji thought of groveling, of falling to his knees and begging you to take him back, but he knew you too well. That would only push you further away. You were someone who needed actions, not words, and he knew his words had already failed you. Still, he couldn’t bring himself to give up. You were his person, his muse, his everything. How could he possibly accept a life without you in it?  

So he did the only thing he could. He began to show you through his actions.  

The change was immediate. The next time the ship docked at an island, Sanji didn’t so much as glance at the women who usually flocked to him. When they batted their lashes and called out for his attention, he brushed them off politely and kept his focus on his task. His compliments, once scattered freely to strangers, were now reserved only for you. Even when you ignored him, his words never wavered—soft, sincere, and meant only for you.  

In battle, Sanji was more relentless than ever. But his priority was always your safety, stepping in before danger could reach you, even if it meant taking a hit himself. When the crew sat down for meals, he made sure your favorite dishes were prepared just the way you liked them, his eyes flicking to your face to see if you’d noticed.  

And when he thought you weren’t looking, he’d linger nearby, silently watching you. There was a sadness in his gaze as he admired the person he’d once had the privilege of holding close. You saw him sometimes, hovering at a distance, and though you tried to ignore it, part of you couldn’t deny the pang in your chest. You still had feelings for him—of course you did. But you couldn’t settle for someone who had once made you doubt your place in their life.  

Weeks passed, and Sanji’s quiet devotion didn’t falter. Even now as he stood near the railing, waiting for you, his hands slightly trembling. He had spent all day preparing for this moment, and now the weight of his plan felt heavier than ever.  

When you finally stepped out onto the deck, he straightened immediately, smoothing his suit jacket with nervous fingers. "Hey," he called softly, his voice careful, like he was afraid of scaring you off.  

"Hey," you replied, your tone hesitant but curious. He’d been walking on eggshells around you for weeks, and now this—an invitation for "something special" without much detail. Against your better judgment, you’d said yes, curiosity getting the better of you.  

He smiled faintly, stepping toward you. "I, uh, thought we could spend the evening together. Just... talk."  

You raised a brow. "Talk?"  

He nodded, motioning for you to follow him. "Come on. I’ve got something to show you."  

Despite the uncertainty in your chest, you followed him across the deck, and your eyes widened when he led you to a corner of the ship bathed in soft, golden light from lanterns he had strung up. A blanket was spread out neatly on the deck, adorned with a small basket, plates of your favorite snacks, and a bottle of your favorite drink.  

"Sanji..." you murmured, taken aback.  

"I know it’s not much," he said quickly, scratching the back of his neck. "But I wanted to do something for you. Something simple. Something that doesn’t involve me screwing it up."  

You blinked, your hesitation softening slightly at his earnestness. "You didn’t have to go through all this trouble."  

"I did," he countered, his voice firm but warm. "I needed to."  

He gestured for you to sit, and after a moment’s pause, you did, settling down on the blanket. Sanji sat across from you, his hands fidgeting in his lap.  

For a moment, neither of you spoke, the quiet hum of the ship filling the space between you. Finally, Sanji took a deep breath and looked at you, his expression more serious than you’d seen in a long time.  

"My love," he began, "I’ve been doing a lot of thinking since... since we broke up. And I just... I need you to know how sorry I am."  

You looked away, unsure how to respond, but he continued.  

"I wasn’t the boyfriend you deserved," he admitted, his voice low. "I made you feel like you had to compete for my attention, and that’s unforgivable. You should’ve never felt like anything less than the most important person in my life. That’s on me."  

His gaze was unwavering as he spoke, and you couldn’t help but feel the sincerity in his words.  

"I still have feelings for you," he said, his voice trembling slightly. "I never stopped. And I don’t expect you to forgive me overnight, or even to trust me again right away. But I need you to know that I’ve changed. I’m changing. And I’ll do anything to prove it to you."  

You stared at him, his words hitting you harder than you expected. Sanji was always smooth with his words, but this was different. There was no charm, no performative flair—just raw honesty.  

"Sanji..." you started, your voice faltering. You swallowed hard, your hands gripping the edge of the blanket. "I... I still have feelings for you too. But..."  

"But you don’t trust me," he finished for you, his tone understanding rather than hurt.  

You nodded. "It’s not that I don’t want to. I just... I’m scared of getting hurt again."  

He reached across the blanket, his hand stopping just short of yours. "I understand," he said softly. "And I don’t blame you. I don’t want you to rush into anything you’re not ready for. If we have to take things slow, then that’s what we’ll do. I’ll show you, not just with words but with actions, that you’re the only one in my heart."  

His hand lingered near yours, and after a moment, you tentatively placed your hand over his. The warmth of his touch sent a shiver through you, and you looked up to meet his gaze.  

"Okay," you said quietly. "We can try. But slow, Sanji. No rushing, no grand gestures to win me over. Just... be honest with me."  

A smile broke across his face, softer and more genuine than any you’d seen in weeks. "Slow it is," he promised.  

For the first time in what felt like forever, the tension between you eased. You still had a long way to go, but as you sat there, sharing a quiet meal under the lantern light, you couldn’t help but feel that maybe, just maybe, things could work out.  

───────────────────₊˚.༄

One Piece Masterlist

hey…I was supposed to post this yesterday but I ended up working a double 😭.

[this is lightly edited]

anyways I saw a couple people asking about a tag list ngl i don’t know shit about that 😭😭 but hopefully this finds you !!

and for the op women/queer smau I will be posting that soon as well but I got a really cute idea from anon yesterday and I want to start on that first.

[ii-meeple-confessions]

Honestly the way Mephone's contestants react to him in general and them realizing "Oh this guy is kind of messed up" is so funny to me. Because as much as Mephone tries to hide it through the host persona he pushes onto himself to seem normal, it really doesn't work.

Even before everything (This was in 2016, for reference! -- And this is one of my favourite things ever -- Fan, on his blog, wrote what is essentially a Mephone4 Fanfiction (The link is here: it's on his blog! If you care to read it in full..... https://www.tumblr.com/inanimateinsanityfan/150341850210/fan-blog-confessions-i-confess-i-forced-someone?source=share) (sorry the link doesn't actually work when you click on it) And one of the lines was: "M: Alright.  I just kind of have trouble verbalizing what I really want to say?  So a lot of my thoughts just come out as these little attacks." Continuing into "M: Yeah... they’re just so second nature to me, I say them to fill in the gaps... otherwise I wouldn’t really know how to chime in."

And I think its genuinely so funny that Fan read him that well. Be it fanfiction and projection or not, Fan is right here! Mephone has trouble verbalizing and complimenting others. (Probably because he himself wasn't often complimented by Cobs--) and it leads him to ruining potential relationships. He stokes flames of distrust between him and other people to keep himself safe and entertained, and then gets upset when he's all alone because he can't build meaningful relationships with people.

And people realize this really quickly. For another example, take Mepad. Who quickly comes to see Mephone is wrong in his judgement towards Toilet and in his treatment of the contestants. Or Suitcase, who comforts Mephone multiple times-- I'd have to lag my computer into oblivion to get the exact quote/s, but she's very keenly aware that Mephone isn't alright at that time, and she verbalizes that. The final 4 of season 2 AND season 3 all seem to be aware of Mephones mental health declining.

And again, he DOES try to hide this. When he's upset over Mepad quitting / doesn't know how to handle it, he jumps into his obnoxious host persona to hide his true feelings on the matter. He pushes and shoves and lights a ring of fire around himself, sacrificing his relationships in return for the safety of his host persona.

Right out of Meeple, some of his first memories of freedom, ARE of being a host. He was basically immediately (unknowingly) enlisted by Cobs to be a host. In escaping Meeple and the persona he had to take on to appease Cobs, he fit himself right into another persona. Another set of rules to follow on how to behave to, in his eyes, stay safe.

It fucks me up so bad because the entire personality he constructed for himself ruins so many of his relationships and thus sinks him into a deeper pit of loneliness. At its core, it's self-sabotaging, and I think it's clearest in "Truth or Flare" (S2 E15) when Mepad quits. I mentioned this before!! But GOD it hits so hard. The way Suitcase says she legitimately hates him and he justs stands there stupidly grinning "I'm a scamp for drama!" No sir you are a scamp for ruining your relationships!

All of this rambling is to say Mephones persona is really one of his undoings. Forcing himself into the mold of reality show tv host isn't... Good for him. And it becomes his safety net when it really shouldn't. It hurts me, to see him so earnestly playing it up when we see him interviewing Box. Trying to seem like a seasoned professional, unbothered, but perking up when complimented. But as the series goes on, that host persona becomes a much more angry and unlikeable person. Hardly any good comes from his insults and comments. And he ruins many of the chances he has to make genuine connections with people-- which is something he so desperately needs.

Sorry if this is a little unstructured! I didn't begin this thinking it'd get so long, so it's a bit all over the place. Can you tell I think about Mephone a lot? Anyways, good night! -2G Anon

.

[sketchehm]

Had a silly idea

---------

"Dad! DAD!!!"

Sapnap stands up from his seat in a panic, turning around just as Milo and Naomi scramble into the room. Team Mafia said that they wouldn't hurt them, said that they would be safe while Sapnap worked, but what if-

Milo throws himself into Sapnap, knocking him back into the couch, Naomi jumping right beside them. They're both smiling, giggling and moving around like they eaten too much sugar.

"Dad!" Naomi grins, looking at him with those wide green eyes of hers, "we went on a work mission today! With Spreen! But he said you can't tell Papa!"

"Oh?" Sapnap smiles softly, unable to stop the fond look on his eyes despite the way his mind is racing to all the possibilities of what this 'mission' could have been, and why Spreen would tell the kids not to tell Dream, "and what did you do?"

"We-"

Milo starts, but Naomi slaps a hand over his mouth, shushing her twin

"Shhhhhh, he need to promise! You need to promise Dad, you promise you won't tell Papa?"

Sapnap sets his jaw, doing his best to look as serious as he does during his meetings with mafiosos.

"I do."

Both kids cheer and his masks cracks immediately, unable to stop the smile his kids always drag out of him.

"Don't hit your brother tho Naomi, even when it's to keep a secret"

"Sorry!"

Naomi chirps, but Milo is too focused on telling the story to mind the slap

"So Spreen came to us and he told us he had this plan to find the best ice cream in the whole city right? But!" Milo puts up one little finger, "But his English isn't that good, so he says he gets embarrassed to order-"

"I think that's silly!" Naomi cuts in, "His English is really good! Much better then my Spanish."

"Yeah! But we agreed, because we're super nice, so we went out to get ice cream."

"It was like a spy movie Dad! We had to like. We judged the look of the place before we even went in and the seating-"

"I ordered! All three times!" Milo puffs up his chest, "Naomi was too much of a scaredy cat!"

"I got shy! There's nothing wrong with being shy, Dad is shy-"

"You got ice cream three times?"

Sapnap interrupts their banter, raising am eyebrow. So that's why they weren't supposed to tell Dream.

"Yeah! It was so fun, Spreen got us a notebook to keep our scores!"

"But it has to stay in his car so no one finds out. It's a secret. Oh! Dad I ordered on a place where everyone spoke Spanish!" Milo slaps his little hands against Sapnap's chest, "It was like, scary, but Spreen helped me! It was really good to, I liked that place. It got a 21 out of 25."

"It would have been higher, but they only had like. 5 places to sit. So they got a low seating score. Sad!"

Sapnap huffs out a laugh, gently pushing Naomi's face. Oh my God the kids are aging zoomies.

"Get those high beams out of my face, my god you get those from your father," Sapnap smiles, hearing Naomi giggle behind his hand. He let's go of her, kissing then both on their foreheads before pushing them off the couch, "Go go, go play, go make someone's life hell, or else you'll tear the house apart at bed time"

The two of them take off, their little steps sounding around the house as they look for a new victim.

Good thing they had plenty of them now huh?

SO FREAKING CUTE AHHH

The kids go out CONSTANTLY with different Team members hehe :3c

They go to the coolest parks and ice cream shops and restaurants!!!! It's so much fun :D!!

(Their favorite to terrorize is ElRich :3! He plays boring old man games and it's really silly! But they also bet quarters and dollars with him to win some monies cause gambling is fun!!!)

I think the kids here would recognize all three dad's are always at home now!! And if they ever leave it's to join them going to the park!! Along with all of the new grown up friends/uncles/more dads who always join!! Together always yippie :D!!!