#but it's like. very sticky. it gets stuck to anything. and once it's stuck it's hard to get it unstuck. it's hard to notice it's stuck

[iamasaddie]

YOUNG, GREEN AND STUPID

Joel Miller x f!reader

summary: after spending the night at Joel's your walk of shame is darkened with a hangover and anxiety. As you try to reconstruct the events of last night in your head, you realize that despite feeling uneasy, you can't say no to Joel. warnings: darkfic, manipulation, self-gaslighting, age gap [Joel is 61, don't read it and don't @ me about it if it's not your thing, just leave], switching POVs, explicit sexual content. Some tags are not added to avoid spoilers. reader description: afab she/her, has hair long enough to be pulled; has boobs and ass; reader mid to late 20s-30s. word count: 3,8k

a/n: thank you to the freaks who support me and this fic, i'm kissing y'all. i appreciate all the asks and comments and reblogs, they motivate the fuck out of me. giant thanks to the one and only @arcanefox207 , if not for her i'd smash my laptop against the wall. Ally you are my blessing of a beta and a friend <3 READ ON AO3

MASTERLIST | part 1 | part 3

The crushing weight of someone’s body around you made you feel trapped. Your back was covered in sweat, sleek where it pressed against your last night’s date. You wiggled, your head pounding in an unforgiving manner. Slowly, you opened your eyes and tried to fight the pain from the light punching you square in your face. 

With bleary eyes you took in your surroundings, at least as much as you could make out. The room welcomed you with dark pastel colors. It looked tidy, but stuck somewhere in the 80s. Dark blue walls were scarcely decorated by a painting of a lone cowboy in the middle of nowhere and a wooden plaque of the Texas state map. A shred of sunlight that bothered your pulsing eyes crept through the curtains that the house owner had forgotten to fully draw last night. You couldn’t make out the color as staring directly at the light made your headache worse. 

Hardwood wardrobe matched the bedframe and the table, and by the look of you realized that even the furniture in this house could be older than you. Simple cotton bed sheets soaked in your warmth, it felt overwhelming and too hot to enjoy, so you tried to get out of your date’s embrace. 

Without looking at him too much, you cautiously threw off the duvet cover, finding yourself fully naked underneath. You couldn’t remember when you undressed. The last thing you could dig out of your foggy mind was falling asleep on the man’s chest, with your dress still hugging your body. You dared to peek underneath, just to be met with your suspicion. Joel was as naked as you. 

Was there anything else you didn’t remember?

Anxiety started prickling at your heart, unease settling in. Gently, you grabbed the hand that was still laying heavy on your stomach and placed it on the bed. You held your breath, listening to the man next to you, but he didn’t budge. You slid out of bed, your bare feet met with a soft worn out rug. Before standing up, you give Joel one look over your shoulder. As if feeling your gaze, he shifted in his bed, turning to lay on his back. 

Your nakedness felt very apparent, and you brought your hands to cover your breasts, like someone could see you. You looked around, in search of your clothes, planning to find it on the floor or wherever else you could throw it in the state of bliss and inebriation. 

To your surprise, you found the skimpy outfit gently folded and placed on the table in the corner of the room, Joel’s clothes laying in a neat pile just next to yours. Something similar to a smile tugged at the corner of your lips, but you quickly regained your composure. The fact that your clothes were taken care of didn’t cancel the fact that you didn’t remember how you lost it in the first place.

You unfolded the dress, sighing over the walk of shame you were going to face. The material felt unpleasant against your skin that was still sticky with sweat and potentially some other fluids. 

Once you pulled the dress on, you finally dared to look at the man in the bed again. Somewhere between your attempts to remember the night and redressing, his tossing made the duvet slip lower, and now he was laying there in almost all his naked glory. A beam of sun that peeked through the heavy curtains tickled his weathered, tanned skin with its warmth. You couldn’t deny it, the man was gorgeous with or without alcohol in your system. Him laying on his back let you see his face more clearly: it was ridden of any emotion, peaceful dream ironing the deepest of his wrinkles. His broad chest that was sprinkled with freckles and sun spots kept raising and falling slowly. One of his hands was resting on his lower belly, hiding a patch of almost fully gray happy trail from you. 

Your eyes slid lower, tracing the same pattern your tongue did less than twelve hours ago, if your foggy memories were correct. His cock laid soft against his hairy upper thigh, no less intimidating in girth, though shorter in length. Your mouth watered against your will as you tried to recall what it felt like to have him in your mouth. Gently, your pussy throbbed, bringing fire to your core. Joel’s legs were spread a little, and if you stood right in front of him, you’d see a pair of massive balls that you lathered in your attention and saliva last night. Heat crept to your cheeks and you shook your head trying to force the unwanted desire out of your body. You tiptoed towards the door, keeping your eyes on him and praying that his door doesn’t squeak. Just as you tugged at the doorknob, his left thigh jerked, and Joel brought his hand to rub his closed eyes. 

The loud bang of his front door forced Joel to finally open his eyes. He heard you rummaging around his room, trying to be a quiet little mouse, but for his old age he still had pretty decent senses. Well, hearing, at least. He didn’t budge, not exactly pretending to be asleep yet also not giving you any reason to think otherwise. His body pleasantly ached from sleeping on his side, cocooning you with his body. 

Now that you were gone, he stretched his arms wide and flexed the fingers on his bad hand. It’s been a year too long since he had a pretty young thing like you warming his sheets. The sweet scent of your sweat clung to the pillowcase and he wanted to bury his face in it as he lazily jerked himself to the memories of your cunt exploding on his tongue. 

Your pretty young body tasted divine. He licked his lips hoping to taste the remnants of your cum from his mustache. There was something so addictive about having a girl more than half his age writhe and moan for him, beg so prettily. All of them were the same, so desperate for real attention, for someone who knew how to give them what they didn’t even know they wanted. 

Joel’s cock throbbed in his hand and he brought his palm to his face to spit at it again. You were so wet on his tongue, a fountain of youth no less. So fertile, so easy. His balls were heavy with unspilled cum, he knew it wasn’t long before he burst into your pretty little cunt, and then your ass, too. It took him only a couple of hours to have you gulping him down. Yes, he had to turn to the assistance of trusty powder he kept in his drawer this first time. But judging by the hunger you had in your eyes as you climbed off his face some time later, studying his face shiny with your cum, he wouldn’t need that anymore. You’d end up craving him as much as he craved you from the moment he set his eyes on you.

He squeezed his shaft tighter, his movements more deliberate as his thumb teased the tip and smeared the pearly precum. He didn’t doubt that he already had crept under your skin, the eyes you gave him yesterday with your mouth full of his balls was one of a person hooked. He’d seen it before enough times to know you’d be back. He just needed to be patient now, and if there was something his years made him good at, it was waiting.

Joel gave himself a final jerk, exploding over his knuckles with a deep grunt.

A bunch of keys rattled loudly when you dropped it into a ceramic plate on a table in the hallway of your small apartment. You cursed gruffly, squeezing your eyes shut at the harsh sound. You kicked off your shoes on the way to the bathroom, and with a tired sigh, you pulled off your dress.

“Damn, what the--?” In a hurry, you forgot your panties at Joel's. If this was a regular date, you might have intentionally left an intimate piece of clothing, but with Joel, you couldn’t even... hell, you couldn't even remember if your panties were on that table with your dress.

Your head was still pounding, even taking a taxi with your head out the window didn't help much.

You kept replaying last night in your head, trying to fill in the blanks. You didn’t think you drank more than a bottle; plus, Joel shared it with you, so what the hell happened? He was definitely pouring the slightly bitter-tasting liquid from the bottle that you handed him, you saw the label. You remembered how he walked into the kitchen with an opened wine in one hand and a corkscrew in the other. Surely he couldn't...?

No, that was crazy talk. It was high time for you to stop listening to your serial killer podcasts. After all, he didn't do anything to you that you hadn’t asked for, that you hadn’t begged for. Especially since now you were in your own apartment, and not tied to a radiator in his basement.

You pulled the faucet handle, the warm water was filling your tub quickly. To make it better, you poured a handful of lavender-scented salt, the soft odor seeped into your lungs and gently calmed you down.

Slowly, you sank into the water, it enveloped you like a hot blanket, making you moan with pleasure. You allowed yourself to close your eyes, leaning your head against the back of the bath tub.

The recollection of your arrival to his house was clear as day; he was friendly and so, so gallant. None of Joel’s actions made you feel uncomfortable or unsettled. He was attentive, his gaze followed your every move, and even the memory of his brown eyes made your skin boil with an inexplicable feeling of desire.

The way he shot glances in the direction of your boobs made your heart beat wildly in your chest. He was trying to hide how much he wanted you, it was adorable and sexy at the same time. He wanted you more than any of your previous lovers seemed to. Maybe that was the reason why you didn't want to leave. The thing that pulled you into his living room and then pushed you to fall between his legs.

No matter how hard you tried, you couldn't remember exactly how you got there. You just remembered the taste of his salt, the low vibrations of his moans, and the insatiable desire to have more. 

Damn, you felt your pussy purr. Joel had some strange effect on your body, manipulating your mind even in his absence. Summoning all your willpower, you continued your journey through your memories, but the further you went, the more hazy they became.

Only your body remembered something, and that something was pleasure. His hot tongue exploring the folds of your pussy; his curved nose teasing your clit with every greedy movement. His bestial growl when you poured the sweetness of your orgasm into his thirsty mouth. 

And then darkness.

[Joel M.]: Hey, sweetheart, did you get home safe? [Joel M.]: I am not counting that yesterday was something you’d want to repeat, I just want to know you’re alright.

You jerked up from a dreamless nap and blindly found your phone under the pillow. Blinking the sleep out of your eye, you looked at the messages on your screen, doubt about opening them creeped inside you when you saw the sender. The little picture next to Joel’s name still showed you the dream man you went to meet yesterday. A man who turned out to be a lie, kind of. Thoughts of Joel confused you, on one hand he was an accidental liar, and on the other he was one of the best orgasms you’d ever had. An orgasm that still sent tingles down your pussy and made your hand go south. 

Hoping that the attraction your body felt to him was the result of your drinking, and then your hangover. You sighed as the memory of his cock sliding down your throat and the phantom touch of his tongue tracing your wet folds made you weep for him in a way you didn’t think your body could. Rationally, you still tried to fight your carnal interest in a man in his grandpa years, but your hand slowly trekked to your pussy that was filling with warmth and slickness.

You tapped the message open and typed your reply with one hand.

[You]: Hey, Joel, yeah, I’m good :) And I had a very good time yesterday.

Your text was read immediately, and you felt a pang of guilt that you made him sit and stare at his phone waiting for your reply while you were tracing the lips of your pussy and thinking about him in the most indecent way.

[Joel M.]: Well my evening certainly beats yours, I had this beautiful lady come over, she was so intelligent and beautiful, I thought I’d been dreaming the whole night.

A smile spread across your lips as you grinned at the screen. Something warm bloomed in your heart that made it difficult to stay indifferent. 

[You]: Is that all you can say about her? [Joel M.]: I don’t think other things would be appropriate to share, darlin

The buzz of your need that you tried to suffocate since you got out of your bath returned to your body with doubled vigor.

[You]: I promise I won’t tell

Your heart began to pound harder, the vibrations of excited beats bouncing off your ribs in the rhythm of the three dots that flashed at the bottom of the screen. You bit your lip, tearing at the delicate skin in an attempt to calm the swarm of thoughts that were constantly buzzing, trapped in your skull. 

You were driven by greed, by the selfish need to experience again what thrilled you yesterday. It was inexplicable, as if two basic instincts were fighting for control over you, and desire won out, pushing self-preservation into a distant dark corner of your mind.

[Joel M.]: In that case, she was the sexiest little thing I’ve seen my whole life. She had this gorgeous skin tight dress on, looked delicious in it, I think I started salivating the moment I saw her. And I was lucky enough to taste her later and let me tell you, just the memory of her sweet pussy on my face makes me hard.

You reread the message three times, feeling a drop of arousal leaving your hole and sliding down to the crack of your ass. With one finger you swiped it up and brought it to your clit, not playing with it but gently teasing around, soft moans sticking to your throat as you refuse to let them out.

[You]: does it really? [Joel M.]: You want proof? [You]: yeah

[image attached]

You had ripped your hand from your pussy, opening the photo and adjusting the brightness. It was the most stereotypical dick pic ever sent, but you couldn’t care less when you saw it. 

“Fucking hell.” You whined out loud. Joel’s cock, hard and standing proud, looked massive even in his bear paw of a hand. Its head was deep pink, the drop of precum on his angry slit catching the light of the lamp lit room. He didn’t lie a word, he looked painfully aroused and it worked like your personal siren’s song. 

You licked your dry lips, hoping you’d be able to taste him again, to have his fat head stretching your lips with no regard to your comfort. Pushing you just enough without breaking. For a second, you felt like you could smell his musk, your mind playing tricks on you. 

His message beeped, jerking you out of your haze. 

[Joel M.]: Been dreaming her juicy little cunt all day today, could barely get any shit done. Shoulda let her feel my cock yesterday. [You]: Do you regret it? [Joel M.]: I regret that I couldn’t see her pretty face in the morning, wake her up by licking her pussy, fucking her with my fingers before she spills on my tongue. [You]: Fuck, I bet she’d like that. I bet you made her feel so good last night. Bet it was one of the best orgasms of her life and she’s touching herself right now thinking about it. [Joel M.]: Does she? [You]: yeah, she does. 

Forgetting to overthink your every decision, you bring your camera to your naked pussy, making sure that your face is not visible. You tapped the red button and looked at the screen, fascinated by the way your own pussy looks this close. You dragged your index finger to your slit, parting your lips, and then shamelessly demonstrated a string of arousal that stuck to your digit.

[video attached]

[Joel M.]: God, just look at this pussy, so sweet and wet, just begging for some attention. [Joel M.]: Needs someone who knows how to take care of her. [You]: will you? [Joel M.]: You know it. Now do as I say, sweetheart, and touch that pretty clit. Slowly, no need to rush. 

A part of you was relieved that he didn’t freak out about sexting, who knew if the man was even familiar with the concept, but he was definitely a natural. Once again, you captured your pussy and obedience, as you took another short video following his simple command.

[video attached]

[You]: like that? [Joel M.]: Fuck, honey, yeah, just like that. Look at her, gushing already, asking to fill her up so polite. Why don’t you use your fingers to make her feel better, hm? Use two fingers.

It felt good, it always did, you knew how to take care of yourself, you knew how to make yourself writhe and moan. But after him, it was like something was missing. He didn’t even fuck you properly and you felt empty, not enough. You started pushing your fingers inside with more anger and disappointment, unable to fill that weird hollow space that he carved inside you after one drunken night. 

[image attached]

[You]: feels so good, joel, but it’s not enough, fuck need something bigger [Joel M.]: I know what you need, darlin, you need my big fucking cock fucking you dumb. I know that’s right. Dying to fuck an old man, ready to beg for it, ain’t ya? [You]: yes 

You should have been ashamed of yourself, but in reality you didn’t give a crap. In that moment he was giving you something you wouldn’t dare take, and he made you feel good about it. You wished you could hear his raspy voice kissed by South spilling filth in your ear. 

[Joel M.]: Such a good girl, so responsive, so needy, can’t wait to fuck you properly. Add a finger, sweetheart. Not gonna match my cock, I know, for that you’d need to shove your whole fist inside, but I want you tight and crying when I fuck you.

Blinded by the haze of your pleasure, you followed every command, his message replaying in your head over and over, overstimulating your mind. The stretch didn’t burn, it felt good, welcomed, and you tried to curl your fingers to reach the spot that’d break you. You threw your phone on the bed, bringing your other hand to play with your nipples as the heel of your palm rubbed your clit.

“Fuck, fuck, Joel,” you chanted. Your ears rang as your body convulsed in pleasure with the man’s name on your lips.

Your phone rang and you were surprised to see Joel’s request to facetime you. With a shaky finger you swiped to accept the call, leaving a smear of your cum on your screen.

“Judging by your face, that felt good?” His face was poorly lit, but you still saw a smile. 

“Yeah, good is one word,” you admitted, biting your lip. Your lower belly still trembled in the post orgasmic bliss.

“Show me, I think I deserved that, hm?” 

You hesitated for a moment, but spread your legs and angled your camera at your sleek, puffy pussy. Joel grunted, air leaving his lungs with a whistle. 

“Spread those lips, baby, I need to see you pretty hole twitchin’, need to see her winking at me.” It was gross, and weird, yet you did exactly what he asked. Your pussy was sensitive, and you whined as you spread yourself for him.

For a moment there was only silence and wet sounds of him jerking his cock to the sight of your abused pussy. You didn’t dare move. didn’t dare look at the screen even though another spark started burning deep inside you. 

“Fuck, good girl, good fuckin’- good pussy.” Joel’s voice shifted into growling, panting as he came all over his fist. It was your cue to bring the phone back to your face, he was already smiling at you from the other side. 

“So,” his breathing was mostly even, but the sweat glistening on his forehead was a telltale sign of the recent physical exercises. “Whatcha doin’ this Sunday?” 

You closed your eyes, shaking your head in disbelief. 

“After this? Going to church.” 

“No, don’t do that, sweetheart,” Joel chuckled. You opened one eye, noticing how intently he was watching you, his eyes studying every bit of your face for crumbs of reaction, cracks in your freshly-built facade. “We don’t want you to burn alive, do we? How about you visit me?” 

“Pretty sure that’s what Satan said to Eve.” You brought yourself back into the darkness, your heart still pounding as if you’d ran a marathon. All of this wasn’t good, it was wrong but you couldn’t pinpoint the exact problem. He was seeping under your skin, and if you wanted to get rid of him, you’d have to flay yourself alive. Not a bright prospect by any means.

He was looking at you from the other side of the screen, his brown eyes piercing, but he didn’t push you. The words fell from your lips on your own accord.

“I can come by around 8, but this time I’m bringing food.”

Joel smiled, and nodded in agreement. Thick thumb rubbed his plush lower lip, like he was trying to remember something.

“Can’t wait to have a taste.”

You shook your head, a chuckle stuck in your throat. Without saying goodbye you disconnected from the call and dropped the phone on the pillow next to you. Your skin was sticky with sweat, a cold breeze from the opened window teased your flesh, leaving goosebumps in its wake. Pleasant exhaustion and abysmal unease dragged your mind in two different directions keeping your body on the edge of sleep but not letting you fall.

Your bed felt too lumpy, wrinkles of your rumpled sheets digging into your skin. Tossing and turning until early morning, you couldn’t shake the creeping anxiety over your decision.

LEAVE A COMMENT, YOUR FEEDBACK IS MY MOTIVATION <3

[radiance1]

This au again lawl. Where Danny wears these special sunglasses to hide his eyes that also track down ghosts in his human form.

The Justice League tracks down a summoning for the ghost king, an eons old tyrant of the infinite realms and known to bring war and devastation whenever he is summoned.

The cultists do manage to summon the ghost king, except, not how they wanted. They did indeed summon the king, but Pariah Dark is still trapped in eternal sleep and somehow, just, somehow, they managed to draw the lottery and dragged the Sarcophagus of Forever Sleep to the summoning circle.

So there the Justice League were, wondering what to do with the (currently) locked away and sleeping ghost king.

Until Constantine's coat flipped itself open and a boy with glowing white hair and a mist of blue blowing from his mouth.

"Old man." The boy greeted.

"Brat." Constantine said.

"Do you mind explaining why and how this," The boy gestured to the Sarcophagus. "Is here and not in Pariah's Keep?"

"Funny story, that one." Constantine said, only half-jokingly. He then went on to explain that the Justice League came to track down cultists, said cultists somehow managed to drag that here, and now they didn't quite know what to do with it.

The boy stood still for a moment, before taking off his sunglasses to pinch the bridge of his nose and sighed, a large amount of blue flame spilling from his mouth. "Ancients above, why is it every time something notable happens, it's always you?"

Constantine snorted, reaching into his coat for a pack of cigarettes and lighting himself one. "Hypocritical coming from you."

"I know, but still." The boy walked over to the Sarcophagus and sat on it, as if it wasn't the thing currently holding one of the most powerful ghosts in the infinite realms. "You know smoking is bad for you, right?"

"What, you learned that in class?" Constantine snarked, making no move to do anything and causing the boy to sigh again, toxic green eyes looked around the room, falling over each hero present before homing in on Flash. The boy pointed to him. "You. Come here."

"Whatcha want with red?" Constantine asked and the boy simply shrugged his shoulders. "Passing on a message."

The boy blinked once, and if he was surprised that the Flash was already in front of him, then he didn't show it. He reached into his pocket, pulled out a green sticky not, motioned for Flash to bent down and stuck it on his forehead.

Superman was... concerned. There was a heartbeat there, he could hear it, but it was so slow and seemed rather weak, like the boy was near death.

"Alright, now I gotta get old mean and green back to his keep before the Observants get on my case." The boy put back on his sunglasses and got up, waving Flash away and lifting up the Sarcophagus above his head he walked over to Constantine, whose face wrinkled.

"That ain't going to fit." The warlock pointed out and the boy scoffed, probably rolling his eyes behind his glasses. "And you've fit bigger things, just shut up and lift the coat old man."

Constantine did so, and somehow the boy just shoved the entire Sarcophagus inside. The boy was very obviously smug as the blue mist that was blowing from his mouth the entire time petered out. "I'll clean up the mess on my end," The boy said before waving his hand in the Justice League's general direction. "You deal with all that."

"Just get going already, I'm not about to get those sentient eyeballs on my ass."

"Yea, yea. You got enough to deal with as is." The boy then stepped inside Constantine's cloak and as soon as the man let it drop, he disappeared.

Constantine looked around the room, silently assessing the situation as he brought another cigarette to his lips.

He lamented the fact he would have to deal with this sober.

[willowpains]

me jalo

drew starkey x latina actress reader!

*if y’all haven’t seen this trend, just search “me jalo trend” on TikTok for context*

Of course you were dragging Drew to make a new TikTok trend with you.

Who were you if not the chronically online actress that kept the internet fed with content?

This time, it was just a little different.

No pranks.

Instead, a dance trend.

A very sweet and romantic one you would call.

One that nonetheless, took A LOT of convincing to get your boyfriend to accept.

The people would not believe how hard it was to get Drew to participate in anything that involved the internet culture.

He could be a little grandpa sometimes.

But you still loved your boyfriend and his millennial hatred towards TikTok.

He had finally given up as he knew this one probably meant a lot to you.

It was a trend with a song in spanish.

A regional mexicano/reggeaton song.

Drew knew how much you valued and loved embracing your culture, plus sharing your roots with the world, something you were very passionate in doing since you had the platform and the opportunities.

So how could he say no?

That’s how you found yourselves ready to film, on the street, during your walk back home from a coffe date.

Your phone stuck to the window of a closed boutique, trusting that your octobuddy would protect and hold the weight of your phone while you two filmed.

Standing on the side walk, in front of your phone, where your whole body was visible on the screen, you started lip syncing to the sticky and vibey words of the mexican regional song.

mamita tú me encantas, solo dime que tranza

You stared at yourself through the screen, as you moved your arms and acted like you were singing your heart out, pointing to the screen and touching your heart dramatically.

que yo me voy pa allá, me voy pa allá

With a huge smile on your face while singing, you started moving back to the beat of the song, as if you were pulling someone towards you with an invisible thread, as the Drew’s body appeared from the side on the screen, with a cheeky smile the camera could capture, moving towards you, shimmying his shoulders as only he could.

me dices ven pa acá, vente pa acá

With a huge grin on your face, you now moved towards him, as you both now did the dance move the other had done previously. He moved backwards to the beat of the song as he pulled you in with the invisible thread, as you shimmied your shoulders forward towards him as you swayed your hips and continued lip syncing the song, your eyes never leaving his.

y ahí te voy pa allá, me voy pa allá

You pulled Drew’s hand so you two stood now in the middle of the frame, as you continued moving your body to the rhythm of the song while singing the lyrics, your boyfriends arms wrapping around your waist and placing a huge kiss on your cheek making you laugh.

bien desvelado, pero le caigo

Your boyfriend pulled you body off the floor, picking you up in his arms and sticking his tongue out towards the camera, walking with you bridal style away from the camera, making you unable to finish lip syncing the song, and the video cutting off as Drew walked away with you on his arms, both laughing your asses off.

After being put down on the floor by your lovely boyfriend, you come back running for your phone, still laughing, trying to pull off your sticky phone case from the window.

“That was not planned!” you scream out laughing at Drew, who was doubled in laughter behind you, watching you struggle with your phone.

He chuckled, walking towards you and placing his hands on your hips in a loving gesture.

That man couldn’t live without touching you for more than 5 seconds.

“I got nervous and decided to run away” he said, a smile on his face.

You turned to face him, finally pulling your phone with its sticky case off the window.

“My little camera shy boyfriend” you say, leaning in to kiss him as he groaned against your lips, hating the teasing.

Once again, with your charm and loving tricks, you had gotten your way.

And it wouldn’t be the last time.

…

you can read about the fan reactions to this TikTok here!!!

I LOVED this ask!!!

sign me up for any lovey dovey short blurbs between mis protegidos<3

this was written in like 30 minutes, under a strike of motivation that I couldn’t ignore, so I’m sorry if there are any mistakes

I hope you all like it<3 feel free to send requests, I can’t promise anything, but I’ll try to put out more short stuff!

[confessioncassette]

𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐬 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐱 𝐍𝐚𝐦-𝐆𝐲𝐮 𝐈𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐞

𝟏𝟖+. 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭.

summary : getting high leads to dirty, dirty things

tw : getting high, smoking, dry humping, minimal fingering, this may be dubious consent [DUBCON] due to being under the influence and the boys have been waiting for a chance with you, very small yandere themes if you SQUINT

words : 1.7k

notes : I’ve been unhinged lately. Feral. Horny. I want to be stuck between two men. I was too lazy to write a full fic or many details of this concept… AND it’s not proofread. It’s honestly not my best work… sorry…. but I still hope you enjoy!

Thinking about…

“Well, no,” You squirm over your heels, “I’ve never actually been high.”

The duo looks back at you utterly perplexed. Before Namgyu opens his mouth to question, you continue.

”I just don’t think I did it right the first time. It was out of a soda can,” Your gesture with your hands but your excuse didn’t change their glare, if anything, their eyebrows furrowed into confusion.

“And I don’t think I inhaled all the way.” You paused for a moment, eyes darting back at the two who were giving you judgmental looks, “I only took one hit.”

The air is plagued with an uncomfortably long moment of silence before Namgyu stifles a laugh and hugs his arms across his chest.

“So, what? Last time you smoked was in high school? No one has used soda cans-“

”Shut up Namgyu,” Thanos slaps his friend over his chest with a muffle thump.

“You want to try it tonight?” The purple haired man continues, his blue colored contacts scan your face in anticipation.

And that's when you find yourself sitting rigid on the end of the couch, curiously watching Thanos roll a blunt over his glass coffee table. Oldschool R&B plays low over the speaker and the glow of purple LED lights create a soft contrast to the night sky through the large windows.

His pink tongue carefully licks the paper, eyes finding yours as he does, offering a wink before slender fingers slide over the edges. Namgyu lounges over the fur rug below you, mindlessly scrolling through his phone.

“I always have to roll because he can’t. You should see how fucked his shit comes out.”

“Shut the fuck up, T,” Namgyu retaliates, “I like when you do it because it’s not as tight.”

The other man ignores his friend and directs his attention solely to you.

“Okay, pretty girl,” Thanos flicks the lighter, bringing the blunt to his lips. Namgyu looks up from his phone, brows raised as he watches his friend.

”Watch me.” Thanos says, voice low with bass, before inhaling the joint, the tip growing brighter as he does. Once done, he passes the joint to Namgyu and sucks the smoke in deeper.

You squirm, rubbing your sweaty fingers together over your lap. You watch Namgyu sit up to take a hit, blowing a cloud of smoke to the side. His eyes meet yours, extending his hand to offer you a hit.

You hesitate, and they notice.

”You don’t have to-“ Namgyu begins but you cut him off.

“No, no, I want to try.”

You take the joint to your lips and suck in slowly, attempting to copy what Thanos had done. The musky taste fills your senses, warm and itchy, tickling the back of your throat almost immediately. You tried, like really tried, to keep it in but your body reacts without a second thought and you cough uncontrollably. Squeezing your eyes shut, you lean forward, hacking up a lung. Puffs of smoke leave your mouth with each cough and tears swell almost immediately.

Namgyu reacts almost instantly, sliding onto the couch next to you to pat your back.

”Yeah, it burns like shit when you’re not used to it.”

Moments pass and you catch your breath. Your eyelashes sticky from tears, most likely messing up your mascara in the process you look over to Thanos, who carries a slack smile. You didn’t even notice the quick look he shared with his friend.

“Don’t worry, baby girl, first time is always rough.”

“Do you want to try again? I doubt you inhaled anything with that.” Namgyu offers.

You suck in a breath, cringing at the man beside you, but he gently takes the joint from your fingers, his touch lingering a moment.

”Trust me, it won’t hurt as bad this time.” He gives you a sheepish smile.

”There’s nothing to worry about, baby. You’re safe, we got you if anything happens.” The purple haired man reassures you.

You nod, adjusting your frame to face Namgyu completely. You wanted to try this after all. It’ll probably be your only chance to try it anyway. You gotta live, you know?

Namgyu brings the paper to his lips, sucking in deeply while his eyes never leave yours. His intense stare ignites a flame deep within your belly, and before you know it, his palm slides over your knee. The warmth of his flesh simmers over your skin, his pinky toying with the hem of your dress before leaning close. His other hand comes up to gently caress your jaw, tilting your face up to him.

His scent has you surrounded and you’re incapable of moving. His intense stare drawing close and the wafts of swirling smoke and cologne filling your nostrils paralyzes you. For what felt like forever and a second all at once, his nose grazes your cheek, bringing you back into reality.

“Open, baby,” Thanos murmurs from across the table.

Opening your mouth for him, Namgyus soft lips graze yours and begins pushing the smoke inside. This time, the smoke felt smooth, hydrated and warm.

”Breathe in.” Thanos guides again.

You inhale slowly with every push he gave until there was nothing left. Once done, he lingered close to watch your every move. You felt his breath tickle your cheek, hot and intoxicating. Looking up at him through thick lashes, his gaze was already upon you, eyes swimming dark with desire. Losing yourself in the moment, heartbeat thumping between your ears, you almost didn’t notice that the couch dipped behind you.

“My turn.”

Thanos’s arm slithers around your shoulder to grab the blunt from the other man, once again snapping back to reality and releasing your hypnosis from Namgyu. His chest presses firmly against your back, his different scent wafts up to your nose, filling your scenes with clean shampoo, cigarettes and an airier cologne. The paper crackles when he takes a hit, incredibly close behind to your face before you feel his fingers sliding up the front of your neck. With his palm flat over your trachea and fingers splayed along your jaw, he adds pressure in turning your head into his lips.

Thanos’s lips were hungrier than the other, confidently latching onto you, pushing the smoke inside your mouth with his tongue. You take him fully, inhaling every last bit of smoke he gives. His lips were sweeter than Namgyus. Traces of candy burst your tastebuds.

The palm that caresses your neck slides up to your jaw, the pads of his fingers pet against your flesh, sending wavelengths of chills down your spine.

Once he was finished, he pulled away only a mere centimeter to allow you to exhale.

The duo continued this for another round, guiding your face back and forth between the two of them. Each time their lips lingered longer and longer, hungry to devour you whole. Like they were waiting for you to make the first move, or waiting to see who of the two would begin the downfall. It was only a matter of time that you felt the side effects creeping through your veins, viciously spreading throughout your body. It was gradual at first, until it hit you head on like a door being opened in a hurricane. Your skin prickled and crawled, while your mind grew hazy and light. Their faces became one, meshed together in a vision.

You began to giggle.

“There’s our girl,” Namgyu’s knuckles graze over your chin, his other hand creeping up your thigh, palming at your muscle.

”Feels good, yeah?” Thanos lets you lean back into his chest, his arms slung over your waist. The joint lays forgotten in the ashtray, but the musky scent lingers heavily.

You giggle and nod in response.

“I’ve never felt like this before! I feel… feel…” you nuzzle yourself against Thanos, “so relaxed.”

”Hey,” the mans chest behinds you vibrates, lulling you deeper into your high. You want him to do it again-

“Keep talking it feels good,” you mumble.

”Baby, you know what would feel even better?”

You hum, drifting, drifting… Namgyus kneading over your thigh feels too good.

“Sit up for me.” Thanos says lowly, but you remain, completely entranced by Namgyu’s ministrations.

Thanos shot his friend a look, stopping him from teasing you. You protest when his warm palm leaves your skin, only to be replaced by thick arms hooking under your pits to lift you up.

”Here we go, sweet girl, up,” Namgyu says softly before placing a chaste kiss under your ear and turning you around over Thanos.

You adjust to your newfound position, straddling the purple haired man. You open your eyes to find his face close to yours underneath you.

“Su-bong, I feel great.” You smile sweetly, tilting your head to observe him in the purple ambience. He looks so beautiful.

Blue eyes swimming with an emotion you can’t decipher scan over your face before he pulled up into a deep kiss. Large hands tug your hair and pull you impossibly deeper, and for a moment you feel like you might suffocate. It was voracious and wet, his tongue slipped past your lips instantly to taste you fully. He rumbled, a groan that came deep from his chest awakened all your senses.

Your core rested fully now over something hard and warm.

Thanos breathed into your kiss, devouring your lips like he was a man starved. His hips bucked up into you, igniting the fire between your legs. Your body erupts in a hazy desire grinding back into him, letting a sweet moan fall past your lips.

Rocking back into his thrusts, Thano’s breath becomes ragged and the hands that pull you close search your body, running over every curve like he was carefully studying you. Your mind’s completely drifting into this ecstasy so much so that you completely ignore the feeling of Namgyu flipping up your dress to expose your ass.

The other man sits up and kneels before the two of you to palm his cock over his sweatpants.

“Wish you could see the way her ass bounces from back here, oh my god.” Namgyu groans.

This earns a growl from Thanos before his exploring hands move south to grip your ass, spreading you open. Namgyu could almost cry at seeing the wet spot on your panties now spread in full view for him.

Your cunt drags along Thano’s thick shaft as he dry humps up into you. Your body rocks roughly over his between wet kisses. Your mind spins, your body completely limp in his grasp, his blunt fingernails dig into your flesh like he’s afraid to lose you.

Namgyu leans forward a slender finger to trace along your wet core over your panties, the other hand palming himself a little more roughly.

“She’s so fucking wet, T, look.” Pulling your panties to the side, you jump at the sudden intrusion of his finger.

“It’s okay, pretty girl, just want him to taste you.” Slowly, Namgyu scoops up your slick to rub between his fingers. You’re sweet and sticky like honey, and he admires the sight. He allows himself to play with the juices between his fingers, watching sticky strings expand and droop before his friend growls - a warning to hurry up. At that, he leans forward to present the sight to his friend.

When Thanos breaks the kiss, you groan, hanging your head in the crook of his neck. You inhale his sweet cologne mixed with sweat, drifting once again in pure bliss. Your core aches for release now, so you mindlessness hump and hump when Thanos turns his head to taste his friend’s fingers, moaning before he does just at the sight of your slick.

“Holy shit, you’re so sweet.” He groans.

”Let’s bring her to the bedroom, yeah? The couch is too small for this.”

[rcvcgers]

hello!! i really like your writng! i was hoping if i can request a one shot with sylus or zayne with a non!mc reader where she’s kinda mean and purposefully makes herself look intimidating to scare others off bc it’s a defense mechanism they developed but really the reader is actually sensitive and a bit of a crybaby and just needs someone to lean on

have a nice day!!

thank you so much for this request! i went with zayne if that's okay! i'll most likely post one for sylus within the next week or so! :)

Guarded Heart

pairing: zayne x non!mc reader

synopsis: zayne meets an icy anesthesiologist with a tough exterior

word count: 3.8k words

author's note: wrote this in one sitting so...i do apologize if it's lame and not good at all haha

content warning: brief mentions of bullying & death, slight medical descriptions, slight self deprecating thoughts

ao3 link here!

It is a sunny day in Linkon. Birds are singing, the breeze is perfectly chilled to combat the scorching heat of the sun, and the air smells crisp instead of like smog. A ladybug flies onto your shoulder, resting on the hot leather as you rush towards the hospital doors.

Once glance at your chunky black watch reminds you just how late you are to prepare for your first on-call shift at Akso Hospital.

You weave through the group of people who stand in front of the hospital doors. They stand and take pictures, balloons and signs in their hands. A sign flies in your face! You jump to the side, barely missing a man who steps away from the group. Spinning on your heels, a gasp flies from your lips, a taller and much more muscular man colliding into you.

Warmth spreads across your chest, the smell of rich, velvety chocolate filling your nostrils. Your t-shirt and leather jacket stick to your skin. The group to the side gasps, muffled laughter clouding you and the man.

“I am very sorry,” his voice is calm and steady, a little too steady for your taste. If anything, it makes you even more irritated.

“It’s fine,” you feel him wipe covered first along your chest. You push his hands away, stepping around him. He turns and grabs your wrist.

“May I get your number? Allow me to pay for the dry cleaning of the clothes,”  he continues. You turn and look up at him, ripping your hand away. His eyes are remarkable; hazel hues burn into your own. You gulp and push some hair behind your ear, taking hurried steps backwards.

“No, it’s fine,” your tone is sharper than you intended it to be.

Then again, you have never been known to be the kindest person out of the bunch.

You walk inside the hospital, catching your breath. You rip your leather jacket off of your body, your shirt stuck to your skin, leaving you feeling sticky and uncomfortable. As you walk down the halls, people avoid you and your icy glare, a snarl curled on your face. They part and hug the walls, your shoes sticking to the floor with every step you take. It only irritates you more. Your nostrils flare and you puff out steam through your nose.

You head up the stairs, not wanting to be stuck in an elevator with people looking at you as if you’re the problem, and go up the three flights of stairs with ease. As soon as you step into the small locker room for anesthesiologists, you’re met with a disapproving look.

“You’re late.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know.”

“You know you’re on call, right?”

“I was just on my lunch break, Dave,” you shoot a glare at the oversized man, shoving your belongings into your metal locker. You pull out your navy blue scrubs, eyeing the bathroom that Dave stands in front of.

“You’re lucky there wasn’t an emergency,” he slowly chews his potato chips. The crunch sends uncomfortable shivers down your spine, making your skin crawl.

“Yep. I know,” you push him out of the way, slamming the bathroom door shut behind you. You begin to chance when Dave’s voice makes you pause.

“A bitch as always.”

Your eyes close, shoulders slumping. Has your reputation come to this? Are you only known as a bitch to your peers? You’re here to do a job. So what if you don’t smile or stay in the cafeteria for lunch! They’re just your co-workers, not your friends.

The pager on your hip sounds off. You look down, sliding your feet into your designated work sneakers. The code tells you that it’s a patient coming in from an ambulance needing emergency surgery. A sigh fills the bathroom before you leave, slipping out before Dave can get in another jab.

Nurses and doctors stare at you as you pass. You push your messy hair behind your ear, the lingering smell of sugar and chocolate giving you a slight headache as you push through the emergency surgical bay doors on the first floor. You nod your head at the nurses who quickly scrub in and pluck a mask from a nearby box, placing it over your face.

The doors open once again and a tall man with dark hair steps through. The nurses’ eyes move to him; their shoulders connect as they giggle behind hushed whispers and quiet voices. You raise an eyebrow, cracking your fingers when you finally stare at the man. He’s tall and his muscles flex underneath his lab coat. He turns directly to the sinks and begins his sterilization process.

The realization hits you when you’re finally able to place his face.

He’s the man who spilled hot chocolate on you, making you late for the second half of your shift. You quickly step inside the empty surgical room, waiting for the trauma patient to be wheeled in.

A few minutes later, just as the tall man steps inside, wearing a teal surgical gown matched with light blue gloves and a mask over his face. His eyes flicker to yours while you stand by your equipment. You narrow your eyes at him, heat flooding your cheeks, the need to protect yourself rising in your chest.

Neither of you say a thing, not like you want to, and the tension filled stare is broken just as the patient is wheeled inside the room. The two of you jump into action, 

The surgery takes an hour and forty seven minutes to complete. It’s twelve minutes over Zayne’s personal best, but that’s because of the new recruits continually asking him questions while ignoring the blood that floods chest cavity.

You, on the other hand, were phenomenal. When he was able to look away, which was barely ever, he stole glances at you while you monitored the patient’s vitals. Every so often, he would ask you about the patient’s vitals and you immediately responded with the information he wanted to know. You even adjusted the anesthesia when he voiced what he was going to do next. You were able to slow the heart just right so he can focus and see where the knife sliced into the left chamber. The slow heartbeats helped him slip the near-microscopic needle in and out of the organ while he stitched it up.

It was because of you that Zayne was able to relax after the surgery knowing that his stitches were perfect and that the patient will have an easy, yet slow and meticulous, recovery.

Zayne pokes his head around the hospital trying to find you. You weren’t with the other anesthesiologists nor were you in the cafeteria or break rooms that are scattered throughout the hospital. When one of the nurses who was in the operating room with you noticed his frustration, he finally asked who you were.

“Oh her? She’s…off-putting to say the least,” she begins with an eye roll. “Nobody really likes her but she gets the job done so I guess she’s sticking round because of it.”

“Do you know where I can find her?” Zayne asks with a slight head tilt. The nurse’s eyes open wide.

“I…I don’t know, Dr. Zayne. She’s a loner and doesn’t really talk to anyone.”

Zayne frowns and crosses his arms over his chest. The nurse goes quiet, scratching the back of her neck before eventually walking away, shame written all over her face.

Why were people so cruel to you? If you were good at your job, which you are, why do they say cruel and nasty things about you? It confuses him. A person should be judged on their merit, not because of how introverted you are or if you have one bad day.

Little did he know that you pushed people away on purpose. It’s not like you wanted to. You just couldn’t bring yourself to be openly happy and carefree as others are.

You have gone through so much drama and have been through so many scandals that it has put you off from letting people in entirely. Your teenage years were cruel to you; bullies were relentless and their words and actions beat you down into nothing. It didn’t get better when you went off to university where your roommate purposefully locked you out of the dorm when you went to go take a shower.

People are cruel. You don’t need them and you certainly don’t need anyone else that’s new. The risk is too great to take on. You don’t even think you can go through another heartbreak or cruel friendship.

You always found yourself in the solitude of the hospital’s extra courtyard. It sits behind the tall building, covered in the building’s shadows when the sun moved to the other side of the sky. You liked looking at the flowers and watching the butterflies flutter past. It was also nice that nobody else really came into the courtyard. You were able to sit in solitude during your breaks or after a tension filled surgery like the one just half an hour ago.

“You’re a hard woman to find.”

You jump in the metal bench, which has been designed to look like a pair of roses that sit next to each other, and turn around to see the tall surgeon from before. He wears glasses with thin metal rims and his scrubs are covered with a new lab coat, one that isn’t covered with the remnants of his drink that morning.

“I don’t want to be found,” you respond, turning back around on the bench. You pick at the skin around your fingernails, needing to give your body to do something to distract yourself from the handsome man.

Zayne circles around and stands in front of you. He shoves his hands into his coat pockets, a habit he picked up from other surgeons to protect his hands, and sighs. He sits down on a chair across from you, only a few feet away. You avoid his hazel eyes at all costs, slowly inhaling the hot summer breeze.

“My name is—”

“Dr. Zayne,” you finish his sentence for him. He slowly nods. His eyes remain on you. “I know. You have an impressive résumé.”

“Do I?” A faint smile spreads across his lips. You finally look at him, catching the tail end of his grin before it disappears. “This is my first time here. It’s nice. Are you in here often?”

“Yes,” a part of you doesn’t know why you responded to him, “nobody knows about it. It’s...nice.” You turn your body to fully face him now. He matches your movement, one eyebrow slightly quirking up, gently urging you to continue.

But you don’t.

Bugs and insects fly around you. Butterflies flap their wings and hummingbirds stop at the feeders with the sugary pink water. Zayne observes the courtyard, wondering how he has never noticed it before. It’s all thanks to you that he is able to find solitude in such a chaotic environment.

You and Zayne sit in a comfortable silence. It’s something you aren’t used to but it feels nice. You don’t know whether his intentions are pure or not. You don’t seem to mind the company though.

“May I join you for lunch here tomorrow?” Zayne requests.

“Yes,” the answer leaves your lips before you can stop it. Zayne nods, a slight smile spreading across his lips, and he stands up.

“Wonderful. I will see you tomorrow.”

The next day, Zayne is early with his lunch, even having bought you a bottle of water just in case you didn’t have one. Hydration is key, after all! You rolled your eyes and sat next to him on the bench. You finally have him your name and filled in him in on how long you’ve been working at Akso.

“How have I never seen you before?” he asked with pure and genuine curiosity in his voice.

“I don’t know. I usually work with obstetrics,” you shrug. Zayne hides a smile on his face. He likes that you help bring new life into the world. He’ll have to swing by during some downtime to see you in action.

Zayne shows up the next day even earlier just to see you. You walk out with headphones on, a small scowl on your face while you swipe through your phone. He watches you closely; he watches as a bee flies past your face and you don’t swat at it, instead smiling and waiting for it to pass before moving on.

You find out that Zayne asked around about you. You hid the blush on your face as Dave throws a note Zayne wrote at you. His kind words, and typical doctor handwriting, makes you swoon. Your icy heart melts ever so slightly.

Not even a week later, you get the request from your supervisor to be temporarily switched over to the Cardiac department. As soon as you arrive, Zayne is the first one to welcome you. While everyone else avoids you due to your bitchy reputation, Zayne is quick to show you around and introduce you to everyone despite there being no smile on your face.

Three months later Zayne asks you to be his girlfriend.

He asked you after a particularly stressful shift. He showed up to your apartment, which was surprisingly close to his place, still in his scrubs, and knocked on your door until you answered. Your hair was a mess from the deep sleep you were in matched with dark purple bags under your eyes. A yawn barely left your lips when Zayne broke the silence.

“I lost a patient today.”

“Oh…I’m so sorry, Zayne. That must have been really hard.”

“It was,” he nods and looks down at you, out of breath from running up the stairs to your door, “it made me think.”

“Yes? About what?” you raise an eyebrow and step through the door. He takes your hand and places it over his heart. His touch wakes you up, energy flushing through your body. Your eyes widen. His heart pounds inside his chest.

“Be my girlfriend.”

“What?”

“Will you please be my girlfriend?” Zayne’s voice is breathy yet steady. A small smile spreads across your face. You slowly nod.

“Yes. I would love to be your girlfriend.”

Maybe people aren’t so bad after all.

The two of you have fallen into a unique rhythm. It was convenient that the two of you worked at the hospital. Zayne even pulled a few strings for your shifts to line up, even going as far as to claim you as the Cardiac Unit’s main anesthesiologist.

Zayne slowly pushes through your icy interior, learning that you are one of the most caring and loving people he has ever met. You love your job as much as he does and also found out that you hate carrots, alongside eggplants and people who use the word ‘moist’. 

As the weeks pass, you notice that people still talk about you behind your back despite being much nicer to your face. Dave and the other anesthesiologists whisper about you when you leave the room and the nurses that work alongside Zayne always look at you like you are on the scum on the bottom of their shoes. It doesn’t bother you.

Or, at least you thought it didn’t.

You always pretended like their comments don’t mean anything to you. Zayne always moved to say something but you stopped him every time, telling him that it isn’t worth it. He always frowned when you said this but respected your choice, whisking you away to your secret place in the courtyard.

The nights you spend alone and away from him are the nights you cry yourself to sleep, the aching pain of their comments slicing into your skin, breaking the armor you built for yourself. You stayed up late those nights, staring at yourself in the mirror as the thoughts of self deprecation and sadness creeped throughout your body.

You sit in Zayne’s comfortable office, looking outside the window. A bird flies by while singing its song and chases after another, escaping your line of sight. His door is cracked open, having just steppe out for a moment. You click on your app, trying to clear the stage in the grocery store app Zayne installed for you. Your brows furrow together. The small carrot icons mock you, the third one nowhere to be found.

“Fuck you, carrots,” you murmur.

“Can you believe her?” a nurse by the name of Tabitha says outside Zayne’s door. Your ears perk up, head tilting in their direction.

“I know! How can he be with someone like her?”

Your heart sinks in your chest. Slowly pushing out of the chair, you inch towards the door. their voices grow louder. They are completely unaware of your presence lurking behind the wooden door. The more they speak, the more apparent it becomes that nobody in the hospital likes you. Everyone finds you weird, off-putting, crass, and obnoxious.

“She’s so weird! She’s probably blackmailing him to date her! How can a man like him ever go for a cold bitch like her?”

“I don’t know! Maybe she baby trapped him!”

“Cause that’s just what we need! Another version of her running around here!”

You sink away from the door, dissociating as you grab your purse. Another voice, male, comes into the mix. You don’t pay attention to it, though, and slip your phone and hospital I.D. into your bag, slinging it over your shoulder. Zayne’s office door creaks open and he kicks it closed behind him, a cup of coffee and hot chocolate in his hands.

“Sorry I’m late, my love, an intern needed help with a few questions,” Zayne’s calm voice makes your eyes sting. You keep your back to him, ashamed to even look at the man you love.

Is he aware of how the people in the hospital think of you? Does he even care that they wish nothing but the worst for you?

No…Zayne probably doesn’t know. After all, you’re just a woman who doesn’t care about what other people think, right? You’re an ice cold bitch who doesn’t have feelings so why should it even matter?

When you turn around, a pained expression on your face, Zayne pauses. You avoid his gaze, opting to look at the ground instead of him. He places the cups on the side table next to the door and immediately walks up to you. He takes the purse and places it on the chair, grabbing your hands, lacing your fingers together.

“What’s wrong, my love? Is everything okay?” Zayne asks despite the creeping suspicion that it has something to do with Tabitha and Tiffany on the other side of the door.

He was quick to put them in their place, yes, and reminded them of just how valuable and important you are to the team at Akso, but he didn’t think that you were paying attention to their words.

“I’m fine,” you groan. You try to peel your hands away from his but his grip remains firm. “Zayne, please, I need to go—”

“No, you don’t,” he retorts in a calm tone. “You offered to stay with me while I finished paperwork.”

Tears sting your eyes, threatening to fall. Shallow breaths leave your chest. Zayne pulls you to him, tucking your hair behind your ear. He presses a gentle kiss to your forehead.

The kiss soothes you, helping calm some of your anxiety, but it’s not enough to pull the knife that was lodged into your back. You close your eyes and press your forehead against his chest. You tremble in his arms. Zayne places his hand on the back of your head, smoothing down your hair. You listen to his heartbeat. Every beat urges your tears forward and eventually you begin to cry, the weight of everyone’s dislike towards you finally causing you to crumble.

“It’s alright, honey, I got you, let it all out,” Zayne coos. You shudder into his chest, hands weakly wrapping around him. You grab a fistful of his shirt and loosen it from its tight tuck into his pants.

“I don’t know why they hate me so much,” you cry out. Your tears dampen his shirt. He rubs circles into your back, a frown overtaking his face. “I mind my own business! I say good morning and wave! I even brought donuts one day like you suggested!”

“I know, dear, I know,” Zayne sighs. He places his cheek onto the top of your head, pulling you closer into his body.

After knowing you for the past few months, Zayne has fallen in love with every side of you. He adores the hard glare you give him when he wakes you up from your morning shift. He loves the small smiles whenever he surprises you with a sweet treat after a long night shift. He loves the way you melt into his embrace when you’re in bed at night ready to go to sleep.

And most of all, Zayne loves the sweet, sensitive girl that you hide away. The one that cares about everyone and wants to save the world. That is the woman he fell in love with, not the reputation that others thrust onto you.

“You don’t need them,” Zayne sighs into your hair. Your sniffle against his chest, not daring to move. “They clearly cannot see the amazing woman that you are, but they will soon. It takes time.”

“Why are you so nice to me?” you cry even more, hugging him ever closer to you. Zayne sighs and gives you a reassuring squeeze. “I don’t deserve you.”

You believed it, too. Zayne has always been so patient with you. He’s stuck by your side through thick and thin, waiting for you to let him in. It took awhile, yes, but he got there, finally penetrating the high walls you have built around yourself. He has been so kind and gentle with you, even reassuring you that he loves and cares for you when you silently needed it the most.

“You deserve me because I love you. I want nothing but the best for best for you, even if it means I have to give a stern lecture to those who hurt you,” Zayne’s tone is unusually light. It makes you laugh through your cries. He smiles and kisses the top of your head. You slowly pull away from him and he wipes away the tears from your face.

“Do you mean it?”

“Yes. I will talk to them if you want me to.”

“No, Zayne, I meant about you…loving me.”

“Oh,” Zayne smiles down at you. He nods. “Yes. I do love you. More than you can even imagine.”

“I love you too,” you smile. You stare into those beautiful hazel eyes of his and remember why he has been the only person to melt your icy exterior. “Thank you for being so patient with me. I’m…I’m trying.”

“I know, my love, and I will wait for you no matter how long it takes.”

please drop a like, reblog, & comment!! i love see what you all have to say <3

masterlist of works

[seungfl0wer]

*Daddy Felix*

Daddy Series:

Bangchan | Minho | Changbin | Hyunjin | Han | Felix | Seungmin | Jeongin

Contains Smut:

-💜

•So. So loving and supportive.

•You mean so very much to him, he talks about you so often.

•He’ll send you all the money in his account if you needed it.

•Loves taking you shopping but one of his favorites is taking you to build a bear.

•You both have a couple of sets made on your anniversary’s together.

•Stuffie king tbh.

•Also while on tour he’ll buy you so much.

•”oh they’d love this” he’d always say not even caring about the price.

•He’s constantly giving you little check in through the days as well. “How’s my darling angel doing today? Did you eat? Have you drank any water?”

•Never lie to him about it either cause somehow he always knows.

•Will send food to your house on the spot if he thinks you haven’t eaten.

•Along with that he loves leaving you sticky notes around so you could find them.

•They’re always super sweet things or just words of affirmation.

•He loves having you cuddled up to him while he games.

•If you play together he goes easy on you sometimes it’s just to see you pout knowing he’s not giving it his all.

•Oh and pouting? It could either get you away with anything or nothing.

•”Is my angel pouting? You know it’ll get stuck that way” he’d laugh.

•When you’re giving him attitude he kinda just finds it cute and laughs.

•Which can make it worse sometimes.

•He’s not one to shy away from cupping your face and scolding you in a sweet but oh so stern teasing way.

•One of his favorite ways to punish you is having you sit on “time out” while talking to you.

•He really likes to get under your skin at this time. Sitting beside you biting at your neck but part of the punishment is not being allowed to touch him.

ੈ♡˳Smut Below

•This goes for sexy time. If you were bad he’d make you sit on the bed/couch. While he slowly stokes himself.

•You’re gonna have to give a good apology and beg for him to let you touch him.

•It won’t take much to let him but on some days he’ll keep going until he cums making you clean it up before he helps you out. Maybe. If you’re good.

•Absolutely loves. Loves role play.

•Loves having you dress up it makes him absolutely feral.

•He also is one of them that likes the remote vibe while out.

•He’s evil fr. He’ll wait till you’re talking to turn it the whole way up.

•He might be an angel 80% of the time but god is he a little shit.

•Loves restraining you. Loves to overstimulate you seeing how many orgasms he can pull out of you.

•He talks so much too.

•”Darling if you can’t take it don’t give me attitude next time”

•”Too much? My love I know you can take it. Come on be a good girl for me”

•”God you look so beautiful, I’m gonna ruin you”

•”You know daddy loves you right? Yeah? He loves you and this perfect hole”

•Aftercare is full of talking and loving words.

•One of his favorite things to do is running a nice bath having you both lay in it together.

•His arms wrapped around you as he kisses your shoulder telling you he loves you.

•He’s a top one while doing the deed asking if you’re alright. He knows your limits so he doesn’t do it as often but there’s at least once or twice he still asks.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

💙 If you’d like to read more of my stuff you can find it Here: Master List . Thank you for reading and if requests are open or you just wanna talk feel free to send me something🩵

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[depravitycentral]

yandere, 18+

I know I write about this kind of stuff a lot, but there’s just something about men humping inanimate objects that just really gets to me.

It’s the desperation that they can't control. It's the physical urge to move, to feel something underneath them, their body physically unable to stop itself from fucking something. It's the way their hips snap and buck and jolt all without them meaning it, their body betraying them on the most primal level because their subconscious is recognizing that they need something warm and soft and oh so pretty to sink into, to rut against until he's smearing pearls of white against soft, supple skin. It's the uncontrollable need to hump themselves against you, really.

Fucking their fist and mechanically bringing their wrist up and down again and again until cum oozes from the tip is fine and dandy, but they need more. They need the full immersion of the fantasy of fucking you, their brain needing the mental images and the physical motions of thrusting, pretending with every fiber of their being that its your warm, wet cunt sucking them in, the velvety feel of your walls leaving phantom touches against his skin.

(Some of them even go so far as to scratch at their own back, eyes rolling to the back of their head imagining that it’s you leaving your mark on him, that it’s your nails digging into his skin and digging into him, making him yours yours yours. They'll pinch at their own nipples, press fingertips hard against their biceps, even wrap a hand around his neck hard enough to leave the area red and irritated just to simulate the way that you'd touch him.)

Pillows, cushions, blankets, anything soft that could be a poor stand-in for your body is fine. Anything that he can clutch onto, that he can press his hips against tightly enough to be suffocating, something that can mold to the shape of him just as you would - all just to really feel like he’s got every single inch stuffed inside of you, giving everything he possibly can to you.

Even hard things will do in a pinch - perhaps the cover of a book you love and cherish, the texture of the binding leaving a slightly painful sting behind that blends into the pleasure and makes his eyes roll back. (Will you still smell the pages and sigh at that old-book smell, or will you perhaps notice the new presence of something slightly musky, slightly heavy, unexplainably male?) Your hairbrush - rutting against the handle he knows you’ve fucked your self with, alternating between rutting against it and bringing it up to his mouth to suck on, eyes squeezed shut as he tried to taste any traces of you.

The only rule is that it has to be something of yours, or something that connects to you in some way. Your pillow, a few wayward strands of your hair sitting against the plush, feeling like heaven and making him blush when he sees the way his sticky cum has left the hairs smeared again his skin, tacky and stuck to him. (The sight makes him suck in his breath, gulping harshly as he comes down from his high, a thumb coming out to carefully, nervously brush at the hair, unable to stop himself from feeling like the sight is somehow so very right.)

It’s better when things are stained - your underwear with discharge discoloration bleaching the fabric, your favorite skirt that you accidentally stained during your period, even a particular pair of socks that you once got dirt on. It’s been used and loved by you, and now he’ll use and love it, too, even leaving his very own stain behind.

There’s just something about it that makes everything feel better, more complete, more real. Of course nothing will ever compare to actually fucking you, but desperate times call for desperate measures.

And of course, the pinnacle, when he really gets desperate, is when he whips out one of the many, many photographs he's taken of you. (Or, photos he'd printed out from your social media accounts because he's too shy to actually photograph you - and this is less creepy, right? Right?) He's touching it with delicate fingers, barely pinching onto the corners, laying the image down on his bed and positioning himself to be right over it. He'll take his time to trace the outline of your face with the tip, sighing and biting his lip, before the urge takes over and soon he's groaning, hips rutting against the smooth surface of the photograph - your face, really.

(The cool feeling and the twinge of pain he gets when he angles wrong and catches the edge of the photograph only makes him grit his teeth, eyes squeezing shut harder because he has to do this - he has to keep fucking, to keep pushing himself because he needs to come for you, you deserve and he wants to give it to you so badly and oh oh oh - The photograph of you smiling is almost prettier with globs of his cum staining your pearly teeth and the apples of your cheeks.)

It's just so depraved, but they can't help it - they just want you so badly that they can't help it.

(In particular I'm thinking of the chronic humpers - Kageyama, who gets so, so whiny, his voice going high and pitchy and his face turning a bright pink color as his abs clench and flex, each drag of his hips making his arms shake even more, sweat beading at his temple leaving his dark hair matted to his forehead.

Or Sugawara, who tends to lay onto his back, humping at the pillow from underneath, pressing the cotton so hard against his pelvis that his biceps are taut, back arching and Adam's Apple bobbing as he chants yes yes yes under his breath, one hand even coming up to blindly grope and squeeze at the air where he imagines your bouncing tits to be.

Or Giyuu, who's thrusts start out slow, hesitant, embarrassed, as if he can't believe he's been reduced to his, worried to sully your good name. But then his hips get faster and he's burying his face into the crook of his elbow, whispering out a stuttered, broken p-please accompanied by your name as he cum seeps into the pillow material.

Or Tomura, who has all the fancy sex toys in the world that he's found on the deepest, most questionable parts of the internet, but finds that nothing is a good stand in aside from your pillow. He starts off animalistic, mounting the pillow and smacking at it, imagining the way your pretty ass would bounce back and ripple at the motion. But then his orgasm draws closer and the thrusts get deeper, more meaningful, like he's trying to reach as deeply inside of you as possible, and his grip is almost unbearably tight as his orgasm washes over him, hips quivering and twitching as he imagines the way you'd clutch onto him and thank him.

Or Feitan, who's biting into the pillow as he cock drags against it, teeth bared and practically snarling into the (stained) cotton, dark eyes squeezed shut as he tries so very hard to not whine your name.

Or even, on very, very specific occasions, Chrollo, whose sense of dignity flies out the window when you deny his romantic advances once again. You're just playing so very hard to get, and while he's invested into the game for the long run, he's still just a man - and the image of you spread out underneath him, wearing lacy, angelic lingerie and spreading those creamy, supple thighs of yours is enough to drive him mad.

It's just pathetic enough to be sweet, really, and although you aren't exactly flattered when you walk in on him heatedly grunting your name with the pillow tightly clutched between his thighs, just know he's doing it for you. Everything he does is for you.

[eriace]

opposite of indifference ; tsukishima kei

oneshot & angst to fluff ↪ in which tsukishima kei pushes away the girl who quietly loves him, only to realize too late that she stopped showing up. he tries to win y/n back but keeps failing until he finally admits his feelings and slowly earns her forgiveness. ↷ tsukishima kei ; haikyuu

↳ an order of iced water + iced chai latte + frappuccino from anonymous in the comeback cafe event !

(author's note: my first three orders in one?? anyway, i don't really know if you wanted a sad ending or a happy one but you picked a "friends to lovers" troupe so i made it a happy ending. I HONESTLY LOVED WRITING THIS, I'M CRYING)

FROM THE VERY start, Tsukishima knew she liked him.

The way Y/n always waited after practice, pretending it was for Yamaguchi even though her gaze would flick to him. The way she'd hand him snacks she claimed were “extras,” or how she always found excuses to sit by him on the gym benches.

She was loud in the way she cared—always pushing, always trying to squeeze herself into the cracks he barely let others see.

And he hated it.

Not because she was annoying. Not even because she was overbearing.

But because she saw him, and he didn’t know what to do with that.

So he did what he always did—push people away.

He was colder than usual. Snapped at her over nothing. One day, when she showed up with two energy drinks and a stupid smile, he told her bluntly:

“You don’t have to keep showing up, you know. I’m not interested.”

The smile didn’t disappear right away. But it stopped reaching her eyes. And then… she stopped showing up.

No more bright greetings after practice. No more quiet cheers when he scored. No more dumb puns scribbled on sticky notes she left behind.

Silence.

Tsukishima told himself that was good. Easier. Less complicated.

Until he saw her laughing with the captain of the soccer team.

Her head tilted back, cheeks pink with cold, clutching some hot drink he didn’t buy her. He didn’t know the guy’s name. Didn’t care.

He hated him. He didn’t even realize he was glaring until Yamaguchi nudged him.

“You’re sulking.”

“No, I’m not.”

“You’re literally death-staring someone’s thermos.”

Kageyama, being painfully Kageyama, mumbled, “You liked her, didn’t you?”

“Tch. As if.”

But the words stuck in his throat like splinters.

It started to build slowly after that.

He noticed the little things. How her hair was longer now. How she laughed more freely with other people. How she never so much as looked his way anymore.

He hated that.

So, like an idiot, he tried to fix it.

Phase 1: Offer to walk her to class. Her response? “I’m good, thanks.”

Phase 2: Buy her favorite drink. “You don’t have to do that,” she said, not even looking up.

Phase 3: Ask her to the next match. “I’ve got something else planned.”

Rejection tasted worse than it looked.

“Karma,” Hinata sang one day. “You broke her heart and now she’s breaking yours.”

Even Kuroo, visiting during a practice match, gave him a pitying look. “You’re tall, smart, and decent-looking, and yet somehow this emotionally stunted? Tragic.”

Tsukishima wanted to bury himself six feet under.

But then, one night after practice, he saw her alone on the school rooftop.

The wind tossed her hair gently, and she leaned over the railing, face tilted to the sky. She looked tired. Not sad—just… worn.

For once, he didn’t overthink it.

He walked up slowly, standing beside her, keeping his gaze ahead.

“...I was an idiot,” he said.

She didn’t speak.

“You tried. You cared. And I thought… if I kept you at a distance, I wouldn’t have to care back. But I do.”

She blinked. The wind rustled again.

“You don’t get to come back when it’s convenient, Kei.”

Her voice cracked on his name, and it hurt more than any spike to the face.

But he nodded. “I know. I’m not asking for anything. Just…” he reached into his bag, pulling out the stupid strawberry drink she used to bring him, “I’m trying now. Even if I fail.”

She took the drink, hesitated, then looked up at him—really looked.

Her eyes shimmered in the dark.

“This doesn’t mean I forgive you.”

“I’ll earn it.”

It took time.

He started showing up where she was now. Waited after her club meetings. Left her notes. Cheered her on (awkwardly, stiffly, but still). He fumbled through compliments. Blushed when she teased. Took the hit every time she ignored him, only to try again the next day.

He became the version of Y/n from before. Relentless. Hopeful. Quietly burning.

And slowly, something shifted.

She smiled again. Sat by him at lunch. Talked about her day.

And one rainy afternoon, when he wordlessly handed her his umbrella without a single comment, she took it—then leaned in and whispered, “Finally figured it out, huh?”

Tsukishima flushed red.

“Shut up.”

But she laughed, and this time, it reached her eyes.

—

It wasn’t perfect. It never would be. But when she took his hand during a walk home, fingers lacing through his carefully, as if testing if he’d pull away again—

And he didn’t—

He figured, maybe love was worth being stupid for.

And this time, he wasn’t going to let her go.

© eriace ;; don’t repost my works.

[brainmuncher]

Danny would like to preface that this was entirely Vlad's fault. The fruitloop had made another harebrained scheme to kill off his dad and marry his mom… nothing new. What also wasn’t new was the three vultures in fez hats that he had to chase across the Nasty Burger’s parking lot after dismantling the whole plan. Vlad was a fruitloop after all so it only made sense that he’d do the same thing over and over and actually expect a different result.

What was new was the gun that Vlad had appeared with during the chase. He looked pissed that Danny had gotten away again and wasn’t aiming well. Unfortunately, Danny had Fenton luck so he eventually got hit by whatever the gun was firing. One of the vultures also got stuck in one of the stray blasts so he didn’t feel too bad about it.

It turns out it was shooting some sticky substance that was impossible to phase through. Vlad had walked over, said some eye roll worthy monologue, and cut the stuck vulture out with a concentrated ecto blast. He’d just been about to probably kidnap Danny for the millionth time when there was a screech of a van. A dozen or so GIW agents flooded the area and Vlad with the vultures made a run for it… leaving Danny behind. Because of the mysterious goo still holding him in place, he was an easy target for the GIW to “arrest”.

That's how he found himself thrown in the back of a white van in what could only be described as a dog cage, bundled with all sorts of restraints. His arms were pulled behind his back, his legs tied together, an actual muzzle on his face, and an extremely uncomfortable collar was on his neck. To put it lightly, Danny was not amused.

Before the doors had shut he heard the agents talking about transporting him to one of their facilities. Based on how much driving they had already done, it wasn’t a local one. Thankfully, Tucker and Sam have his ecto-signature, so they should be able to find him. It was just a matter of them getting a quick enough transport. They might end up calling Jazz to help which will be a huge pain later. No, he did not feel traumatized Jazz, this was more of an unfortunate field trip with the GIW than anything. Then again she was probably going to complain that he wasn’t taking things seriously again if he said that.

While thinking of ways he was going to try and escape his sister's overprotective meddling, the van came to a screeching halt. The stop was so sudden that he hit his head on the back of the cage. Grimacing at the injury, that was honestly pretty mild but he was feeling petty, he tried to listen to why they’d stopped. He could faintly hear the sounds of fighting outside the van. At first, he thought that he’d been found quicker than he thought, but then he heard the first gunshot.

An actual gunshot.

Now Danny knew that he wasn’t in Amity anymore, that point had long since passed, but hearing that was like a bucket of ice water. He’d only heard guns on TV or from those soldier guys at the parade before everything got replaced with ecto-guns. But something about hearing one again after so many years reminded him that he wasn’t home anymore. He didn’t even know where he was.

Despite having already tried to escape when they first put the restraints on, Danny once again began struggling to get out. The best start would be freeing his hands so he could at least see if he could find a weak point. He started to try and get his hands out in front of his chest but quickly found that it was easier said than done. Because of the way his hands were encapsulated in the cuffs and only ended at the lower wrist, he was finding it very hard to stretch far enough to get his arms underneath him. His shoulders ached as he pushed them past their limit, but another set of gunshots gave him the boost he needed to ignore it. Finally, he got his arms out from underneath him.

Before he could even think to celebrate, the doors to the van opened up. He reflexively used his arms to block the light from the outside. Once he blinked away the blinding change of light, he found himself blinking at a completely baffled person in a black ski mask.

“Johnny?” The person called out, turning away from Danny to presumably talk to someone outside the door. “I thought you said this was a truck full of money. There’s just some kid back here!”

Despite the danger he was in, Danny couldn’t help the indignation rise in him at being called a kid. He was sixteen for Pete's sake! He was firmly past the ‘kid’ stage and now in the ‘little shit’ age of his life. There’s a clear difference.

“What the hell are you talking about? This thing was scheduled to be guarded and transported just like any ol’ money transport. If you’re fucking with me-” The second person, who was wearing a blue ski mask, and man Danny didn’t know that they came in different colors how neat, paused after seeing him. “What the hell is this.”

Both of the men were just staring at Danny, who was now questioning just what was happening.

“You don’t think Flash set this up do you?” The one in the black mask asked, making the other one whirl to look at him like he asked if the moon was made of cheese.

“This is Keystone, not Gotham. Flash wouldn’t even consider something like this. This is something else entirely,” The person in the blue mask sighed, giving a sidelong look at Danny. “I say we bounce before Flash gets here. This one is a bust.”

The one in the black mask stopped the other one before they could get too far. Looking over their shoulder at Danny they gestured in his direction.

“Did you see how many guys they had guarding him? I think we could still make a good penny selling him,”

An uncomfortable feeling crawled up Danny’s spine. It was one that Vlad often made him feel when he was trying to get him to ‘denounce his father’. Objectified, Sam had once complained. She described that it was something she often felt whenever her parents forced her into some pink monstrosity. This somehow felt much more dangerous than when Vlad did it. Maybe it was the fact that Danny didn’t know what would happen, unlike with Vlad. Completely separated from his usual support and without a clue of what would happen, the threat loomed more fiercely than Danny was used to.

He started to subtly check the bands restricting his hands. There wasn’t any keyhole are keypad to open them, which meant there was probably a remote that one of the agents has… or had if they had been killed.

Suddenly one of the guys let out a startled cry that cut off. The other one disappeared, only for something to hit the truck a moment later.

“You’d think after taking over a van they wouldn’t just stand around in the street. It’s like they wanted to get caught,” A completely new voice joked.

With both guys gone, Danny could now clearly see the outside world. It was late, almost sunset outside. The buildings were completely unrecognizable. There were even some really tall buildings further in. He was in an actual city… Keystone if he remembers right.

“Let’s see what you were after,” The voice continues and steps in front of the open doors.

If not for the muzzle, Danny’s jaw would’ve dropped. This GIW field trip was turning into one hell of a time.

“Whoa hey, are you alright?” The Flash asked, already climbing inside the van to help.

At this point, this mind as well happen.

[redrosydiaz]

it is unbearably hot today, so i am thinking about buck and eddie, whose AC is very inconveniently out, and can’t be fixed until at least tomorrow. christopher is at a friend’s house, for the first pool party of the summer, lucky kid, meanwhile buck and eddie are stuck inside with every single fan they own plugged in on full blast — but even that’s not really helping much. the fans offer a nice breeze, but they’re also kind of just circulating the hot air that’s already inside, so it does very little to actually cool them down. eddie is wearing (sweating through, more like) a pair of basketball shorts and one of those thin, slutty black tank tops of his, meanwhile buck’s got on a pair of (teeny tiny) running shorts and no shirt — he lost his about an hour ago when the feeling of the fabric sticking to his back started to bother him too much.

they’re sitting on the couch together — shoulder to shoulder, thigh to thigh, even though it’s way too hot for that — because doing anything other than just existing is unthinkable in this heat. two fresh bottles of beer sit on the coffee table, condensation sweating down the sides and pooling into a slowly growing puddle on top of the coasters. there are also two discarded popsicle wrappers — because things got desperate enough that buck and eddie raided christopher’s popsicle stash in the freezer to try and cool down.

buck eats his popsicle with relish, chasing the cool relief it offers, brief as it is, with abandon. he eats it quickly, not minding the brain freeze it might prompt because, well, at least something will be frozen in this oven of a house. eddie, on the other hand, is a little more controlled about it. he takes his time with it, opting to savor every cool lick, every chilled bite. but, of course, in a temperature this hot, eddie’s popsicle is not winning the race against the heat, so, naturally, it starts to melt. eddie tries to catch the juice as it starts to run, but he’s not quick enough, and it ends up dripping all across his fingers, own his wrist, too. a few drops even land on his bare thigh, where his shorts have ridden up in his sprawl.

buck teases him about it, about not being fast enough, about making such a mess, but he also can’t take his eyes off of it. the sticky sweet fruit juice clinging to eddie’s knuckles, gathering in the webbing between his fingers, trickling over the delicate bones of his wrist.

eddie finishes the popsicle quickly after that, tossing the empty stick alongside buck’s on the coffee table. his hand is still raised in front of him, fingers spread as he examines the mess, laughing at it a little. he shifts, then, like he’s about to gather the energy to rise up and head for the kitchen, for the sink, to clean up.

and maybe it’s the heat getting to him, or maybe it’s just eddie, who always drives buck crazy, but just as eddie makes to stand, buck’s hand darts out to stop him. to curl around eddie’s forearm, to draw him back down onto the couch, to pull that messy hand towards himself.

eddie laughs again, opens his mouth to ask buck what the hell he’s doing, but his words die on his tongue as buck, without any preamble, folds eddie’s hand into a loose first and guides the two fingers he left sticking out right into his mouth.

eddie makes a choked noise, mind going blissfully blank as he gapes at buck — buck, who is going to town on eddie’s hand, just like he did that popsicle, only this time he’s taking his time with it. trailing his tongue carefully over eddie’s knuckles, in between his fingers, down the veins on the back of his hand, flat across his palm. 

it’s— it’s fucking intoxicating. makes eddie’s head swim more than it should be after just one beer and a popsicle. it sends a shiver down his spine that has nothing to do with the temperature. it’s from an entirely new heat coursing through eddie’s body. one he can feel building in his gut, licking into his veins, lighting up his nerve endings. something that is all buck.

once eddie’s hand is as clean as it can be, buck lets it go, and for a moment, eddie thinks that might be it. that buck will send him one of those cheeky smirks and settle back into his place beside eddie, perfectly content to start something and not finish it, the fucking tease. eddie wouldn’t put that past him. if there’s one thing buck loves, it’s riling eddie up.

but, buck doesn’t do that. 

he lets eddie’s hand go, and he starts to shift on the couch, but instead of returning to his previous sprawl, he turns fully towards eddie, scoots back, stretches out, then—

— he starts to lower himself. slowly, slowly, slowly, until he’s nearly flat against the couch, level with eddie’s lap. he’s mere inches from the unmistakable bulge eddie is now sporting in his shorts, close enough that eddie can feel each hot pant of breath against the inside of his thighs. he squirms in his seat, anticipation thrumming through his body.

one of buck’s hands moves towards eddie, and eddie’s breath catches in his throat — only, buck curls his palm around eddie’s hip, fingers pressing into the soft skin of his waist. and buck starts to lean down, but— instead of nosing at his trapped cock, like eddie half expected him to, buck drops his mouth open, wets his lips, then closes his mouth over the soft skin of eddie’s thigh — right where those few drops of popsicle juice landed. he laves at the skin, thick, slow strokes of his tongue, then sucks hard. hard enough to leave a new stain of red in its place.

eddie gasps, drops his head back against the edge of the couch. bites down hard on the inside of his cheek and does everything in his power not to jerk his hips up, to seek out some sort of pressure, some sort of friction. buck is so close, but, still, so far, too. and with each kiss, each bite, each new bruise he sucks into eddie’s sensitive skin, eddie feels his resolve slipping. 

and then, buck’s grip loosens on his hip, and his hand starts to snake its way up. up eddie’s abdomen, catching the hem of his tank top and taking it with him, pushing it up his stomach, up his ribs, up his chest until it’s bunched near his collar. he presses his hand to the center of eddie’s chest, palm flat, fingers splayed, and then, in one fluid motion that eddie’s sluggish brain can’t quite comprehend, he finds himself suddenly flat on his back on the cushion, buck half straddling him and poised above him.

and then buck’s ducking down to catch eddie’s mouth in a kiss. hot and wet and luxurious. slowly, his body presses down into eddie’s, pinning him to the couch with his weight. and, it’s way too hot for this, to be crushed together like this, flush at every point possible, but buck doesn’t care, and eddie doesn’t care either, is, in fact, clutching at buck’s back, holding him down on top of him. buck’s practically mounted atop eddie’s thigh, one of his own wedged between eddie’s legs, his other trapped between eddie and the couch. their hips move against each others in a lazy, lethargic grind. it’s too hot to pick up a really good rhythm, but good god, if this isn’t perfect anyways. they’re working up even more of a sweat, their skin sticking together where it’s touching, clothes soaked through. their kissing is barely even kissing anymore, just the two of them pressed together, panting into each other’s mouths, until buck trails his wet mouth across eddie’s cheek and buries his face into eddie’s neck. he breathes in the musk of him, presses his open mouth over eddie’s sweat-slick skin. his tongue lolls out, laps up the salt clinging to eddie’s heated skin. he sucks bruise after bruise into the crook of it.

they keep that up, that languorous grind until they’re both on the edge, and it only picks up the pace then, turning into something more desperate, something more frenzied in these last few moments, before they both fall over the edge, making even more of a mess of themselves as they come in their shorts.

they collapse into one another, as the highs of their orgasms start to fade. and it’s— it’s gross, probably. the both of them still slick with sweat and spit and now come, too. but it’s so hot, still, and neither of them want to move. not yet. so they just lie there, on the couch, a total mess. it is uncomfortable — buck’s body is heavy, on top of him, and eddie can feel both of them sweating in places he didn’t even know they could sweat. but— he kind of loves it. 

he kind of loves buck. obviously. 

so he doesn’t move. and buck doesn’t move. and they just, bask, in each other. in their sweat. in their stink. 

until finally finally, eddie doesn’t even know how much later, buck starts to squirm, and he lifts himself up onto his elbows over eddie, leans down for a kiss, then tells him they should probably go shower. and, eddie still kind of doesn’t want to move, still kind of just wants to lie here with buck, melding together. but, he nods, agrees. lets buck get off of him, and then takes buck’s hand when it’s offered, and he lets buck lead him into the bathroom—

—where they squeeze into their shower together, turn the water on cold enough, and proceed to get messy in a whole new way.

[liesonmytongues]

Figured it was about time to post some of my writings since I made this blog specifically for them. Here's a request for a fic on AO3

MILF! Slime girl x Male! Reader

Synopsis- Hot older slime woman goes on a date with you that ends in insane sex

Warnings/CWs- Egregious smut, extremely inaccurate/impossible biology, unrealistic sex and biology, breast expansion, throat fucking, multiple orgasms, cunnilingus, possible body horror (she does some crazy shit), thigh and breast fucking, biting, human/monster romance, Male reader, dirty talk, rough sex

Word count- 3,800

She’s perfect. Perfect in every way- you've never met a woman better than her. And sure, maybe part of that was because she was a slime lady, and you’ve been interested in monster women for a really long time- but this is different, she's just…everything. The first time you saw her was a few days after she'd moved in- she'd been standing outside, tending to the garden that had been totally empty for months- with a kid on her hip and a pretty yellow sundress that stuck to her thighs and tits like a second skin. Every time she touched a plant, she got a little bit of ooze on the leaves. Every time she stepped, it made a plop noise and left behind a sticky footprint, threads of slime connecting her to the ground before snapping. And when she bent over? You got the most perfect view of her pretty tits, bulging out the top of her dress like if she bent over just a tiny bit more they'd pop out. You weren't even able to say hi that day because of how hard just looking at her made you- spending the rest of the night stroking your cock to thoughts of thrusting between her beautiful tits, feeling her slime squish and mold your cock to her body like she was made for you.

She's absolutely perfect.

You weren't even sure she'd want you considering what you were sure was a big age gap- she had baby pudge and rolls and little wrinkles, plus the toddler has to make her at least 10 years older than you, probably closer to 15- but hell, no one gets anything if they don't ask for it, right? So- once you’d had a very long shower to make sure you didn’t embarrass yourself -you asked her on a date. She accepted of course, and after a conversation about how well you’d treat her and where you would go, she got a babysitter and you were on your way. The date went perfectly, and besides a couple close slip ups where you could’ve sworn she was teasing you on purpose, you were the perfect gentleman- you even walked her back to her house at the end and kissed her on the doorstep.

Which is what led you here.

“I’ve never- y’know, uh…” You started and vaguely gestured at her body, kicking off your shoes. She’d basically yanked you inside as soon as you kissed her- pressed you against the door while you tried shoving her in the direction of her bedroom. She won out. Or, more like you couldn’t fight her any longer when your pants were so tight and your zipper was starting to hurt where it pressed into your tip.

“You’ve never had sex?” And she had the gall to smirk and laugh- her body jiggled with it, and little drops of slime slid down her arms and legs and wetted your shirt. Fuck, the ones on her legs looked almost like cum…

“No! No- I’ve just… I’ve never had sex with a slime girl before. Or like…an older woman.” She scoffed at ‘older woman’ and rolled her eyes, but she didn’t stop touching you- so you hadn’t fucked it up yet.

“Oh, well that’s not an issue, is it, baby?” She shrunk down to her knees, making a soft, squishy ‘plop!’ when she landed, and you almost moaned from the visual alone. Every time she touched your pants it left a little wet spot before absorbing back into her, making it feel like you were being caressed directly through your clothes.

“Mmm- ffu-ck,” She moaned when she slipped down the top of her dress, her big, slick tits popping out and hitting your thighs. Your cock has never been this hard in your life, and when she finally got around to unzipping your pants, it basically slapped her in the face.

“Ahh, so eager! See, I knew this wouldn’t be a problem.” She leaned forward, barely gripping your base and rubbing her lips and cheeks against all the skin she could reach. Just sliding her face up and down your shaft felt like humping between a human girls’ thighs, drenching you in her- getting you all slicked without so much as a lick. You already felt like a mess, but it was when she started suckling on your head and stroking the rest of your length that you actually choked up a sound.

“Oh god, you feel so good- fuck, suck it-” Her eyes turned up and she stared at you, lidding every time she took your cock a couple inches deeper. You couldn’t look away, fighting back the urge to close your eyes from how good it already felt- which meant you got the full view of when she sat up a little taller, sliding your erection between her tits. It was hard not to buck your hips directly into her face, especially when she squeezed them together so perfectly. Every time her nipples rubbed on your stomach and thighs, she moaned like a whore, trying to play with them while also keeping a tight hole for you to thrust into. Could she cum like this? It was around then that you could feel slime starting to drip onto your foot, unable to tell if it was just her body or if her pussy was really that wet already- but fuck, you don’t care.

You reached down to help her- to grope her and squeeze that beautiful rack like she clearly wanted -but you froze when you touched them. They were getting bigger. Expanding in your hands, squishing between your thighs and nearly engulfing your balls- and it suddenly struck you that you could see it. See your cock through her slightly transparent body, see the globes squeezing your shaft tighter- they didn't even look like they fit her body anymore. Too big to be proportionate on any woman, you couldn't imagine she would even be able to stand in this state- they'd just cause her to fall face first, with her gorgeous ass up in the air for you to take.

You didn’t care if it was quick- this was too much!

“I'm gonna cum- fuck you're gonna make me cum-” You groaned, tossing your head back and grinding your hips as much as possible with her body pinning you back into the door. Your voice was getting embarrassingly higher pitched with every noise you couldn’t hold back, fucking just your tip into her mouth and lightly slapping her lips every time your cock throbbed. It felt so good! A million times better than your imagination could ever provide during late nights rubbing your cock raw at the thought of this exact scenario. Minus the expanding- that was a welcome surprise

You were cumming before you even had a chance to pull away, gasping and shooting your load over her tits and chin, drenching her. You could watch it drip down her neck, into the crevice of either giant breast and nearly to her navel.

“Really? You haven’t even- ah -touched me yet and you blow your load, j-just like that?” She huffed, still panting and moaning softly, flicking her own nipples and groping herself to get off, licking the cum off her lips while you stood there. You were gonna say something back- something snarky or a rebuttal so she didn’t just get away with making fun of you, but as soon as you opened your mouth she was on her feet and yanking you down the hall. To her bedroom, you realized after a minute.

“Shut up…” You murmured too late to have any bite. Her room was nice, with a big, perfectly made bed smack in the center and a connected bathroom off to the side. You wondered briefly what the rest of the house looked like- where her kid slept, if she had a home office, what her kitchen looked like- but you snapped out of it when she got on the bed with a giggle, laying on her stomach and watching while you undressed. Your pants were sticky from her slime, and you had a hard time peeling them off for a couple of minutes- the strands connecting your thighs to the fabric like saliva might during a kiss. It should’ve felt gross, but the visual of her on her knees, making you that way, just made your cock twitch as you finally got the pants down to the floor. Her mouth suddenly sucking you off was another surprise- considering she was, obviously, on the bed, and you had to have been at least two feet away. You had expected her to have just climbed off the bed without you noticing, but looking at her, that clearly wasn’t the case.

She had turned herself over onto her back, neck stretched at least a foot further than should have been possible- bulging where your cock was nestled down her throat and truly making her look like the monster she was. Just like with her tits, you could make out every detail of your shaft as it slid up and down, contorting her textured esophagus and forcing slime between her lips, dripping down your balls and taint.

“God- you’re such a w-whore- did you need to suck me off so bad that you had to- fuck -mutilate yourself like that?” She whimpered in response, grabbing your hips and manually grinding you into her mouth. You were still sensitive, but she was managing to get you hard again. Really, it didn’t take much- all things considered you’re a little surprised you didn’t blow your load as soon as she started kissing you. Never in your life have you been this turned on, never have you had so many of your most depraved fantasies fulfilled all at once- this is heaven.

“Yeah? Want me to fuck your face? Want me to bruise your throat, feel it every time you swallow?” This has to be a blessing. God you think you might be in love- in love with that soft, wet throat, with the way her tits and pudge and rolls bounce more and more the harder you thrust- your balls slapping her face and making slick ‘plap’ sounds loud enough to nearly drown out her moans and whimpers- every sound sending vibrations through your cock

“Dirty whore- fucking slut, take it- take it, take it-” You aren’t entirely sure when you bent over, but all of a sudden your face is pressed into her thighs, fucking her face, kissing and biting as best you can on slime. Your teeth sink into her like it's nothing, and she just keeps moaning- does she feel pain the same way you do? Does she even need to breathe considering she hadn’t tapped you or tried to pop off your dick yet? It doesn’t matter- you just keep biting and sucking and licking her thighs, pushing them together and burying your face in the crevice. God you want to fuck them- want to shove your cock into them, slide her panties to the side and rub your head against her clit. Want to fondle her tits and make her cum-

“Cumming- cumming again, fuck- swallow it, c’mon-!” You really need to stop getting so carried away with those thoughts. This time, every single gush went down her throat- you could see her swallow. See her throat constrict and milk cum out of your weeping cock, see it go all the way down and settle in her stomach, feel her continue swallowing until you physically couldn’t cum anymore. Only then did she stop, letting you soften and slip out between her lips.

“Ahh- god! Fuck me already! You’ve cum twice and I haven’t even cum once!” She rubbed her thighs together for emphasis, and with your face still right in front of them, you could see her slick- her actual slick, not just her slime -dribble out from under her panties. They were soaked. You had no doubt that if you tried, you’d probably be able to wring them out.

“What, did I suck you dumb? Did your mind come out with everything else?” Fucking hell, it’s not clear whether her attitude is from her age or just being horny, but it’s definitely doing it’s job of making you want to fuck her speechless. It’s not your fault she makes you like this!

“I’m getting to it! It’s not easy when you keep doing that before I even get around to touching you!” This is fun, it really is, but you’re just getting frustrated not being able to do what you want.

“Can’t believe you have such an attitude when you’re the one who basically forced yourself on me.” You murmured, circling the bed and climbing between her plump thighs. The bite marks from earlier were just barely visible, her body already mostly healed up the holes, leaving just little indents. Too bad, but not a problem, you can always make more.

You needed at least a couple minutes to recover, so maybe now you could work on that attitude of hers. Because her body didn’t really have bones or muscle or, like, really anything that made it keep its shape, you were able to take her legs and push her forward until she was bent in half- her calves nearly behind her ears and her ass and pussy up in the air and spread wide. She helped by grabbing the back of her knees, pressing them to her chest and keeping herself spread open like it was the easiest thing in the world while you dove in- licking stripes up her cunt to finally get a taste of her sweet slick. Being see-through made it a tiny bit harder to find her clit, but you got there after a minute, and, figuring she’d probably been edged enough, jumped headfirst into sucking it into your mouth. She wailed as soon as you did, tossing her head back before forcing it forward again so she could look at you.

The angle was a little awkward, but you managed to keep eye contact while you ate her out, moaning into her cunt and watching her try so hard not to let her eyes close in pleasure. She was starting to tear up, whining and moaning and crying out how good you were making her feel every time you sucked or licked stripes up her pussy. Her body was drooling for you too, it was almost difficult to lap at it all, half of her juices getting on your lips and chin and dripping down your neck or her ass. It was almost as good as actually fucking her.

“Fu-uck, fuck, baby, yes-! Oh g-god please, please, please, need your cock!” She cried again, bucking her hips into your face like she was out of control. Your cock had definitely taken interest again, rubbing at the sheets and begging for attention- and if she was asking for it, who are you to deny her? So with her body still bent in half, you started pressing at her cunt.

At first you didn’t mean to just rut between her thighs, but her body and pussy were so wet that it was making it hard to thrust inside- and you realized how good it felt after the third try. Your tip was bumping her clit just like you’d been imagining earlier, and if you pressed her thighs together just tight enough, it almost felt like being inside. Her knees fell onto your shoulder, and you had to wrap both of your arms around those pretty thighs to squeeze them together enough for your liking. Every time you rut against her clit, she wailed and moaned in higher and higher pitches- her pussy spasming against your shaft, begging for you to put it inside already. And humping between her thighs, spreading her lips, bumping her clit every time you thrust, was how she came.

Her back arched off the bed so far it would have snapped in any normal human, mouth gaping wide and legs trembling over your shoulder. Her cum dribbled down her thighs, furthering the mess on the sheets where you'd been eating her out a second ago.

She was having trouble even making sound, too caught up in her orgasm to so much as moan- reduced to gasping and chest spasms until she finally started to come down from her high. You hadn't even known women could cum that hard, let alone ever seen it outside of porn. Fuck everything else from that night- this was the hottest thing you've ever seen.

“Jesus- Christ-” She was laughing in between pants when she could actually talk again. Everything about her looked entirely blissed out- like she was floating on air -and you were struck with the fact that you did all that. You made her this way. Your dick shouldn’t be so hard after everything- but you’d be a damn liar if you said it wasn’t.

She didn’t get any time to relax before you flipped her onto her stomach, her body squelching again with the impact and again when you thrust inside her- needing to grip your cock and spread her pussy to be able to. She was so warm inside, and you found yourself again forcing her body forward until her lower back was nearly touching her shoulders- holding her calves to your chest and fucking her like a wild animal. You were so out of it that you didn’t even notice when her body started changing again until you fell forward, what used to be her legs fusing behind your back, making it hard to keep thrusting. It was like she never wanted you to stop, and the throbbing of her soaked cunt just added to it.

She’s still perfect in every way. Better than any woman you’ve ever met- ever fucked. Better than any fantasy. The shlick sound of your cock fucking in and out, the slapping of your balls against your clit that made her cry and moan and yell, the rough panting that made your lungs ache and her skin even slicker- nothing will ever live up to now. Her pussy keeps clenching around your shaft, spasming every time a gush of slick drips down her folds and makes your thighs as wet as being drenched in lube- making your thrusts even more obscene.

It’s like having sex with a pornstar- someone who has all the experience in the world and all the confidence to use it. She was made to be fucked by you. Made to take your cock over and over, made to cum around you and use her body to force you to keep going. Tendrils of slime slithered out of her torso and around your thighs, wrapping hard around your arteries and making you feel dizzy with the pleasure and loss of circulation- and at the same time, you could swear she was getting smaller. Your hands more easily wrapped around her waist, your cock gripped ever tighter, the bulge in her stomach getting bigger, moving up- she was forcing you to go harder, to push your cock past where it should possibly have been able to go. It felt like you could push into her womb if you tried hard enough- fuck, with her biology, you probably could. Her body wanted you to jackrabbit her cunt until you couldn’t cum anymore, drain you dry and then keep going.

“Ah! Ah! F-uck! Fuck me! Cum inside-” You yanked her torso up, wrapping one arm around her waist and using the other to grope her perfect, stunning, massive tits, rolling her nipples between your fingers- and she came again from the stimulation, screaming your name. Her pussy spasming and squeezing so hard you couldn’t pull out, a sudden spray of liquid absolutely destroying any bedding that was still clean- she was squirting on you. You couldn’t hold back after the sudden pressure- pulling her flush to your chest and cumming deep inside -your cum visibly shooting through her ribbed inside and against her cervix.

And promptly falling directly on top of her, face first into the ruined sheets. Your body was past the point of exhaustion- you couldn’t keep going. And seemingly, neither could she. Little, overstimulated moans and whimpers escaped her mouth, her body jolting and smaller waves of squirt leaking out of her hole- you’d be shocked if either of you would be able to move in the morning.

“Thank you- thank you…” Kissing her gently, rolling both of you over and gently pulling out of her abused cunt- eliciting another whine. You peppered more kisses over her face and neck, careful to put your hands somewhere that wouldn’t keep stimulating her poor body- even if that was a bit of a challenge considering how sensitive she is.

“I need to get up- need to clean us up. C’mon…” You pried softly at the tendrils and fused legs still wrapped around your entire lower body, but she was reluctant to let go.

“I’ll be right back.” A few more kisses.

“You promise?” She turned her face so you would kiss her lips.

“Promise, I’ll come back and stay the night.” You did what she wanted, leaving a long, soft kiss to her lips, waiting for her tendrils to go back and her legs to reform. It took a couple of minutes, and some more sweet words, but when her body eventually went back to normal, you were able to stand on wobbly feet and find her bathroom. You're not sure how exactly slime people bathe, or if they can even use towels and the like without getting absorbed or something, but you did find a soft cloth. You wiped yourself off first, hissing at the feeling of something on your oversensitive cock and thighs- then rinse, wring, repeat. Your new lover was exactly where you’d left her, and the only movements she gave you while you cleaned her up were twitches and little whines of ‘too much’ when you wiped a particularly sensitive spot. It was easy, and when you were both somewhat clean- and had somehow managed to yank the sheets off the bed and lay a clean blanket down -you finally went back to her and gave her what you promised.

Her whole body wrapped around yours, doing the same thing as earlier and fusing together, forcing you to stay still. You probably wouldn’t be able to convince her to let you go again, so it was best to accept it- and as soon as you did, you could hear her softly snoring.

You weren’t far behind, holding this perfect woman to your body, sinking your fingers into her slime, and letting yourself rest.

[hummingbird24220]

HELLOOOO I'm the one who submitted the req where reader drowns...IT WAS SSOOOO GOOD JDJDISJDJSIJFN

anyways i have something else in mind....okok... reader is like superrrrr sick like 110 degrees fever type shift and everyone figures that out (unfortunately) when reader just....falls to the floor and doesn't have enough energy to get back up and the crew has to take care of them and sanji mayhaps uses reader being unconscious as a chance to touch their face and stuff uhhh yeah ilyilyily

erm all platonic...make sanji a perv.....and can reader have a older brother? a protective one?

UHHH YOU DON'T HAVE TO ANSWER IF YOU DON'T WANT TO

Hello! Sorry it took so long - as mentioned on my previous posts, ive had a lot in draft form but not edited to publish! Just getting to it now <3 Hope you like it ^^

Boiling Point

Sanji x Reader

The sun had barely climbed past the horizon, golden and soft, and you were already sweating buckets. Not from the usual humidity, not from exertion. Just... existing felt like swimming through lava. But you pushed through it—because when didn’t you push through?

You swayed as the ship gently rocked, the world blurring around you in watercolor streaks. You tried to hide it—joking, smiling, brushing off any worried glances. Until your knees buckled mid-step and you crumpled to the Sunny’s deck like a puppet with its strings cut.

"Oi!" Luffy blinked, completely unprepared.

"Shit—(Y/N)!" Usopp scrambled to your side as Zoro cursed and dropped his weights.

Chopper was already sprinting over. "Move, move! Let me see—ahhh!! Your temperature’s off the charts!" His tiny hooves trembled as he checked your vitals. “They’re at 110°F—that’s not just a fever, that’s a boil-your-brain fever!!”

"Why the hell didn’t they say anything?!" Nami hissed, crouching beside you, brushing hair off your sticky, flushed forehead.

"They did say something," Robin said gently, standing behind her. "Just not with words."

Sanji was the last to approach. He held back, drying his hands on a kitchen towel, lips pressed thin. But when no one was looking—when Chopper was busy yelling about rehydration and cold compresses and moving you inside—Sanji knelt down. Carefully. Reverently.

You were unconscious. Soft little breaths escaping your parted lips. Your cheeks were burning with fever, lashes fluttering like you were stuck in some nightmare loop.

Sanji swallowed hard.

Just a touch.

Just once.

His hand, warm but far gentler than it had any right to be, brushed along your cheek, then traced your brow to smooth the sweat-matted hair back. "Mon trésor..." he whispered, thumb ghosting across your temple.

"I’ll make you a broth so good it'll heal your soul, I swear..."

He hovered a second longer, resisting the urge to kiss your knuckles.

Then—

"Oi. Blondie."

Sanji jerked like he'd been shot. A broad-shouldered figure stood at the foot of the galley steps, arms crossed and glaring down at him.

Your older brother.

Not crew. But very much present. And very much glowering.

"I saw that."

Sanji cleared his throat, rising smoothly. “Just checking their temperature,” he lied.

“Uh-huh.” Your brother’s voice was flat as a cutting board. “With your mouth, eventually?”

Sanji chuckled, awkward. “Wouldn’t dream of it. Not while they're sick.”

“Not while they’re asleep either.”

“...Right.”

A long, heavy pause. Then:

“They like soup,” your brother muttered, softer this time. “Lentil and ginger. Makes them sleep.”

Sanji blinked, surprised.

He nodded, just once. “Got it. You... sit with them. I’ll cook.”

-

You drifted in and out of consciousness, sweat-soaked and buried in blankets, head pounding. At one point, you thought you felt someone brush your cheek. And a soft, baritone hum. Not your brother’s.

Warmth bloomed in your chest—fever aside.

Even half-dead, you could still feel it.

Someone was watching over you.

And damn if their cologne didn’t smell divine.

-

The next few days passed like a heat-haze dream—dizzy, slippery, and hard to hold on to. You drifted in and out, waking for brief moments of lucidity that never lasted more than a handful of minutes. Every time you opened your eyes, it felt like the ship had tilted, the world shifting just a little too fast.

But there was always someone there.

Chopper came and went like a determined little whirlwind—checking your temperature, giving you fluids, muttering frustrated reindeer curses under his breath. At one point, you were sure he slapped Luffy’s hand away from trying to draw on your face. ("They’re not a doodle pad, Luffy!")

Nami was a surprising constant, gentle hands sponging sweat from your skin when you felt clammy and disgusting, quietly murmuring, “Don’t worry, no one’s seeing anything.” She wiped down your face, your chest, your arms—never once making you feel exposed. “Just hang in there, okay?”

Zoro kept watch outside the door when he wasn’t training. You heard him once, grumbling to Sanji: “If they die, you better not cry loud enough to wake the whole sea.”

“They’re not gonna die,” Sanji had growled back. “Not on my damn watch.”

You weren’t always conscious enough to speak, but you felt him.

Sanji.

Always there.

Even when you were barely tethered to reality, there was the smell of sea salt and cigarettes and spices. You’d wake up to soft rustling sounds—he was brushing your hair back, or changing the cold cloth on your head. Once, you cracked your eyes open and found his head on the bed beside yours, arms folded, chin resting next to your hand. He was asleep. You must’ve been dreaming. Because you could’ve sworn he was holding your fingers between his.

He did that often.

Touching you only when he thought no one was looking.

The fourth day, the fever had broken, but you were still weak. Everything hurt. The sweat felt gross. You managed to croak something—probably half a sentence—and next thing you knew, Nami had helped you out of the clingy clothes and wiped you down with a warm cloth. You were too tired to be embarrassed.

"You're getting better," she told you. "Bit by bit."

You blinked at her, and she smiled. "The boys are worried sick. Sanji hasn’t left this room for more than twenty minutes. Not even to cook."

"...'m sorry," you mumbled.

"Don't be dumb," she said gently. "You're loved."

That evening, things were calm. Too calm.

You were asleep again, body still heavy with fatigue, curled in the nest of blankets that Robin and Chopper had padded around you. The lantern light was low. Everything smelled like citrus and broth and you felt… okay. Not good. But not dying.

Sanji was seated by your bedside, quiet and still, holding your hand in both of his.

Your hand, so limp in his warm fingers, like you'd trusted him even in your unconsciousness.

He rubbed his thumb along your knuckles slowly, like a prayer, staring down at you with a softness that could kill.

"I’m not trying to cross any lines," he whispered. “I know they’d tear me in half. Especially your brother. But gods, sweetheart… you’re making it so hard not to fall deeper.”

"Let go of their hand."

Sanji froze.

Your brother stood in the doorway, eyes shadowed and arms crossed, jaw ticking like a time bomb.

Sanji rose, still gentle, but firm. “I wasn’t doing anything.”

"You think I’m blind? You’ve been hovering like a lovesick vulture since they collapsed.”

“I’m taking care of them.”

“You’re making it weird.”

“They’re not yours to guard like some dragon over treasure!” Sanji snapped suddenly, voice cracking like flint. “I haven’t touched them beyond holding their hand!”

“You think I don’t know what kind of guy you are?” your brother barked, stepping closer. “I see the way you look at them. Like you’re already undressing them in your head!”

“I respect them,” Sanji hissed. “I’d never do anything they didn’t want—”

“Because they’re asleep, Sanji. They can’t say yes. Or no.”

Your name slipped from Sanji’s mouth like a guilty prayer.

The voices were loud. Angry. Too angry.

And it dragged you from sleep like being pulled from underwater.

You blinked, throat dry, the world grainy and spinning.

“S…stop…”

Two grown men froze mid-argument and whipped their heads toward you.

You looked at both of them, eyes half-lidded and voice hoarse. “Don’t yell… headache…”

Your brother was at your side in an instant. “I’m sorry. I’m here. It’s okay—”

Sanji stayed where he was, shame etched across his face, unable to meet your gaze.

But you reached your hand out toward him, shaky and slow.

His eyes widened.

You didn’t say anything else.

You didn’t have to.

Your hand rested, palm up, between them.

Waiting.

And Sanji took it.

Even your brother couldn't argue with that. Not out loud, anyway.

-

You were finally sitting up.

Propped against a stack of pillows, a soft blanket tucked around your legs, and an untouched bowl of soup resting on the side table. The fever had broken for good now, but everything else ached. Joints, muscles, eyelids—it was like your entire body had been wrung out and left to dry on the Sunny’s mast.

But at least you were awake. Present.

The breeze from the cracked window was cool on your skin, the scent of ocean salt and lemon cleaner drifting in with it. Chopper had stopped fussing (barely), and now it was just you… and your brother.

He sat beside the bed, elbows on his knees, fingers steepled under his nose. That familiar furrow was back on his brow—the one you remembered from when you scraped your knees as a kid or came home past dark.

"...You gonna say it or just look constipated all afternoon?" you rasped.

Your voice wasn’t croaky anymore—just tired. But there was enough of your usual bite in it to make him sigh.

He leaned back and crossed his arms.

“I don’t like that cook.”

You blinked. "Wow, what revelation. Guess the fever’s not the only thing that broke."

He frowned. “I’m serious. I’ve seen how he acts. The flirting. The hearts in his damn eyes. The nosebleeds. You’ve got no idea how guys like that think.”

“Oh, I think I do,” you replied softly.

He glanced at you—cautious. Waiting.

You let out a sigh and leaned your head back against the pillow, letting your gaze drift to the ceiling, the timbers above creaking softly with the ship's movement.

“Sanji’s… yeah, he’s a flirt. He’s dramatic. He’d probably marry a tomato if it was in a short enough skirt.”

You heard your brother snort faintly.

“But when I was half-dead,” you continued, quieter now, “he didn’t do anything inappropriate. He stayed. He held my hand. Talked to me like I was gonna wake up. Like I mattered. Not like a fantasy. Like a person.”

Silence.

“I adore him,” you said, voice sincere and a little dreamy. “He’s a bit of a mess, but he’s my mess. I trust him. Completely. And he’d never do anything I didn’t want.”

There was a long pause. You glanced over.

Your brother was quiet. Still staring at the floor.

Then, finally—he stood.

You blinked. “...What?”

He didn't answer. Just walked to the door, pulling it open—

—and immediately stopped.

Because there, pressed shamelessly flat against the frame like a blonde gargoyle, was Sanji. One eye wide. The other squished from impact. Probably had been eavesdropping since the word "adorable."

He froze.

Your brother stared at him.

Up.

Down.

Up again.

He didn’t say a word—just gave him a sharp, assessing once-over… and then, after an agonizing beat, let out a grunt, patted him once (hard) on the back, and muttered, “Don’t be an idiot,” before walking off down the hallway.

Sanji stared after him.

“…Did I just get blessed or threatened?”

You laughed—soft and wheezy, but full of affection.

“Both,” you coughed out.

He was by your side in an instant.

“Mon dieu, I thought I was gonna explode if I couldn’t come in,” he breathed, kneeling by the bed. “You—you really said all that?”

“‘Course I did,” you smiled, eyes half-lidded but warm. “It’s not a fever dream anymore. I meant it.”

Sanji looked like you’d handed him the One Piece wrapped in silk.

“You’re... you’re incredible,” he whispered, brushing your hand with his thumb like you’d break if he held on too tight. “And if you let me… I’ll prove to you that I’m worth all that trust.”

You closed your eyes and leaned your forehead gently into his palm. “I know you are.”

He kissed your knuckles, trembling with restraint.

“…Not marrying a tomato, by the way,” he murmured, grinning.

“Damn. There goes the competition.”

-

You were finally back on your feet.

Still wrapped in a blanket most of the time like a sad little burrito, still groaning when you bent the wrong way—but walking. Breathing. Living.

The sea breeze didn’t sting anymore. The sunlight didn’t hurt your eyes. And the food—Sanji’s food—actually tasted like something again instead of cardboard in broth.

Your steps were slow but steady across the Sunny’s deck. It felt like relearning your body. Every muscle ached like it was fresh out of storage. But you didn’t walk alone.

Sanji was there. Always.

A hand at your back when you swayed. A guiding arm around your shoulders when you took the stairs. His fingers curled gently around yours as if he had to be touching you in some way—just to make sure you were still here. Still his to protect. Still real.

And you let him.

No, you welcomed it.

You leaned into every soft brush of his palm, every whispered “careful” and every murmured French endearment you didn’t understand but felt in your chest.

The crew had mostly adjusted. Nami just smirked and gave knowing looks. Robin teased you by calling it “recovery-based clinginess.” Luffy didn’t get it but hugged you extra hard “just in case.” Zoro rolled his eyes but didn’t say a word. Even Usopp had admitted once—when he thought you were asleep—that he missed Sanji in the kitchen.

But your brother?

He was less subtle.

Much less.

You’d be walking with Sanji’s arm linked through yours, cheeks warm with affection, and from somewhere behind you:

“BLEEEHHHHHHHH.”

You sighed without looking back. “I swear to god.”

“That was physically painful to witness,” your brother gagged, dramatically fake-coughing behind you as if love itself was a contagious disease. “You let him kiss your hand in public. I have secondhand burns.”

“You don’t have to watch,” you called back flatly, half-amused.

“I do when he’s glued to you like a horny octopus!”

Sanji didn’t miss a beat.

“Technically, if I were an octopus, I’d have three hearts and still wouldn’t love them enough.”

Your brother let out the most offended groan humanly possible. “I’m going overboard. I can’t witness this. I won’t.”

You just laughed.

Because even he couldn’t fake the way his eyes softened when he saw you smile. Couldn’t hide the way his teasing came with less venom and more resignation these days.

He’d lost the war. But you were happy.

And he couldn't argue with that.

Later, you sat with Sanji on the railing, his hand cradling yours like it was the most fragile thing on the ship. The sky was gold and rose and the sea calm beneath you, soft as silk.

Your brother walked by, eyeing you both.

He opened his mouth. Took a breath.

Paused.

Then just shook his head and kept walking.

"...No gagging?" you murmured, mock-shocked.

Sanji pressed a kiss to your temple, grinning. “I think that was his blessing.”

You leaned into him, fingers twined with his.

“Poor guy,” you murmured. “He didn’t stand a chance.”

“No one does,” Sanji whispered, brushing his lips across your hairline. “Not when it comes to me and you.”

[meadowfics]

divine intervention

hwang in ho / young-il / the frontman x f!reader

what are the odds that you would leave the games alive?

warnings: mentions of death, r getting shot

you never expected to find love in a place like this. the games weren’t meant for connections, for soft moments in the middle of a massacre.

yet, somehow, young-il changed that.

at first, you stuck with him because it felt right. he was on the father-figure side to everyone else, and the others underestimated him. however, you saw the sharp glint in his eye, the way he understood things before anyone else. it fascinated you.

001's presence soothed you in a way you couldn’t explain, and you found yourself lingering by his side more often than not.

he noticed.

"you are kind," he told you once, after you helped him after the six legged game.

"kindness is rare in a place like this."

it became natural. the conversations, the stolen smiles, the way he would offer you advice that always seemed to help. you started to care.

too much.

however, the rebellion happened and everything burned. people were slaughtered.

young-il…

he never came back.

you waited. you searched. when gi-hun stumbled out of the chaos, battered and broken but alive, young-il wasn’t with him.

he wasn’t anywhere.

you felt it, the sharp ache of loss before anyone even confirmed it. jun-hee noticed. she was the only one who truly understood what young-il meant to you.

she didn’t say anything, just held your hand while you cried, your tears soaking into the cold floor of the dormitory.

things only got worse.

the next game was the monkey bars. you should have made it. you were quick, agile, but your foot slipped. a mistake.

a gunshot rang out.

pain.

you hit the ground hard, the sharp burn in your leg making your vision blur. the last thing you saw was a guard looming over you, the black triangle on his mask tilting as they observed you.

then, everything went dark.

you expected death, everything went black.

instead, you woke up somewhere else.

the air was different. clean. your skin didn’t feel sticky with sweat and grime. your leg didn’t throb as much as it should have.

blinking, you looked down at yourself... a light blue nightgown, iv drip, bandages wrapped neatly around your leg.

someone had taken care of you.

suddenly, the door creaked open and your heart slammed against your ribs.

a guard. circle mask.

"do not panic," she said, her voice soft, unmistakably female.

"i am not here to kill you."

you should have felt relief. instead, you felt confusion.

"why am i alive?" your voice was hoarse, strained from disuse.

the guard hesitated before speaking.

"you are favored by the boss, which is very rare. it's never happened to a player before."

what?

before you could ask more, she left.

you sat there, staring at the elegant room, the nice sheets, the silent hum of medical machines.

this wasn’t mercy. it was something else.

when the door opened again, you knew.

your body tensed at the sight of the black mask, the aura of control radiating off of him. your hands shook, and the monitor tracking your vitals gave you away.

"calm yourself, y/n." the figure said, his voice smooth. familiar.

your stomach dropped. you knew that voice.

your mind clawed for the answer, the missing puzzle piece.

"you are here for a reason," he continued, stepping closer, "divine intervention, perhaps."

your breath caught.

"what?"

he lifted a hand, undid the mask and there he was.

young-il.

you froze, unable to process it. this was a joke. it had to be.

"no," he said before you could even ask, "this is real."

your mouth went dry.

"you… you run the games?"

he nodded.

your head spun.

"you let all of those people—"

"i wasn’t going to let you die," he interrupted. his voice was calm, but there was something raw underneath it, "not after everything you did for me."

your chest ached.

he had never been in danger. he was always going to survive. you weren’t though.

the weight of it crashed into you, suffocating, unbearable.

he must have seen it on your face because he sighed, stepping back.

"i understand. you need space."

you couldn’t respond.

"i will give you time," he said, before turning and walking out, leaving you alone in a place you could never escape.

this wasn’t survival though, this was captivity.

masterlist

[squishyo-o]

you wanted inspiration about the tongue thing I NEED TO SEE THIS WITH JEONGIN! (I love youuu)

(SKZ) Jeongin Brainrot ❤️‍🔥

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I love our innie

That man has a tongue and he knows how to use it. Fight me.

In a way, innie likes being the dominant one, but there’s some days where he just gets so riled up and pussy drunk that he could just eat you out for hours. Sometimes he gets a bit needy with it too. But let’s imagine it happened in the morning..

CW!: I.N being thirsty for that 🐱, needy/"subby" innie in a way, nicknames (baby, cutie, pretty, probably others help-), praise (mainly innie praising how good your 🐱 is), obviously oral (f receiving), morning sex, there’s probably more atp

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You hear a soft whine coming from Jeongin "innie?" You assumed that he just woke up and was just stretching. "Cutie.." he said as you turned over to look at him. He pulled you closer to him and gave you a kiss. "Baby.. I need you.." "hmm..? What’s wrong?" "I need a taste.. please?" You couldn’t say no to his sleepy whiny voice so you nodded, giving him the okay to do what he wanted. "Did someone have a naughty dream?" You teased him.

His cheeks got flushed a little bit before he removed the covers and got between your legs to remove your pajama pants. "Yes.." he admitted. "And now I’m hungry. So this will be my breakfast this morning". He gently rubbed your thighs before slipping off your pants and your underwear at once. Whatever dream it was, it turned jeongin into someone else. He put a finger in and curled it a little, listening to your whimpers as he barely did anything with one digit. "Needed this so bad.." he whined.

He went ahead and stuck in a second finger, listening to the sounds of your whines again, turning into soft moans. "Innie.." Jeongin chuckled. "Feel good?" "Mhm.. fuck.." "keep it up cutie.. m’gonna use my mouth.." he said. He took his fingers out of you and licked them with a groan. He then dipped his face in between your legs and began making out with your clit. Immediately, you began to moan and whine Jeongin’s name. He was always so good with his tongue and he never failed to make you scream with it every time.

Jeongin was taking his time with you and making you cum. Savoring every taste with a whine. "J-jeongin.. fuck- y’tongue I-i.." you felt him chuckling against your pussy, which made it throb more. He kept dancing his tongue around your folds and sucking on the bud of your clit. The hunger he felt in this very moment was something he’d never experienced. "Jeongin.. innie.. I’m gonna cum!" You moaned. Jeongin kept going faster as you squeezed your legs around Jeongin’s head.

A moment of sobbing Jeongin’s name and finally you spilled all your juices into his mouth, pulling on his hair as you came. Electrolytes went through your thighs as you made a sticky mess in his mouth. He licked up your cum, helping you ride out your orgasm. He came up from between your legs and gave you a kiss, tasting yourself, which somehow made it ten times better. "Hope y’know we’re not done.." he said. "W-what do you mean..?" He got into bed with you and lifted you up so you’d be straddling him.

"Ohhh.. you want me to ride you.. I see innie.."

"No. I need you to sit on my face."

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𝔸ℕ: aaaand she’s done folks 💪😼 took me a minute with this one cuz I was thinking of plot but I like the way it turned out and I hope you did too <3

Next up: jealous taehyun

[satinchicz]

BURNOUT

musician!Se-mi x fem!reader

TW: smoking

The ballpoint pen went flying against the wall, Se-mi groaned in annoyance before letting her back fall against the chair…she’d been trying to write music lyrics for practically the entire day, yet it seems the muses had started a riot against her because everytime her eyes glanced at the blank piece of paper her brain turned into red jelly.

Perhaps she wasn’t cut out for this

But if not this then what else? Music was her life- well you were her life too but that was different, the bin by her desk was practically overflowing with torn pages by now, god why wasn’t anything coming to her?!

Today- when she decided to dedicate the day to her lyricism, of course everything had to go to shit. Se-mi got up from the chair, her movements lazy, like her muscles were glued together creating a sticky uncomfortable feeling. Looking out the window in the kitchen she sighed once again, before reaching for a half empty box of Marlboro cigarettes, opting to relax a tiny bit with the tobacco instead of having another tantrum that included abusing her poor pen.

She watched the smoke moving as elegantly as a dancer, from her mouth to outside the window…mingling with the purple-y setting skyline.

Just then the sound of the front door being opened echoed through the flat, the very familiar harmony of your silly key chains ringing through her ears, Se-mi put out the cigarette before heading to seek you out, your bodies meeting right in the kitchen doorway, she smiled as she saw you- finally one good thing about her day.

“Hey, sweetheart” the brunette purred against your lips, you chuckled at the affection, your lips finally meeting in a sweet home-welcoming kiss.

“Hey, I missed you” you replied, before placing your bag down on the kitchen table. “Long day…god I’m so tired” to further showcase your fatigue you playfully fanned yourself with your hand…Se-mi chuckled, a very quite sound, before she sat down on the other chair. You could see something was bothering her, Se-mi your oh so energetic girlfriend that loved to joke around was suddenly like a snail hidden inside it’s shell.

“Se-mi?” You leaned in closer, your eyes going to her face, clear worry evident in your tone “Is everything alright?”

She glanced at you, before moving her gaze onto her hands, it was no use to lie, maybe a little confession about her feelings would help her feel more at ease.

“It’s just- these goddamn lyrics…” Se-mi started “I’ve been trying to write all day, but everytime I try and think of at least ONE line then it’s like I forgot how to write!”

And so she kept on going, by the time she finished sharing her failed attempts she felt more lighter, physically and emotionally. Maybe a minute of silence stretched out before the two of you, like some indicator getting rid of all the negative energy Se-mi had just thrown out of herself. “Se-mi…you know it’s fine to have days like this? I mean, I know how frustrating it is, but some burnout isn’t bad for you, you write amazing, beautiful, fucking soul haunting lyrics…I think you just have to let your mind rest a little” you assured your girlfriend, who was now looking you straight in the eyes, “I guess you’re right…thanks babe” Se-mi smiled lethargically.

“How about we cuddle? Let me just change out of these clothes, I must reek of office grime” you grinned, “Yeah…I’ll be waiting for ya” she agreed before moving into the living room.

“It’s beautiful isn’t it?” The brunette looked up at you as you began to speak, she was contentedly laying atop you, your arms wrapped around her waist, ah yes- you were talking about the sunset…it was beautiful, she loved all the gradient hues but as of now she wasn’t interested in looking out the window, her gaze stuck on you, “You’re more beautiful” the girl murmured against your neck, you giggled “That’s so cheesy…don’t stop”, a light kiss was pressed onto your skin, then another one, and another and another and another…the intensity growing with each one, “I won’t stop, I don’t even want to do don’t worry about that!” she smiled and you ruffled her hair

“I love you, you dummy.”

[yonseibananamilk]

content ahead: hurt/comfort w/ dazai x reader, descriptions of public meltdown, just a drabble but yes it does have a happy ending, relationship can be up to you but they are very close

NOT betaread + ~700 wc

An eraser had rubbed away at your eyes. Puffy and hot and sticky.

With labored breaths, your feet trudged toward what you hoped was the way to your home. Alas, you were still in public and under the scrutiny of passing strangers.

Various shouts by those familiarly warm yet irkingly bitter stirred a pot of bile in your tummy.

You needed to get out of there. Fast.

Sounds thundered in your brain with rapid-fire speed. Every ring. Every footstep. Every voice — especially the ones growing louder and louder behind you.

Flimsy palms cracked against your ears. Once. Twice. Thrice.

Too much attention.

Then shook to your hips. Instinctively to your chest after. Then back to your hips with a forceful grunt.

You couldn’t be seen like this.

It was already bad enough that you broke down in front of your friends — now you had to deal with side-eyes.

On one hand, pity felt like a dream come true. On the other, it made you gag yet again.

Trembling fingers flitted everywhere; Thigh. Shirt. Hair. Grabbing at anything and everything within reach that could keep it from making the truth most obvious.

As you heard yet another shout — words undetermined — your heels spun you into a right turn.

Hard brick thumped against the meat of your shoulder. Ouch.

Stumbling forward, you weren’t quite sure how you manage to catch yourself — but you ended up safely landing anyway. Still standing too.

Lukewarm. Likely some fat water pipe. Though it was far too soft to be metal.

Searing and glossy eyes swung your vision side to side. Settling on an enigma of chocolate hair and widened eyes.

Your hands palmed themselves into the tan of his trench-coat.

Everything from your neck and down slumped against his front. And if you weren’t so frenzied, you would’ve giggled at his lanky body magically keeping you up.

Passing cars filled the air of your body against Dazai.

His gaze traveled all over the tears that cradled your face — more shocked than you by the fated unprecedented meeting.

“You’re crying.” He whispered. Another droplet ripped from your tear ducts.

“I’m sorry.” You tried to redeem yourself. ‘Muh-muh sowwy’ was probably what he heard instead.

No one could understand you like this.

Despite the snot gurgling in your babbling throat — the brunette slung an arm around your waist. Slowly. With intervals of internal battle in-between.

The second arm came quicker.

“You shouldn’t be out like this.”

Captain Obvious murmured, staring at the ground behind your hiccuping back.

Another string of gasps and sobs replied.

“I guess it happened while you were out then, huh?”

Sympathy never came easily to him. Still, it was hard not to feel at least a little bit for someone in a state like yours…

Plus it was easier to feel the sensations of life when you came around. Good and bad.

Your lower lip trembled under its upper twin. Stuck in a weighted pout despite all your efforts to keep a straight face.

Another loud car zoomed past the alley.

And despite all your efforts not to bang your head against the wall.

“Do you wanna go home?”

You nodded.

“Are you able to speak?”

Strings of thick saliva, thanks to mixing in with the marathon of snot in the back of your throat, strained your voice until —

“Yes. Wanna go home.” A wisp pleaded.

“Can I touch you?”

“Uu-uuh.” Unsure of whether or not he understood that — you opted for another nod.

Bandaged hands, awkwardly lukewarm like always, coaxed your body to follow him.

The walk home was quiet.

Dazai’s hand cupped over your ears whenever passing by streets.

Spiky sensations lingered, but most had fizzled away into an annoying, but much more tolerable fuzz.

A humming voice vibrated against your back.

After an eternity in that caving world of unreadable smiles and endless scraping, the walk home zoomed by in a second.

Soft cotton fell against your otherwise quiet frame.

Your hands, growing stabler, smoothed over the light green top. Another lump of human joined you not long after.

‘Warm…’

Chocolate eyes locked onto your glazed gaze.

No longer sticky, the still-damp shine of your lips parts to coo with an adoring touch along his cheek.

Black pupils blended into the color of his irises, even more so when they dilated into saucers.

“Dazai…”

Bandaged hands wrapped surely around you.

“Yes, darling. It’s me. Dazai.”