#can’t remember if he gets it back but yeah

[cherrybr4t]

pretty boys bring you to heaven - jeon wonwoo (m)

CONTENT WARNINGS: biker bf!wonwoo, jealous wonwoo (hehe.), SMUT!, unprotected p in v, oral (f rec), praise 😇, marking up (f rec), creampie, slightly possessive wonu, overused trope but! dom!wonwoo, sub fem!reader, kitchen counter sex 😔

WC: 2k

A/N: hello..fulfilling my inner teen wattpad days with a cliche scenario & trope. but. hot jealous biker bf wonwoo. one for me pls. i hope you guys enjoy reading this as much as i enjoyed writing this 😔 (slightly inspired by real life events)

enjoy! <3

"sorry miss, excuse me... my friends and i were over there and we thought you were really pretty.. any chance we could get your digits?"

you were already freezing outside the izakaya restuarant, waiting for your boyfriend to pick you up. said boyfriend was about 10 minutes late from the arranged timing.

mustering up the kindest smile you could in that condition, you waved a hand politely, "no thank you, i have a boyfriend." with a curt nod, you shifted about 5 inches to the side.

expecting the guy to take his leave, he offered a cynical chuckle on that scornful face instead.

"come on, it's just your number, hm?" he inched closer, waving his phone in your face.

scoffing, you turned to him, "i'm telling you, i have a boyfriend and he's about to be here any minute now so if i were you, i would walk away,"

"well, i don't see that boyfriend of yours anywhere baby, how 'bout you stop lying—"

"turn around," your eyebrows raised at the familiar deep timbre. you gulped, knowing that you tried to give that poor guy a small warning.

"ah," the guy turned around, took one look over before shaking his head. "didn't peg you for a pretty boy kinda girl babe, oh, and pretty boy rides," he mocked after seeing the sleek black helmet wonwoo was clutching onto.

“yeah? this pretty boy right here s’bout to turn you extra pretty with this helmet right here if you don’t step away from his girlfriend,”

you looked at your boyfriend, sharp eyes daggering through the man, knowing that he meant every word. wonwoo was a rather mellow person, but when things came down to it, you’ve seen first hand how it’s never good to rub him off in the wrong way.

with the exception of yourself, of course. you could do no wrong in your simp of a boyfriend’s eyes.

you felt your insides churn at how he stepped in with such a sinister glare. lips threatening to break into a giddy smile as you were feeling so in love with your boyfriend at the moment, as well as satisfied at how the man is now avoiding his gaze, slowly backing off.

“got it dude, chill out. s’not like i can’t find another one of these bitches out there,”

something in wonwoo snapped and he lunged forward, grabbing onto the man’s shirt with his precious helmet now dropped on the pavement.

“what did you fucking say?”

you decided it was time to step in, not wanting to cause any ruckus — you just wanted the night to be over and done with and to head home, tucked in with your boyfriend.

“alright alright, wonwoo, it’s fine let it go, he’s not worth the trouble,” you tugged onto wonwoo’s shirt, hand reaching up to massage his nape, calming him down.

wonwoo’s muscles relaxed immediately at your touch, before turning over to look at you. taking a few moments before deciding to let go —which was for the better because you knew that guy stood no chance against your hapkido black belt man.

wonwoo pushed him towards the road before grabbing onto your hand, chuckling once he saw that you’ve already picked up the helmet. you shrugged, holding onto him tighter before dragging him towards his bike.

“i’m sorry baby, this wouldn’t have happened if i got here on time.. i swear the traffic lights just weren’t in my favour today,” wonwoo cupped your face gently in his hands, pecking you gently on your lips.

“stop, this isn’t your fault wonwoo.. there’re always gonna be pesky rats out and about, plus i still remember some moves you taught me,” you got into your fight stance, flailing your arms while making exaggerated ‘hah’s.

wonwoo let out a chortle, before patting down your head, “good girl, but… i can tell you’re slightly pissed, you’re calling me wonwoo and not baby,” he wraps his arms around you, lowering his face to rub his obvious pout in your face.

“gosh you’re such a baby, baby.” you kissed his pout to which he gladly welcomed and engulfed you into an open mouth kiss, tightening his grip on you.

“that’s more like it baby, now let’s go home, need to keep my pretty baby out of these dangerous streets,”

wonwoo has you up on the counter back home, between your legs as he kisses you so fervidly while his hands grip onto your waist tightly. you rake your fingers on his nape and across his scalp as you deepen the kiss, tongue entering to find his.

his deep rumble of groans as you run your nails through his scalp has you clenching and you let out a small whimper mid-kiss. he pulls apart and stares at you.

“my pretty baby, so fucking beautiful you got all these men thinking they’ve got a shot,” he groans as he peppers small kisses along your jawline.

“til they find out that you’re mine, hm? not a fucking chance,” he follows through, kissing his way down your neck, stopping at your sweet spot he knows all too well, and starts sucking lightly.

you let out a full fledged moan at this point, head tilting back – unable to control how your boyfriend makes you deranged just by a few kisses.

“wonwoo…” you whine.

“yes baby? needa mark you up all prettily so no one else dares to even make a move hm? all mine mine mine,” he goes down on the same spot, sucking harshly with a few bites before smoothing it over with his tongue. you squeak out in pleasure, loving how his tongue feels so strong yet so good against that bruised spot.

“i'm all yours baby, l-let them all know who i belong to,” you beg, wanting to feel his mouth all over your body, not wanting him to miss any spot.

wonwoo moves on to his next spot, sucking, biting and soothing. you feel so giddy, totally missing his hand creeping towards your core, until you feel him directly palming your cunt aggressively – and you realise just how soaked you are when you feel your panties stick to your cunt.

“fuuck baby, you’re soaking through your fucking pants fuck,” wonwoo pants, inner fire growing stronger seeing how you react to him marking you up. he hastily removes your pants and kicks them aside, licking his lips subtly at the sight of your drenched cunt through your thin panties.

“wo-baby, do something, please,” you grab at nothing desperately on the counter, needing him to do something to release the tension in your core that’s been growing – you feel the need to rub against air.

“yeah? whatever my pretty baby wants,” he starts rubbing on your clothed cunt, before pushing the destroyed fabric aside, fingers soaking in your juices as he plays with your folds.

his other hand grabs onto your jaw forcing you to look at him, “open up,” he whispers before taking his fingers out of your cunt to stuff them into your mouth. you moan at the taste of yourself, eyes fluttering shut.

“so fucking delicious aren’t you,”

he spreads your legs wider before ripping your panties off. getting onto his knees, he positions his face directly in front of your cunt before going in straight and kissing your growing bud.

“fuck fuck fuck,” you scream out as you feel him start to suckle on your swollen bud, before leaving kisses over your folds. he sticks his tongue out, teasing over them before going in through layers of your folds.

“wonwoo!” moaning out your boyfriends name with a cracked voice, you thrust your hips in his face, craving more.

“as always, fucking sweet and fucking delicious, god,” he moans into your cunt, looking like a starved man as he eats and laps at your cunt so ravenously.

he grabs onto your thighs, forcing them to stay apart as he continues diving deeper into your sweet cunt, that tall nose of his hitting the right spot, rubbing against your bundle of nerves at a consistent pace.

“w-wonwoo, i’m gonna cum, gonna cum, wanna cum c-can i,” you cry out, feeling the gates of your dam about to break open any time.

wonwoo looks up you, half-lidded and lustful gaze as he urges you, "cum baby, cum all over my face fuck, need you to,"

few seconds after, you grab onto wonwoo’s hair as you feel the last string break, feeling of numbness engulfing your whole as you feel all the tension pump out of you. pulling his locks as you release your juices, moaning out his name like a mantra as you came, and you feel like you've been to heaven and back.

wonwoo doesn’t stop, and continues drinking in all of you – every last drop of your release. you pushed his head away due to oversensitivity, and wonwoo stands up chuckling.

“you make the prettiest sounds when you cum for me baby, can you do it again for me?” wonwoo coos, and kisses your forehead, slowly removing the remaining articles of clothing between the both of you.

“only if i get to cum around your cock this time,” you shot back lazily, eyes still hazy and drunk on your previous orgasm, yet still greedy for wonwoo’s cock. always greedy for more of him.

“of course baby, gotta feed this pussy more of my cock and my cum to remind who it belongs to, hm?” he turns you around before bending you over the counter. you smirk, heart palpitating at being manhandled to one of your favourite positions.

wonwoo glides his hands down your spine, caressing your cheeks, playing with them before slapping his pink and bulging tip on them.

“perfect ass, perfect tits, perfect everything, my fucking perfect baby, you were made for me and only me,” wonwoo moans out, letting his tip drench in your juices along your folds.

“mm wonwoo, baby, put it in, please,” you wiggle your hips backwards, and after a few more slaps against your cunt, he finally slides his tip in, causing you to gasp and fall forward onto the counter more.

you feel your walls constrict and expand aggressively, trying to suck your boyfriends length in inch by inch desperately.

wonwoo has a hand wrapped around your waist as he slides his full length in, both of you releasing the airiest moan once feeling each other on every nerve ending.

wonwoo starts to find a rhythm, hips thrusting so deep in you feel his tip hitting your cervix so comfortably and so fully every thrust you can’t help but scream out every time his tip nudges against that spot.

“so fucking good, cunt was made for me baby, making me see stars and shit,” wonwoo rasps out, panting as he struggles to formulate a sentence without breaking into moans.

“nngh, it feels so good wonwoo, so big, s-so good,” you were mind-fucked. having his cock in you deduced your brain to having no thoughts but him. crying out for him with no other care in this world.

“my pretty baby, wanna see you cum for me again, need to feel you cum around my cock for me, can–ah fuck–can you do that for me?” with an arm around you playing with your tits, and another arm suddenly reaching towards your exposed and swollen bud, you feel all hairs stand and being the most stimulated you’ve ever been.

“argh! wonwoo.. fuck,” you wail out his name, feeling so close to that eureka moment once again as your boyfriend rubs sloppy yet tight circles around your clit.

“mm baby, its okay, just cum for me hm? come on, cum around your cock, cum for me, cum cum,”

with him voicing his encouragements right behind you, you feel your abdomen reach its tightest point, before you feel the tipping point pour over, letting the waves of ecstasy wash over you, trembling underneath your boyfriend. squeezing the life out of his cock, you hear him groan.

“good girl, fuck, so fucking good, gonna cum for you now baby,”

soon after your release, you feel wonwoo’s body lurch and fall atop yours as his cum fills you up to the brim, and you moan at the warm liquid blanketing your cunt and its walls.

wonwoo steps back to admire his cum dripping out of your swollen cunt for a good minute, before you whine out for him - needing your after-fuck hugs and kisses.

he obliges, but whispers as he nibbles on your ear lobe, "don't think i'm done with you yet baby, you've got a loooong night ahead of you,"

a/n: hit the reblog if you've enjoyed this my loves! thank you so much for reading <3 sending love and kisses to everyone!

[naniwatig3r]

CONTOUR LINES (18+)

Mingyu x artstudent!Femreader

Summary: You’ve finally broken up with your boyfriend Mingyu. Ignoring him has been hard, but you were finally at peace. But he had other plans, as he shows up to the figure drawing class you T.A…. And as the model.

Warnings: Unexplained breakup (im lazy lol), angst, cute fluff sometimes, art school stress, public nudity, public unprotected penetrative sex (no one is around though!), quickie

a/n: this was a idea i got while messing around with my friend who has a thing for mingyu, lol.

Word count: uhhh, around 7k ? I can’t remember 😅

————————

Another miss call.

Great, you thought, the tenth missed call from your ex boyfriend Mingyu this week.

It’s been about a month since you broke up with your ex, Kim Mingyu. It was an odd pairing in the first place. You met him coincidentally in the quad the beginning of the year, as you sat at the edge of the school fountain. Your sketchbook open, as you drew the scenery and people around you. A normal activity you did as an arts student.

You were clearly in the zone, drawing the fold in a random college student’s arm, before a voice interrupted your thoughts.

“Whoa, you can draw.”

Your eyes snap up, seeing a towering figure, completely blocking your view. No shit, you thought.

“Yeah, I guess.” You say plainly, hoping your short answer would deter this guy. But then the sunlight is back on the page you’re drawing, and you feel his warm presence sit right next to you. Maybe he’s just sitting down to sit down, so you try and finish your life drawing of the current student, but they were gone. Probably going to their next class.

Huffing, you still for a moment to put your pencil down.

“I wish I could draw like that,” You hear, as you glance to your side. Furrowing your eyebrows in irritation as the man leans over to stare directly into your sketchbook. “You’re a really good drawer.” He says in awe.

“Yeah, uh, thanks.” You say curtly, as he continues to stare at your sketches like he’s at a museum. These sketches were nothing compared to a Degas or something, yet he stared at them like it was, his brown eyes flickering around in interest.

He clears his throat, as he looks up to meet your eyes. He smiles, a toothy one where you notice how sharp his canines were. Cute.

He pulls his sleeve up from his wrist to his elbow, holding his large hand out, “Mingyu. Kim Mingyu.” He says, introducing himself. You nod, reluctantly shaking his hand, his grip tight and strong.

“Y/n.” You say back shortly, eyeing him, wondering how long this tall man was going to bother you.

He lets go of your hand, as he adjusts his position to turn more towards you. One leg over the other, leaning forward. His bangs falling so perfectly across his eyebrow, that it made you narrow your eyes. It’s crazy, people like this seriously exist huh?

“Do you do art or something?” No shit.

You nod, “Yeah, I’m a fine arts major.” You respond, giving him a strained polite smile. It felt like you had to, the way this guy has been beaming at you like a puppy as you give the driest replies.

He grins, “Whoa, no way. Thats cool,” He praises, “I’m—“

The rest of the meet cute didn’t matter.

After this, you kept bumping into him, coincidence you thought at first, but thinking back… he had no reason to be near the art school area of the campus.

He always asked to see your sketchbook, or whatever was in your portfolio folder as you tried to get to your studio. Even helping you carry your supplies and folders inside, and once he learned where you worked he came with iced coffee when he could.

At 3 am, he’d lay on the floor of your messy studio, watching you as you mix another color on your palette. Your sweatshirt pushed to your elbows, paint on your hands and face as you work on the gigantic canvas for your final.

“You don’t have to be here, you know,” You say a bit softly, your eyes tired despite your multiple energy drinks. “It must be boring to watch me throw paint for the last few hours.”

He shakes his head, sitting up as he looks at you with his puppy like eyes. “No, I like it. You’re so focused…” He trails, “I didn’t think art would be this hard.”

You glare at him for that remark, making him immediately tread back. His mouth gaping open and closing like a fish, “Ah! Not like that it’s easy — just that you’re so passionate you know?” He explains, throwing his hands around.

Rolling your eyes, you put your brush back into the muddy cup of water. “Why? Engineering not doing it for you?” You ask lazily, as you pull your claw clip out of your hair. Massaging your scalp from the tension.

Mingyu’s eyes focused on you, his cheeks slightly flushing. Eyes roving over how strands of your hair effortlessly frame your face. He clears his throat, “Uh, no. I like it. I’ve always been good at studying, and I get the material so,” He says, as he scratches his head.

“But I guess, it’s different watching you. Your eyes are different when you’re drawing, painting, sculpting. Whatever.” He says quietly.

“Different?” You muse, standing up to stretch your legs. Mingyu following instinctively, his tall frame dwarfing you.

He nods, “Mhm, yeah. I thought art was just a major for people who didn’t want to do anything, but getting to know you…” he says, as he follows you to your studio table. As you open the most recent energy drink you got from the vending machine. “You just don’t stop. Like you’re meant to do it.” He breathes.

His genuine words make you raise an eyebrow, turning to him. You give him a small smile, making his heart rate jump. “Yeah? It’s like you, I think.” You say, taking a sip of that battery acid of a drink. “I’ve just been doing this since forever. Natural to keep going.” You say nonchalantly, but Mingyu looks at you like you’re a living genius.

“Thats whats so cool,” He gushes, “You’re just made to do this.” He says, as he glances at your current work in progress. A large canvas with pleasing colors, his eye being drawn to the right areas. The beautifully rendered figure, framed with all the right strokes.

He looks back at you, with such an adoration you think it’s hallucinations from doing so many allnighters.

“Ah,” he starts, as he moves his long legs to shuffle through his bag, pulling out some tupperware. “I forgot, I was making uh, some dinner earlier and I had leftovers.” He lies, knowing full well he made it for you. He turns around, opening the tupperware to reveal a lunch box of different side dishes and protein. It could rival any meal inspo on pinterest, as he even carefully cut out seaweed to make cute faces.

You snicker, making Mingyu’s cheeks pink. “Leftovers huh?” You say, as you grab the lunchbox from him. Your fingers brushing over his, a welcome warmth from the cold air conditioning of the studio. “Thanks, I appreciate it. I was just gonna make some ramen.”

“Yeah no problem,” He strains, smiling. “You need energy to keep on going right? At least eat well if you’re gonna sacrifice your sleep.”

You take a bite, and even though it was cold, you nod in approval at the taste. The annoyingly large man could cook. Your reaction makes Mingyu grin, as you can see shamelessly how much that did to his ego.

“Still, you should go you know?” You say, as you remember Mingyu talking about his week a few days ago as you painted. “Don’t you have an exam tomorrow?”

Oh? He doesn’t focus on the fact that you’re asking him to go. Only that you remembered his schedule. He grins, “You remembered huh?”

You roll your eyes, “Of course I did. You told me.” You say, your own cheeks reddening from how embarrassed you felt from Mingyu’s reaction. Why was he so excited?

He shakes his head, “It’s fine, I was reviewing earlier. It’s in the afternoon anyways.”

You finish the lunchbox, washing it down with your energy drink before going to pick up a new large paint brush. “Fine by me then,” you sigh, not bothering to argue with him. It was weird the first time he accompanied you on an allnighter, but Mingyu’s presence became a normal occurrence since then.

And there he was, sitting obediently like a dog next to you as you continued painting. Your playlist ending hours ago, as the only sounds are the strokes of your brush, and the breathing of both of you.

It was like this for a while, until near the end of the year. This time, you were running out of steam.

Maybe it was all the all nighters the whole year, or the fact you got sick right before finals, but you were stuck in your studio once more. Slaving away as you work on your third painting of the night, trying to get your exhibition finished before sunlight.

You hear the sound of the door opening. He had his own key now — you copied one at one point since he always was knocking. Mingyu coming in with late night take out in one hand, clad in grey sweatpants and a hoodie, ready to tackle the night with you.

You don’t even bother looking behind you, his familiar presence and cologne already telling you who it is. “Hey,” He says softly, putting the food down as he notices your tired state. It was like you were running on fumes, the amount of empty redbulls and monsters around your studio telling him all he needed to know.

You grunt, “Yeah, hey.” You say tiredly, as you wipe your face with the back of your hand. Paint smearing on your cheek. Mingyu comes over with a napkin from the takeout container, huffing as he wipes your cheek with it.

“Whens the last time you took a break?” He asks, a bit worried. Despite hanging out with you for so long, he wouldn’t say he knew anything about art. But he knew you. And the way your wrist movements against the canvas were sluggish, and the way your eyebrows furrowed as the strokes didn’t land and look the way you wanted… he knew you were at your limit.

“Doesn’t matter, I have another painting after this.” You say roughly, “Fuck, I’m such an idiot. I should have painted when I was sick. At least worked on the concepts and colors so I didn’t have to figure it out right now.” You rant, sucking your bottom lip into your teeth.

Mingyu frowns, “No, y/n. What about a fifteen minute break? I got burgers, it’ll help.” He says, but your face isn’t budging, like the strict deadlines for the paintings.

You curse, “God, Mingyu, I can’t stop. All the fucking pieces look like shit, if I stall any longer I’ll never finish this ass of an exhibition.” You say shakily, as you haphazardly throw your brush into the water cup, the muddy water splashing out. You grab another brush to pick up a new color.

He looks around the 10 other pieces littered around the room drying, he doesn’t get it, and he never would. They all looked great, cohesive despite your protests. “Y/n, they look great. You gotta take a break you know? Maybe it’ll help. Maybe your eyes will like, reset or something. You’ve been looking at this painting for hours.” He says, trying to reason.

You don’t listen, as you flick your wrist harshly to create a quick line of color.

clack!

You wince, dropping your brush to clatter on the floor. Your wrist acting up at the worst time, as you curse under your breath. Mingyu’s hands go up instinctively to hold your wrist, holding it still.

“God, now my wrist is flaring up too. Great, just what I need!” You curse bitterly, your head down.

Mingyu holds your wrist gently, despite your angry state you don’t push him away as he gingerly inspects your wrist. “Hey, come on. Lets take a break, and then we can wrap your hand alright?” He says softly, trying to coax you.

He leans down to see your hidden face, and it breaks his heart. Hot tears welling in your eyes from stress, frustration, and the impending deadline.

He doesn’t think twice, leaning down to hold you into an embrace, pulling you off your stool into his arms. Tight, the tips of your shoes barely grazing the floor. You can’t help but cry into his shoulder, “God, why am I so bad? I can’t show anyone any of this,” You sob, as Mingyu rubs your back. His grip tightening around you, holding you close as you basically collapse into his arms.

“Hey, y/n, you’ve just been working too long. Lets take a break alright? It’ll look better once you rest your eyes a bit, I promise.” He coos, “I’ve got some burgers and sweet potato fries, even convinced them to give me extra —“

“Mingyu, why are you always here?” You ask bluntly, choking back your tears. Through the whole year you’ve been tolerating him getting closer. First, random conversations when you bumped into each other on campus, then visiting the art school, coming to your studio, staying to keep you company. You never once tried to push him away, but you didn’t understand how he hasn’t been turned off yet. Your all nighters, your insecurities, the way you reject his invitations to campus parties and events to work. It was all a mystery, especially as you crash out in his arms, over some acrylic and oil on canvas. This must look pathetic to him.

His eyes are a bit panicked at the question, “I uh, do you not want me to be?” He asks reluctantly, still holding you close.

You sniff, your hand against his chest, gripping the fabric of his hoodie into your fist.

“No, I just... Thank you.” You say quietly into his chest, and Mingyu felt his head spin. You could definitely hear it, he thought, the way his heart was pounding out his chest. How you relied on him, telling him to stay. If it wasn’t for the fact you were leaning on him to stay up, he’d probably melt into a puddle on the floor.

Mingyu takes you to the table, helping you sit down on one of the comfier chairs. A foldable one with a pillow he brought at one point, so he could watch you comfortably. He boasted once — y/n look! Found this by the dumpster!

You let out a deep sigh as you sit down, Mingyu bending down to his knees to look at you eye level. A hand to your cheek as you close your eyes tiredly. “Hey, you okay?” He asks, searching your face.

You nod, “Yeah, um, sorry,” You sigh, “I’m just — I’m just stressed. I didn’t mean to have a breakdown in front of you.” You say apologetically, embarrassed by it. But he shakes his head, not affected by it. In fact, it probably caused him to fall harder, seeing how hard you work.

“Don’t apologize,” He says, pushing strands of your hair back. You look up at him, straight into his brown eyes. The way he looks at you so fondly, worried, that his bottom lip juts out slightly as he observes you. The way his fingers felt along your cheek, how he’s warmed you up in the cold room, brought takeout for you.

Fuck, how his hair is tousled under the hood, and the fact his face was a sight for sore eyes after looking at your paintings all day. Something with actual 3d planes staring at you, instead of flat canvas. Maybe it was the all nighters, the fact you’re on multiple energy drinks on an empty stomach, or that Mingyu is there for you.

You lean forward, shutting your eyes shut as you push your lips against his.

It’s warm, soft… might even get lost in it if—

You pull back after a second, as you see Mingyu’s wide eyes.

Oh fuck, did you read this wrong? Shit, at least you can blame it on lack of sleep—

A pair of lips crash into yours again, this time, you part yours as Mingyu’s warm lips mold into yours. Its warm, and comforting and everything nice, as you grab his collar to pull him closer. Making him stumble forward as he holds onto the edge of the chair to steady himself close to you.

You let out a soft breath as Mingyu snakes his free hand around to the small or your back, pushing you close as possible to him. Mingyu compensating for your lack of energy with his, as he kisses you deeply, something he’s always wanted to do. Every since he watched you draw random people at that campus fountain.

He pulls back as you pathetically try to chase his lips, as he kisses you chastely before speaking. “Y/n,” He breathes, “Fuck, you don’t know how long I wanted to do that.” He confesses, as he holds your face in his large hands.

You smile softly, “Mingyu, I—“

The box of charcoals clatter, as you accidentally drop it right next to the table of supplies. Sheepishly you bow at the students in class, not meaning to disrupt their focus.

You bend down to pick up the charcoal. What are you doing? It may be the third figure drawing class today, but dropping a box of pencils as you recount your days with Mingyu was horrible. Terrible.

Especially when you boasted to one of your friends as you shared a meal, Ah, Kim Mingyu? Thats over. Lets just focus on grad review.

You sigh, standing back up as you slide the box of art supplies on the table. Checking the time, you slide the notifications of Mingyu’s missed calls away. It was five minutes before class started, where the hell was the model?

And as if on cue, the other T.A. comes skitting towards you, pushing her glasses up as she avoids the boxes of supplies around the room. “Ah, Y/n—“ She starts, talking quietly to not cause alarm.

She stops in front of you, as you furrow your brows. Today the professor wasn’t in. As the consistent T.A., she trusted you to handle today with no substitutes. It wasn’t anything hard. You just helped set up the drawing horses and supplies, adjusted the lights and made sure the models were comfortable. It was easier especially when another T.A. was assigned to assist you today.

“Hm? What?” You ask, as you dust your hands.

She takes a deep breath, “Um, well, the model got food poisoning.” She starts. Leaning in so other students didn’t hear. “I just learned this right now, she’s like in the bathroom in the main hall throwing up like crazy.”

You frown, “What? Is she okay?” You say, straightening up, walking towards the front door grabbing your jacket off one of the stray art horse chairs.

She follows clumsily, “She’s fine! But she can’t model for this class. I know you’re in charge, but I panicked and just called whoever was on the emergency model list.”

You stop, causing the other T.A. to bump into your back, with a little squeak. A small what should have been insignificant memory flooding back.

“You’re TAing now? Seriously?” Mingyu asks lightly, as he fiddles with a loose strand of your sweater, the rough pads of his fingers pulling on it.

You slap his hand away disapprovingly, causing him to pout. “Yeah, just for figure drawing. I want to make a little money anyways, but working at the campus cafe is too time consuming.” You respond, as you continue to draw in your sketchbook. Outlining the foliage in front of you with your pen.

“Hm, what would that mean?” He asks, leaning forward to wrap an arm around your shoulder. Careful not to disturb your drawing, as he rests his chin on your closer shoulder. Watching you draw was his favorite past time nowadays.

“Just like, setting up, taking care of the figure drawing models. Things like that.” You respond absentmindedly.

“Models? Like, thats a job?” He asks, making you crack a smile. You forget how normal people knew nothing about art. You’re just glad he was openminded about basically everything.

You turn to look at him, “Yeah, the school hires people to pose for drawing. Its for studying.” You respond, as you tap your pen against the tip of his nose, where his beloved mole resided. Making him scrunch his nose, the corners of his lips turning up.

“Actually, I should write the emergency contact list. The professor updates every semester of models to contact if theres no shows, and the et cetera. I should just do it now so I don’t forget —“

“Add me on there then.”

You blink.

“Huh, what?” You say confused, looking at him with raised brows.

He straightens up, “You heard me. Add my number to that list. It sounds interesting,” He defends, his tone light.

You shake your head, smiling. “Mingyu, you don’t get it. You have to stand there naked, and do different poses every five to thirty minutes. Its not an easy thing to do.” You say, dismissing his words as nonsense. Sometimes he was too eager to try things just because they existed in your world.

Mingyu doesn’t falter. “Yeah I know. I just, it sounds cool. Also having a bunch of people drawing me, I don’t know… sounds nice. Also its like emergency contact right?” He says shrugging, “It’s not like it’ll actually happen. I know you’d never call me if it was an emergency, but just add me on it. If all models decide they’re not feeling it that day.” He suggests lightly.

You stare at him still in disbelief, narrowing your eyes. He scoffs, leaning forward to lean his forehead against yours as a challenge. A little goofy smile on his face, “What? Come on. Just add me to the list.”

The rational side of you knew this would never actually happen. Mingyu had no qualifications, and besides, there was a dozen other numbers to call before him. So you suck it up, sighing, writing his name down. Just for the sake that he’d shut up about it.

“Okay, fine.”

Your heart beats, eyes wide as you try to calm yourself. You didn’t want to release your anger against this girl for trying to fix the situation. It was your fault, really, in the first place to put his number on there. But this never was something that has happened before.

“Which number picked up?” You ask calmly, clasping your hands together as you focus on not exploding on your fellow T.A.

“Uh, just called the first one. He said he was on campus so he was down, and we only have five minutes till class—“

“Jesus, his name please?”

“Kim Mingyu.”

Oh fuck. Fuuuucckkkkk.

Mouth wide, and panicked eyes, you start to speak, before you hear the opening of the classroom door. You turn, and your face practically goes pale.

There he was — Kim Mingyu, just in a simple coat and pants. His eyes immediately landing on you. Its only been a month, but he cut his hair. Slightly shorter than you remember, as you tilt your head.

Stop it. You have to act normal.

You take a deep breath, trying to act professional. There was no time to question why the hell he’d even pick up and walk all the way here. Or why your heart was beating so fast, just looking at him.

“Um, escort him to the dressing room area.” You start, prying your eyes from Mingyu to the other T.A. “There should be a clean robe there too.” You inform, patting her arm as you beeline straight away from them.

You find a haphazardly stacked amount of newsprint, focusing on making all the edges match as you calm your heart. It’s fine, it really is.

For some reason Mingyu was interested in figure drawing modeling before. Maybe he just wanted to cross that off his bucket list, and had nothing to do with you.

The other T.A. comes back to stand beside you, “Is he comfortable?” You ask.

“Yeah, he’s fine. Just seems a little inexperienced,” She responds, scratching her cheek. “He asked if he had to take all his clothes off, and I was like, huh? Yeah? But other that that—“

“Yeah, alright.” You interrupt dryly. “Thank you. I’ll just take over after this.” You say, as you grab the timer from the table.

You walk towards the center, clearing your throat as the art students look up. “Right, hi. Professor Kang isn’t here today, but don’t mind. Today will be quite an easy day.” You start, crossing your arms.

Your eyes immediately follow to the ruffle of the dressing curtain, as Mingyu walks out in a fluffy robe. Brown eyes meet yours, and for a second you think this will be fine. Until the corners of his lips turn up, into a toothy grin only you knew so well.

That motherfucker. Bucket list my ass, he said yes just to mess with you!

You turn away sharply, focusing back on the class. “The model today is Kim Mingyu.” You say shortly, before stepping off the small platform.

You gesture for Mingyu to walk to the center, your face stone cold as you watch him step onto the platform.

He clears his throat, “Do I take the robe off now?” He asks cluelessly.

Great, just show everyone you have no clue what you’re doing. If this was a few months ago, it’d be cute. But Mingyu standing hopelessly waiting for instructions was annoying you, to say the least.

You nod, and immediately, he undoes his robe and lets it fall to the floor.

You can’t help but stare. Your lips pressed into a thin line, your body tense. Stop stop stop! You couldn’t give him a reaction. As an artist, it was normal to see naked bodies. It wasn’t a sexual thing, especially in figure drawing. But Mingyu wasn’t just an old man or something. He was a conventionally attractive, tall, well built man. In more places than one.

“Oh shit, he’s hot.” The other T.A. whispers to you, covering her mouth. You bite back your embarrassment, as you just send her a glare for her unprofessional reaction.

It doesn’t help that other people around the room are pleasantly surprised by Mingyu, as I see pink dusting around people’s cheeks. It was infuriating, to say the least.

“Holy shit, a hot model. Is this real?”

“I thought we had a middle aged woman today. Bro… score!”

“I’ve never stared so closely.”

“Alright, warm ups. Ten one minute poses.” You say plainly, holding up the timer and pressing down on it. Immediately, Mingyu nods, springing into action.

His poses were something else. They were a bit awkward, as he stood there. First putting his hands on his hips, staring at the ground.

But he started getting more comfortable. After the ten one minute poses were up, the other T.A. Adds a stool to the platform for Mingyu to sit on.

“One pose, 15 minutes.” You say, setting the timer again.

This time instead of looking at the ground, wall, or ceiling, he stared straight at you. His eyes unwavering. The sight makes your mouth go dry, as the studio lights enhance Mingyu’s features perfectly.

His face framed by the little curl of his bang, light bouncing off his tanned skin as the definition of his muscles are on display. The way his large shoulders balance his proportions, and his skin smooth and tightly wrapped around his toned torso. He always was working out, and it seemed like he kept that up, as your eyes trail from his abs to his bottom half. Your cheeks flushing as he’s so unabashedly bare in front of the whole room.

But it only propelled your anger. How could he? Just step into your domain — the art school wing — and just come here? Posing like a gangly weirdo, riding on his looks so none of the students complained. Staring straight into your eyes as a confrontation. So much it felt like he was telepathically speaking to you.

Why aren’t you returning my calls? Or, how does this make you feel? It was infuriating.

And as if satisfied in your attention on him, he smirks, like he won some imaginary battle. This idiot.

The timer rings, making you flinch against the supply table. Your cheeks flush slightly, as you clear your throat. “Another 6 poses, each 2 minutes.” You manage to choke out, pressing the timer.

As the figure session goes on for the next hour, Mingyu’s confidence was starting to irritate you to no end. At first what was awkward, was now overtly dramatic. His poses of showing off his muscles, flexing his back, it was too much. People were here to draw, not ogle.

You decided to play, not wanting Mingyu to have the upper hand. As Mingyu goes to pick up the robe off the ground, you yell, “Stop right there!”

Mingyu freezes immediately, mainly out of confusion. His eyes drifting to you, a slight furrow of his brows.

“Now, the model will stay still. Do you see how the arm connects to the shoulder blades? Please turn to a new paper and start focusing on that area.” You say, stopping Mingyu in an uncomfortable position in the name of education.

You eye how his leg starts to shake from holding it, but it only fuels you. “Now focus on the thigh muscle, we’ll hold this pose for another 3 minutes.” You say, a little glee seeping into your voice.

Mingyu’s eyes shooting up to glare at you, as you cock your head and smile.

You push Mingyu to do crazy things, like pretending to do a lay up for 10 minutes to talk about line of action. Or when you asked the students to move in closer to draw his face, having twenty people at once hyper fixate on his expression. Now, the class was fun. You completely turned it around.

The timer rings. “Alright, lunch break.” You say, as it’s half way through the 6 hour class.

Theres a collective sigh of relief, as students massage their wrists, and Mingyu putting his robe back on, but loosely. Letting his chest peek out through the fabric, as he walks around the room.

You watch as he circles, smiling and complimenting others.

“Wow, thats really good.”

“Whoa, really love how you drew that one.”

“Is that how I look? I’m flattered! Thanks.”

You huff, looking away as you catch a glimpse of him leaning over a pretty girl’s shoulder as she shows her sketches. Purposefully letting the loose robe drape his exposed chest as he examines the drawings.

Students get up to stretch their bones outside, getting lunch during the break. The other T.A. goes to check on something, leaving only you and Mingyu in the figure drawing room.

You stand, ignoring him as you walk towards the platform, readjusting the power of the studio lights. “Next part of the class is long poses,” You say, twisting the knob. “So it’ll be harsh lights. you just have to sit there, it’ll easy.”

You turn back around, Mingyu looking at you with a small smile, barely a yard away. His hands on his hips, as he looks down at you. “You know,” He drawls, his voice low. “This was a lot more fun than I thought.”

“Is it?” You respond bitterly, “Well I’m glad. Because you’re not gonna be paid for this.” You inform him, as Mingyu isn’t a real model signed with the school.

“Thats okay, I’m getting what I wanted anyways.”

You sigh, as you cross your arms. Deciding not to beat around the bush.

“What are you doing here, Mingyu?” You ask tiredly, finally looking at him straight, your brows furrowed. You boldly looking into his playful eyes.

His smug expression softens, almost reminiscent to how he would look at you before everything. He takes his bottom lip under his teeth, chewing as he looks at you.

“You seriously need me to answer that? Like always?” He says quietly, but with only you two in the studio, he could whisper from across the room and you’d still catch it.

“What, like you actually answer me with anything that makes sense?” You respond back tightly. Sighing, you relax your shoulders, biting your cheek as you glance away from him. A student’s messy pencil case catching your attention, albeit forced.

A deafening silence falls. Mingyu never really liked to fight anyways.

“You’re, you’re difficult, you know that?” He starts, as he ruffles his hair with his hand, as if that would release his pent up frustration. “When I got the random phone call that you guys needed a last minute model, I thought for a second it was intentional.”

He takes a step closer, “But of course not. You looked like you saw a ghost when I walked in.”

You gulp, “Well, to be fair, thats what you are now.” You say quietly. Avoiding his eyes.

“Oh? So I’m just dead to you?”

“No, that would be easier.” You snap, finally looking back to face his eyes. Mingyu’s jaw clenched, his eyebrows knitted, trying to figure you out like an abstract art piece.

He swallows, his adam’s apple bobbing as he lets out a disappointed huff. “y/n.” He starts firmly, in a tone he barely used.

But of course, directed to you, making your skin crawl in the overly air conditioned room.

Hands on his hips, as he takes a long breath, his head facing down as he hides his expression. “For an artist, you’re really shit at expressing your feelings.” He sighs, his bangs hiding whatever you could gather from him.

“Fine.” He concludes, looking up, his shoulders more relaxed. “I’ll stop bothering you about it, since you’re so sure.” He says throwing his arms out. “On one condition.”

You furrow your brows in confusion, wary of whatever condition he was gonna propose. Mingyu could be unpredictable when you pushed him, making the hair at the back of your neck stand.

“Draw me.” He says finally. He glances at the clock on the wall, “They still have that lunch break. So just draw me at least once, before everyone comes back.” He proposes, turning around to walk casually to the platform, as if he’s assuming you would just do it.

Is he serious? You weren’t even together anymore, and yet he wants a free commission from you? Thats crazy, like you’d ever —

“Fine.” You say curtly, “Since you’re so desperate for my attention anyways.” You quip, walking over to the supply table, making sure your shoes stomp against the hard floor. You swipe some spare paper, clipboard, and some charcoal.

The second you were at an art horse in front of Mingyu though, your fire waned slightly. The dead silence of the room was deafening, as you adjust your clipboard. The sound of the metal clips thumping against the paper, the feet of the art horse squeaking as you adjust sitting on the worn wood.

When you gaze up at Mingyu, it was obvious. He really was getting what he wanted, and it was your undivided attention.

Once ready, the charcoal in your hand, Mingyu sits down on the stool, eyes steady on you as he grips the already loose tie around his robe with his large hand. Letting it fall, as he exposes himself once more in the bright lights you set up yourself. He kicks the robe away off the platform, set on you drawing him like this.

You blink back any feelings that threaten to show on your face, readjusting the charcoal in your hand as you avoid Mingyu’s eyes, pressing down to finally start a line.

Its been a while since you last drew figures, and it usually took an hour of continuous drawing before you really found your pace in figure drawing sessions. But it was different this time.

Your heart beats in your ears, a silence of the room highlighting the sound of your charcoal smearing against the newsprint — the sounds of your breathing and of Mingyu’s, as time passes. Agonizingly slowly, yet a focus every artist aches for.

Your hand moves accordingly. Outlining the contour of his silhouette, the way his neck slopes, the soft lines that shape his abs he always was working on. Pressing for pressure with your charcoal as you indicate the weight of him sitting on the stool, hands in his laps loose as you capture his likeness with ease.

But the focus doesn’t last for long, especially when you flicker your eyes back to his. Already flicking a stroke to mimic his right eyelid, before you still. Pressing the tip of your charcoal into the paper, crumbling against the grain as you stare into his large brown eyes.

Fuck. What are you even doing?

Why are you drawing him so intently, when you vowed just a while ago that you never wanted to see Mingyu again?

Your breath hitches, as you raise your arm, flickering back to your drawing. Charcoal in the air, swinging to run a huge line through your figure of him, to smear it, to destroy it, to —

Your wrist stops mid air, as you feel a warm grip tightening around you. Eyes wide, you unfocus on the paper, to look up. Somehow in your tiny melt down Mingyu got down from the platform.

He looks down at you, eyebrows furrowed. Jaw tense, “You were just gonna ruin it, weren’t you?” He asks you quietly.

You can’t help but knit your brows, a pained expression forming that matches the one in his eyes.

The charcoal clatters out of your hand, landing on the floor in broken pieces.

Tears start welling in your eyes, your bottom lip trembling. “You’re right,” You start shakily, “I don’t know… how to address anything unless I’m drawing.” You say weakly.

Mingyu’s eyes soften slightly, swallowing hard as the bright lights highlight the contour of throat bobbing. “Yeah, seems like it.” He replies carefully. You expected him to use this as a told you so, maybe give you a smug smile, like, I knew you weren’t over me.

But Mingyu was never like that anyways. No matter how much he craved your attention, he also wanted your peace of mind. A hard thing to ask from an artist like you.

His grip on your wrist softens, as he kneels down, getting eye level with you as you still sit on the art horse. Holding your hand in his, rubbing a thumb over the veins on the back of your hand gently.

“I miss you.” You finally muster, your eyes focused on his.

“I miss you too.” He responds back, before cracking a small smile.

You strain your brows into a furrow, blinking back the warm tears you naturally formed from the vulnerable moment. A shaky huff also coming out of you, as you decide to lean forward.

Inching your face closer, until the tip of your noses brush, Mingyu stiffening slightly as you shyly graze your lips against his lips. A small breath escaping his lips, fanning over yours before you finally part them.

Your lips against his — it was like home. Finding your way back after such a tumultuous and useless road. The warmth of his lips seeping into you, Mingyu as relieved as you are. His hands finding its way to the sides of your face, pulling you impossibly closer.

It only escalates, as you open your mouth wider to push your tongue against his, making Mingyu groan out as he meets you with similar enthusiasm.

He pulls you forward, off the art horse. Taking you down to the ground, maneuvering you until your back is against the hard floor. Covering you with his large frame, his weight pressing down on you in ways you were having such a hard time admitting you missed.

It was fast, and albeit messy and rushed. Like trying to make up for wasted time as you pull him close, hands wrapped around the back of his neck as your lips go numb, your teeth clashing.

You let out a whine, when Mingyu pulls away with a heavy breath, fighting against your attempts to pull him back for a kiss.

“Y/n — fuck, can we?” He asks hurriedly, his voice breathless. A look of want in his big eyes, but there was also a little responsibility.

First of all — anyone could walk into the studio any second. There was only a lunch break, sure, an hour. But at least half of it has passed.

As you take your bottom lip under your teeth, chewing at your swollen lip as you think. And Mingyu knows exactly what look you were giving him, and he wasn’t going to reject you. Not now.

He leans back in, crashing his lips against yours in a sloppy kiss, breath hot against yours, before moving to your jaw. Leaving open mouthed rushed kisses down your neck, as you move your hands down his back. Feeling the muscles you were forcing yourself to look away from during the whole first half of class.

Touching Mingyu was way better than just drawing him from afar. You’re sure on that.

He moves his hand down, to push your midi skirt up, bunching the fabric to your hips. Your legs exposed to the cold air of the studio, as he wastes no time to slide your panties to the side. Already wet and damp from the heavy making out, and partially to the adrenaline of being in such a risky place.

“Damn, already?” He says, with a slight tease to his voice, making you pinch his arm. He lets out a pained chuckle, before placing his thick fingers against yours core, a gasp escaping your lips.

It helped that he knew you so well already, your legs squirming around the sides of him as he runs his fingers through yours wet folds, his thumb circling your clit as he inserts two fingers in, stretching you out as you gasp, Mingyu attacking your neck with messy kisses as he gets you ready for him.

“Fuck, Gyu,” You whine, your eyes rolling back in pleasure as he curls his fingers, hitting the spongy flesh that makes you arch your back off of the floor.

You weren’t the only one worked up, Mingyu being bare this entire time. His dick pressing up against the inner of your thigh, hardening at the sounds of your pleasure.

Your hand shoots down to grab hold of him, helping him get hard as he lets out a moan, as you tighten your grip. Pumping him a few times, lining him up to you as he removes his hand from your entrance.

You both let out soft gasps as you hold his dick to swipe against you, coating him in your arousal, his tip leaking with precum.

He doesn’t even ask, he just knows, as he pushes in, filling you inch by inch. The friction from your pulled to the side panties, to the tight warm walls of your pussy, making him feel lightheaded with pleasure.

“Fuck, you’re so tight baby,” He breathes, without even adjusting, he ruts into you roughly. Bottoming out as he knocks the wind out of you.

A whine escapes your throat, as you hold tightly around his shoulders, as Mingyu doesn’t slow his pace.

Its rough, its fast, and overall — desperate. The lewd sounds of flesh colliding echoing in the empty studio. Your mind going dumb at his fast pace, only focused on how he goes in, out. In, out.

The smell of his sweat, the way your hands run down his exposed body, all for you. He did this all for you. To get your attention, to get you back. God, does he even know how that makes you feel?

“Fuck, fuck,” He whines, burying his face into the crook of your neck. Already feeling a little fatigued from abusing your pussy so fast. But it was just too good, he missed it so much. So, so much. And he made it evident, as he pushes the back of your thighs higher to your chest, getting deep as he can. And fucking you like his life counted on it.

You feel the familiar build up of your orgasm, your walls tightening as you grip Mingyu’s shoulders. “Gyu, Gyu, I’m —“ You manage to choke out, as he moves his face from your neck to yours. Catching your cry with his mouth, drowning it as he kisses you messily.

You shudder, squirming under him as you feel the familiar high. Your body tingling with sensitivity and pleasure, as he overwhelms you with what can only be love.

He follows soon after, not being able to maintain his mouth to yours as he lets out a shaky grunt. Spilling inside you, his cum warm and filling, making your cheeks flush in contentment and relief.

He slows, stilling as you both catch your breaths. Pulling out of you with a reluctance. Pushing himself up, to lean back to sit. You follow as well, adjusting your skirt back as you push yourself up to your elbows.

Mingyu was a sight, as he always is. His tan skin glowing with a layer of sweat. The way his toned chest rises from catching his breath. The way his bangs are sticking to his forehead, his cheeks flushed with a rush of blood. A satisfied look on his face, as he sighs, licking his bottom lip as he looks at you.

You can’t help but smile, a warm one. As you gather yourself.

“Lets get you cleaned up before the second half. Where did you throw your robe?”

“Oh fuck. I don’t know. You got any other ones?”

[chrissturnsfav]

if star made pornstar by nessa barett do u think chris could’ve been fucking the shit out of her in the studio and that’s how she got the moans in the bridge 🤭🤭 or she could tell chris that’s the vibe she’s going for and he immediately suggests that he does that? IDK IF IM BEING CRAZY BUT THAT WOULD MAKE SUCH A HOG PROMPTTTTTTT AUGGHH

⋆.˚✮ rapper!chris helps singer!reader put her moans in her song

it’s after midnight in the studio, and your legs are tucked up on the worn leather couch while chris leans over the soundboard, head bobbing slightly to the beat looping through the speakers.

you can’t help but smile watching him—always so in his element. it makes your heart beat faster sometimes, just how effortlessly confident he is.

you clear your throat, heart thudding just a little. "chris?"

he looks up, a grin already on his lips. "what's good, kid?"

you toy with the hem of your oversized sweatshirt, cheeks heating up even though it's just him. "remember the song i've been working on for the album? pornstar?"

his brows lift, and that grin of his turns wicked. "yeah, i do. what’s on your pretty lil’ mind, huh?"

your stomach flips, but you press on. "i kinda wanna put, like, my moans in it. like, not in a gross way. just, y’know, artistic and stuff."

there’s a beat of silence before he laughs—low, rich, and full of mischief. "yo, you wild f'that." he steps closer, resting a hand on the back of the couch right next to your shoulder. "but i'm not gon’ lie...sounds fire. you tryna break the internet or what?"

you laugh nervously, covering your face. "stop! i’m serious."

he pulls your hand down gently, locking eyes with you. "m'serious too. but lemme guess—ain’t tryna jus' fake that, huh?"

"no..." you mumble, feeling stupid but oddly excited.

he tilts his head, smirking like he’s already got the answer. "bet. we can make this reealll easy, ma."

you blink up at him. "what do you mean?"

he leans in, voice dropping low and playful. "we record your moans live. like... i make you moan right here in the booth. get authentic wit' it, y’feel me?"

your jaw drops. "chris!"

"c'mon," he grins, wrapping an arm around your shoulder and pulling you close. "i know you wanna."

chris proves you right just moments later when you're perched in his lap on a desk chair, panties pulled to the side as you feel him filling your puffy pussy, riding him at a comfortable pace, mewling softly.

one of chris' hands are kneading the flesh of your ass, looking up at you with a smirk as he breathes heavily, the other holding a microphone up to your parted lips.

your hazy eyes flit down to his face with your brows furrowed in pleasure, the smirk on his lips sending a pleasure wave through you as you let out another soft moan.

he nods up at you, snickering breathily, "keep goin', you sound so pretty," he whispers.

chris' tip brushes against your cervix deliciously with every bounce of your hips, causing you to let out airier moans into the mic, your eyes rolling back as your fingers curl around his shirt for leverage.

he hums in awe up at you, swiping his tongue over his bottom lip as he squeezes the flesh of your ass, "mhmm, look at you," he coos quietly, lidded eyes burning into yours. "ridin' my cock like such a good girl, wanna go faster f'me? hm?"

you nod your head, swallowing hard as you pant softly into the mic. you adjust your position on his dick before bouncing your hips harder and faster, eliciting a loud whine into the mic and a low grunt from chris as his fingers sink into your skin.

"theeeere you go, that's my fuckin' girl, jus' like that, baby, keep ridin' jus' like that," he purrs quietly, hissing in pleasure as his eyes flutter close, his teeth sinking into his bottom lip when he feels you take him into your tight warmth deeper.

"m-mmph...a-ah...ah," you moan into the mic, your eyes rolling back as your jaw falls open, drool seeping past your lips, the delicious feeling of him stretching you going straight to your tummy, a knot forming in it.

your walls tighten around him hard, causing chris to groan deeply, letting you both know how close you are. "c'mon, take this dick, baby, cum all over it too, wanna feel that shit," he grunts quietly, looking up at you with lidded eyes.

the knot tightens in your tummy, your thighs beginning to shake as your noises become more high pitched into the mic, your pace on his cock growing sloppier and erratic. "o-oh god...a-ah.."

"mm, c'mon," chris mumbles, his chest heaving up and down as he feels his balls tightening as he gets close. "you so close, just cum f'me, mama."

the knot snaps in your tummy, your hips stuttering as you let out a cry into the mic, your walls fluttering around chris' dick as your knuckles turn white at how hard you grip his shirt.

chris is pushed over the edge shortly after you, his eyes rolling back as he gasps, his hand holding the mic to your lips shaking slightly as his fingers sink into the flesh of your ass, thrusting his hips up into you to ride out his high.

"fuck," he grunts breathily, lowering the mic from your lips as his head falls back against the chair, his eyes closing. you wrap your arms around his neck, panting into his chest.

he chuckles breathily, his arm coming around your back to rub it beneath your sweatshirt, "damn, kid, you really gonna break the fuckin' internet wit' this shit. loud as hell."

thank you for reading!! <3

tags 🏷️: @sturnobsessedwh0re , @idrk2292 , @mattsbrat , @ribbonlovergirl , @matthewsroses , @mattsdemi , @emely9274 , @frankoceanfanpage , @ifwdominicfike , @marrykisskilled , @strnilolover , @cayleeuhithinknott , @forgottxen , @sophand4n4 , @sturnsrecord , @purpledragon222 , @faiyaz555 , @jocelyncsblog , @freakiolos , @slut4chris888 , @chriss-slutt , @ilovedanielcaesar , @annsx03 , @snoopychris , @chrissweetheart , @slutformatt17 , @mattsturnii , @dominicfikeenthusiast , @mattsbratt333 , @ivysturnss , @tessasturns , @coquettechris , @courta13 , @sturniolo101

@chrissturnsfav ™

[forcaleb]

a dose of love and laughter — caleb

warnings — fluff, sick!reader, caleb taking care of you, angst (like really small part)

notes — a 360 from my previous fic im crying LMFAO \\ tags: @aomiiine

caleb loves doting on you.

no matter how many times you tell him you’re a grown woman who can take care of herself, caleb always finds a way to step in and handle things for you.

“caleb, i promise i can take care of myself while you’re at work,” you say, letting out a small cough. his hoodie keeps you warm against the cool breeze of the air conditioner. you came down with a cold last night, and caleb has been insistent on taking the day off just to look after you. “i don’t want you missing work because of me.”

“but princess…” caleb sighs. “i’m worried you’ll get worse if i’m not here. what will you do if your fever spikes, hm?” he gently brushes your hair back, his touch soft. “let me stay, okay? let me take care of you, just like i always did when we were kids.”

you can’t argue with that. having someone look after you, especially caleb, is comforting. he’s always been good at taking care of you when you’re sick.

his pleading gaze makes you give in. “okay, fine. but if any of your underlings blame me for their colonel being absent, i’m kicking your ass.”

“don’t worry, princess,” caleb chuckles. in one swift motion, he lifts you into a bridal carry, making you squeal in surprise. he sets you down gently on the couch and tucks a warm blanket around you. “you stay here, okay? i’ll go make some porridge.”

you nod and settle into the couch, your favorite tv show playing softly in the background. as much as you hate to admit it, having caleb take care of you brings back warm memories from your childhood. and his porridge is as delicious as you remember.

as you’re about to doze off, you hear caleb’s footsteps approaching. you squint, catching a glimpse of him.

“sleepy already, pipsqueak?” he says softly, setting a bowl of porridge on the table. “want to eat now?”

“only if you feed me,” you declare. caleb laughs, and you hide your smile under the blanket, trying to keep a stern look.

“okay, okay,” caleb agrees, amused. “what would you do without me?” he helps you sit up gently, leaning you against the cushions. taking a spoonful of porridge, he holds it up for you. you open your mouth and savor the warm flavor. “good?”

“mhm,” you hum, swallowing before giving him a smile. “it’s really good. just like i remember.”

“you remember?” caleb asks, sounding surprised.

“yeah, of course i do!” you exclaim, almost choking on the porridge in your excitement. caleb quickly hands you a cup of water. after taking a sip, you continue, “i tried recreating it when you were gone, but i could never get it right.”

caleb’s expression softens, a hint of sadness in his eyes. “really?” he glances down at the porridge, avoiding your gaze. “maybe i should make a recipe book for you. that way, you can make all of caleb’s specialties anytime.”

“hey,” you say gently, placing your hand under his chin to lift his face. “what’s wrong? why do you look so sad?”

he leans into your touch. “just… thinking about you being sick all alone, with no one to take care of you.”

you giggle softly. “why are you upset over that? you know i’m good at taking care of myself.”

“yeah?” caleb asks, a teasing glint in his eyes. “so, you don’t want me to feed you right now?”

“wha-” you quickly grab his hand, stopping him from leaving. “of course i want you to feed me! i’m sick, caleb! i can’t believe you’re joking with a sick person right now,” you say, feigning indignation to lighten the mood.

it works. caleb’s laughter is so genuine that it nearly brings tears to your eyes. you’ve missed his laugh, his smile — everything about him. even though it’s been weeks since you reunited, you still haven’t gotten over how much you missed him.

“you’re contradicting yourself, pipsqueak,” caleb teases. “so, can you take care of yourself or not?”

“hmm,” you pause, pretending to think. “i can take care of myself. but when you’re here, i’d rather have you take care of me.”

caleb blinks, then bursts into laughter again. “why are you laughing? i’m serious!” you protest.

“i know, i know,” he says, wiping a stray tear of laughter from his eye. he gently pats your head. “i’ll take care of you. i promise.”

[covenofagatha]

Do I wanna know? (Part 1)

Sequel to But you're my stepmom!

Picks up a few months later after your dad and Agatha get divorced and you've started college

Word count: 3.8k

Warnings: fingering, mommy kink, slight angst

Fuck. You do not want to do this. 

It’s a Saturday night and you’re here. You should’ve said you had anywhere else to be, but instead, your car almost gets hit as you turn the corner in possibly the narrowest parking garage you’ve ever been in. It makes you swear and you stomp on the brakes so quickly you think you might have a bruise from the seatbelt. 

But luckily, you find a spot on the first floor and squeeze between two other cars, muttering a silent prayer that you don’t scrape against them.

You wipe your sweaty palms on your jeans as you get out and walk into the lobby of the apartment complex. 

It’s nice, although you hate to admit it. You would surely not mind spending more time here if it didn’t mean having to see—

“Hey, sweet pea!” 

Him. You look to your right and plaster on a fake smile when you see your father standing there, slipping his phone into his pocket. 

“Hey,” you say softly, awkwardly patting his back with a hand as he embraces you. 

He had been asking to get dinner with you at least once a week for the past few months since he and Agatha got divorced. You’ve always found an excuse to get out of it — you had homework, you had exams, you had to work over the summer and you were so tired — but now that it’s your first weekend in college and he knows that you don’t have anything going on, he insisted. 

Plus your mom had sort of asked for you to go at least once. Your dad has been sending you updates about his apartment search and random internet posts that he found funny, and having lived at home all summer, you’ve kept your mom in the loop. She is still obsessed with him, always finding ways to bring him up in conversation, and you wish you were brave enough to tell her to just move on. She was absolutely ecstatic when you broke the news about him and Agatha and she’s been pressing you for updates ever since. 

Part of the reason she wanted you to go see him was to scope out his new place and see if there was any sign of a new woman. There was still no sign about the lady he was having an affair with, so you weren’t sure if things had ended. 

And when he moved out the first time, he took your mom’s can opener and she still won’t let it go. Before you left, she texted you that if you saw it, you should steal it back. 

After the divorce went through, your dad had decided to sell the house and look for an apartment a little closer to his work, and he’s lived in this place for about a month now. 

“How are you? How’s it going?” he asks as he leads you to the elevator. He presses his fob to the button inside and then floor six. You remember him being so consumed with having one of the top floors, like that would make him seem more important. 

You shrug and pick at the peeling skin on your fingers. It’s a bad habit — one of your many. “Pretty good. Syllabus week has been a breeze. Made some new friends.”

“Classes seem like they’ll be fun?” he asks. 

“Yeah, I hope so.” 

And then a tense silence falls over the both of you. You haven’t actually seen him since your graduation, which was a whole other level of awkward with your mom there too, and you both know that the two affairs and two divorces has put a strain on your relationship.

It does hurt a little. You wish there was a way you could reach over the cold gap between you and go back to how things were when you were a kid, when you actually liked being around him. 

But too much has happened. 

“Well, I’m really glad you were able to come down for dinner,” he says and you smile tightly. “I can’t wait to show you the place and then we can get whatever you want to eat.” 

The elevator dings and you follow him to an apartment a few doors down and he unlocks the door and lets you go first. 

The floors are a laminate gray, the counters in the kitchen marble white with black pendant lights over the peninsula. The refrigerator is stainless steel and there’s a completely stocked wine cooler fridge built into the cabinets next to the stove. You walk past the kitchen into the living room where the couches from his and Agatha’s house are set up around an entertainment center with a fireplace and a blue rug under the coffee table. 

“What do you think?” he asks, stepping next to you and putting an arm around your shoulders to bring you in close to him. 

You take his fancy bachelor pad in again. “Yeah, it’s pretty nice. Maybe just pizza for dinner? We can order and watch a show or something?”

Staying in and having the television as a buffer is a much better plan than going out and having to make small talk that will end up with him on his phone anyway. He agrees and calls to order the pizza while you perch on the couch and scroll on your phone. You already have a text from your mom telling you to call her when you’re done and your chest tightens at the thought of all the shit she’s going to say. It’s fucking exhausting still being in the middle of this — you really thought it would get better, especially now that you’re in college. And yet, here you are. 

“So…” your dad starts, plopping down next to you with a groan once he gets off the phone. He grabs the remote and turns the TV on. “You like your roommate?”

Your roommate, Alice Wu, is a sweet girl from out-of-state. You think that you and her will get along just fine and you’ve already agreed on all the rules of cleaning and having friends over. The first week has gone well and you’ve gotten close. “She’s cool. I think she and I will be good friends.” 

He nods and turns on a show you watched awhile and the two of you sit in awkward silence until the pizza guy rings from downstairs. You excuse yourself to the bathroom after your dad rings him in. 

The bathroom is through the bedroom and you take careful note of the sheets still strewn all over the bed and the two pillows at the top. One nightstand is cluttered with a phone charger, earplugs, a lamp, and a picture of you on your graduation day in a silver frame. It tugs at your heart and you instantly look away, not wanting to feel any more nostalgia. 

However, on the other nightstand, there’s just a matching lamp. No hair tie, no other chargers or personal belongings. 

But that stuff is easily hidden, so you go into the bathroom. One toothbrush, one retainer case, one razor. You can’t tell if you’re disappointed or glad. 

At least you won’t have to listen to your mom talk endlessly about a new woman. 

Your dad already has a plate with two slices on it for you sitting in your spot on the couch and you dig into it, suddenly famished. The atmosphere does warm up over time, and it’s no longer uncomfortable silence and you do end up talking a bit about his work and more about your school while the TV plays.

He doesn’t bring up your mom or Agatha at all, and neither do you. In a way, it’s nice to be removed from them for a few hours. Your dad has been villainized by both of them — and obviously he fucked up — but he is still your dad, despite your complicated feelings toward him. 

After a few episodes of the show, you shift to get up, grabbing your plate. “You’re leaving already?” he asks and checks his watch.

“Yeah, it’s getting late and I should really be getting back to the dorms,” you say, trying to sound apologetic. Even if the bubble has been nice, you have somewhere you need to be. 

It’s hard for your dad to hide his disappointment, but he gets it and grabs his keys to walk you down to your car. 

“How’s, uh, how’s your mom doing?” he asks. Still putting me in the middle of all the imaginary drama she’s creating with you is what you want to say. But you know that he’ll call her out for it and you’d have to deal. 

“She’s pretty good. Work’s been keeping her busy.” A safe answer. A true answer. 

“Good,” he says and shoves his hands into his pockets and you know what’s coming next. “And Agatha? Have you seen her at all?” 

Imagines of her hot body on yours flash through your mind. Her rosy nipples, her pale stomach, the heat that swallows up her eyes. “Yeah, I’ve seen her around. She’s doing all right, too, I think.”

Your dad nods and stops at your car. “Well, I had a great time with you,” he says and holds his arms out for a hug. You mutter something in agreement and give him an embrace with two pats — the way you’ve done it since you were a kid. “Let’s do it again soon.”

He tells you that he loves you and after you say it back, you get into your car and he watches you as you drive away. 

Begrudgingly, you call your mom and put her on speaker and not even a second later, her voice fills your car. 

“How was it? Did you see anything? Is there another woman? Did you find my can opener?” she asks all in one breath and you take a silent, deep breath. 

You can’t wait to be home. “It was a pretty nice place actually.” Your mom snorts. “There wasn’t any sign of someone else there and I didn’t have time to look around. We just watched a show and ate pizza.” 

She makes a sound. “Wow, father of the year. Maybe he cleaned up the place before you came over.” You hum noncommittally. “What are you doing tomorrow? Want to come over? I’ll take you grocery shopping.” 

“Yeah, let me just check my schedule. Alice and I might be doing something, but I’d love to go there for a bit. Especially for groceries,” you tease and she laughs. 

“I bet your father didn’t even offer to do that,” she says smugly and your face falls. Sometimes you wonder if she does half the things that she does for you just to one-up him. 

“Okay, well I’m almost back now, so I’ll let you know when I’m coming over tomorrow,” you tell her, eager to wrap it up, and about to turn in. “Love you.” You hang up before she’s even done saying it back. 

Once you park, you text your roommate saying that you won’t be back for the night — staying with family — and walk up to the apartment side door, letting yourself in with the fob on your key ring. 

Agatha’s apartment complex is smaller than your dad’s, but just as nice, and you prefer it a lot more. 

After the divorce, she stayed in a hotel for about a week before signing a lease on a place about ten minutes away from where the house used to be. You had helped her pick out the furniture and spent more time here than at your mom’s house the last couple months of school and she gave you a key to it the day she moved in. 

It got harder over the summer to hang out with her, as you worked at an ice cream shop in the afternoons into the evenings and she was working her normal nine to five, but you made it work. 

Things are really good between the two of you. There isn’t exactly a label on it, per se, but you both know that it’s a relationship. And without your dad in the picture and with her not being your stepmom anymore, there isn’t as much of a need to keep sneaking around — so when she puts an arm around you while you’re walking down the street and kisses your cheek when you say something cute and ghosts her pinky against yours, it’s okay. 

You know things might change a little with you in college now, but you’re ready for it. And if you spend more nights at her place than at your dorm, so be it. It’s not like anyone’s going to know, and Alice will just think you’re staying with family. 

Unlocking the door, you can practically feel the tension seeping away from your body. Agatha makes everything feel better. Even the house you grew up in, the one your mom still lives in, doesn’t feel as home as this does. 

You don’t see her when you first walk in and you walk into the living room to see her typing something on her computer, brows furrowed, and you can just make out the glint of a document through the reflection of her glasses. 

“Hey, you,” you greet, kicking off your shoes. She startles and looks up before slamming her laptop shut and smiling. 

“Hey, honey,” she says and pats the spot next to her while she leans forward to place her computer on the coffee table. “How was it?” 

Agatha had emphatically listened to your incessant complaining about having to get dinner with your dad, but in the end she had also pushed you to go. You groan and flop onto the couch, situating yourself so that your head is in her lap and you’re looking up at her. “It wasn’t that bad,” you admit and she smirks. “Don’t even think about saying ‘I told you so’. I will leave.” 

She tosses her head back with a laugh and you play with the strands of hair that’s falling over her shoulder and teasing your face. “I would never, darling. But I’m glad it wasn’t bad. How is he?” 

Your nose wrinkles. “Can we not talk about my dad? Although, I was just thinking about how much of a reward I deserve for going.” 

“Oh, you think you deserve a reward, do you?” she ribs lightly, raising an eyebrow and poking you in the stomach. You giggle and twist away from her finger before sticking out your bottom lip as pitiful as you can and giving her doe eyes, nodding your head. She rolls her eyes fondly. “What were you thinking, honey?” 

You shrug like you’re just now beginning to think about it. “Well, mommy,” you say, a thrill running through you at her sharp gasp. “I think since I was such a good girl, you should give me an orgasm.” 

“Oh, just one?” she asks playfully, and you surge up out of her lap, turn over onto your knees to face her, and pull her in for a kiss. Your lips move against each other with familiar ease, her tongue licking hotly into your mouth and you moan — her hands slide up under your shirt and rest on your bare skin before you reach down and take it off. 

“As many as you’ll give me, mommy,” you pant, and she grins before starting to suck open-mouthed bites onto your chest. You’re wearing green lingerie but she barely even looks at it before unclasping your bra from behind and tearing it off, throwing it somewhere on the floor. 

She swirls her tongue around your nipple before suckling hard and you whimper, holding her head right against you. It feels like there’s a wire running straight from your boob to your cunt and you quickly feel yourself becoming soaked. Agatha switches to the other one and soon your entire chest is sticky with her saliva and you’ve moved onto her lap, squirming. 

Her teeth nip at the underside of your breasts and you can’t take it anymore. “Mommy, please,” you beg, grabbing her hand and leading it to the waistband of your jeans. Her fingers rest there while you quickly unbutton and unzip and then you shove her into your pants, your hand circled around her wrist to just feel her. 

Agatha chuckles throatily and moves her fingers experimentally against you while you try to grind down for some stimulation. You suddenly feel so empty, a molten heat between your legs, and Agatha crashes her lips back onto yours. She sucks on your tongue and tugs on your bottom lip as she finally presses against your clit and your hips jerk. “So wet for mommy, aren’t you?” she huffs and you nod and try to move against her harder. 

When she finally pushes your underwear to the side and runs her fingers through your folds, you keen and bury a hand into her hair, face dropping down into her neck. She sharply gasps when you start breathing heavily against her skin, content to just keep your lips planted against her throat. 

She slides a finger into you and your walls clench around her, trying to draw her even more in. Each time she fucks you, it feels like the first time — the same energy is there, the same electricity. But at the same time, she knows exactly what you need, maybe even more than you do. 

Her thrusts begin to pick up and heat is rising through your body and you can see little indents in Agatha’s skin from where your teeth have slightly sunk in. 

“Mommy, mommy — please, I need more,” you whine and she obliges by pushing another finger into you and curling them just right. A high-pitched sound leaves your mouth and you start riding her fingers the best you can, rolling your hips to match her and get her even deeper. You’re clenching furiously around her as sparks begin to fly in your lower stomach and you can feel the beginning tendrils of your orgasm start to build. 

Agatha’s thumb circles around your clit without actually touching it. “God, sweetheart, you look so hot right now, taking my fingers like such a good girl. You feel so good, too. Never wanna leave you,” she babbles, making you convulse even tighter. There’s a slight pink tint to her cheeks and her breathing has picked up and you know she’s affected too. Her fingers are moving faster and she pauses for just a moment, making you whimper, before she stretches you out with a third. 

“Oh, fuck,” you swear, your walls adjusting, and the slight burn only adds to the immense pleasure you’re feeling. “Fuck, fuck.” Your head is spinning, completely drunk with her and her perfume that’s been invading your nostrils the whole time, and you can’t even form a single thought. 

She presses harder on your clit and with the hand that’s not currently inside you, grips your hair and pulls you away from her neck. You can see red blotches staining her skin and the thought of her wearing your marks around gets you even closer. “Look at me,” she grunts, her thrusts becoming more sporadic and you stare right into her dark blue eyes with your pleading wide ones. Your breaths intermix and she looks like she might also cum just from this. 

Agatha lets out a strangled gasp when her gaze flickers from your eyes to your swollen lips to your breasts that are bouncing with your movements in her lap. 

“Mommy, I need — right there —” You can’t even string together a coherent thought and she scissors her fingers inside you, the pressure making you see stars. 

She looks you up and down again, drinking you in like she might never get enough, and her chest heaves with each breath she takes. “Fuck, baby, you’re so perfect,” she groans and your head falls back as you keep riding her. “I need you to cum for me, okay? Cum for mommy.” 

“Mommy, fuck, I’m gonna — fuck I love you,” you groan, not even realizing the words slipping out of your mouth, the words neither of you have ever said before, before it’s too late and your orgasm explodes through your body in a way it never has before. You feel it in every crack and crevice inside you and she keeps fucking you just as hard while rubbing your clit and it quickly becomes too much, tears springing into your eyes. 

Agatha’s fingers finally slow down and she coos sweet nothings in your ear and you wonder if she even heard you. It’s been a few months since you’ve been together, but neither of you has really acknowledged the depth between you. 

And you just did, in the middle of sex. 

“You okay?” she murmurs, pressing a kiss to your cheek and you nod before she pulls out of you and you wince at the sudden emptiness. You fall back out of her lap onto the couch. She must not have heard it. 

There’s a slight gnawing feeling that begins to grow in your stomach — if you said it for real, in a moment that couldn’t just be blamed on a dopamine rush, would she say it back? 

Does she feel the same? 

Agatha kisses you before sticking her three fingers into your mouth so you can clean them up. “Good girl,” she purrs in a low voice. “Was that a good enough reward?” 

You’re still a little out of it, but you nod dazedly. “Yeah,” you say softly and she gets off the couch and walks over to the fridge to get you a glass of water. “My mom wants me to go hang out with her tomorrow. What are you doing at night? Can I come over after?” 

She pauses for a fraction of a second and then glances at you over her shoulder. “Um, sorry, baby. I have to work all day tomorrow. Some last minute things I’ve got to get done.” 

You hum, a little disappointed, but graciously accept the water. “No worries. Maybe Monday or something.” 

“Yeah, of course. Just a second, I need to go grab something,” she murmurs and then walks into her bedroom. You’re exhausted and you get off the couch, stretching your aching muscles, and you’re about to follow her when her phone buzzes on the end table. 

Thinking it’s just a work email or something, you glance at it and your stomach drops, heart lurches. 

It’s a text message from an unknown number. 

Can’t wait to see you tomorrow. 

@lostbutlovely33 @diorrxckstar @whoreforolderfictionalwomen  @katekathry @onemansdreamisanothermansdeath @tayasmellsapples @natashashill @mybraininblood @mysticalmoonlight7  @cactuslover2600 @loveem0mo @readysteddiero-nance @lonelyhalfwitch @lesbiantortilla @crescendoofstars @sol-in-wonderland @ahsfan05 @gbab09 @sasheemo @agathaharness @live-laugh-love-lupone @chiar4anna @fuckedupforkhahn @lowlyjelly @sweetmidnights

[carmenberzattosgf]

i know you’ve written about carmy and consenual choking before (loved that btw oh my goodess) but i saw this thing on one of those character nsfw alphabets and i cant remember who’s it was for the life of me but they had a thing about carmy like wrapping his arm around readers neck from behind during boombayahing and its stuck in my head if you’re willing to write something with this (absolutely no pressure btw have a great day :)

Okay yes let’s talk about Carmy choking you with his bicep. I’m very passionate about this topic.

Fucking you from behind has never been Carmy’s favorite way to do it. He can’t see your pretty face, or see the way your mouth falls open when he hits that spot inside of you.

The first time the bicep choking thing happens, it’s completely on accident. Truly. It’s the rare time he has you face down on the bed, with a pillow under your hips to keep your propped up for him.

He’s just trying to get better leverage by wrapping his arm around your front to grab your shoulder. The thick muscle of his bicep flexes and presses against your throat, making a gasp leave your mouth.

Carmy practically freezes for a moment, before continuing the pace of his hips. He keeps his arm right where it is, letting his bicep rest against your neck. He then starts to squeeze his arm around your throat, just enough to make everything a little fuzzy.

Your reaction is instantaneous. Your back arches up against his thrusts, and you whimper desperately.

“Oh? You like that?” he asks with a teasing voice. He knew from the second you spasmed around him how good it felt for you. He keeps his pace constant, hitting deep inside of you. It’s becoming hard to think, let alone craft together words.

Your hand grips Carmy’s arm around your neck while you nod your head rapidly in response, but that’s not enough for him. “C’mon—‘M not squeezing that tight, tell me how much you like it,” he insists.

“Feels s’good—fuck, Bear,” you whine.

“Yeah? You like how strong I am? How I can have my way with you?” he murmurs. He places messy kisses all along your cheek before he speeds up his thrusts, practically making you see stars.

“Yes, yes, yes, yes—so strong. Always take such good care of me,” you choke out in a moan. He squeezes just a little bit tighter at your words, sending a euphoric feeling through your body.

“Know you’re close—can feel how close you are. Let go f’me, baby.” Those few words sent you right over the edge, legs shaking as your peak washed over you. Carmy loosens his grip on your neck, letting the blood rush back up to your head, heightening the feeling of your orgasm. It sends you right into a haze.

You can barely recognize the feeling of Carmen spilling into you moments later. You stay in the floaty haze for a few minutes, humming in response to Carmy’s soft voice checking on you as he cleans you up with a warm rag.

He finally pulls you onto his chest to settle down for the night, safe and sound in his arms.

So yeah after this whole ordeal you’re like obsessed with Carmy’s arms and he’s equally obsessed with fucking you from behind while choking you with his biceps.

His favorite way to do this is to have you bent over the kitchen counter…..

[vershautece]

Imagine the whole phd thing was your inside joke nobody else knew about and one day you’re at a gathering and somebody asks “so luigi, thinking of going for that phd soon?” He smirks and looks towards you like “what you think of me and a phd baby?” OHHHH LETS GO HOME RIGHT NOW AND I’LL TELL YOU

*when i first started responding to this ask i didn’t even mean to write a whole oneshot haha but omfg guys this is like size kink heaven

—

omg this is what im saying he would literally be this cocky and teasing😣 and yes i love the idea of it being an inside joke like u guys were prob just cuddling scrolling on your phones and he starts laughing bc he’s just seen a tweet about someone doing a phd and it inspired the joke😭 ur both giggling like children and then u turn to him and decide to tease, batting your lashes. ‘so is it really as huge as you say, sir?’ & you know damn well it’s a whole 7 inches bc ur insides have it memorised. ur rubbing his bulge through his pants and when he tells u to straddle him you’re giggling and whining while u dry hump

he’s going along with your playing dumb gimmick: ‘you need help remembering how big my cock is baby? don’t want just the tip, no? you want the whole thing? how many inches am i, princess?’

‘mm, 5?’ you’re messing with him still, grinding your hips onto his clothed crotch. his hands are moving between your sides, your lower back and gripping and kneading your ass in your loungewear.

at your words he immediately scoffs, and cocks his tongue to the inside of his cheek: ‘yeah sure baby, so you wanna see if you’re right?’ his smirk is making you so wet, and it’s surely gonna leak through the thin fabric you’re wearing. your hands are pushing on his chest now while you rock your hips against his.

‘mhmm, show me baby, i don’t think you can call it a phd if it’s only 5 inches. hm?’ u tease him, and move back off his crotch a little to palm him through his sweatpants. he’s so hard now, and u almost moan out loud at the feeling of him even through fabric.

‘take it out then, sweetheart’ he’s looking at you with pure lust in his eyes as you sit back to pull his sweatpants and his boxers down his legs, throwing them onto the other side of the bed.

his cock is fully erect, almost slapping against his stomach, and he hisses at the feeling. ‘what do you think, baby?’

you’re nearly drooling at the sight, and you giggle, biting your lip. ‘still think it’s just 5 inches, lu’ you bat your eyelashes, pouting slightly, and he nods slowly in response. ‘see if you can take those 5 inches in your mouth then, come on. if it’s only 5 you can do it, sweetheart’

you don’t break eye contact with him as you put him in your mouth, and you only get halfway down before you start to gag. the sight of u struggling to deepthroat him while maintaining eye contact has him going insane. he lets out one loud groan as soon as he’s in your mouth, and instinctively moves his hand to your hair, holding it out of your face. ‘why can’t you take it all, bellissima? hm? come off my cock for a second and answer me, yeah?’

you reluctantly take him out of your mouth, and tease him by spitting out his precum back onto the tip of his cock. ‘mm, think i need to feel it inside me lu, y’know if it hits my cervix then maybe i can say you do qualify for a phd’

u and luigi literally never have sex without him hitting your cervix - he knows you’re messing with him and his size kink is going crazy. he gives u that smirk (u guys know which oneee) ‘that’s fine baby ill give it to you, but you didn’t answer my question. why can’t you deepthroat my cock, beautiful?’

‘mm, stop asking questions and tell me to put it inside baby’ you moan, rocking yourself on his bare thigh and stroking his cock - you’re still fully clothed, and this friction isn’t enough

‘so fuckin’ needy, hm? yeah, you want my dick inside you? take everything off baby, there wasn’t any point in wearing panties cause you’re leaking through your clothes, mm’ he sits up a bit and reaches forward to rub your pussy slowly through your pants. he can locate the clit even through your clothes, and he slaps it lightly as a way of telling you to strip off. you take off your tank top, shuffle out of your pants, and then pull down your soaking panties, and luigi is jerking off slowly in front of you, trying to control his moans. you position yourself on him, replacing his hand with yours on his cock so that you can guide him into you. slowly, you start to push in the tip, and you nearly scream at the pleasure from his tip alone. ‘mmmm, lu’ you place your hands on his chest, and he’s smirking up at u. ‘mhm? this is just the tip baby girl, you gonna push me in deeper? shouldn’t be that difficult since im not that big, huh? cmon’ and he starts drawing slow circles on your clit just to tease you even more. you roll your eyes and push him in deeper, letting out another pornographic moan. ‘luigiiii, mm you’re so bi-’

his smirk grows wider: ‘i’m what? repeat that baby’ he lifts his hips to slowly push the rest into you, groaning at the feeling, and when he bottoms out you lean forward onto his chest and put your arms around his neck. ‘you’re so big, mmmm Mr phd’ you giggle into his chest

‘yeah? it’s more than 5 inches, huh, princess?’ he wraps his arms tight around your waist and gently pulls your face from his chest. he kisses you passionately, and you’re both giving each other teasing smiles when u break the kiss. ‘mhm, feel you in my cervix’ you moan softly; he’s not even started moving yet.

‘yeah, i know baby’ he coos at you, caressing your abdomen where his imprint is. ‘start rocking your hips, and i’ll get to making you feel so good, hm?’ he kisses you again softly as you start grinding on his cock. ‘mmmm, i’m so lucky’ you moan

his arms are moving up and down your torso now, and occasionally to your ass to knead it and grip it. ‘yeah you are, and so am i with this beautiful girl on top of me. you look like an angel, my baby’

you’re blushing down at him, soft moans spilling from your throat as you increase the pace. he’s kissing your neck now and leaving hickeys, while u tangle your fingers in his curls. ‘yeah, grind on my cock just like that, oh fuck’ he’s moaning into your neck, and you keep this pace going for a good few minutes, until he tells you to stop.

u both look at each other with lust filled eyes, a needy whine leaving your throat as you stop moving. he chuckles softly at your desperation. ‘c’mere, baby girl’ he wraps his arms tight around your waist again, and shifts his position on the bed to sit up properly against the headboard, still inside you. ‘c’mere’ he continues to coo at you, then brings u down onto his chest, planting his feet on the bed for the perfect angle to start thrusting up into you. he kisses your forehead, and holds you so tight. you’re prepared for him to start thrusting rough, but instead he starts an extremely frustrating pace of one rough thrust, then stilling inside u, another rough thrust, stilling inside again, and repeat. you want him to be fucking you dumb, not teasing you at this slow pace but it’s so so intimate, and his words in between the thrusts have you feeling like you’re in heaven. ‘i’m starting off slow like this baby, need to make sure you’re really savouring the feeling of how i hit your cervix, mhm? promise i’ll go faster soon’ he speaks to you so sweet and soft, kissing your forehead over and over.

*thrust* ‘mm, that’s it bellissima, you’re taking it so well’ *thrust* ‘mhm, my baby taking my cock so deep for me’ *thrust* ‘yeah, you feeling good?’ *thrust* ‘oh that’s my girl huh? mm, amore mio’

to all of this you’re just responding with moans and incoherent babbles, fingers tangled in his curls - the sensation and the contrast of him thrusting and then stilling inside is heavenly, and you don’t mind the teasing anymore.

‘all you can do is moan for me, hm? all dumb on this phd?’ he’s still at the same pace, and when you still don’t respond he smacks ur ass in between thrusts. u manage to let out a reply through whines: ‘mmm i love you luigi, my baby’

‘i know, sweetheart, i know. i love you too, always wanna show you how much’ he stops thrusting altogether and kisses your shoulder. ‘luigi, please’ you moan, desperate for him to fuck you properly. ‘pazienza, amore mio’

you’re arching your back like a slut waiting for him, and when he starts a steady pace you can’t control any of the whines and moans that leave your throat. ‘oh, luuu, i needed this so bad, your cock’s so fucking big, shit, i can’t’ your eyes roll into the back of your head, and his grip on your waist is so secure it’s making u even dizzier thinking about how protective he is of you. ‘that’s it, sweetheart - is it too much?’ his pace is getting unbelievably faster, and he keeps saying things to you as if you have the energy or brain capacity rn to reply.

‘no it’s perfect baby, want you inside me like this forever’ you manage to reply, and then you’re pressing sloppy kisses all over his neck - your moans vibrating against his skin triggers louder moans from him. ‘oh you’re so good to me, i’m the luckiest girl in the world’

‘baby girl - bambina - i wanna take care of you forever, make you my wife’

‘luigi, i’m gonna cum’ you whine, his words getting u even closer.

‘mhm, you close? yeah? cum for me, beautiful’ he pushes you back off his chest so he can see you, and the eye contact is insane. ‘i wanna see you come undone for me, amore mio, i’m so close too’

‘cum inside me, lu’ you whine desperately, hands gripping his curls so tight. his thrusts haven’t slowed once, and u think it can’t get any better till he suddenly hooks his hands under your ass and makes you jump on his cock, while he shifts his position so that you’re both sat up properly chest to chest, and he bends his knees even more to adjust the angle of his thrusts that somehow makes you feel even better than you already felt.

‘i’m gonna cum, fuck baby, oh, i love you so much’ his moans are erratic, and he’s sucking and kissing your boobs, hands still gripping and smacking your ass.

‘mhmmmm, me too, oh i love you’ you’re rocking your hips frantically to meet his thrusts now, and he pulls away from your boobs just for one second to say something: ‘dolcezza, play with your clit, my pretty girl’

and now your fingers are working erratically on your bundle of nerves, the last thing to push you over the edge as you get your release, screaming luigi’s name. you fall forward onto his chest immediately, while he continues his thrusts to get his own release.

‘that’s a good girl, cumming all over my cock, that’s it - gonna fill you up with mine now, mhm’ he’s muttering these words in your ear, followed by loud grunts as he spills inside you, right before collapsing on the sheets with you on his chest.

you’re both breathing heavily for a few moments and he’s stroking your hair with one hand, pulling you as close as possible by your waist with his other hand. he’s the first to speak: ‘so you’re gonna tell me i qualify for a phd now?’ he’s smirking into your hair, pecking the top of your head. ‘baby’ you giggle into his chest. u caress his cheek and whisper in his ear, ‘of course. and these 7 inches belongs to me’ you’re smiling up at him, and he raises his brows in response. ‘oh so you do admit it now, huh? i know your pussy has every inch of me memorised, you can’t mess with me sweetheart’

he shifts you slightly to slowly pull his cock out of you, and you both giggle at all the cum that drips out onto his stomach :’) then, you look up at him innocently, moving your hand to his softening cock. ‘can you fuck me in the shower, please baby?’

[inseobts]

Time Travel

trafalgar law x reader

what would happen if law finds himself back in the past where the person he secretly loved for years is still alive?

word count: 5.6k

tags: d3ath, time travel, angst, romance

masterlist // ko-fi

The battle had been hard fought, but victory was theirs. The crew of the Polar Tang had emerged victorious against a powerful enemy, though not without their wounds. Law stood at the bow of the ship, his eyes scanning the horizon, his mind too tangled with thoughts to focus on the quiet after the storm.

He wasn’t prepared for what happened next.

The sharp crackle of energy, a distortion in the very air around him. Before he could even react, the world around him swirled into a blur. His ship, his crew, the ocean—all of it seemed to twist and bend in on itself, until everything went silent.

Law staggered back, the strange sensation of time ripping apart around him leaving him disoriented. He couldn’t even register the shock of it before the world shifted again, and suddenly—

He was back.

But not back where he expected. Not where he was, not on the Polar Tang with his crew.

No.

He was on a ship—but not the one he’d been aboard moments ago. The crew around him was… different. Younger.

He looked around, taking in the familiar faces of his old crew. The same crew, but so much younger than he remembered. Shachi, Bepo, Penguin, and… his younger self.

He swallowed hard, his heart pounding. This wasn’t just an ordinary flashback. This was something else entirely. The situation was surreal...impossible, even. But there they were.

He was back in the past. The year when you were still alive.

The crew sense someone behind them and they all turn alarmed and see him, a familiar but different face. They gather on deck, buzzing with questions. Law stands with them, trying to appear composed despite his inner turmoil. His younger self stares at him with wide eyes, as confused as the rest.

“So… what exactly is going on here?” Younger Law demands, still clutching his sword, his eyes darting between the older version of himself and the others “You… You’re me, aren’t you?”

Law rubs his temples, trying to gather his thoughts. He can’t reveal too much, he doesn't know what happened and why he was there, but one thing he knows is that he can’t change anything that would affect the timeline.

“You could say that” he replies quietly “But I can’t tell you everything. It could alter the future in ways I can’t predict”

The crew watches, sit all around him, eager, full of questions. But Law can’t answer them. Not really.

"You don't look good Captain. It looks like something happened that changed you" Bepo says with a worried face "you look sad and dull"

"Yeah" Penguin nods looking between Law and his younger-form "did something bad happened? To us?"

"I can't say anything, I'm sorry" Law answers.

“Why are you here, then?” Shachi asks, his eyes suspicious but full of curiosity. “If you can’t tell us about the future, why show up? And you keep looking around like you're searching for something”

“I… I didn’t have a choice” Law’s voice is low, strained “I was brought here by someone or something. I can’t explain it. But I’m trying to make sure certain things… stay the same. You wouldn’t believe me if I told you"

Law clenches his fists at his side, wishing he could just tell them everything. But the risks were too high. There was no way to undo the damage if he did.

He shifts uncomfortably “Some things… are better left unknown. It's for your own good too”

Penguin watches him for a moment before lowering his head in understanding “I get it. It’s a lot.”

You, meanwhile, looked at the scene from afar. You were in the usual spot you used to hide in, watching quietly. You’re studying Law with an odd curiosity, but you’re noticing how different he looks from the man you knew.

Eventually, the questions begin to fade away, and the crew starts to break apart for the evening, everyone heading off in different directions.

Law feels a presence behind him and turns, seeing you walking toward him.

As you walk toward him, you see his face completely change expression, becoming one full of sadness and regrets.

He stands up abruptly.

“You’re not gonna run off, are you?” you ask, a small smile playing on your lips.

He blinks at you, surprised “I wasn’t planning to”

You tilt your head, studying him closely “It’s a little… overwhelming, isn’t it? All these questions, all these things you can’t talk about”

He stares at you, unsure how to answer. The weight of seeing you alive again is heavier than he could’ve imagined. Your smile is just as he remembers. Your eyes—the same ones he fell for so long ago—hold a curious warmth.

You break the silence again, your voice softer now “So… I promise I won't tell anyone. What happens to us in the future?”

It’s like a punch to the gut. Law wants to tell you. He wants to share everything with you... to make sure you know how much he loves you, how much he regrets never telling you before. But the words stick in his throat. He can’t risk changing anything. If he tells you too much, it could cause a ripple that would undo everything.

“You know I can’t say anything” Law says, his voice quiet, almost strained “I wish I could. But I’m pretty sure I’m not supposed to change anything.”

You nod, almost as if you knew that would be his answer. You glance down at your hands, your expression thoughtful.

“Right… So I guess I won’t get any answers” You look up at him again, eyes searching his face for something “Well, there’s one thing I can ask that’s… probably safe.”

Law blinks, confused “What?”

You hesitate for a moment before asking softly, “Are we together? In the future, I mean. Are we… together?”

The question hits him like a bolt of lightning. His heart races, the truth weighing on him like a ton of bricks.

He realizes, suddenly, painfully, that he never really knew for sure if you felt the same. He never got the chance to know because he lost you before he could even confess his true feelings. And now, here you are, asking him, and he can’t give you the answer you deserve.

It was always a mutual love, but he never knew it. Not until now.

Law opens his mouth, but no words come out. He’s too caught up in the truth of it, in the painful realization that he should have said something sooner.

You smile, regret in your face for asking him that. You look down to avoid his eyes "I take it as a no..."

“I… I don’t know” he mutters finally, his voice barely above a whisper “I don’t know what happens.”

You smile faintly, as if you believe his lie “It’s okay. I guess… I guess I’ll just have to live to find out later on, right?”

He watches you for a moment longer, the pain of it all almost unbearable. You smile again, but it doesn’t reach your eyes.

Later that evening Law walks quietly through the ship, his mind racing. He stops at the railing and looks out at the ocean, his thoughts heavy.

He wishes that you could survive, that you don't have to die the way you did. But how can he change the past without destroying everything else? Is it selfish of him if he is actually thinking about destrying the whole future to let you live?

Then he sees it—his younger self, standing on the deck, staring at you from a distance. The longing in his eyes is so clear, so painfully obvious.

Young Law’s gaze lingers on you, a soft expression on his face. He’s too scared, too silent, too unsure to say anything.

Now that Law knows about your feelings he wants to push his young-self into doing what he's so scared to do. Even if he can't change the future he wants the two of you to talk your hearts out so that in the future you won't die with the regret, so that he himself don't have to live with the same regret. Maybe the time you two have together isn't a lot but it's enough for living your love just a bit.

Law approaches him quietly, careful not to interrupt his thoughts. “You need to tell her,” he says softly “Before it’s too late.”

The younger Law turns, surprised, but doesn’t ask for clarification. He just looks back at you, still holding back, unsure.

“I can’t make you do anything, but if you wait, you might lose your chance forever” Law continues, his voice low, filled with the pain of his own unspoken words.

The younger Law says nothing, his gaze still focused on you. But after a long pause, he nods, a soft resolve settling in his eyes.

The next few days pass in a haze for Law. He tries to focus on the mission at hand, hoe to go back to his timeline and on the reason he was sent back in time—something about the crew’s safety and preventing a dangerous chain of events. But all he can think about is you, and the heartbreaking truth that he can’t tell you.

The most painful part is knowing that he’s already seen your death. He’s already lived through the pain of losing you, but now, seeing you alive again—alive in this timeline—he feels a gnawing desperation. He doesn't want that future to happen.

Later, on deck Law finds himself standing near the railing, staring out at the vast ocean as the crew moves around the ship. His thoughts are dark, clouded with regret, and he can’t seem to shake the image of you from his mind.

That push on his younger self wan't enough, but he can't risk more. His younger self, as always, is keeping to himself, sitting off to the side, hands on his sword. He’s quieter than usual, his eyes often drifting toward you—toward the woman he loves but hasn’t yet realized if and how to confess.

Law can’t help the sigh that escapes his lips. It’s a sharp, frustrated exhale, the weight of all the things he wants to say but can’t. It’s a constant battle in his head, fighting against the rules of time and destiny.

“Everything okay, Captain?” Shachi’s voice breaks through his thoughts.

Law turns to him, forcing a tight smile “Yeah. Just thinking”

Shachi looks at him, clearly sensing the tension, but doesn’t press the issue. Instead, he glances toward where younger Law is sitting, looking at you from a distance.

“Hey, what’s up with the kid?” Shachi asks “He’s been acting kind of… strange, lately.”

Law looks over, his gaze following Shachi’s. His younger self is staring at you, his expression distant but soft. There’s something in the way he watches you, something that Law recognizes all too well—longing, fear, hesitation.

“He’s… figuring things out” Law mutters, his voice heavy. He’s been hoping that his younger self would listen to him—that he would understand, act before it’s too late. But part of him still feels a lingering doubt.

“You think he’s gonna do something about it?” Shachi continues, raising an eyebrow “It’s kind of obvious he, or you for what it can mean, is in love with her”

“I actually don't know but I hope so” Law says, more to himself than to anyone else “I hope so”

Shachi nods and is about to leave when Law stops him "Tell me... was I always so obvious?"

He looks shocked to hear is Captain asking this but compose himself into a soft smile "We all knew from the beginning that you love her, you started acting different as soon as she arrived here. On the other hand y/n is more difficult to read"

This makes Law lose himself in thoughts again. The whole crew knew, this means they have a lot of regrets as well for what happened to you, to the both of you.

Later that nigh, the crew sits around the table, sharing a quiet meal. You’re there, of course, laughing with the others, the familiar warmth of your presence filling the room. Law can’t help but glance at you from time to time. He’s only allowed to watch you from a distance now, but it’s a sharp, painful reminder of everything he never said.

He catches sight of his younger self, who’s watching you too. This time, however, there’s something different in his expression. His eyes aren’t just filled with longing, they’re filled with determination.

His younger self stands suddenly, pushing his chair back and leave the crew confused. For a moment, Law feels a surge of hope. His younger self is acting on it. He’s going to do something.

On deck, under the stars, Young Law walks toward you, the weight of what he’s about to do heavy on his shoulders. You’re sitting by the edge of the ship, looking out at the night sky, lost in thoughts. When you hear him approach, you turn, offering him a warm, friendly smile.

“You sure you should be out here alone?” he asks, his voice hesitant “It’s a bit… quiet.”

You tilt your head, a teasing glint in your eyes “Isn’t that the point of being alone? You should try it sometime.”

He pauses, taking in your words, your smile. His heart beats harder in his chest, unsure of how to proceed. He’s always been like this—silent, holding back, afraid to say the things he really feels.

But now, after hearing Law’s advice, he knows what he needs to do.

“I… I need to tell you something” he says, his voice quieter than usual.

You raise an eyebrow, your curiosity piqued “What’s that?”

He takes a deep breath, trying to steady his racing heart. He’s scared, but the truth has to come out “I… I like you. I like you more than just as a friend. I’ve always… I’ve always liked you.”

Your eyes widen in surprise, and for a moment, neither of you speaks. But then, you smile, and it’s so bright, so genuine, that his chest aches with relief.

“I’m glad you finally said something” you reply softly “I… I’ve always felt the same way.”

His heart stops. The words hit him like a wave crashing over him, drowning him in warmth and hope “Wait… you do?”

You laugh softly, your eyes glimmering in the moonlight “Of course. It was pretty obvious, don’t you think?”

Young Law smiles, a small but relieved smile. He’s never felt this light before, this certain. For the first time, he’s no longer holding back.

Present-Law watching the scene from afar with the crew. Tears in his eyes because now he knows you got the chance to love each other even if for a short time.

Suddenly there's a blinding light and a few moments later when Law opens his eyes again he finds himself laying in a bed in the nurse of the Polar Tang. His mind is spinning..

He returns to the Polar Tang, to his crew, to the present. Was is all a dream? What actually happened?

Bepo at his side, sleeping.

He gets up waking him up and confused, the first thing Law asks "Did I ever got the chance to confess my feelings to y/n?"

"Captain are you okay? Why suddenly ask that?" Bepo says panicking.

Law sigh and firmly add "Just answer".

He's scared, he's scared it was all just a dream. Scared you died without knowing about his feelings just has it actually happened. Scared that maybe you actually never reciprocated his feelings, his love.

"Of course you did"

Law's eyes widened, his heart beating fast as never before. It wasn't a dream. He was actually able to change that small but important part of the past. You died knowing about his love. He lost you but not without giving you his full love.

He gets up and steps onto the deck.

There you are. Standing right in front of him, alive, vibrant, and here.

He stops, unable to breathe for a moment. His mind races. This can’t be right. He’s seen you die. He’s seen your body fall—he’s seen everything. But now you’re here, smiling at him like nothing ever happened.

“y/n?” He barely manages to choke out your name, his voice filled with disbelief.

You smile at him, a familiar, gentle smile “You finally woke up. What’s wrong, Captain? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Law’s world tilts on its axis. He can’t understand it. He doesn’t know how this is possible—how you’re alive in front of him now.

But there’s only one explanation: the confession. His younger self’s confession. Somehow, it saved you.

He watches you, stunned, his chest tightening as emotions flood him.

“I—I thought I… I thought you…” he stammers.

You tilt your head, noticing his confusion “What’s the matter?”

The weight of it all is too much for him. He can’t speak, can’t form the words. But deep inside, he knows this is it—the moment when everything changed. The future he thought was set in stone, the future that broke him, had shifted. And you… you were still alive.

He shakes his head, trying to collect himself. He knows he’s seeing you right in front of him, alive, as if the death he witnessed in the past never happened. He swallows, his throat tight, unable to find the words to express the overwhelming rush of emotions.

“You… You’re…” He struggles to speak, but the confusion weighs him down. It’s not just the shock of seeing you alive—it’s everything that led to this moment, everything that shouldn’t have happened.

You raise an eyebrow, stepping closer to him “What happened? Is something wrong?”

“No” Law says finally, his voice hoarse “No, nothing’s wrong. It’s just… I don’t understand.”

“Are you okay?” you ask, your voice soft with concern, breaking through the tangle of thoughts in his head.

Law doesn’t know how to respond. He doesn’t know what to say to you, not when everything feels like it’s slipping through his fingers. He’s terrified that this shift in fate—this small change—could lead to something even worse.

“I’m fine” he says, forcing a smile, though it doesn’t reach his eyes. His mind is still racing, trying to process what’s happened. He doesn’t know how this happened—how the timeline could have been altered so drastically—but he knows one thing for sure.

“You’re here” he repeats, as if the words will make sense of the situation “You’re alive.”

You blink, a little confused by his intensity “Well, of course I’m alive, Captain. Why wouldn’t I be?”

A sharp pain stabs at Law’s chest as he recalls the past—the version of the future where you were dead. It had been so final, so irreversible. The pain of losing you had been one of the deepest regrets of his life. But now? Now, there’s a chance, maybe a small one, but still a chance, that things could be different.

The realization crashes over him like a tidal wave.

He looks at you again, this time with a weight that wasn’t there before. You’re alive. You’re here. And he didn’t have to lose you, not like before. His younger self had given him a second chance, and now… he has to hold on to that. He has to protect it.

He runs to close the distance between you two and hugs you like he never has. You're too schocked to move at first but then you put your hands around him.

Later, in the crew’s quarters, Law lies awake in his hammock, his thoughts spinning out of control. How could things change so quickly, so drastically? He can’t understand it. He should have never interfered, never given that advice to his younger self. But then again, he couldn’t let you die "again" without knowing that you were loved.

A soft knock at the door pulls him from his thoughts. He doesn’t need to ask who it is.

“Come in” he says quietly.

The door creaks open, and there you are, standing in the doorway. You look at him with a slight frown, your arms crossed over your chest.

“You’re still awake” you say, your voice gentle “Everything okay? You’ve been acting… different.”

Law sits up slightly in his hammock, his heart racing again. He’s never been good at hiding his feelings, and right now, his emotions are a whirlwind. How could he explain to you what he’s feeling? How could he tell you what’s going on in his head when he barely understands it himself?

“I’m… fine” he says, though it feels like a lie. He’s anything but fine. “Just thinking.”

You step into the room, closing the door behind you, and sit down on the chair across from him. “About what?”

“About… everything” he mutters “About how things are different now.”

You look at him, studying him closely. You can tell something’s weighing on him “Different how?” you ask, your voice soft but insistent.

He looks at you, torn between the need to protect you and the crushing urge to be honest. But he’s afraid of what that honesty might cost him. He’s afraid that if he tells you too much, it will change everything again.

“You wouldn’t understand” he says, his voice low. He can’t bring himself to explain the truth, at least not now.

You fake to be offended with a funny expression, and he loves when you do that because it makes you even cuter. You study him for a moment, your expression unreadable. Then, as if deciding something, you stand and walk over to him. Without a word, you reach out and gently place your hand on his arm.

“I understand more than you think” you say quietly, your fingers warm against his skin “You don’t have to carry all this on your own. You don’t have to hide from me.”

The softness in your voice, the warmth of your touch, cracks something deep inside him. His chest tightens, his breath catching in his throat. How could he have been so blind to what was right in front of him all this time?

He looks at you, really looks at you for the first time since he arrived in this timeline, and suddenly, he sees it all... the way you care for him, the way you’ve always been there, despite the unspoken distance between you. He realizes that he never really understood the depth of your feelings until now, and maybe that’s what changed. Maybe that’s the gift he was given, a second chance to finally get it.

“You’re right" he whispers, his voice thick with emotion “I don’t want to hide anymore.”

You look at him in surprise, your eyes widening slightly “What do you mean?”

He swallows hard, gathering the courage to say the words that have been buried deep inside him for so long.

“I… I love you” he says quietly, but with absolute certainty. The words feel like a weight lifted off his shoulders, the truth finally out in the open.

You smile, a small but genuine smile, and take a step closer to him “I think I’ve known that for a while”

You both sit in silence for a moment, you studying him while he's still lost in his thoughts. The weight of the admission must hit you differently, given all the strange tension and confusion his behavior has caused since his return to the present. But then you speak, and your words pull him back from the edge of his spiraling thoughts.

“Well, if it’s any comfort, I love you too” you say, your tone light but sincere “I mean, you’re kind of an idiot sometimes, and you’ve got this whole ‘broody loner’ thing that’s exhausting to keep up with, but… yeah. I love you, idiot”

The way you say it, so unguarded, so natural, he didn't realise how much he needed to hear those words until now, even though they come from you here, in this altered present.

He exhales a shaky breath, running a hand through his hair “You really don’t make things easy, do you?”

You smirk, stepping closer to him, your arms crossing over your chest “That’s part of my charm”

Law shakes his head, the corners of his lips twitching upward despite the heaviness still clinging to him. For the first time since he returned to this timeline, he feels lighter—like the crushing weight of regret and grief that had followed him for years is finally lifting.

But there’s still a lingering doubt in his mind. Did he truly rewrite the future, or is this just a fleeting moment of borrowed time? And if things really have changed, how much has been altered?

You notice him deep in thought again, so you lean in and press a quick, gentle kiss to his cheek. The sudden gesture pulls him out of his thoughts, and he turns to look at you, his expression of surprise. You can’t help but laugh at his reaction.

“Captain, why the shocked face? We’ve done worse than this” you tease, offering him a playful wink as you start walking towards the door “Sleep well now.”

On the Polar Tang, it doesn’t take long for the crew to notice the shift between you and Law.

“Uh, are you two… okay?” Shachi asks, looking back and forth between the two of you as you stand side by side on the deck.

You raise an eyebrow “Why wouldn’t we be?”

“Dunno. Maybe because since the day he fainted, Captain here looks like he saw the ghost of his past mistakes?” Penguin says.

“Enough” Law snaps, his voice low but firm. He doesn’t need the crew making a spectacle of this, not when he’s still trying to make sense of everything himself.

You, on the other hand, seem entirely unfazed by their reactions. You smirk, leaning against the railing with an air of casual confidence. “What’s the matter, Captain? Wanna give them something to really talk about?”

Law groans, pinching the bridge of his nose. You’ve always had a way of getting under his skin, but somehow, it feels different now, lighter, even.

“Don’t you all have work to do?” he mutters, turning his back to them and stalking off toward the ship’s interior.

But as he walks away, he catches the faint sound of your laughter behind him, and for the first time in a long while, it doesn’t sting.

Later that evening, Law finds himself alone in his quarters, staring down at a stack of charts and papers he’s been meaning to sort through. But his mind isn’t on his work, it’s on you, on the way your presence has started to fill the cracks in his carefully constructed walls.

He still doesn’t know how this timeline shift works. Did his advice to his younger self truly rewrite everything? And if so, how much of the past is still the same? Did your future really change or is it just temporary?

His thoughts spiral as he recalls the moment his younger self finally confessed to you. It was a subtle nudge, a small push in the right direction, but it had changed everything. If his younger self hadn’t listened, if he hadn’t acted, would you still be gone? Would you have died with regrets, with unspoken feelings left between you?

A knock at the door pulls him from his thoughts, and he looks up to see you standing there, leaning casually against the frame.

“Captain” you say, your tone light but teasing “You’re brooding again.”

He sighs, gesturing for you to come in “What do you want?”

You step into the room, closing the door behind you “Just checking on you. You’ve been acting really weird lately”

Law leans back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest “I’m fine now”

“You always say that” you reply, walking over to stand in front of his desk “But we both know it’s not true. So what’s really going on?”

For a moment, he considers brushing you off, keeping the truth locked away like he always does. But then he looks at you, really looks at you, and he sees the concern in your eyes, the genuine care that you’ve always shown him, even when he didn’t deserve it.

And he realizes that maybe, just this once, he doesn’t have to carry the weight alone.

“I…” he hesitates, the words catching in his throat “I was afraid I’d lost you.”

Your eyes widen slightly at his admission, but you don’t interrupt, giving him the space to continue.

“There was a time when you weren’t here” he says quietly, his voice thick with emotion “And it was… unbearable. I didn’t know how to fix it, how to stop it. And now…” He looks down at his hands, his fingers curling into fists. “Now, you’re here, and I don’t know if it’s real or if it’s just another cruel trick.”

You take a step closer to him, reaching out to place a hand on his arm “I’m here, Law,” you say softly “I was always here with you and I'll always be. Whatever happened, whatever you went through… I’m here now. And I’m not going anywhere.”

He looks up at you, his eyes searching yours for any sign of doubt or hesitation. But all he sees is the same fierce determination that he’s always admired in you.

For the first time since his return to the present, he feels a flicker of hope, hope that maybe, just maybe, this new future is something he can hold on to.

Most of the crew is asleep, leaving Law in the solitude of his quarters. He stares out of the small circular window, his mind a battlefield of thoughts. He knows he should be relieved, grateful, that you’re alive, but a part of him can’t let go of the fear. The fear that this could all slip away in an instant.

The soft creak of the door pulls him from his thoughts. He doesn’t need to turn around to know it’s you.

“You’re still awake... again” you say, your voice quiet but firm.

He sighs, his back still to you “I could say the same to you.”

“Touché.” You step further into the room, and the door clicks softly shut behind you “You know, I’ve been thinking.”

“Dangerous” he mutters, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips despite himself.

You roll your eyes, though he can’t see it “Funny. But seriously, I’ve been thinking about… us.”

That makes him turn. His eyes meet yours, and for a moment, he feels his breath catch in his throat.

“What about us?” he asks, his voice low.

You take a deep breath, stepping closer to him “I’ve been thinking about what you said yesterday. About how you were afraid you’d lost me.”

His jaw tightens, and he looks away “I shouldn’t have said that. It was selfish.”

“No, it wasn’t” you say firmly, closing the distance between you “It was honest. And I don’t want you to think you have to keep all of that to yourself anymore.”

Law exhales, running a hand through his hair “You don’t understand,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper “I’ve seen what it’s like to lose you. I’ve lived with it. And I don’t know if I can do that again.”

Your heart aches at the raw vulnerability in his voice. Without thinking, you reach out and place a hand on his chest, right over his heart.

“You won’t lose me” you say softly “Not if I have anything to say about it.”

He looks down at you, his eyes searching yours. There’s so much he wants to say, so much he wants to explain, but the words catch in his throat. Instead, he reaches up, his hand covering yours where it rests against his chest.

The silence stretches between you, thick with unspoken emotions. And then, almost imperceptibly, he leans down, his forehead brushing against yours.

“y/n…” he murmurs, his voice trembling.

You close your eyes, leaning into him. “I’m here, Law. I’m right here. We chose a life that’s unpredictable as pirates. I know that. But that doesn’t mean we can’t allow ourselves to love. Do you think it would hurt less if we didn’t use the time we have together to love each other? Because I don’t think so. In fact, I think the opposite.”

Something inside him breaks at your words, the walls he’s so carefully constructed over the years crumbling in an instant. He tilts his head slightly, his lips brushing against yours in a tentative, almost hesitant kiss.

The contact sends a jolt through both of you, and for a moment, neither of you moves. But then you press closer, your hand sliding up to cup his face, deepening the kiss. It’s not hurried or frantic, it’s soft and deliberate, a silent promise that neither of you is willing to let go of this moment.

When you finally pull away, you’re both breathing heavily, your foreheads still pressed together.

“I’ve wanted to do that for a long time,” he admits, a small, nervous laugh escaping.

You chuckle softly as his thumb brushing against your cheek.

You smile, and for the first time in what feels like forever, he feels like the weight of the world isn’t resting on his shoulders.

“I mean it, Law” you say, your voice serious now. “Whatever happens, we’ll face it together. You don’t have to do this alone.”

He nods, pulling you into a tight embrace.

“Thank you” he murmurs against your hair.

For the first time in years, he allows himself to hope, for you, for him, for a future that no longer feels so uncertain.

[darnell-la]

Can you do dark!Logan being kinky and baby trapping you?

summary: Logan knew everything in the past, wouldn’t matter once he did his job, so he decided to go on a side mission to fulfill a dream he’s been dreaming about for years.

btw, this story was a bit rushed just like the rest that we will be posting soon. college has been kicking our main authors ass…

DO NOT READ IF CNC/SA TRIGGERS YOU!

———

Logan had woken up on a huge hotel bed, with a hand over him. The man was confused, not understanding what was going on until he remembered he was sent back in time.

Logan quickly got dressed, not wanting to wake up the women that were in his bed. His only thought was on y/n. He even remembered offering his room to these two women because he couldn’t have y/n.

Y/n was and still is dating Scott Summers. Logan couldn’t stand it. Scott had confronted Logan once, telling him and everyone how jealous Logan was of him because he had everything the lonely animalistic man wanted.

Logan couldn’t help but laugh when Scott thought he read him like a book. Logan could have any girl Scott wanted. He proved that by reeling in Jean.

Logan wanted y/n before anyone knew who she was. He was the first to see her, the first to talk to her, the first to make her laugh, and the first to make her upset. Logan hated the fact that they didn’t talk as much because of Scott.

“We can’t talk if you’re gonna keep flirting with me, Logan. I’m not Jean, and I’ll never be her,” y/n said years ago at a party after Logan pulled her into a bathroom.

“I know you’re not Jean. You’re better, and he knows that. He knew I wanted you, so he got you first,” Logan tried explaining to y/n, but she ended up leaving after apologizing. It wasn’t her problem or fault that Logan couldn’t commit.

Logan is currently outside of y/n’s house, debating on whether he should go through with this or not. He bought a basket, hoping he could sweet talk his way into her house, maybe even get her to take him and leave Scott.

“Hello?” Y/n asked in her sweet and soft voice as she opened the front door. “Logan- Hey, what are you doing here?” Y/n asked as she opened her door further, seeing a friendly face.

“Hey, just wanted to stop by. It’s been a few months, right?” Logan wanted to confirm to make sure his dates were right. “Yep — I do miss the team, though. Maybe I’ll visit next week,” y/n smiled.

“Could I maybe come in, and put this down?” Logan asked as he lifted the basket that he had put together for a good hour. “Yeah, of course,”

Y/n and Logan talked for a while, catching up on each other, but she couldn’t help but notice how flirty he was. She had told him not too long ago, that he needed to quit with it.

“Logan, it’s nice to meet you and all, but you can’t just come in here- In my house that Scott pays for, and flirt with me — I-I thought you came by to say congratulations on Scott’s sad mistake,” y/n giggled at the end of her sentence.

“Congratulations? To what?” Logan asked. “Didn’t Scott tell you as well as the others that I was pregnant? Well, at least I thought I was. Sadly, I was only two weeks late,”

Logan felt an instant pressure in his head. He’s never known anything about any close pregnancy. If his calculations are right, this would only be the first six months of Scott and y/n dating.

“Are you okay? Logan, hey,” y/n snapped her fingers in Logan’s face to get him back into reality. “You were almost pregnant? How? Why? When- I-“ Logan couldn’t keep himself from thinking.

It’s almost like Scott took no time to try and claim her — To try and claim what was his.

“Relax, I’m not actually pregnant. We’ve had our small talk, and we think it’s better to wait until it’s our one-year anniversary,” y/n smiled as she sat down on the living room couch.

“You haven’t even been with the man for a year, and you already had a pregnancy scare? Are you serious, y/n?” Logan asked in a tone y/n was surprised by. Why was he so upset?

“I mean, we’re around the age people start making a family, so-“ y/n went to continue, ur Logan cut her off with a loud sigh as he rubbed his hands all over his face. He’s never been this stressed in his life.

“You let him breed you? Are you- Fuckin’ hell, Bub,” Logan cussed as y/m scrunched her eyes. “Logan, what is your problem? Scott has been my boyfriend for months. Why do you care if he breeds me?” Y/n could barely repeat the word Logan had used.

The tall man snapped his neck to look at her. He was upset about how she could see how wrong this was. Opening her legs, and letting Scott go in raw within six months?

“You wouldn’t even kiss me when I tried. You wouldn’t touch me. You wouldn’t let me please you — I was willing to keep it slow and only go down on you, but you rejected me? For what? For Scott!?”

“Logan, it’s fine to leave,” y/n got up to show Logan out of her home, but instead of letting her, he pushed her back down on the couch. “No! No more running. I’m fuckin’ tired of this. Are you even happy? Do you seriously see more in him than me!?”

“Logan, please just leave. Scott will be back in half an hour, and-“ y/n tried getting up again, but this time, Logan pushed her down on her back and hovered over her.

“Then he can come home to a pretty sight if you bread right,” Logan growled before he began tugging at y/n’s leggings that he just knew Scott bought for her. All Scott did was buy things Logan would love seeing y/n in.

“Logan- Stop! Get off of me!” Y/n tried fighting, almost forgetting that Logan was a mutant and she wasn’t. He was automatically stronger than him. He didn’t even struggle.

“Gonna take it easy on you for right now, Bub, but when I get back to my future past, I’m gonna give you think kids you want,”

Y/n didn’t know what to say. He was all over the place. She’s never seen anything like this in Logan. She wanted to talk to him and ask him what was going on, but that left her mind when he got her leggings just under her ankles.

“Logan- Stop this! Get off of me, you can’t- You can’t fucking do this!” Y/n cried out, upset that Logan never got the idea. It’s not like y/n never saw anything in him.

Y/n just hated how he wanted women to chase him, and when he never got them to, he pushed until he got what he wanted. Today, he had to do more the seduce a woman with his looks and words.

“I can do whatever I want. Who’s gonna fuckin’ stop me, huh? You? Oh, you can’t lie, Bub. I smell how sweet you are from up here,” Logan chuckled as he pulled himself out of his jeans.

“You know, when I get back, the date will be set back before Scott met you, meaning, I get to have another chance. I could’ve waited to taste you, but as soon as you mentioned Scott impregnated you — God, that pissed me off,”

Logan held his cock as he pushed pushed into her. He knew his length would be the biggest she’d ever taken, and that only made him want to stretch her out more.

“L-Lo!” Y/n screamed as her back automatically arched. “Yeah, that’s it? Haven’t had a good cock since you’ve been with Scott, huh?” Logan asked as he continued pushing his cock through her lips.

“Logan!” Y/n cried loudly as he slammed himself all the way into her. “Take it, baby — I know you can,” Logan took his hands and pushed her waist into the couch, pinning her down so she couldn’t get away.

“Just look at you — You’re soaked and gripping me so tight,” Logan pounded away as y/n’s eyes rolled to the back of her head. She tried telling herself she couldn’t do this, but the way her body reacted made things so difficult.

“I bet you’ll love it when I fill you up, babe — No matter how much you say no, I know you’ll love it. You’ll love me,”

[blbyena]

boyfriend!mark x reader

Fluff - 1,128 words

(Slight cursing )

-

You pretend to flirt with the pizza guy on the phone...

Inspired by this tiktok

It’s one of those perfect nights where all you want to do is stay in with Mark, relax, and enjoy a quiet evening. The week’s been long, and the idea of ordering pizza and watching a movie together sounds like the perfect plan.

You're lying next to mark mindlessly playing with his fingers when suddenly he breaks the silence.

“Baby, can you order the pizza tonight? I’m feeling lazy,” Mark says, his voice a little raspy from rehearsals.

You smile, grabbing your phone with a mischievous glint in your eyes. As you pretend to dial the pizza place, you can already feel the fun bubbling inside you. Mark is sprawled out on his bed, and goes back to scrolling through his phone, completely unaware of what you’re about to do.

After a few seconds, simulating to wait for the ringtones , you put on your most playful tone. “Hi! I’d like to place an order for delivery, please,” you say, sounding sweet and casual.

You start listing the pizzas, but can’t help yourself. “Oh, and can you add a little extra cheese? I love it when people go the extra mile,” you ask sweetly, glancing over at Mark, who’s starting to look a little suspicious.

His eyes narrow slightly as he watches you. “Why are you talking like that?” His voice is low, almost whispering.

You keep it casual, trying to act like nothing’s wrong. “What? I'm just ordering,” you say annoyed and go back to pretending a conversation between you and the pizza guy.

“Oh my god, yes this is her. How did you remember me?”

Mark raises an eyebrow, and his body shifts as he straightens on the bed. His tone goes from calm to something a little more annoyed. “Are you talking to a friend?”

You smirk, enjoying his jealous reaction way too much. “Yeah the employee there, he’s nice to me. Told me I have a cute laugh last time I ordered,” you tease. “He even offered me free pizzas last time!”

Mark gets closer now, his gaze becoming sharper as his jealousy grows. “He said that?” His voice is laced with an edge, and you can see the possessiveness taking over.

You can’t resist pushing it further, your voice getting even more giggly. “Yeah, it's been a while, still with my boyfriend” you add with a cheeky smile, glancing at Mark to see how he’s reacting.

Mark’s face goes from confused to full-on jealousy. He walks over to you, his expression a mixture of frustration and something else. “What do you mean "still with my boyfriend"? He asks about that???”

You giggle, loving every second of this, but then you drop the bomb. “Oh, sorry, it’s just my brother bothering me again,” you say casually, as if nothing’s wrong, then continue with a laugh, “He’s always annoying me.”

Mark freezes, his eyes going wide as he stares at you. “Wait—your brother?” he repeats, disbelief in his voice.

That’s when he snaps. In one quick move, he snatches the phone out of your hand, his jealousy and frustration boiling over. “Who the fuck are you telling that I'm your brother ” he asks, voice tight with both confusion and disbelief.

He brings the phone closer to his ear, ready to argue with whoever was flirting with you....but the line is silent.

Mark looks at you confused before everything clocks in.

You can’t hold back your laughter any longer and start giggling uncontrollably. “You should have seen your face!” you say, still laughing at the expression on his face.

Mark glares at you, jaw clenched. “I was seriously gonna go crazy” he mutters, looking a little hurt, but mostly relieved. His voice softens. “You’re so mean…” he says pouting.

You pull him into a hug, feeling a little guilty now, but you’re still laughing. “I’m sorry, Mark. I didn’t mean to make you upset,” you say, but he’s not having it.

But Mark doesn’t respond right away. He’s still sulking, avoiding eye contact, his arms crossed tightly over his chest. You can tell he’s upset, and it’s kind of cute in an annoying way.

You decide to keep playing around, your playful nature taking over. You lie down next to him, resting your head on his lap and wrapping your arms around his waist. “Come on, baby, don’t be mad,” you say, planting small, teasing kisses on his neck and cheek.

Mark tries to ignore you, but you can feel him smiling as you kiss him. “Stop it,” he mutters, pushing you away. “I’m not in the mood for this.”

You giggle and shift, moving closer, planting another kiss on his lips. “I’m sorry, I just can’t help myself,” you tease, giving him one more kiss before nuzzling your face against his chest.

Mark groans in frustration, trying to push you away, but you keep crawling closer, your lips pressing against his neck as you whisper, “Come on, don’t be mad at me anymore. You know I’m just teasing.”

He sighs dramatically, clearly not able to resist your affection. “You’re lucky I love you,” he mutters, a little grin tugging at his lips as you continue to kiss him, determined to make him smile.

Mark shakes his head, but you can tell the sulking is finally over. “You better not prank me again,” he warns, his voice still a little gruff, but there’s a playful sparkle in his eyes now.

“Promise,” you say, wrapping your arms around him tightly, knowing full well you’ll probably think of another prank to tease him with soon.

[dandylovesturtles]

oh yeah so Yes pretty overwhelmingly won the poll so you guys only have yourselves to blame for seeing this nonsense I will probably not do much more with lol

anyway I've been mentally calling it the Draxum's Kids AU or Step-brothers AU because I didn't come up with anything creative

high level premise is that, due to ~mystic shenanigans~, Draxum from the OU (post-movie) gets pulled through a portal to another dimension, about a year behind the OU dimension, where he kept the turtles and accomplished a lot of his human eradication goals but was also a terrible father. Draxum sees the writing on the wall that his AU self's foolish actions have led to an impending apocalypse and finds the AU's Mikey (who is only called Boxshell) to help him get back to the original dimension. But as soon as he meets back up with Boxshell his Dad Instincts kick in and he realizes he can't just leave "his" kids here to die, so he decides to kidnap all four of them back to the original dimension.

this is complicated a bit by all of them hating each other

under the cut is about 3000 words of Draxum getting abducted

Draxum would really appreciate it if they could make it six months without a potentially world ending threat.

This one seems particularly suspicious. Giant black swirling vortexes giving off massive mystic energy signatures don’t simply <i>appear</i>, not for no reason. The fact that Michelangelo had been the first to notice it, cocking his head to the side like a bloodhound hearing a rabbit, was not putting him at ease, either.

“Soooo,” says Leonardo, swords already drawn and held loose at his sides, “what is it, Draxy?”

That is not his name, but because the situation is serious, he answers anyway. “You expect me to know? I’ve never seen anything like that before.”

“Come on, you’re our mystic guru! So get with the guruing!”

Draxum just gives him the look that the kids are coming to call his “not mad, just disappointed” face. He doesn’t have any more answers than he did two seconds ago. On the plus side, it doesn’t seem like anything is coming <i>out</i> of the dark swirly vortex, nor is anything getting sucked in. It’s just hanging there, in the sky over the Hidden City, menacingly.

“Doesn’t it feel familiar?” asks Michelangelo. Unlike Leonardo, he still hasn’t drawn any weapon. He’s just watching it, curious.

“I don’t remember the Krang portal looking like that,” says Donatello. “We could see the Prison Dimension on the other side. That’s just… an indistinct vortex of doom.”

“Not like the Krang,” says Michelangelo, but he doesn’t offer any further guesses. He just watches it with big eyes.

“But we gotta do somethin’ about it, right?” asks Raphael. “We can’t just leave it up there.”

“Well, if it’s not hurting anyone,” says Leonardo slowly.

“Just because it is not doing anything in this instant does not mean it will stay that way,” says Draxum.

“Yeah, yeah.” Leonardo slices through the air, a blue and less chaotic looking portal opening up. “Let’s check it out, Dee. Get some energy readings and all that nerd jazz. The rest of you, stay here in case it’s dangerous.”

“Oh, but it’s fine if it’s me,” says Donatello, but he steps up to the portal anyway. 

Draxum feels uneasy, because he doesn’t know what that thing is or what it will do, and because he doesn’t want the two of them going alone. “I’ll come with you,” he says, and when the kids give him a look, he quickly adds, “I may notice something that Donatello would miss.”

“I don’t <i>miss</i> things,” Donatello snaps back, but that’s factually untrue, so Draxum just grunts in response to it. 

“Sure, goatman cometh,” says Leonardo airily. “Let’s just go!”

Just to be sure nothing bad will happen, Draxum steps through first. The twins follow him.

They’re on a rooftop now, just under the vortex. Draxum had been expecting… something, but there are no threats, no signs of anything amiss. It’s a bit windy, and the vortex is making an ominous buzzing noise, but that’s all.

“Can you tell anything from here?” asks Leonardo, looking between the two of them. Donatello has his goggles down and a holoscreen up, incomprehensible numbers scrolling by at a fast pace. For his part, it seems the same to Draxum here as it did across town.

Donatello’s readings slow, and he raises the goggles again. 

“It’s… definitely massive, but I can’t tell much more than that. Though… I think Mikey was right. That it feels familiar.” He looks at his brother, something complicated in his expression. “Like we’ve seen something like this before.”

“I was afraid you’d say that,” says Leonardo, before turning his attention to Draxum. “How easy is it to make an interdimensional portal, anyway?”

Draxum snorts at this question. “For a pocket dimension, relatively simple. For an actual, separate world… Theoretically, it could be done, but it would take a massive amount of mystic energy and decades of experience. Especially if one does not have a mystical object to channel a portal through, like the key that was used for the Krang’s prison dimension.”

“But Mikey was able to do it,” Leonardo points out.

“Yes. And need I remind you it almost killed him.”

“You needn’t,” he snaps back. “I’m just saying… <i>if</i> it can be done, it really seems like someone’s trying it right now.” He still has his swords out, watching the vortex warily. “And what’re the odds that they’re coming here for a friendly visit?”

Draxum doesn’t argue there; he’s already treating whatever this is as hostile. Better to assume wrong and apologize later than to let down his guard and let one of his kids get hurt.

There’s the sound of footsteps behind them, and the three of them turn at once, startled. “Well, there’s Mikey,” Leonardo is already saying in a resigned sort of way, like he knew Michelangelo would join them before he gave the command.

“Sorry, Leo,” says Raphael, landing with heavier tread on the rooftop just behind Michelangelo. “He gave me the slip.”

“Guys, it’s fine!” Michelangelo argues, in that tone he uses when he feels like he’s being babied. “I’m telling you, whatever’s making that portal isn’t here to hurt us.”

“And you know this based on what evidence?” asks Donatello.

“It’s a feeling!”

“Ah yes, feelings, how quantifiable.”

“Well <i>you</i> don’t have any evidence it’s evil either, Donald!” Michelangelo retorts.

Draxum is about to step into the middle of this quarrel when Leonardo stops it for him.

“Guess we’re about to find out who’s right,” he says, eyes locked on something above them, and Draxum looks up just in time to see that there’s <i>movement</i> coming from the vortex now. “Dee, take Raph; Miguel, you’re with me.”

“Wait, guys, we should just-” Michelangelo tries again, but a shimmering blue portal under his feet stops him. Leonardo and Michelangelo reappear in the sky above, Leonardo using his portals to stay airborne while Michelangelo catches himself with his mystic powers. There’s the roar of a jet, and then Donnie is after them, his shimmering mystic tech carrying himself with Raphael dangling underneath.

And of course they’ve left him on the roof. Draxum sighs. <i>Children</i>.

He pops several vines on the roof and uses them to propel himself skyward, eyes searching for what has come through the portal, if that’s what it is. It’s difficult to see against the black coloration, but the boys seem to have gathered under a figure in a dark cloak, who emerges slowly from the middle of the vortex. It seems to cling to them like dark, black ink, the mystic energy drawing out behind them in long, gooey ropes. 

Draxum knows he is still many meters away, but even still, he doesn’t think the figure is very large. It’s a surprise, given that the vortex itself is at least fifteen or more meters across, but the figure coming out is short and slight, not even as big as Michelangelo. Of course, that doesn’t mean much; plenty of yokai are small statured naturally, as are some humans. Even Lou Jitsu is small, now, but still mighty. He can’t let the size of the person put him off guard, especially when they have summoned such massive mystic energy.

“Hey!” cries out Michelangelo. “Can we talk to you!?”

The figure in the cloak seems to startle at being addressed. For a moment, they hang in the air, the ropey energy of the vortex growing thicker on their arms and legs. Almost like it’s trying to pull them back.

The figure seems to realize this, too, because they jerk forward and raise their arms in a panicked arc.

Fire comes out - dark flames with incandescent blue cores that Draxum knows are hotter than any normal flame. If the boys are struck, the damage will be severe. Thankfully, Michelangelo yelps and whirls aside before he can be burned.

“I don’t think they’re interested in talking!” calls Donatello.

“That’s alright,” yells Raphael, his ninpo lighting his body red, “because <i>I’m</i> interested in smashing!”

The midair fight begins in earnest now, the boys darting around the figure with their weapons drawn, even Michelangelo. The cloaked figure fights back with the flames, dark and so hot that as Draxum’s vines carry him closer, he can feel the heat coming off of them. Yet, despite the intensity of the attacks, Draxum notices that they are unwieldy and unpracticed, like the wielder has no real experience in fighting, and certainly not midair against so many opponents. Add to that, the strange, inklike properties of the still-spinning vortex seem to be actively trying to pull the figure back; each time they make progress, the moment their attention is drawn by one of the boys, they’re yanked back another few feet.

Draxum sprouts a few more vines off his main one, so that he can move more freely. Aerial combat has never been his forte, but he can make it work. So long as none of those desperate fire attacks burn through his vines and send him tumbling to the ground (he can only hope, in that event, that one of the twins notices him). 

The cloaked figure is still attacking wildly, and the boys have to move fast to keep out of the way. It’s easier for Michelangelo and Donatello, who can stay airborne indefinitely; Leonardo, meanwhile, has to use his portals to catch himself and Raphael periodically, portalling them back to the sky or giving them a portal to ground to launch off of. This leaves them open to attack.

Draxum couldn’t have made it in time if he’d wanted to, but in the moment he isn’t thinking he has to.

One of the unfocused black flames strikes Raphael; his ninpo projection protects him from being harmed, but he still lets out a gasp of surprise as it burns rapidly through the ninpo itself, leaving him exposed. Donatello swoops in to catch him before he can fall, and all the boys hang back for a moment, stunned by this development.

“What was <i>that</i>!?” Leonardo calls out, portaling above Donatello and landing on his constructed battleshell (Donatello says, “Oof!” loudly, but doesn’t throw him off). “It just burned through Raph’s shield like it was tissue paper!”

“Augh… that felt… weird.” Raphael is rubbing at his temple with his fingers. “Raph did not like that.”

“Alright, clearly this guy is dangerous.” Leonardo is tense, eyes focused as he watches the cloaked figure yank free of the stringy ropes of magic from the vortex, coming closer. “But see how the portal’s trying to pull them back in? We just gotta get them close enough and send ‘em back where they came from.”

He glances over at Michelangelo. Draxum looks, too. The boy’s brow is creased, like he isn’t happy with this outcome, but his eyes are focused on Raphael.

“...Yeah,” he says finally, and gives his nunchucks a swing. They light up with his orange ninpo, the bright fire a stark contrast to their enemy’s dark flames. “Let’s send ‘em back!”

The boys spring back into action, and Draxum follows suit, his vines carrying him up, closer to the vortex. Now he can feel more of the thing’s power directly, a great gusting wind that pulls rather than pushes. He hangs back from the direct fighting and instead watches the boys closely, should he need to intervene the way he hadn’t for Raphael. If the fire can eat through their ninpo, then any of them being struck would be disastrous - especially if one of the others could not catch them in time.

The kids are succeeding in their gambit to push the figure back towards the vortex, but that means they are also increasingly putting themselves in range of its dangerous reach. The ropey strands of dark mystic energy reach out like hungry tendrils, latching onto scales before being cut or shaken off. Leonardo has all but abandoned the fight against the figure and instead puts his efforts into slicing the strands apart any time they touch one of his brothers, either directly with his katana or with a well placed portal. He leaves the strands that attach themselves to the mysterious person, and they wrap more firmly around the legs, arms, and neck of the one in the cloak.

And that’s when they finally speak.

“No!” they cry out, in a voice unmistakably juvenile. “No, please! I just want to escape - don’t make me go back!”

Michelangelo stops short, bobbing uncertainly only a few meters from the screaming figure (a boy, Draxum thinks, but cannot be sure). “Guys,” he says hesitantly, lowering his weapons. “I really think we should-”

Whatever he was about to say is interrupted by a burst of flames from the cloaked boy’s hands, spiraling directly towards him.

“MIKEY!” shout several voices at once; Draxum only realizes a beat later that one of them is his. He’s the closest, and he moves fast, putting himself and a wall of vines between the flames and his son.

The flames make such short work of the vines, it’s almost comical. Draxum watches as the fire races down the towering stalk he’s made, eating them away and leaving nothing behind, not even ashes. The vine Draxum was standing on is, of course, completely obliterated, and he feels the swoop in his stomach as gravity starts its relentless pull.

“Dad!” he hears Michelangelo call out. The boy reaches a hand toward them, and in his panic Draxum reaches back. They are only a few meters from each other, and then less and then less, fingers almost touching-

But it is something else that grabs him first.

The vortex’s dark energy feels disgusting and slimy where it touches Draxum’s fur, like a leech pulled from some noxious bog. Its tug is ferociously strong, and he realizes that if Leonardo had not been quick, if the magic had wrapped around any of his brothers’ limbs the way it’s wrapped around Draxum’s arm, disentangling them would have taken massive effort. As it’s going to take to free him now.

There’s a yank, and he’s ripped away from Michelangelo and towards the vortex.

“No!” screeches the cloaked boy, and sputtering flames spill out around him, forcing the turtles back before they can move in to rescue him. “No! Get away! Leave me alone!”

“Gladly!” Draxum shouts back, ripping and yanking to try and free his arm. “Just close this foolish portal and go back where you came from!”

“I <i>can’t</i>!” the boy screams, and he sounds so wretched, Draxum almost feels some sympathy for him. “I can’t! I can’t!”

“You must!” Draxum argues, because he can tell. The energy has wrapped too securely around the cloaked boy now; there will be no freeing him. The portal he made is impressive, <i>especially</i> as young as he sounds, but it is not complete. He could not be severed from it, even if they tried to help. In fact, if they fully pulled him from the vortex, it would likely kill the child.

No; he must go back. But… is there still time for Draxum?

“Barry!” he hears the boys call out. They try to get close, but another burst of searing heat from the panicked boy in the vortex keeps them from advancing. More of the stringy ropes of magic are wrapping around Draxum now, on his arms, his torso, his legs. His neck. They yank him back, hard, and he gasps as the air leaves his lungs. The mystic energy slithers over him like a living creature, wrapping him up more and more securely in its snare.

It seems… there is not.

“<i>NO</i>!” screams the cloaked boy, one last panicked, desperate cry, but then his voice is abruptly silenced. There’s a roaring noise, incomprehensibly loud, and Draxum faintly wonders if this is how it sounds when a star collapses in on itself.

The last thing he sees as the portal closes around him is Michelangelo’s face, eyes wide and afraid, mouth open in a shout, hand outstretched as far as it can go.

And then all is dark.

…

When Draxum wakes, he’s laying on the ground in an alley in the Hidden City.

He feels a flash of <i>something</i> markedly unpleasant when he realizes he’s alone: sadness, betrayal, perhaps even, Titan forbid, <i>loneliness</i>. It seems the boys have left him to his fate and gone home.

Then he remembers the portal, and Donatello and Michelangelo’s guess that it was interdimensional. It’s likely the boys don’t know where he is. It’s possible he’s not even in the same time.

Or the same world at all.

Disturbing as that thought is, the part of the Hidden City he can see from his vantage point seems familiar enough. He recognizes this as a part of the old downtown, not far from where he and the kids had been fighting the cloaked boy. Even if this isn’t his time, at least he should still be able to navigate - that makes things easier.

He gets to his feet, shaking the soreness out of his limbs. He hears something pop, and is suddenly immensely glad the boys aren’t here after all. He’d rather not endure another round of teasing for being “old”.

The Hidden City he travels through seems largely the same as the one he left, to a degree that he starts to wonder if it wasn’t an interdimensional portal after all. If it was, the dimension he’s in now seems to have only slight variations.

Or that’s what he thinks, until he makes it to the nearest portal back to New York City.

There’s a checkpoint set up in front of it, one that didn’t exist here before. There are guards standing sentinel, ushering through a line of yokai and occasionally asking questions. They don’t seem hostile to the yokai, but it does seem like precautions need to be taken for… some reason.

More startling to Draxum are the crests that adorn banners hung around the checkpoint, matching emblems blazed on the uniforms of the officers.

His family’s crest.

It seems this dimension is quite different after all.

[hitlikehammers]

that tune without the words

“It was nice, walking through those woods, talking to you,” and the tone of his voice in admitting it makes the whole shebang another line item for Eddie’s getting-to-know-Steve file: lift this man’s standards out of the fucking gutter—but then his tone’s turning sorta wry: “Even if it was mostly about how you were impressed that I was less of a douche than advertised.” 💕

rating: t ♥️ cw: mid-S4, Vol2, steve goes back for eddie’s ‘body’, interdimensional bat venom can be a hell of an paralytic inconvenience ♥️ tags: eddie munson lives (to go on a date that’s not walking through dead hell-forests 🎉), steve harrington having a one-sided/unfiltered heart-to-heart with the cute boy who carved his probable bisexuality indelibly intonstone 💎 (no biggie), an over abundance of flirting in times of mortal peril, planning a future in an actively crumbling hellscape=(soon-to-be)couple goals, happy ending (and hopeful ending, too!)

for @steddielovemonth day two: "if you're lost, you can look and you will find me // if you fall I will catch you, I'll be waiting" —Time After Time by Cyndi Lauper

title credit here🪶

When they tangled with Vecna, Eddie’s body gets left behind. Sure, yes, they all know the timeline, the logistics, how the story goes. The gates seal. Supergirl goes nuclear. They kinda-half-lose. The town’s a fucking mess. They gotta lick their wounds.

But the in-between bits get hazy, see.

Specifically when Steve went AWOL and ran back, jumped through the closing gate he’d just barely managed to climb up through in the first place, given the extent of his wounds, and runs for the body they abandoned because he doesn’t leave his people behind.

And somehow in just a couple days, Eddie counted as his people. Even just his body.

The strength, the speed, the stamina to not have been stuck in the Upside Down, to not have dropped the dead weight in the way back up, to not have got suctioned in and crushed in half as the fissures crept closed: that’s the fucking stuff of legends, of parents lifting trucks off pinned children. No wonder they call Steve the mom.

But yeah. Eddie’s body’s left behind.

For like…ten minutes, max.

Then Steve fucking Harrington had to be all Steve fucking Harrington about it, say fuck that, and weigh the risk of two dead bodies as sufficient collateral to leap like it was a fucking two-for-one at Melvald’s.

Bastard made it back, too. Bloody as fuck, everything that’d healed even a little bit torn at least twice as wide in breaking back open; three extra broken bones, with at least on being a rib that there’s genuine concern over puncturing a lung with one more wrong move—and a likely one, given the evidence thus far.

And also, there’s Eddie.

Eddie, who’s breathing, who they don’t know until later whether Steve managed to somehow resuscitate, or if the powers that govern the hellscape zapped him back for nefarious reasons, or maybe they’d all just…fucked up and missed that Eddie wasn’t even all-dead in the first place.

Details, remember. The in-between parts got real hazy.

Eddie knew the truth form the get-go, though.

Having to witness Henderson fall apart, draped across him was maybe the most harrowing thing eddie has ever had to live through—but the point was, he did live through it. Everything was foggy, and he felt like his world was blinking too long in between knowing it was still there, like reality and his place in it were too close to sleep to be rooted, to be trusted, to be sure at all that it would last and that his shitty attempts to get any air in weren’t just painful acts of desperation to delay the inevitable.

But then there had been lips on his lips, and he’d tasted his own blood there but then more blood, other blood.

And his lungs were blissfully full for the first time in what felt like eons.

He wants to turn to find out who’s there, whose mouth had just spared him in his torment for even a few extra moments before the end, but he—

He can’t fucking move. He hadn’t realized that part before—oxygen deprivation, hell of a distraction apparently—but now that he clocks it?

That lungful of air’s gasping out fast as fuck as eddie panic because what’s happening what is happening—

What’s happening is that mouth on his again, giving him back the breath he’s foolishly wasting on panic, coupled with a too-broad hand, palm braced at his chest and fingers curled up his shoulder: firm. Steadying.

“Poison,” a voice says low, close to him enough that eddie thinks he maybe feel warmth from it but he’s not sure, he’s not sure what he does and does not feel and that’s most of the fucking terror: “in the venom. My legs were numb as fuck after, the went too deep at the core and it just fanned out, couldn’t feel a fucking thing but the pain til we got supplies.”

The hand moves fuller to his chest like it’s testing something, then the lips are back, filling up his lungs, like someone who knows how this works, who’s done it before—

A lifeguard would know. Would have done it before and…

Okay, like, Eddie didn’t spend most of every summer the past handful of years in a carefully disguised little copse of shadey trees near enough to keep the community pool in his sights because he was planning to get in the water, y’know?

“But then it felt like there wasn’t enough air when I tried to breathe deep, way worse than my legs, like from,” and he touches Eddie’s neck, then, where the bats barely got him by comparison to…other places so Eddie thinks—with the newly-restored moments of oxygen to his brain cells—Steve’s talking about his suspicious noose-shaped souvenir.

Eddie wants to be able to see, wants to see and know with all his sense that this is steve: touching him and coming back for him and saving him and—

“You’re still breathing,” and shit, it’s like Eddie’s prayers are answered without a god believed in, his fucking lucky day, because Steve’s leaning and holding still so the his cheek under Eddie’s nose, and the bow of his lips just at the corner of Eddie’s mouth, gasping out his assessment when the hint of damp the exhale gathers on his skin, all with a kind of relief that feels…too big, really. Like Eddie can’t possibly deserve that. They barely know each other.

But fuck if Eddie—who was very much banking of giving up the goddamn ghost down here just a couple minute prior, especially once everyone had left and he was just staring at the red lightning waiting to be struck down for good—but fuck if Eddie is gonna pretend he doesn’t want to deserve that care and relief, to merit and earn it for himself, specifically from Steve, especially the Steve he’s gotten to know in the last seventy-two hours. All the shit about crisis revealing a persons true nature?

Sign Eddie the fuck up for a) all of Steve Harrington and his truest true nature as well as b) the sworn duty of keeping this far too tightly wound paladin barbarian crossbreed marvel of a specimen from any more crises, and ensuring the opposite instead, maybe like, holding him close. Kissing his neck. Falling asleep in each other’s arms. More…stuff like that.

Time probably moves faster the vacuum of real actual Armageddon, so. He probably can shrug off the ‘barely know each other’ stuff.

His heart’s doing a little floppy-floppy thing with Steve’s mouth still so close; with knowing Steve’s mouth had been closer, so. Yeah. He’s sold, 100% on board. Bring him the dotted line, he’ll be Mrs. Harrington by morning.

Or…evening? It’s just fucking dark here, he doesn’t even remember what day it is.

“Too much,” and Steve’s not moving form where he’s gauging—presumably—Eddie’s breaths at the source, whispering and so, so close as he waggles his hand around; “before, but,” and Eddie gets it quick: too much commotion. To much hysteria, and more than merited, but Dustin’s sobbing? Robin’s shaking, Nancy’s armor-grip on her gun making trying to measure a pulse less than worthless and Steve…Steve has getting them the fuck out before the gates closed, Eddie remembers hearing that—which begs the question of why he’s here again bow, but one thing at a time.

The one thing Eddie wants to focus on is Steve thought to come back at all, and thought it not inpossible to find him alive and not-yet-but-still-eventually-capable-of-kicking, because the bats had numbed him to fuck, too.

And he hadn’t told anyone, Jesus fuck—this man, and giving more shirts about him already than Eddie’s maybe given for anyone, is gonna be what actually manages to put him six feet in the goddamn ground.

“I had a feeling,” Steve says, and Eddie doesn’t have to try and fail to turn to see the triumphant smirk he’s pulling, still relieved but like, vindicated now, too.

“And even if I didn’t,” he sobers quick; “I wasn’t leaving you here.” And Eddie wouldn’t stilled if he was capable of moving in the first place because…yeah, he’s basically figured he was being left here. Was pretty much solidly on his way to making his peace with it too when feet landed close to his knees and lips closed over his own and the rest is…

Is now. Where Steve Harrington doesn’t leave Eddie Munson, even as the world ends in their fucking faces and all proves to be as good as lost.

He won’t settle for them counting among the loses and that’s…

That’s just kinda…wow.

“Was really banking pretty hard on that feeling, too,” and Eddie hears Steve’s voice strain a little, even as there comes a little tiny huff of slightly manic laughter, and a rip of fabric from fuck knows where. “Want to get to know you better, Munson,” he says, tight like he’s holding up tensions, or swallowing back pain and Eddie doesn’t like that, and likes even less that he can do fuck all about it right now.

But if they’re gonna be in the business of getting to know each other better, then Eddie’s filing that sound away in the ‘keep that shit away from Steve forever’ file.

Eddie likes dealing with forevers in his head, because they so rarely work out for him in life. He craves disappointment, maybe; but.

“Walking through the woods, half-fucking paralyzed was some of the,” Steve starts, honest and earnest before Eddie catches half-a-shrug out the corner of his eye and…maybe he’s not the only one who deals in forevers in their head, and if he’s suddenly not the only one, maybe less disappointing could possibly be imminent.

Maybe.

“It was nice, talking to you,” and the tone of his voice in admitting it makes the whole shebang another thing for the getting-to-know-Steve file: lift this man’s standards out of the fucking gutter—then his tone’s turning sorta wry:

“Even if it was mostly about how you were impressed that I was less of a douche than advertised.”

Eddie wants desperately to laugh, to bump shoulders with Steve again like he did a little, tries for more when they were walking side by side, he wants so fucking bad—

Then there’s fire in his fucking throat.

“Oh, fuck,” Steve sounds more startled than concerned, where Eddie’s kinda afraid his neck is melting into lava or some shit; “yeah, yeah, baby,” and hold the fuck up, what did Steve just say, what did Steve just call him? Our of nowhere?

The lava feeling’s way less important; in fact, takes enough of a back step to make some sense with Steve’s neck words, with his hand back in Eddie’s chest to brace his shoulder:

“You’re coming back, just keep,” he’d tries to laugh, and the sound had gotten lost on Eddie in the agony but it hadn’t been lost in Steve, his baby, holy fucking shit—

“Oh.”

Steve’s tone is something entirely new; awed a little, floored a little, not bad, so that’s a plus, but…overwhelmed like at the edges but then fucking ecstatic in the middle, which down here shouldn’t even be possible, until his hand pressed a little harder into Eddie’s ribs on the less mangled side and—

“Strong enough to feel, now, even when I still can’t feel everything,” Steve’s face swims, gorgeous and kinda like an answer to the universe in the minimal view space Eddie has to work with as he slowly crawls back online, a process not actually being helped by Eddie putting together what’s causing Steve’s reaction—the way his heart’s pumping’s growing a little undeniable even on his own end, and Steve’s hand feeling the raw effects of Steve on Eddie’s body right now isn’t helping matters at-fucking-all, but also Eddie never wants that touch to leave him ever fucking again, ever.

It’s a delicate sort of contradiction.

“Shit, yeah,” and Steve’s laughing, and it’s a soft joy-tinged thing less than the manic hysteria thus far.

Eddie’s fucking toast, man. No hope for him now.

“Strong enough even if I’m kinda fucking shaking,” Steve holds out his hand that, yeah, is in fact a little trembly but hey.

Eddie can’t feel shit yet too good, but he’s almost certain he’s got to be no better. Blood in his veins certainly ain’t winning any awards for steadiness.

And Steve leans down, this time back with another one of those vaguely hysterical laughs and Eddie can’t see everything outside of the angle his head’s held at just now, and the whole problem really starts with how he can’t feel a lot of shit á la bat venom, but.

If Eddie had any money, he’d actually wager that Steve fucking Harrington. Just touched his lips to Eddie’s neck, just kissed where his pulse would kick between his collarbones. And, true or not, the possibility of that?

Holy fucking shit.

“I hope these aren’t too tight,” Eddie sees the motion from Steve’s shoulder, feels…or thinks he feels the lightest ghost of pressure at his fucked up side: tight. The tearing from before; Steve had been wrapping his sorry ass up.

Talk about Eddie’s goddamn knight in shining armor, Jesus fuck.

“Pretty sure it came down to the fact that their poison hit me like it did because of where they got me the worse, and that’s what made me hope in the first place, you know. Your worst bleeders are in the meat,” and yeah, Eddie really does think that’s real sensation for the soft press of Steve’s hand at his flank, not say nothing of the burning flush to his cheeks, blood’s moving just fine there.

“Fucking deep but not so close to the bloodstream, to pump around and make it worse,” and he touches Eddie’s neck again, and ah: that was why Steve had the reaction he did, mainline to the ticker to get it all swum around. “More of it in you, obviously, because there were more of them, more teeth, but not up here,” and fuck Steve Harrington for the way his hand brushes Eddie’s neck almost tender-like, just…fuck him; “no a direct fucking line to the source.”

Yes. Fuck him. Preferably soon and with Eddie at full sensation and on a horizontal surface that’s not bloodsoaked and vaguely reeking of rot.

Just, y’know. If anyone’s taking note of preferences.

“Thank god for it,” Steve breathes out, the air fluttering over Eddie’s face and he can feel it and he wants to cry, he wants to jump up and dance; can’t do that year but his pulse makes a damn good attempt.

“But yeah, anyway, just walking through hell with you was,” Steve shifts back to the part where he’d seemed to be extolling the virtues of apocalyptic flirting, but before Eddie can file it away to do so much better in whatever’s to come? Steve’s slotting his fingers between Eddie’s own; he can’t feel the whole of it, but he damn well feels enough to know the way they fit is perfect, like they were cut form the same clay millennia ago.

Of course Eddie’s heart goes flippy-floppy again; it fucking has to.

“Not the part about Nance so much, though.”

And Eddie thinks he frowns because…oh.

Oh right, yeah, he really hasn’t had a glimmer of hope in hell that what kinda feels like is happening right now was even on the goddamn table, so…maybe he had tried to funnel his sense of pure and unadulterated loss into at east giving the boy he wanted, what < i >that boy wanted.

Whoops.

Won’t be making that mistake ever again, though, at least. Lesson learned, loud and clear.

“That’s been and gone, man,” steve sighs, a if Eddie needs more convincing. “And I don’t want to go back to where I left it. I want to love someone, who loves me.”

It feels heavy and vulnerable, but all Eddie wants to do is shot me, it can be me, let me have the adventure of learning how to love every bit of you better than you ever thought to even hope after pretty fucking please with a goddamn cherry on top—

“So she’s,” Steve huffs, definitive-like: “out of the picture. She could maybe learn to be that, but, and Steve moves, the most intentionally he’s done it so far to look Eddie straight in the eye when he wraps up the point:

“I’m not interested enough to wait.”

Which means it’s no fucking coincidence, that eye-contact, and Eddie’s ping-ponging pulse for it is 100% prevent valid and then some.

“And I know can’t talk right now, so I get this isn’t really,” Steve sucks his teeth in a genuinely unbearably adorable way; “fair, or probably even like, wholly ethical,” and Eddie’s only been around for days but that sounds like Robin right there, and the feeling of a dangerous pull near his cheek makes him think the urge to smile wasn’t wholly ignored by his beat to shit body, fucking progress.

“So think of it just like a,” he hums, then snaps his fingers as he lands on: “suggestion! A suggestion. Like me, just, putting it out there, which I usually do before anyone feels the same way anyway so this is just like, variation on the theme, but,” and Steve’s eyes are so big, Eddie’s never seen them looks this way before while Steve tips his whole face so Eddie can watch before he can sit up or turn his neck, must be fucking painful but he doesn’t even flinch, and Eddie’s only ever just kinda fallen for the puppy droop of those gorgeous eyes. Now they’re all, big and wide and bright and breathless and holy shit, Eddie’s really is just so screwedbest thing ever.

“I want to take you to dinner, a movie.”

Okay, hold up. That idea, said out loud and meant and directed to him: that might be the best thing ever.

“Maybe a drive in so no one will see if you let me hold your hand, or put my arm around you, or start necking with you halfway through,” like that isn’t making Eddie wonder if he just can’t feel the hard on every piece of him is very convinced he has to have right now, if his body can actually pony up just yet.

“If you want, of course. We could go slow,” and it’s like Steve’s thought about it, like this isn’t just adrenaline and near-death and zero impulse control. It’s most like he…like he actually wants. “Just a movie, even like at my house. Or yours. After they,” Steve clears his throat, the only part he’s even hinted awkwardness in; “after they take care of that.”

Ah. Right. Eddie probably does now have a trailer anymore.

Weird how little he’s caring about that at the moment.

“I could cook, I’m not bad at it,” Steve’s ploughing in with secret knowledge because: Harrington. Apron. Sauce on his cheek. KO-fucking punch to the heart, no survivors.

“Takeout’s fine too, I’d get whatever you wanted,” he pivots before trialing of, chewing his bottom lip then saying a little softer:

“But I would look up recipes too, practice to learn your favorite foods.”

And maybe Eddie really was never supposed to survive the Upside Down. He just maybe completely misinterpreted the way he was gonna fuckin’ die .

“I’d kiss you at the door if that’s okay, if that’s not to far,” then Steve’s bit-sparkle eyes darken even in the hell-dim around them; “or take you to bed if you wanted, but only as much as you were sure.”

And y’known how Eddie’s heat’s been flippy-flopping?

What it starts doing then leave that schoolgirl shit to dhame.

“I want to date you, basically,” and Steve’s shoulders are all squared up, like he’s making a pitch that has any chance of failing, and Eddie does have some working knowing of the past failures…thing, but he genuinely believes those fuckers have been at least partially brain dead to leave a man like this free for the taking, by Eddie of all fucking people.

“I want to try, and see if we can be something,” and the way he says those words, it’s…it’s like a soft perfect flame in Eddie’s chest, the first thing he thinks he can feel again fucking perfectly right,

“‘Cause fuck Eddie, I’ve been looking for something for what feels like forever, and the only thing I keep coming back to for any of it is thinking about you, and ain’t that a plot twist, the deepening of the idea that any of this stretched last what started in that fucking boathouse. “Had a whole-ass sexual awakening over you when you started shepherding my kids, can’t let that go to waste, man.”

And holy shit, dude. Eddie can’t leave him hanging on that confession no matter how mostly-carefree his smile stretches. Because Steve’s been in it since last fall?

Well, Eddie’s not one to easily be outdone.

“What?” Steve squints at Eddie’s face which…okay. He probably looks absurd but he’s trying really hard here, and miming isn’t easy when your muscles don’t want to get on board, yeah?

“Are you,” Steve scrunches his nose; tips his head; considers; “are you trying to,” he frowns, like he’s ready to dismiss what he’s guessing but then says fuck it and leaps:

“Are you trying to whistle?”

Yes, oh my god, sign him up for his marriage license for real, they’re meant to fucking be.

It takes Steve a second to make sense of the absurdity, and the fact that it’s only a second is a feat in itself:

“When I was a lifeguard?”

Eddie watches the timeframe, the length of admittedly varying types and depths but always constant infatuation, start to sink in and then:

“Jesus, Munson, for real?”

And lips are coming for his lips, and he’s real hopeful he can feel them this time but: no. Not yet.

But they fill his lungs up quick and full where he’s getting better which breathing by the minute, but. Any but if a boost is appreciated.

Especially from those lips, felt fully yet or not.

“That’s just because I’m gonna lift you up here in a second to crry you, and it’s gonna hurt like fuck no matter how gentle I try to be,” Steve warns him; “so breathe as slow as you can until I can lay you back down topside.”

Right. Right, because…the Upside Down was breaking apart and they’ve been here how long, fuck, they need to get a mov on…probably.

But Steve doesn’t seem concerned about anything but getting his arms around Eddie to pick him up just right, and then staring at him all star-bright bbsome more, and that’s…way more pressing, to be honest.

“But when we get there,” Steve glances behind him; “how about we look into doing that in a way that’s more spit-swapping, less rescue breathing, that cool?”

And holy fucking shit, Eddie genuinely believes right now that he could fall in love with this motherfucker, what the actual hell.

That, and he thinks he’s gonna enjoy it, to boot.

Jesus H. Christ on a goddamn cracker—

He’s looking forward to it more than the air in his fucking lungs could even hope to rank.

✨permanent tag list: OPEN (lmk if you want to be added/removed): @ajeff855 @askitwithflours @awkwardgravity1 @bookworm0690 @bumblebeecuttlefishes @captain--low @depressed-freak13 @dragoon-ze-great @dreamercec @dreamwatch @dreamy-jeans137 @estrellami-1 @goodolefashionedloverboi @grtwdsmwhr @gunsknivesandplaid @hiei-harringtonmunson @hbyrde36 @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme @kimsnooks @live-laugh-love-dietrich @mensch-anthropos-human @nerdyglassescheeseychick @notaqueenakhaleesi @ollyxar @pearynice @perseus-notjackson @pretend-theres-a-name-here

divider credit here and here

[chrissturnsfav]

i’ve been summoned ☝️ ok hear me out here, fuckgirl!reader is flirting with him like always and then he gets a boner… up to u if she notices or not !!

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 loser!matt gets a little excited around fuckgirl!reader

you’re sitting in matt’s beat-up old car, legs crossed on the passenger seat, leaning back with a joint dangling between your fingers.

the windows are fogged up, a hazy cocoon of smoke and the faint smell of cigarettes and cologne—matt’s signature scent, clinging to everything he touches. he doesn’t like to smoke weed, never has, but you got him to take a hit tonight. one hit. big deal. baby steps.

he's in the driver’s seat, slouched like he’s got nowhere better to be, one arm draped lazily over the wheel, the other flicking ash out his window.

his lips curl slightly when he catches you staring. not a full smile, but enough to make you grind your teeth. this smug dick knows exactly what he’s doing.

"what?" he asks, voice low, smooth, teasing.

you blow smoke in his direction, grinning. "nothing. just thinking how you keep pretending you don’t wanna fuck me."

his eyes flick over to you, dark and steady, but he doesn’t bite. doesn’t rise to your taunt, never does. that’s the thing about matt—calm, cool, untouchable. a challenge. you love it, even though it's incredibly frustrating.

"cute," he says flatly, like it’s not.

you shift, letting your skirt ride up just enough to get a reaction. he notices—of course he does—but he stays cool, that unreadable expression driving you absolutely crazy.

"come onnn," you coo, leaning closer, voice dripping with fake sweetness as you pout at him, stubbing the blunt into an ashtray in his cup holder. "you can’t keep playing hard to get forever."

"who said i’m playing?" he shoots back, eyes flickering down to his crotch just a second too long.

gotcha.

you lean in further, close enough to feel the heat rolling off him, your lips dangerously close to his ear as you snicker tauntingly. "your dick says different, matt."

his jaw tenses. you see a crack in that infuriatingly calm exterior.

he shifts slightly, like he’s trying to hide something, but you’re not stupid. you know exactly what’s happening, and it lights a fire inside you.

"oh," you whisper, biting your lip through a cocky smirk. "looks like i’m finally getting to you."

he exhales slowly, a mix of frustration and something else you can’t quite name. but he doesn’t pull away. doesn’t stop you.

"careful," he warns softly, voice rougher than usual. "you sure you wanna play this game?"

you grin wickedly, loving every second of this rare victory. "oh, baby, i'm already winning this game. don't get it twisted. started winning when you kissed me a few weeks ago."

his eyes narrow, and for a second you wonder if you’ve finally pushed him too far. not that you'd regret it. matt’s the type who thrives on control, always one step ahead. but tonight that grip is slipping, and you can feel it. it's the same exact tension you felt a few weeks ago at that party.

he shifts in his seat, leaning back like he's trying to remind himself who’s in charge.

you know that move. seen it before. but it’s different now. there’s heat bubbling beneath his cool exterior, something that wasn’t there before.

"yeah?" he asks, voice low, smooth.

you nod, biting your lip. "mhmm."

he hums like he doesn’t believe you, like he’s remembering that party a couple of weeks ago when he kissed you and shattered his whole untouchable vibe.

of course that motherfucker blamed that night on the alcohol. but you're not backing down so easily, and you knew that was all a lie.

besides, you love a good challenge.

you see the flicker of that night in his eyes now, the way he looks at your plush lips like he’s weighing his options.

"you're thinking about it, aren’t you?" you taunt, snickering cheekily, leaning closer until your knee brushes his thigh. "how good my lips tasted."

he exhales through his nose, shaking his head with a dry laugh. "cocky."

"mm-mm, confident," you correct, grinning. "there’s a difference, baby."

his tongue darts over his bottom lip, slow and deliberate, and you swear it takes every ounce of self-control inside you not to climb into his lap right then, wanting nothing but to feel his hard tip pressing against your clit through your clothes.

"aw, what’s wrong?" you taunt softly, voice dripping with mock sweetness. "scared you're gonna give in again?"

his jaw tightens, and he huffs out a low laugh through his nose, like he knows what game you’re playing but refuses to let you win outright.

"damn, you're really pushin’ it tonight," he mutters, voice rough, like gravel rolling through his chest.

"am i?" you purr, inching closer until you're practically in his space. your knee brushes his thigh, deliberate this time, and the flicker of tension in his eyes nearly makes you dizzy.

his breath hitches—subtle but not subtle enough to miss.

"yeah," he says low, almost a warning. "you are."

but he doesn't move away. doesn't stop you. and that's when you know you've got him once again.

you tilt your head, biting back a grin. "hmm...what’re you gonna do about it, matt?"

his gaze drops to your mouth for just a second—one fleeting, dangerous second—before snapping back up to meet your eyes.

"thought you liked keeping me on my toes," you tease, voice soft but challenging. "what happened to that whole stupid unbothered vibe?"

"still here," he says, though it sounds more like a lie the longer he holds your gaze.

your grin widens. "doesn't look like it."

you see the exact moment he stops fighting himself—that sharp flicker of decision in his eyes before he moves. suddenly his hand is on your thigh, firm but not rough, heat radiating through your skin like wildfire.

you've got him right where you want him now.

𝗮𝘂𝘁𝗵𝗼𝗿'𝘀 𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗲: do not worry, i REPEAT there will be a part two of this where they will be getting freaky, i just want to edge everyone a lil bit hehe

thank you for reading!! <3

tags 🏷️: @sturnobsessedwh0re , @idrk2292 , @mattsbrat , @ribbonlovergirl , @matthewsroses , @mattsdemi , @emely9274 , @frankoceanfanpage , @ifwdominicfike , @marrykisskilled , @strnilolover , @cayleeuhithinknott , @forgottxen , @sophand4n4 , @sturnsrecord , @purpledragon222 , @faiyaz555 , @jocelyncsblog , @freakiolos , @slut4chris888 , @chriss-slutt , @ilovedanielcaesar , @annsx03 , @snoopychris , @chrissweetheart , @slutformatt17 , @mattsturnii , @dominicfikeenthusiast , @mattsbratt333 , @ivysturnss , @tessasturns , @coquettechris , @courta13

@chrissturnsfav ™

[hyperfocusthusly]

My Hero

@bucktommyfluffebruary - Day three prompt ‘Spider-Man kiss’

Notes: established relationship, domestic fluff | rated: G | Words: 511

[Read on A03]

——-

Tommy remembers a moment too late that he had left his coffee mug on the floor next to the bed. His socked foot collides with it, sending the dark brown contents spilling g across the cream carpet of their bedroom. He sighs, scrubbing his palms over his face.

It’s going to be one of those days.

It had felt like forever since his and Evan’s shifts had lined up, weeks of just missing each other. The same Evan who is splayed out on their bed, head hanging off the edge halfway asleep. He had twitched at Tommy’s curse to the coffee mug and didn’t stir any further as Tommy rummaged around in the bathroom for something to clean the rapidly forming stain. He glanced at his watch, he only had a few minutes before he needed to leave for his shift. He returned to the bedroom and got down on the floor, scrubbing at the carpet. Evan shifted, eyes flickering open.

“W’tre you doing?” He asks, voice thick with sleep.

“I spilled my coffee, need to clean it or the stain will set.”

“Leave it, I’ll do it.”

Tommy chews on his lip, looks over at his inverse boyfriend.

“You sure?”

“Yeah, it’s fine, you’ve got your shift.”

“Mmm, I do need to go.” He stands, clenching his jaw. It was just an accident, he knows that, but he can’t help but feel bad for leaving Evan a mess to clean up.

“Hey,” Evan’s soft tone draws him out of his thoughts “it’s okay, really. You clean up after me all the time.” Evan’s hands reach out to him, the angle making his movements awkward. He grasps at the fabric of Tommy’s trousers pulling him a step closer to the bed.

Tommy laughs, the anxiety in his chest easing at the sight of his flailing boyfriend.

“Evan,” he tries not to trip over the cup for the second time, falls forward instead. He finds himself leaning over Evan, staring down at the expanse of his bare chest. Evan’s hands climb up his body, finding purchase around the back of his neck.

“The mess is fine, but I won’t be able to sleep if I don’t get my goodnight kiss before you go.”

Tommy chuckles,

“Oh yeah, and we’re going to do it like this?”

“Mmmhmmm.”

Evan pulls him down until their lips meet, Tommy can feel Evan’s nose bumping against his chin. His tongue flicks up into his mouth, exploring the new angles. Tommy melts into it, almost forgetting that he has to go to work. He ignores the protest his back is putting up at his current position and runs his hands along Evan’s flanks, coming to rest on his shoulders. He soaks up the small needy noises that Evan is making, pressing deeper.

When his watch bleeps he groans,

“Sorry baby, as much as I love playing spider man with you, I do have to go to work.”

“Go on then. Be safe.” Evan gazes at him through half lidded eyes, a flush spread across his cheeks.

“My hero.”

Tag list (as always let me know if you want to be added/removed);

@leashybebes @livelaughlou @loucifersbitch @dark-alice-lilith @mmso-notlikethat @laundryandtaxesworld @hippolotamus @bucksaiga @littlepaws9 @sad-girl-hours23 @evansbuck-ley @jamieroyjamieroy @typicalopposite

@moonydanny @teenmaximoff @bucksboobs @ohithankyou @bi-bi-buckleys @rubydaiquiri @hellion-child @aringofsalt @comfortingevanbuckley @epiphainie @wikiangela @bidisasterevankinard

@sunnywithachanceofbi @desert--moonchild @blitzynatural @actuallyitsellie @big-urchin-energy @fyrehose @buckleyskinards @owlgirl495 @honeyloulou @setmeatopthepyre @salty-autistic-writer @thecarrott

[v-eee]

── jungkook x you

scenario: you and Jungkook used to be best friend until new female staff came into his workplace, Jieun. He has introduced you to her. Jungkook starts getting busy with his work and often cancel the usual food hunting night with you because he needs to work overtime with Jieun. You know Jieun doesn't like you because she has come to your cafe a few times and told you to stop texting Jungkook during his work hour. when you told him about that, he didn't believe you. Starting that day your friendship is not like it used to be.

(v)

You and Jungkook finally met up at a quiet café you both used to frequent. The moment you walked in and saw him waiting at a table, he stood up, giving you that same warm smile you hadn’t seen in weeks.

"Y/N," he greeted, "It’s so good to see you."

"Hey...," you said casually as you slid into the seat across from him.

"How was the trip?" he asked.

"It was good," you said, keeping your tone light.

Jungkook smiled then glancing down at the table as if he had more to say but wasn’t sure how to say it.

You noticed his hesitation, but instead of addressing it, you decided to lighten the mood. Pulling out a neatly wrapped package from your bag, you placed it in front of him with a grin.

"Happy belated birthday," you said with a smile.

Jungkook stared at the box, wide-eyed. "Wait, you got me something?"

"Of course I did. Just because I wasn't there doesn’t mean I forgot," you teased lightly. "Go ahead, open it."

When he opened the box, his eyes widened in shock. Inside was the camera lens he had been talking about for months.

"Y/N… this is—this is the lens I wanted," he stammered, lifting it out of the box like it was made of gold. "How did you even—"

"Of course I remembered," you said proudly, crossing your arms with a playful smirk. "I’m the best of the best friends, after all."

Jungkook looked at you, still stunned. "I can’t believe you got this for me. I didn’t even think you were paying attention when I mentioned it."

"Please..." you said, rolling your eyes. You've been ranting about this lens forever. I figured it was about time you had it." You waved it off like it was no big deal.

Jungkook laughed, but his expression softened as he set the lens down and looked at you. "Y/N… I've got to say, I'm sorry. For everything. The group chat, the way I didn't believe you about Jieun...I screwed up. And the fact that you still went out of your way to do something like this for me…"

You held up a hand, cutting him off. "Jungkook, seriously...it's fine. I’m not mad about it, okay? I didn’t take it to heart."

"But I feel like I—"

"Jungkook," you said firmly but with a small smile, "I mean it. Let’s not dwell on the past. What’s done is done. We're good, okay?"

He looks at you as if trying to read your mind.

"Don't look at me like that," you glare at him. "Now, come on. Show me what that fancy lens can do!"

The rest of the afternoon felt easy, like a weight had been lifted. You laughed, shared stories, and teased him like old times. As you left the café that evening, you felt proud of yourself. You’d faced Jungkook, given him his gift, and managed to keep things light and casual.

— — —

Your friendship with Jungkook back to like the old times.

You received an invitation to a formal dance ball hosted by your old college friends. You need to bring a plus one.

You used to go with Jungkook, so he assumed you’d take him. He hates ballroom dance, but it's fun to dance with you.\

"So, what time are we going?” Jungkook asked casually, leaning against the counter at your café.

You blinked at him. “What?”

"The ball," he said with a grin. "Obviously, I'm stuck with you."

You laughed. "Uh… actually, I'm going with Joon."

Jungkook's smile faltered. "Joon? Our Joon?"

"Yep," you said, nodding with a chuckle. "He’s never been to one before, so I thought it'd be fun."

“Oh… cool,” Jungkook said, forcing a smirk. "Yeah, he must be excited."

But it didn't excite him. Since when did you take someone else to events like this?

[vicsstufff]

CHAPTER TWO — SWEET trash TALK

warnings: my girl camila gets in problems, language, fighting (?), disturbing behavior, protective p (?), shortt.

BTS masterlist

pairing: hopkins!p.bueckers x exchange student!oc

taglist: @rebecca-woso , @unadulteratedcyclepaper , @authentic-girl03 , @starlighttsv , @avvwritesstufff

authors note: seconddd chapterrr, i have been so lazy to write omg like its baddd. i also had a minor surgery on friday but im recovering now and i wont go to school for a hole week! enjoy! comment if u wanna be added to the taglist!

ONE WEEK BEFORE SCHOOL.

“how about you go and get tickets for the upcoming game? high school season starts very soon.” michel reached for his wallet and grabbed some money inside it and handed it to camila. michel loved basketball, he did it for some time and even planned on doing it in college but his plans got interrupted once he moved to washington. adrianna didn’t share the same passion as michel did, but she did enjoy it watching it and supporting teams, it remembered her the last year of high school, when he was a cheerleader for the american football team, she even showed camila some tricks! life’s had been too good to be true, she tried the so famous milkshakes ‘p’ told her about, she went camping in the near by woods and saw a girl that looked oddly similar to what ‘p’ described herself. from afar she looked very animated and cheerful, everyone had a smile drawn on their face near her and it even made camila creep a smile while she focused on her.

camila reached for the money and started to mentally count the money and after placed it on the back of her pockets, “the leftover money, you can spend it on anything you want.” michel softly spoked with a assuring smile and camila gave a small nod making her way out the house door.

the afternoon chilly air filled up camila’s nostrils quickly while closing the door behind her, her nose become a softly pink that made her fingers grip into her hoodie, almost sprinting to the closest store near a school that sold tickets.

she entered the store when she suddenly bumped into someone, she closed her eyes waiting for another impact to happen, when she heard a loud groan coming from the person she bumped with. she slowly opened her eyes to see.

a dark haired girl glared down at her light pink shirt, dripping from the chocolate milkshake that had fallen upon her because of the sudden crash, “oh.my.god..look what you have done! dumb bitch!” the taller girl shouted not before launching her—now empty— milkshake away from her, “can’t you see were you’re going!?” she barked at camila, the curly haired girl took a deep breath before speaking to defend herself, “you were right in front of the door!” camila snapped back at her. the fuming woman gave her an acknowledgment look, looking closely at her face and the clothe she wore, when her eyes stopped at her hair, her nose wrinkled, a sign of disgust. camila did made a mental note about how curly haired people were kinda extinct in this area, but it looked like this girl had never seen a curly person never in her life and she observed camila like if she was a disgusting bug that landed in her milkshake. “jesus, rose. let’s go, you can later buy a new one.” a girl behind her grabbed this called rose by her wrist and dragged her out the store.

camila felt rotten inside when rose give her hair a nasty glaze, she didn’t really define it this morning and forgot to put on her bonnet on before going to sleep, it wasn’t that terrible, but rose made it feel like if her hair had gained consciousness and insulted her in every way possible.

“looking for tickets?” a voice took her out of her state of mind, it was coming from the register. “yeah, um. sorry for the inconvenience.” camila added quickly, gathering herself into walking to the register, taking out the money from her pocket. “no worries, rose is a regular problem around here.” the guy explained, taking something behind the counter. “i recommend you to stay out of her way, even if you go to the same school.” he stated, camila’s eyes widen with the response he gave to her. “how do you know where school i’m going to?” she inquired, a stranger knew about her transfer to a new school, did he also know where was she born? “rumors fly fast. brazilian?” he added, handing her the tickets. “um, yes.” camila snatched the tickets from the strangers hands and stumbled with counting the money almost launching it towards the register.

she made her way out of the store, it was now clearly dark, the parking lot was now lonely and the kids that were near the park had gone to the safety of their homes. a wet, tangy nose sniffed her hand rapidly, she looked down surprised to see a small golden retriever, once the dog noticed they got finally someone’s attention, their tail wiggled with emotion and started letting out small barks.

“oh, hello buddy.” camila reached down to pet the small creature, the pure night brought with it a gentle breeze, but strong enough to make camila shiver under her hoodie, the puppy didn’t escape the cold air, making it also start to shiver, that camila did notice.

she knew monica needed a little company and michel has been dying to adopt a golden retriever—it reminded him of his dog back in canada— camila gently grabbed the dog, scooping it around her arms as if it was going to protect the cold dog.

she took a moment to analyze the pup under her protection, when a sharp pain appeared on the bridge of her nose, a gushy feeling making its way down her nostril, landing on the soft fur of the body she was holding dearly. the dog sniffed the gently the blood disturbing his back. “shit— uh” camila gasped under her shaky breath, looking behind her, into the store, the guy was still looking at her, almost wanting to burn holes into her clothes, this made camila shiver even more. going back into that store was not a good idea.

her phone started vibrating in her pocket, she struggled to keep the dog safe in her arms while taking her phone out, the word ‘p 💗’ decorated the screen brightly.

“yoo, i just saw rose fucking nepobaby and she was fuming!” p exclaimed happily, “i wonder who got her like that.” camila bite down her lip starting to walk towards her house. “it was—um, me.. actually..” camila mumbled, just high enough for p to hear her. “no way..” p gasped, in the background you could hear rumbling across whatever room she was destroying. “let’s leave that conversation for another time..” camila said low, embarrassed.

she was barely new to the town and she was already causing problems, adrianna warned her, yet she didn’t listen. “did you lose something?” she added quickly not wanting the conversation to die. “my uniform! i swear i left it beside my backpack.” p let out a loud sigh. “okay, um, about rose.. why call her a nepobaby?” camila questioned sniffing her nose trying to prevent anymore blood flowing from her nose. “she sucks at basketball, she is only in the team because her daddy is rich!” p exclaimed, pumping herself into laying on her bed, exhausted from looking everywhere, “are you catching a cold? wait— did rose do something to you?” p quickly insinuated hearing the constant sniff from across the line. “just some bloody nose. i’m okay.” camila explained.

her footsteps becoming quicker and unstable, her throat was attacked by the feeling of being burned, she could taste the metallic blood in her mouth, the golden retriever dedicated itself to lick the dry milkshake that stained camila’s hoodie.

“not to worry you, but you and rose are going to the same school.” p laughed before quickly shouting down the giggle threatening to come out of her lips, “that just made my night worse, maybe my whole school year too.” camila groaned putting down the puppy and started fidgeting with her keys. once she entered the house, silence adorned the warm walls, monica came sprinting towards her, amused by the sudden view of new company.

“don’t worry love, if she does something to you, she will pay, trust.” p whispered, a lovely smile creeping its way into her lips, “not only on the court.” camila attacked quickly, marching her way up her bedroom.

“if she has soo much money, why doesn’t she go to a private school?” camila whined into her pillow, “she did, but! her father changed schools because of her bad grades.” p explained, gathering herself up, determined to find her uniform.

“she is going to eat me alive..” camila whimpered

“im supposed to do that.” p let out, not thinking twice about the weight of her words.

“paige! what the fuck!” camila let out a high chuckle laying her back on the bed looking tensely at her ceiling. “want to go for milkshakes before first day of school?” p hinted, “sounds like a plan.”