#cw disease joking

[discord-emote-customs]

snow leopard emojis ? :3

hi sorry friend i am infected with animal jam disease and i cant hear snow leopard or arctic wolf without having flashbacks

on a serious note , heres a sleepin snow leopard & a happy snow leopard w/ a speech bubble w/ & w/o the laughing animal jam emoji ^^

[weirdwriter69]

I know there is a canonically doctor’s report for the JP Ikemen Villains that says Alfons has no known STD’s. There wasn’t really a test for syphilis until the 1910’s, and another Tumblr user pointed out that Ikemen Villains is probably happening in the 1850’s based on which Arthur Conan Doyle story was being published.

Syphilis can have a wide range of symptoms. It is a bacterial infection, so we have treatments (antibiotics) for it today. In the 1850's, Syphilis most likely treated with metals such as lead based medications. Syphilis can even be asymptotic in some cases.

All of this to make the dark joke that Alfons could be an unverified Syphilis spreader.

[gratuiciel]

kisaki but he's got hanaga

hanag

hanahaki disease

+ clover meanings in flower language according to the hanakotoba website:

[pyreshe]

this obvi isn’t about anyone i follow but like. some people were never taught to see addicts as people and it very clearly shows in how they write them / about them & discuss them 🙃

[ghcstcd]

I wish my medicine didn't make me so TIRED

[cinnamostar]

skz random texts !

cw : cursing, jokes abt mental illness/female anatomy/diseases, gender neutral except for first ss

these are based off ss ive seen online or my own conversations w friends ! lmk if you guys like these!

note: i currently am not taking requests :’) this was just for fun!!!

[diejager]

Nooo but there is something about the monster au where there is a casual mention from her that she won't live as long as them (I assume monsters/hybrids are longer lived plus she is a lot more likely to die on mission), like she probably just jokes about it offhandedly and it sends all of them feral because... no? Absolutely not? Insulting. Ridiculous. Not happening.

Cue ultimate clinginess, all rushing to be more intimate because the thought of her not being around is abhorrent. Soap maybe losing it a bit going off on a line of thought about how he could mate her right? Would it be awful if there was a way for her to be a wolf shifter?

I AM GOING TO LOSE MY MIND

Change cw: mention of turning, mention of death, joking about death, tell me if I missed any.

All options are on the table at this point, death had always been something that loomed over them like a shadow, the veil and sickle of death following you wherever you went. You’ve had more than one reminder of your short life, your vulnerability as a human, weak and tender skin, short lives and a delicate body. There were so many things in the world that could pose a possible danger to you and they hated that.

You lived shorter lives than most monsters or hybrids, you grew sick and frail whereas hybrids could fight any viral infections or diseases, you didn’t have thicker skin despite all the extra layers of protective gear and you were a target of many for your choice of career. They were reminded of you mortality whenever you get hurt, blood painting your skin with a strong, metallic odour.

And it didn’t help that you’d often joke about it, throwing offhanded comments that made their hackles raise, body tense and mind brewing with what ifs scenario that has them tearing their hair from the root. While some monsters were more solitary than others, all of them were possessive of what they deemed their family —pack.

Ghost and König stuck closer during training, a tall, imposing figure behind you that acted as a guard dog to ward away anyone they deemed a danger. Soap and Horangi hung around you in the rec room, either laying on you or clinging to you, putting a show of ownership over you. Rudy and Alejandro, the ever active couple, were always finding you around the base, striking up a conversation and wrapping their arms around you. Gaz would was the cuddliest of the group, finding time outside of his busy to snuggle up against you and cover you with his wings, pulling you to sleep on his shoulder. Price, the man with the most authority in the TF made sure that you were always with someone on every Op, having someone to back you up in the most dire situation.

Every visit to the medic made them wild, it brought them closer to desperate measures. Would it be so bad to turn you in one? Would it be so bad to let Soap bite you during the full moon, his bite infecting you with his power: thicker skin, sturdier build, longer lifespan and better sense? The only draw backs were the higher wildness, near feral during full moons and a competitive mindset over the possessiveness and brattiness of a young werewolf.

Would it be so bad to make you return as a wraith? While Ghost learned to control his powers alone, the pain and emotions building up in his body without any way of letting it out, you had him, you wouldn’t be alone with the resurrection. He didn’t want you to feel the terror and agony by yourself —he didn’t want you to know how it felt to die and come back.

Would it be so bad to have a vampire turn you into one without becoming a thrall? You couldn’t walk in the sun, something you told them you enjoyed, you’d be restrained to specific activities and you wouldn’t like that, being limited by the sun. Granted, there were solutions to that, but none very comfortable.

They knew you were aware of your mortality, made fun of it and laughed as it this was your last day, but you didn’t fear death, you only feared leaving them. You were open to their thoughts, listening to their ideas and options with a neutral expression, but you didn’t reject the idea of turning you. That was a good thing, a step forward in their mind.

Now all that needed to do was to let you decide which path you wanted to walk.

tag list: @craxy-person @crowbird @dead-cipher @iwannabealocalcryptid @iizx7y @mxtokko @yeetusspagheetus @capricorn-anon @perfectus-in-morte @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @tallmanlover @distracteddragoness @vxnilla-hxrddrugs @konigsblog @havoc973 @angelcakes-22 @cassiecasluciluce @ramadiiiisme @ramblingsofachaoticthinker @ki-cant-spel

[jaylaxies]

KINKTOBER DAY 21 — BREEDING KINK

PAIRING: sub!jungwon x fem!reader

GENRE/CW: smut, unprotected sex, jealous won, crying, usage of nicknames, breeding.

WC: 1.3k words

WARNING: 18+ content, minors dni

A/N: hihi, angels! here i have sub wonie as requested by my beloved @hwhjsthetic! i hope you like it :3 all likes, comments, reblogs and feedbacks are highly appreciated! iloveyou all <33

✎ kinktober masterlist

“Aw, is my babyboy jealous?” 

Jungwon was usually calm and collected, always ready to help others, no matter the situation. However, he was just as disheveled and messy behind the doors, locked up in a room with you, the sight only you could see, making the poor boy beg on his knees, big tear drops lined up on his thick lashes. 

Oh so beautiful. 

He doesn’t know what pushed him to this extent, maybe it was how carefree you looked while talking to this guy he had never met or seen before, your fingers resting on his shoulders as you tried to stand straight while laughing on a possible joke he cracked. 

Jungwon didn’t know what was so special about this man, nor could he cope up with the bubbling feeling in his chest. Only, this time it wasn’t because of how beautiful you looked, it was because you looked beautiful, while laughing with another man. 

Jealousy was a nasty disease, and Jungwon couldn’t deny he was jealous. He didn’t take it well, bottom lip jutted out as he tried not to cry at the simple sight of you talking to someone else. 

That would be pathetic, right? 

Was it bad to want you to the point he couldn’t bear the thought of you interacting with others? He didn’t know. All he wanted was for you to pay your undivided attention to him, hold him close to your body while stroking his needy, leaking cock, cooing gently and praising him for being your good boy. Your only boy. 

He couldn’t handle it anymore, he couldn’t handle anything when it came to you, which is why he found himself walking across the room, holding on to your arm gently with the saddest expression he could muster, which was enough to garner your attention as he pulled you with him. You quickly excused the other guy, wondering what was wrong with your pretty boy. 

“I wanna go home,” he says, eyes watering. 

You cup his face, “what’s wrong, pup?” You ask gently, dragging him to an empty room to get away from the music blasting at the party. 

“I���you—” he struggled to tell you, red adorning his face at the thought of him telling you how jealous he was, to the point he wanted to breed you, have you all to himself. 

“Say it, pretty baby,” you urged, hand slipping under his shirt to run your cold fingertips on his nipples, a soft whimper leaving his lips. 

“I—I was jealous,” he cried out, hiding his face in your neck as you touched him more. 

The confession was something you hadn’t expected, yet it was so adorable, his distress over nothing, it was adorable. 

“Aw, baby,” you caress his nape, “you don’t like when I talk to pretty boys?” 

You said it on purpose and it worked wonders as you heard another broken sob from him as he shook his head with all his power, his soft hair tickling your neck, “no! No, please—I’m your pretty boy, no one else, please,” he sobbed. You pulled back with a chuckle, observing how his lip was trembling, absolutely hating the situation. 

He belonged to you, shouldn’t it also mean that you should be his girl and his only? 

“Please,” he mumbled out brokenhearted, and you only pulled him closer, kissing him deeply. You could taste his tears with how much he had cried. 

The sight was beautiful, however your heart couldn’t see your pretty boy crying, overthinking that he might lose you. Your lips fit into his perfectly, slotting together as he gasped, mind numbing and heart racing for whole another reason—your touch. 

“You’re my pretty boy, hm?” You whisper softly, as he watches you, eyes bigger and sparkly now that it was filled with a few unshed tears. 

“Only me?” He asked, gulping down as he looked at you, expectantly. 

“Only you,” you confirmed, “show me how beautiful and needy you are for me, baby,” you say, settling down on the stranger’s bed. 

He was quick to comply, fumbling with his belt as he tried to get rid of his clothes, and you sat, admiring his broad shoulders once they came into view, wondering how he’s so big yet so small and submissive to your disposal at all times. 

His shyness was adorable, especially when he stood naked in front of you and you were fully clothed, “wanna show you how much I want you,” he mumbled, embarrassed at how amused you seemed at his newfound determination to act bold, which didn’t seem to work with how gentle his touch was as he parted your legs. 

He was hard, his cock twitching at the sight of your panties, and he forgot to breathe for a solid minute, “go ahead, pup. You look so beautiful on your knees,” you caressed his cheek before tugging on his roots as he took off your panties and buried himself between your legs. 

His experimental kitten licks at your clit felt like heaven, even more so when he was the one who kept moaning as if he was being pleasured. Oh, he loved every second of it, “that’s it, baby—fuck, you’re doing so well, Wonie,” you praised and he continued his ministrations. 

He was and always had been your pillow princess, seeing him become a service top was endearing. Jealousy does that to you, but Won found himself enjoying it more than anticipated, maybe it was driven by jealousy, which gave him the courage to speak his heart out. 

“Wanna fuck you, please? I’ll be a good boy, will make you feel good, I promise!” He leaned back, lips coated with your juices as you pulled him up for another kiss. 

He was so enthusiastic that you allowed him in one go. He had been a good boy after all, “of course, baby,” you chuckled, and you swore you saw his eyes lightening up with excitement, no coherent sentences coming to your mind as he got on top of you, chest heaving up and down as he lined up his cock, prodding at your entrance. 

You grabbed his dick, helping him push his thickness inside you. The feeling was overwhelming for the poor boy, the sweetest whimpers falling off his lips as he thrusts into you weakly, adjusting to the feeling of your walls clenching around him. He couldn’t help but tear up again, and you only kissed his tears away. 

“Mine, mine, mine,” he kept on mumbling, drunk in the essence of you, your lips on his as you continued to tell him how you’ll only ever be his, yet you knew he had something else on his mind with how desperately he was thrusting into you. 

“Am I making you feel good? Please tell me I’m making you feel good,” he whimpered, breathing ragged and you could feel that he was close, your own orgasm approaching as you moaned, making the boy even more shy and proud. 

He was making you feel good. 

“S—so close,” he let out, “too sensitive, want to mark you,” he breathed out, words coming out broken as you wrapped your legs around his slim waist, knowing exactly what he was aiming for and you’d let him go his way today, simply because he looks so cute begging to fill you up, to mark your neck, nibbling on it gently. 

With a few more thrust, he found himself sobbing on your neck as you traced your fingers on his back, helping him and yourself ride out your high, feeling the warmth of your liquid mixing with his inside your cunt as he stuffed it inside you the best he could. 

“You’re mine, right?” he asked for the last time, hair disheveled, lips swollen and skin blotchy red with how much he had cried. 

And you kissed him, knowing you’d never want to miss this sight. 

“All yours, babyboy.”

THANK YOU FOR READING!

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[luveline]

Would you be willing to write a little blurb of Steve comforting reader who is in recovery from self harm? I know this is a very no no subject for some writers so I understand if this is a no!

fem!reader !! cw self harm (mention of the self injury, no active graphic imagery, but some details that could be evocative)

You’ve taken to curling up in whatever space he leaves. In bed, you sidle close to his side with your ear to his stomach. On the couch, you’re laying on his lap, every breath a press of ribs against his thighs. If Steve’s on a sun lounger in the backyard, you’re sitting on the ground next to him with an arm hooked over his leg and your cheek bitten by metal.  

It’s sort of odd to see your arms without red cuts and welts. Curled again, you and Steve are sitting on the porch watching the sun dropping lazily to the horizon, the sky a funny shade of blue. You’re actually turned away from the sun and toward the house, Steve to the sun, like inverted commas interlinked. Your hand is on his leg, and your arm is bare and starkly uninjured. 

That’s too generous, maybe. Evidence of a bad habit long to kick tracks the length of you, white and purple and red scars criss-crossed through your skin. 

He’s seen them thick with dried blood and sore to the touch. Your skin aflame. Not because you’ve ever showed him of your own volition, you wouldn’t. You’ve always likened your self-injury to a contagion. “I don’t wanna put thoughts in your head,” you whispered. 

It was a nice concern for you to have, but Steve isn’t at any risk of hurting himself (purposefully, at least). He has no urges. He didn’t even know people did stuff like that until he met you. Maybe that’s why it breaks his heart so much. You hurt so much. You feel terrible and you take it out on yourself and Steve just doesn’t get it, ‘cos you’re aces. 

He never shied away from it, even if he didn’t like that you were doing it. He still remembers the first time he realised what you were doing, his confusion, the immediate internal recoil. How could you do that to yourself? Why would you? You’ve always been prone to that awful persisting sadness under the skin, but Steve knows a lot of sad people. He knows what it’s like to wish vehemently that you were a better version of yourself, or somebody else, or just gone. 

But you’re doing better now. He resists the urge to kiss your hands whenever he sees you and you act like you aren’t doing a brave thing. 

Steve’s stupid but he’s not stupid. (Or, at least he feels that way.) He knows you’re finding it hard to stop, like an addict. It’s a habit. A behaviour that takes conscious effort to break until it doesn’t. The worst bit is that you never even asked for help. 

Your hand twitches on his leg. 

Steve curls a hand behind your neck, kissing you softly, the silky press of your lips to his. You inhale and cut the quiet buzz of cicadas, your breath surprised but not tight. 

“Sorry,” he says, “was that okay? I was just thinking about you.” 

“It’s fine.” You laugh against his lips and take a kiss, evening the score. “It’s always okay. Kiss me whenever you want.” 

“You looked mopey,” he says. Foot in mouth disease forever. 

“I’m not mopey, just distracted.” 

“I know, it’s offensive. You come over here to hang out and spend the last hour in deep thought.” He makes it clear he’s joking through his light tone and his smile, your eyes met, his hand sliding down your shoulder and your arm. He’s especially careful as his fingers run down your forearm. You watch the path of his hand as it falls, twining your fingers weakly with his. “You can tell me anything.” 

“I do tell you anything.” 

“Well, just telling you again.” He kisses your cheek, then, less gentle, your lips. 

You have this aversion to saying the worst part out loud. There’s always a metaphor or an omission. You can’t say cut, it’s too much, but you’ve said hurt. You’ll admit to self injury but not the action. “It’s fine,” you say now. 

“I think you’re doing a good job.” 

You laugh softly through your nose. “Thank you.” 

“I’m not kidding.” He blows a breath up his face. “Look, can I just be honest with you?” 

Your smile turns uneasy at his bluntness. “Um. Are you breaking up with me?” 

Steve shakes his head. “Never,” he says, pushing your sleeve up your arm slowly, and then faster when you don’t resist. “I can’t remember the last time I saw you without them.” He doesn’t say cuts either, mostly for your sake. 

“Sorry.” 

He shakes his head again. “For what? I’m just saying. You’ve had them this whole time and I’ve never– they’ve never stopped me from wanting to kiss your face off.” He probably shouldn’t make jokes. He backtracks. “I mean, they don’t make a difference to me, I like you even if you can’t, uh… Even if the impulse is too much. But I’m thrilled you’re, you know, not doing it.” 

“I know,” you murmur. 

“I love you.” 

“I know.” Your voice is nearly inaudible, “That’s why it’s easier now.” 

His heart swells with pride and love and an unfightable want to hug you. He slides his arms around you from under your armpits, forcing you to hug his neck, stealing a kiss to the cheek as he squeezes you forward. “I just want you to know that I get it. Like, how hard you’re working to not do it.”

“Steve,” you admonish quietly. 

“Sorry, I’ll stop talking about it if you want.” 

“I mean… It's kinda nice to talk about it. It’s not in my head.” 

“It’s not in your head.” 

“But it feels weird ‘cos it’s like, something I should be doing anyways. It’s like getting praise for washing your hands.” 

Steve thinks there’s a pretty big difference between wanting to hurt yourself but resisting it and washing your hands, but he knows what you’re saying. Doesn’t agree, but doesn’t want to invalidate you either. However you need to think about it to get through it is up to you. “I can praise you for washing your hands. I want to.” 

Steve encourages you to turn into the sunshine. You lay your cheek against his shoulder. “Love you,” you say, your hand on his leg. 

He stares right at the sun and blinks hurriedly. “I love you too.” 

[bl3pwastaken]

Trafalgar D Water Law X reader End

It's the home stretch baabbyy let's fuckin goooo. Couldn't sleep last night again so I figured I'd go ahead and finish this chapter and get it posted. Prepare for angsty fluff

TW and CW: Hanahaki disease, Angst, Hurt/comfort, mentions of blood, Eustass Kidd typical language, miscommunication, Kidd maliciously complying at Law's expense to the chagrin and humor of everyone but him

Part 1, Part 2

A Dive Through Crystal Waters

Humid and hellishly fucking muggy. Those words were the perfect descriptors for how the air made everyone’s clothing stick uncomfortably to their skin. The harnesses donned by now both the Kidd and Heart pirates doing very little to help alleviate the growing swelter of heat. Kidd made a point he’d only agree to follow through unless Law and his crew also wore the very same leather and metal as his crew if and he quotes,” You shits wanna stay safe” were the words Eustass said if Law’s memory served him correctly.  He remembers how the most devious of shit eating grins painted it’s way on the bastard’s face as he said it, his arms obnoxiously crossed in cocky confidence and malicious mischief. It seemed like Trafalgar wasn’t the only one with plans, and he was right in his assumption. Upon putting the blasted thing on aboard the top deck of the Polar Tang, Kidd had the great idea to make use of his devil fruit, a weird buzzing sensation coming from the large metal ring on Law’s chest suddenly yanking him forward, face slamming smack into the wooden boards of the top deck floor. 

It took Shachi, Penguin Bepo and his beautiful sweet girlfriend piling on top of him to not try and kill Kidd on the spot, who victoriously cackled with satisfaction at his “totally harmless joke” and “Oh lighten the fuck up lover boy”. The asshole leaned over the railing of The Victoria Punk, fist hitting the side railing in his fit of devilish giggling. 

As far as (Y/n) knew, the two band of misfit pirates were heading to some island and they needed her skills and knowledge as a botanist to steer everyone clear of any greenery related danger, while they were to make their way to the heart of the island to procure something found near the mythrill deposits that Kidd seemed to be concerningly jazzed about. Which honestly was fine and dandy by her, but what really made her wonder was why Law would willingly get dragged into this, and what he wanted out of this little exploration of a highly perilous island, with how paranoid he could be about the health and well being of his crew. She knew him at least well enough to know by nowadays standards for a fact that part of Law hadn’t changed and was very much alive and well, especially to put up with this for no reason and helping Kidd for funsies. 

The island coming into view really sank in just how far in deep shit it would probably be to even set foot on it let alone just sail and anchor down off shore. Clouds violently swirled in the sky in randomly scattered areas, spots either covered in dark treacherous stormy ridden clouds, other speckled spots only sporting quaint fluffy cotton like clouds with light gracefully shining down to the thickets of woods and forest below. There were strangely scattered cliffs and mountain ranges, a strange dip further inland that was just out of sight, hidden behind trees from view.

The first few sandy steps on the shore bank, a bone chilling shrill echoed about, the sound seeming like it came from something very big, and very angry is what greeted them. Sounds of something akin to breaking shattering glass and crystal sang in resonance in the distance. A mix of determined and intimidated faces mixed around the crow of pirates, Law, Kidd and a select few the only ones seemingly unaffected. 

“Listen up! Trafalgar over here has the coords of why we’re all here in this hellhole. You follow my damn orders if you want to live. The animals here are apparently a bit hungry, so give ‘em hell if any of them decide they’re itchin’ for a fight, and follow what the botanist has to say. According to dipshit here there are plenty of daisies and pansies ready to eat you up just as quick. To keep it short and sweet don’t be dumbasses and let’s kick some ass, level whatever gets in our way to the ground!” Eustass Captain Kidd’s booming voice rang over the crowd, and was met with a just as loud,”Yes boss!” from the Kid Pirates and that’s all it took for the rowdy bunch to be on the ready for the trek ahead. Everyone of the Heart Pirates aside from (Y/n) having already been clued in on the details of what to expect, the only instructions she was given were to point out plant related harm, and if needed use what flora was around to hopefully counteract any unsavory effects they had.

                      ↞      ↞     ↞    ⇚   ⇜  ↭  ⇝   ⇛    ↠     ↠      ↠

Night had swallowed them whole, everyone drenched in a gross mix of the random rainfall and sweat. It had been eerily quiet for the past few hours only having run into a handful of mishaps. The first being a rather small and adorable white bunny, that upon trying to devour Wire’s leg, its little beady red eyes hateful and starved, that mayhaps it wasn’t so very adorable afterall. The second, being a small pack of strange looking quadrupedal animals looking somewhere in between feline and canine with scaled legs and dribble that burned and sizzled on contact with the dirt below, now in an unconscious half dead pile some miles back. The next being a small slew of large plants either latching onto or snapping at and attempting to swallow Penguin and Shachi. The last attempt being made at Kidd when he defied the small woman’s warning to watch his step around a particularly feisty giant species of Venus Flytraps. The botanist, already feeling particularly worn out from her mysterious and in her opinion ironic illness, flowers killing a botanist from the inside out and all, was even more mentally drained with her new task of keeping the Kidd pirates(and Penguin and Shachi unfortunately) alive and listening to her directions and advice. 

Ferns crunched under foot, the occasional snap a twig joining in on the symphony of the crisp crinkling, were all that were heard in the dense wood. Something definitely wasn’t right. The annoying yell of bugs, the squawking of birds, and even the assault of plants had all come to a stop. The only sign of movement and sentient life being everyone present. Then there it was. A loud popping noise. First one then, many, many more all at once.

“Those are trees falling. That’s too many to be a coincidence.” Her nervous frantic eyes  searched the crowd, looking for her boyfriend and Captain. Finding him looking in the direction of the sounds, somewhere off to the northwest, he grabbed hold of Kikoku, and now a new buzzing sensation coming from the metal ring of her harness, she felt frozen in place. It was mere seconds after she felt it. It being not far off from a musky scented strong gale of wind from the trees behind, the popping sounds of creaking trees knocked over rumbled the ground she stood on. Turning around felt like a mistake, really wishing she hadn’t, she was met face to face with the crouched face of what looked like a fur covered wyvern, blizzard like chilly clouds of its breathe huffed out of the slits on it’s snout, white fur standing on end, proudly stating it’s threatening presence. 

A rumbling chitter shook through the beast, and right down (Y/n)’s spine. With a turn as quick as she could muster, she made a mad dash for the one place she would hope to be her safety by Law’s side, screaming his name desperately. Only to be shattered as he himself dashed right past her, the buzzing of the O-ringed harness throwing her body into the rough hold of Eustass. In the middle of the battle cries, and screeching growls from the monstrous animal, she felt the all too familiar pain in her chest again. This wasn’t how this was supposed to go. Law was supposed to have her, not Kidd. He wasn’t supposed to rush past her, that was supposed to be literally anyone else but him. The pain scorched her chest, her organs on their way to snapping apart like twigs, to break apart and make way for the blossoming garden of feeling useless, unloved, ignored, and lonely. Coughing shook her body in the firm tight hold of the rival captain, blood pouring from her plush lips and nose like plague filled water, full blooms of Jasmines delicately pouring just as steady onto her and onto the chest of Kidd. For once, Eustass Kidd stood in horror as the small frail woman in his arms spittled blood and flowers of all things onto them both. Struggling with deciding whether to gape at you, or gape at Law, dropping her onto someone else to kill this shithead of a monster, creature whatever the fuck to get Law over here and solve this, or literally anything at all.  

“Trafalgar, this is serious!” tattooed hands gripped Kikoku with skilled ease and strength, the blade holding firm in it’s place against a clawed icy foot. “I’m a little busy right now, can’t your shit wait!?” Too busy to turn around to see what he was causing a commotion about.

“Wait if you want, but (Y/n)’s kinda fuckin’ dying in my arms right now!” It all was so loud. The ground was shaking so much, and to the botanist it was almost like the vibrations were lulling her to sleep. She felt a rough shove into something warm, providing her further a sick comfort, the blood, water and sweat of her shirt having done nothing but freeze her down to her very soul. Her body was shivering from blood loss. The yells, and screams ebbed and faded. One stuck out though. One familiar voice whispering about her head, the only thing keeping her present. One that made the pain worse, more agonizing. Familiar arms cradling her weak dying body closer.

“Fuck don’t die on me now. Not when I’m so close- when we’re so close. I refuse to have the woman I love more than anything else in this fucked world die.” Jasmines spewed from her lips, something wet and warm pebbled on her face, eyes too weak to open and look at the source, barely able to register a whimpering voice. “I love you so much, please don’t leave me here.” This was Law’s voice. A scream barreled from (Y/n) as her body expelled whatever it could of the flowers from her quaking form, roots and vines tearing from organ tissue. Horrific was what this was for Law to see. Less and less blood, but more and more roots, leaves, flowers and vines were spewing from the love of his life’s mouth. He recognized this instantly as Hanahaki. 

He realized many things in that moment, time feeling like it had slowed. Gone was the wrathful aggressive blaring of Kidd and they’re crews' battle cries. Gone was the shrill of the beast. Gone was everything in the world, but the both of them. Caught up in his workaholic nature, he had neglected his relationship, he neglected his best friend, he neglected her. He was the one that brought this on them, on her, and all because he said nothing to her. His decision to keep her in the dark, and then spending less and less time with her, listening to her less in favor of searching for clues left her love feeling unrequited. He realized there as the beast fell and shook the ground, surrounded by the sound of victory cheers that it took more than the label of a relationship and just feeling love wasn’t enough. He had shown everyone, but her his love for her, and gave her few words as supplementation for his lack of action if any at all. 

“I love you so fucking much, please don’t go. I’m so sorry.” 

Then gentle and warm dark encapsulated her mind.

                      ↞      ↞     ↞    ⇚   ⇜  ↭  ⇝   ⇛    ↠     ↠      ↠

She could feel the bob and sway of her body move. She was warm, so very warm and it felt like home. Her arms and legs hugging into it, her face nuzzling into the back of something equally warm, something tickling her nose. Going to rub at the top of her head to ease the pounding headache ravaging her skull, instead of her fingers touching her hair, they ran across soft fluffy fabric and down onto the brim of the hat on her head. Prying loopy eyelids open, she saw black curls, and a rather familiar hood. The voices of the Kidd Pirates close but distant echoed in across rocky walls and ceiling, stalactites and stalagmites bouncing the sound around and further into what she now saw was a cave. Beautiful almost crystalline metal ore glowed in the sea of mythrill. Law gently jostled his hold on her thighs to ensure her place on his back. Carrying the Polar Tang’s botanist with as much care as he could, nerves shot as he made steady calculated steps forward. That’s when they both saw it. The silly little flower that started this whole mess. Law honestly disturbed at the sight of another flower, and (Y/n) in her giddiness could put the excitement of a child in a candy shop to shame.

She tried her best to make a move to get down from where she was perched on the back of her lover, wanting to rush over and examine the Holy-Light Peony, it’s petals giving off the faintest of blue and golden hued glow. Law on the other hand only was having none of that, tightened his grip, even going as far as further leaning forward using the weakened state of her body to keep in her place.

“You lost a lot of blood out there Sicky. There’s no way in hell I can let you walk on your own until you recover.” His voice was horse and rough like gravel, showcasing against his will how much he strained it.

“But-”

“Doctor’s and Captain’s orders.” Well that was that she supposed. A small pout on finding it’s way on her features, until it faded to something more sad and gentle.

“Hey dummy.”

“Hmm?”

“I forgive you.” The last few steps were quiet, a sense of strange calm overcoming the young couple as they were nearing the gentle glow of the lone peony. With a crouch to the ground and awkward maneuvering, Law managed to place (Y/n) down right front and center, pulling a small bag from his hoodie to place next to her filled with a few of her supplies. She made to look at him from her spot on the crystal like floor, eyes meeting and baring a question for him.

“How did you-” It was her own turn to cut herself short this time around. The realization hit her like a truck, or even as far as getting body slammed by a sea-king. This was what he was doing this whole time. This was why. The deflated grief filled smile being all the answer she really needed. She understood. “Thank you Law.” Dropping to his knees beside her as he did his best to help however he could, listening intently on whatever directions were thrown his way.  For what felt like the first time in forever they were truly present with one another, and it felt patient, gentle, warm and kind.

“Of course love.” The moment was warm indeed.

Tagged as promised<3:

@metonimia-de-bellota @true-king-of-rats

[bluu3berry]

Flowering Heart.

{CW: Disease, Heartbreak, Graphic depiction, Hanahaki Disease.} Enjoy ~!

Please read, or atleast reblog I spent so much time on this...

Sans stared into the mirror… a new day in the underground. Today was special! No humans have fallen recently and I got closer to the lady behind the door. In Fact, he learned her name! Toriel. He was never one for lovey-dovey stuff but over the years of talking with her, he got to know her. She used to care for children, she loves cooking, she is a very clean person and other hobbies of hers! It grew to the point that surprisingly he found himself catching feelings for her… to the point he was able to get echo flowers from Waterfall just for this occasion!

He adjusted his red bowtie which was tied to his normal clothing, as he smiled a bit wider than his normal grin. He sighs as he stands up and “shortcut” from his room to the door of the ruin.. doing the secret knock which indicates who it is.. he hears Toriel coming quickly. 

“ Sans! Sans! Hah, I found a joke book and I have so many things to tell. However.. you came earlier than usual! Anything different?” The lady spoke softly with sweetness.. he thought of words to tell the monster behind the door for this occasion. “ Why yes Tori is uhh got some good news for ya- or well me. I think I got something for ya “Sans spoke back awkwardly as he grinned at the door awaiting the response.

“ Oh- wait what is it? A joke? Another one of your hotdogs, I do need to still try to make those don’t you agree? “ Toriel said giggling afterward as she finally sat down at the door… sans paused as he thought for a moment “Ehh nah… it's something more alive huh? I thought you would like your Into flowers right?” He said slightly nervous for her reaction.. he sat on the snow before grabbing the echo flowers and pushing them through the door.. a few petals being slightly shaved off due to the tight gap “Oh? Echo flowers.. sans I haven't seen these in such a long time! It's a wondrous gift! But why flowers, I never asked for these?” She spoke slightly confused as sans sighed and waited for the echo flower to speak for itself. “ You should. maybe listen to the plant, huh?” Sans said softly as Toriel nodded

Toriel picked up the flower and held it close to her floppy ears as the echo flower glowed whispering into her ear “ Could we go to Grillby’s… “ the echo ringed as another picked up the sentence. “ You are a good friend to me.. but.. “ it rang as Toriel knew what was to come.. she froze hearing the third one. “ Could… it be more. “ Toriel was shocked! The echo flowers glow went silent, as Sans on the other side of the door fidgeted quietly.

“ Sans... “ Toriel spoke in a slightly deep and upsetting tone.. sans paused listening to what Toriel had to say “ I am.. not ready for more than this. I haven't even seen your face. I'm sorry but I don't think I'm ready for a relationship. Besides, I don't think I could even live out of the ruins. Everything would be so new! I don't know how much it would have changed.“ She spoke softly to let him down easily.. Which didn't work. She slid the flowers back out a couple of the petals ripping off as the flower's glow slowly disappeared into nothing “.. heh- that's alright Tori ignored it, what was that book about anyways? “ Sans said awkwardly and distant but not to the point of tears.. But they started to roll. Why? He heard no response to his question.

It was just the soft padding of feet leaving the door. Toriel needed space after such a thing, knowing the monster beyond the door? Interested in her.. that changed how she viewed sans. But she was too kind to tell him that. He tapped the door on his knock again, listening for the feet to return. “ Eh? Toriel didn't know you were going somewhere. I'll wait for ya. “ He said softly as he pulled his bowtie off and wrapped it around his stitched jacket.. zipping up the coat and laying in the snow waiting for her to return.. after hours, and hours of waiting, no response. But he didn't leave, besides! He still had hope for Toriel to return. It was getting colder and colder on his bones.

What surprised him the most was the flowers blooming in his eye.. the echo flowers covered the left side of his face quickly. “ Hn.. eh? Ah, flowers? Wonder if I got seeds in my skull again hah.. "Sans spoke as his voice was weary.. his hand reached to his face grabbing a flower and pulling in it slightly.. usually they come out right? Nope.. he jolted out of the snow still tired but in a panic, shock of pain was sent throughout his head. "A-AGHH-!?" He *screamed as the pain bloomed from his eyesight. He clawed at the echo flower trying to rip the source of pain to subside. He was able to tear out a few strangling blue petals, which fell onto his fluffy coat rim and sleeves. He thrashed around trying to yank out more of the flowers, tossing and turning in the snow, causing more snow to pile on top of him. The cold slowly replaced the pain, numbing the harm caused as he curled into a ball. Watching as a snowstorm started to form in Snowdin.

“ I feel so.. wea-.. hah.. ah. “ His panicked voice was overtaken by an exhausted gaze and becoming too weak to move. His pupils disappeared from the only eye available as the echo petals slowly formed in between his hand.. and in the gaps of his neck, not being fully flowers yet but the petals sure didn't help with the cold.“ It's.. so.. chilly.. “ he spoke as the flowers and petals seemed to be feeding off his magical energy and his form… his eyes turned glassy his vision blurring all he could make out was the familiar red scarf of his brother quickly approaching as he slipped into unconsciousness. @anon-coke @scramble-eg @thelunarsystemwrites @superbfirnacho @the-second-reason < Thanks for pure review

[icarusredwings]

Subway (b)Rat

Rated Explicit for sexy romantic comedy.

~6k words.

Consider this a gift for my Kinktober fans (I KNOW IT'S THE 29TH SHUT UP) and an apology on the behalf of @bougiebutchbinch for making you all so sad with THIS post.

Authors note: Mentions of cablepool because I think every time this man is mentioned, Logan feels the undying urge to reclaim Wade. The Summer's bloodline is intertwined with his too much, and it's ruining his life lmao. Summers is to Logan how Dinkleberg is to Timmy’s dad.

And yes, I'm aware this is pretty vanilla/Tame, but you know what? You're gonna read it anyway because I wrote it for you. And it would be rude if you didn't. Also, shout out to the font change method because I was STUCK stuck.

CW: Semi public, teasing, an unGODLY amount of kissing, choking, spanking, stretching, praise kink, mind breaking, biting, scratching, blood, cancerous cysts, prostate cancer, mentioned sub drop, physical exhaustion, Lovey dovey shit, Logan being a good top, drippy creampie, self hate talk, mentions of a dead pigeon, breath play, god what else uhhmm, puppy play if you squint, overstimulation, hair pulling, breeding kink, free use, light public humiliation, fourth wall break.

Thinking about how Wade sometimes insults himself too much to the point of comparing himself to a diseased subway rat with mange or a filthy gas station bathroom. How they stink are collectively hated, and everyone abuses them because of how disgustingly ugly they are.

This is Logan's breaking point. He's tired of hearing this. Tired of telling him to shut up. Tired of him truly thinking that he could only love him all dolled up. Well, guess what, honey? Maybe the Wolverine is into naked subway rats. They were scavengers, after all.

So he decided to do something about it. After a joke, when he compared himself to a dead pigeon on the tracks, Logan growled lowly in his throat. It was the final straw. Grabbing his wrist, he pulled him off of the locomotive and across the platform deck as he held their bags of household items and their lunch.

"Hey! Peanut, We're gonna miss our stop! I know you don't get the subway because of how old you are and everything but-"

Taking him into the bathroom, he threw him into a stall with a 'omph', slamming the door shut behind them.

"What? Am I in timeout or are you araid to piss by yourself, handsome? Kind of fitting that you picked the grossest one for me. There's piss on the floor right ther-"

Clamping a hand over his mouth, he growls close to his face. "SHUT. UP."

Of course, he only licked his palm. It's not like he cared, though. He's done far more nasty stuff before. And far uglier people.

Wade always thought that he was Sooooo bad. And soooo ugly, but in truth, he was just an annoyingly loveable idiot with cancer.

That's not his fault. Logan would never judge him for something that wasn't his fault and couldn't help. The only way he'd ever get better is if the CIA stopped killing everyone who cures cancer. Hank got close once, but he got told to stop immediately or else.

Letting him go, he put the bags on one of those purse hooks, moving them so that he was sitting and Wade was on his lap, his dirty white and black, improperly tied converse reaching the floor.

"You're a fucking moron, you know that?"

"Aww thanks muffin, Oh wait-" He gasps, "Omg wolvie are you about to fuck me in a dirty bathroom!?"

"Shh! Not if you don't shut up."

"Loagie you know I can't. It's a medical condition." He says in a dead serious whine.

Logan smirked, scoffing as he put a hand on his L.A. idol's. (You know the ones with the rhinestone cross on the ass? Yeah. Something about making his 'butt look good' and how they were 'all the craze back in his day' so now whenever he found them at thrift stores he snatched a pair or two.) And another on his tattered gray New York hoodie, pulling his hood off as he grabbed the front.

Whining a bit, he tried to put the hood back up, but Logan pulled the strings so tight that he couldn't.

"Nice try. Not happenin' I like seein' yer pretty face." He smirks, pulling the strings so he is close to him, showing those canines of his as he smirked in triumph, having felt cocky for thinking a step ahead of him.

This only led him to use his arms instead, putting his face into them instead. "Nnooo... Stop lying to me.."

Rolling his eyes, Logan leaned back against the toilet, shifting his hand to grab at his arms, moving those too. "Are you really gonna fight me for a kiss?"

A small, cheeky nod.

"Alright. But remember, you started this, not me."

Giving his ass a good slap, Wade let out a yip, giving Logan enough time to grab him by the wrists, shifting to pin his back against the stall wall. With the other hand, he gave a little tug at the bottom of the oversized hoodie.

"Wait, is this mine?"

Wade giggled but still tried to hide in his shoulder, not wanting him to see at all and now that they've made it a game? Even better.

"Oh yeah? So that's how we're going to be? God, you're such a brat."

Another nod. "Nu-uh."

"Guess you won't mind if I flip ya then?"

"Huh?" Turning just slightly, Logan stole a peck, making him squeal and his face get darker, quickly shoving it back into his arm, giggling.

"That wasn't fair!" He whined, muffled from the fabric.

"Sorry, what was that? Can't hear you over how big of a pussy you're being."

Gasping again, he turned to scold him, only to be kissed yet again. "Wolvie!! Not fair!"

"Mmh.. so fair." He whispers, kissing down the part of the jawline, he let stay exposed, nipping his ear and working his way down.

The soft groans into the arms of the hoodie were nice, but he would rather them be clear. Flipping him over, he put his fingers over the side of the stall. "Keep them there, Got it?" He says, Letting a hand run over his sides and another over the hard plastic stones that covered his ass cheeks.

"Or what?"

"Or I'll stop and force you to wait until we get home."

"Hm..What happens when we get home?"

"You'd have to wait another 6 stops to find out. Do you really want that?"

Thinking for a moment, Wade loved a good tease, a nice edging, but 6 stops?? No, thank you. Far too long. He shook his head.

"So are you going to keep them there?"

A quick nod.

"Good." Again, he slapped him, one of the rougher ones that he always liked. They made him feel wanted and appreciated. Logan knew this because, as embarrassed and growly, he got it whenever Wade stole a slap, he felt the same warm feelings run up his spine into his chest.

"Eehh!! K-keep doing that and you won't even get to touch me." He teases.

"Man you're weird... did you just say if I hit you enough you'll cum?"

"Probably." He shrugs, jolting his hips forward a bit as Logan rubbed over the front.

"I don't know how you could cum at all in pants 2 sizes too small.." he mumbles, leaning his chin on his shoulder as one hand tried to slide in the back but barely could get his fingers half way in the seams.

"They aren't tight tight, I just have a big ass and a boner all the time."

"Or all that squat training you do."

"Mmmh yes... 'squat training’... hey you don't think we could-"

"Shut it. Do your job." Pushing a couple fingers in his mouth, Wade let out a groan, immediately beginning to work on them, sucking and licking all over, a bit of a chew once in a while. Oral fixation and whatnot.

While he did this, Logan began to unbutton the front, slowly unzipping the front, carefully as he knew damn well just by the feeling that he didn't have any underwear on. It's the whole reason they came out, actually. To get laundry detergent and dish soap.

But now he was letting him grind forward into his hand and back into his, less sparkly, rougher looking jeans. Pulling his fingers out a bit, Wade was quick to press them back in, nipping gently as he whined, not wanting him to take away his favorite chew toys.

"Yeah? You like those, don't you?" He asks, putting his nose into his neck.

"Mmmhm~" He was happy here, teased and doing a good job. He knew he was because those fingers were soaked and he hadn't even gagged yet.

He loved being touched and muttered too while pressed up against a wall. It was one of his favorite things. He didn't mind however long he wanted to tease him either but only could hope he'd let him return the favor.

Logan could touch him all he wanted, anywhere, for hours and still not let him touch him at all so when he did let him it was like throwing a dog a bone with meat still on it. A treat.

Taking his hand from between his legs, Wade whined in protest but didn't let him pull out the fingers just yet. He wasn't done with them. "W-mh wohlvie"

Running his hand up under his hoodie, Logan thumbed over every dip, scar, nook and cranny that he could possibly feel, kissing the back of his neck until the hand met him in the front. Grabbing him by the throat, he squeezed a bit.

"Drop'em." He breathed behind him.

Almost instantly, Wade moved a hand to push his jeans down to his knees, shimmying a bit for them to get off his thighs before returning his hands to the top of the stall.

He liked his pants snug. He said they felt like 'leg hugs'. Honestly, Logan thought it just made him look more like a wannabe emo, city boy. The kinds that wore studded belts but their panties still showed on their hips.

“Touch me, Peanut! Please?”

Logan was much different with his pants preferences. He liked his inseems deep, his waist high, and the bottom boot cut.

Putting pressure on his sides, he pushed him until his head laid back against him. "Didn't I tell you not to move those hands?! Hm!? Since when are you fucking deaf?!" The gravel in his voice was enough for Wade to moan through the fingers. "HOh mmh gohd-"

He never knew if he wanted him to completely fuck him up or not. It was only natural for him to feel scared. I mean, a big bad wolfie like Logan holding you by the neck, and within a second, he could shove those claws through your face with how deep his fingers were in his mouth? Almost touching the back of his throat if not curved perfectly? But at the same time, it only made him stand at attention.

When he took his hand away, Wade whined. "Nooo.. I'm sorry! I'll behave! Giv'em back, Wolvie. Please?"

"You sure?"

He nods.

"So you don't want me to shove these right up your ass?"

Pausing, he quickly shook his head. "I do want it."

"Want what?" He teases, drawing the fingers over the curve multiple times.

"I want you to shove'em in me!"

"Hmm..that's it?"

"Erm... please??" Glancing at him, he wasn't sure exactly what he wanted, but his back was already arching at the slightest touches.

Chuckling softly, Logan gave him a sloppy kiss on the cheek. "What a good boy. I've trained you a bit too well with manners, haven't I? But that's not what I meant. You want me to fuckya?"

"Heh- Yeah. Obviously.... sooo...now?"

"Settle down. I'm getting there." He mutters, debating if he wanted to let go of his neck or not. Deciding against it, he went ahead and slid in a finger, the front of his own jeans becoming tight from the noise he made.

"I'm just saying. You're taking foreve-Ahoohoh...fuck."

"Mmh?"

"Mmhmm~"

"Mh... You planned this, didn't you?"

"N-ngh?" He whined questionably, biting his tongue to try to stay quiet, focusing on the fingers with that overly large shit eating grin on his face.

"Wade?"

"Hngh.." His eyes went up to the ceiling.

"You did it on purpose. You wanted me to bring you in here and tell you how much of a fucking liar you are, didn't you?"

Pressing back against them, Wade stepped his feet apart, trying to bend over a bit more. As much as he could in tight jeans and in such a small stall. But that's alright. He didn't mind. Only let him press up against him more.

Wade hadn't noticed much, but his hands slipped from the top of the wall again, still above his head, but now he was gripping his own wrist.

"I have no clue what's even going on.." He muttered, closing his eyes as he tilted his head back, grateful that while he pressed back, Logan pushed forward, curling his fingers as he used one to keep him open, The other two slowly pressing in and pulling out with pressure towards the bottom.

Yeah, okay, that checked out.

"Hey.. when you uhm.." Wade starts, as if he just remembered something.

"Yeah?"

"Could you.. oh god this is so embarrassing.. can you be extra rough on my...you know...c-Cancer stuff." He mumbles. "I know, It's disgusting. I'm so gross."

Stepping closer, He made his back bend a little deeper as he turned his head towards him. Kissing him, Logan grunted. "You're not gross.. but yeah. Show me where it hurts, darlin’, I’ll fuck away your pain.”

He blushes, embarrassed. “.. prostate?”

“Heh, sure, I can destroy your prostate for ya."

Wade giggled.

"Sure you wanna do that here, though?"

"I-i rather scream here than with Al yelling at me..." He admits. “She doesn't get it. Sometimes a guy just has to get violently fucked in the ass as part of his pain management plan.” He tells him.

Logan nods, agreeing with him. As stupid as it sounded, by helping his cysts pop, he felt a lot better. Though in Al's defense it did involve a lot screaming.

Sure, he'd help him with his dirty little curse but he wanted to hear those magic words.

“Well.. What do ya say princess?”

“Fuck me like you hate me?” he rubs himself against him further with a high pitched, demanding whine, already impatient.

Logan chuckles at the questioning tone, shaking his head softly.

“Not yet. I'm gonna take my time with you.”

Keeping him close, Logan matched his hand movements with his words, dragging them out if the phrase was elongated, quickly stuffing them back in if he thought he deserved it.

Various whispers of praise fell from his lips.

“Your ass is super tight, you know that?”

Okay maybe some were sweeter than others but come on, This meant much more to wade than just a “You're Beautiful.” though in truth he liked them both equally. He liked any attention even if he didn't believe it… or it wasn't good..

“You're so much hotter than a dead pigeon-”

“PFFT Your fingers are in my rectum and THAT'S what you lead with!? That's like.. the bare minimum! The bar is in HELL!” He laughs.

Embarrassed, he blushes deeply. “I never said I was good at words, damn it. Now shut up and listen.”

“Watch next he's gonna say I'm prettier then the pissy gas station bathroom..”

“No!!... though maybe I should have done this there- at least there was a lock.” He mumbles, knowing he wasn't talking to him rather than you.

Yeah. You.

You freak. Why are you even here? Just wash your hands and leave. God..rude.. Ever hear about privacy? No?? Good. Wade likes to give a good show. Sit down. Just.. watch the pee right there.. unless.. you know …you're into that. But this is New York so.. I hope you're up to date on all your shots!

“Wade!”

“What?” He asks, glancing back at him.

“Are you serious?”

“Huh? What? What did you say?” He blinks.

Logan grunts. “I just- Uugh I just gave this whole spiel about how sexy you are and how I wouldn't choose anyone else over you. How.. How did you miss that!?”

“Look we've talked about this, I don't know what's going on half the time, what do you want from me?”

About to scold him for not hearing a single word of his beautiful 5 full minute long speech, he just groans. “..Just give me all of you and I'll be happy. Okay?”

“Why?”

“What?”

“Why me?”

“Oh shut the fuck up! You know I want you, it's not a secret I try to hide, okay!? Were fucking in a bathroom for crying out loud! Literally!”

Wade giggles a bit. “Sorry Wolvie.. Can you say some of the stuff again?”

“You're killing the mood, Mouth!” He growls, becoming a little frustrated seeing as it took a lot for him to put the words together in the first place.

“Oh pleeaasse, Peanut? Pretty please?” He bats those magic eyelashes.

“Fine… Are you listening?” He asks, curling his fingers up, deep within him.

“...You're the one I was meant to find in life. I was never truly happy where I was until you found me. I think you're an idiot for thinking you don't deserve to be loved because... you know you're sexy right? You're gorgeous. You're so damn pretty and you can't see a single bit of it. I mean- genuinely. But I don't even care about any of that and…and- you know what this is stupid..” he starts.

“No, no!! Please! I was almost there-”

“What? Oh- Wade!! What did I tell you about hands!?” Jerking his hand away, he pushes it to his back, growling. “Do you want me to bite it the fuck off!?”

He squeals, a little too excited. “Nooo!! Don't eat me Wolvie- Unless?”

“No, Wade! Bad!”

“Aww….. Anyway, what were you saying before you so rudely stopped me?”

Sighing, he pulls his hip back, wrapping an arm around his chest, holding him with his chin on his shoulder, listening to his breathing lining up with each curl and press of his fingers.

“and.. I love you. I really do. But I LIKE you too, H-heh.. You're funny, you're so smart even though you act like you and puppins share a brain cell.. and she has it most times.”

Wade giggles, which makes Logan smile, gaining enough confidence to keep going. “I love that stupid fucking smile you do when ever you make the most terrible joke in history- and I know- Im 206.”

Another giggle as Wade reached the hand that was on the stall back to wrap around Logan’s neck, Nuzzling him gently.

“I-i love your freaky bright eyes. I mean really, why do they look like that?”

He chuckles, truly listening to every word. Logan didn't speak much but when he asked for Wade's attention, he got it fully. “I really don't know… do you actually like them or..?” The nervousness in his voice made Logan's heart beat hitch, quickening.

“I really do. They're like nothing I've ever seen before… and they change colors. They're white, clear, and milky-”

“Ha! That's what she said-”

“Shut up…” He rolled his eyes but smiled, knowing he walked right into that one.

“I was GOING to say they're like my own personal moons to light my dark days, and when they are yellow they are like suns that shine on my face in the morning.. but…That's another thing. You get me… A lot..”

“Oh, Logan….stop..”

“No, I mean it. Really. They told me you were too immature for me but.. you're perfect. I'm tired of feeling old. I'm tired of feeling like there's no one who will be able to be lazy and lay with me when I need it but play around or be rough when I want too… until you.”

Swallowing, Wade pulled his hand from him, turning to stare at him with an oblivious look of realization.

“.. Holy shit.. You really think that.. a-all of it?”

He nods. “i-.. I wasn't done either..”

“There's more!?”

Blushing, the old fart nodded, semi embarrassed.

“Oh my god, baby you're gonna make me cry��.Tell me you're lying..”

He shook his head. “No.. I won't. I refuse.”

Pulling him close, Logan hugs him tight, Wade squeezing him back around the back of his neck, teary eyed and trying not to ugly sob. For a few moments they stayed like this before he kissed him, the same way he planned to in a few months once he found a perfect ring.

“I'll never let you go. I want you to be with me until you get tired of me. And even then you'd have to get a restraining order.”

“Oh Wolvie… I could never get tired of you.”

“And you know how you feel right now? That's how I feel about you… Unfortunately..”

“... I love you, Logan.. you're too good to me.. I hope I'm enough for you.. I know you deserve better. To be happier…”

“As long as you're here with me, I'll have a smile on my face, princess.” He teases, leaning up to kiss him again (For the 50th time) “And if it was up to me I'd keep you just like this all day but-”

“Do it, coward.”

Logan snorts, giggling a bit. “You want fucked or not?”

“Yes!! I take it back, You're not a coward, Please fuck me, Mr. Wilde! Pound me with your huge poetic cock!”

Before he could shout anymore, Logan kissed him, shutting him up as he entered, being sure to stay still for a couple of seconds. The deeper the kiss got, the more he pressed in. This was until Wade pushed himself back, breaking the kiss and moaned.

“Hah~ Fuck, not so much of a peanut anymore, huh?”

To tease him, Logan pulls away just to slam back in. The squeal that came from him through the kiss pleased Logan greatly, doing this a couple more times.

Pulling away, his breath was already a little heavy from such tender intimacy. “You good?”

“Best I've ever been, Big boy!” He tells him, cheek against the wall, but something about his smell said he was lying.

“Mmh… spit on these.” He muttered, putting his fingers up to his mouth for Wade to spit, wiggling around back there. Gripping his hips to hold them still, he slipped the fingers in, spreading the slick around before pressing back in.

Wade lets a deep groan fall out of his mouth seeing as his jaw hasn't shut practically since they've been in here, drooly and excited. It wasn't often that Loagie wanted to fuck him in a public space. They already got caught in central park one night, and now were banned from the Subway down the street- the actual sandwich subway, not the public transportation system.

Picking up the pace, He tries to keep him quiet, shoving his fingers in his mouth, Telling him to shut up, shushing him between thrusts, covering his mouth and even (of course) kissing him.

Nothing seemed to work though, especially when Wade spread his legs, letting him have further access, his body just begging to be held down and used.

And who was Logan to deny that?

“Lo- Ooh shit- Oh shit- Oh fuck shit damn!” He calls through breathy moans and tries to keep his knees from buckling by shifting his weight, though Logan doesn't want any of that. Who does he think he is? Trying to get away now? Not going to happen.

Biting the side of his neck, he made an animalistic noise that made Wade's knees shake, the pain from both the teeth seeping blood out of his neck, and his ass being obliterated.

He can't help but smile through the skin in his teeth, letting out a huff of a chuckle. Really? Fuck shit damn?

“Ooh- Ow- Mmh fuck! Ow- Shit! Ohh mmMy God Loagie it hurts so good!” He whimpers, reaching up to hold the top of the stall, becoming still and instantly quiet.

This was always the part where Logan got nervous. Scared that he had actually hurt him somehow and he just didn't want to say anything in fear he'd be mad at him.

“yuh gud?” He asks through the mouthful.

Silence. His eyes were closed tight and he was tensing slightly, as if trying to hold still in this exact position.

Letting go of him, Logan slowed. Immediately Wade began to plead with him, begging him not to stop, pushing himself against him in hopes he'd get the gist.

“Are you-”

“Harder.” He says and immediately Logan understands, giving a nod. Adjusting himself, he holds him in place, thrusting up a few dozen times. Harder.

The squeak that came from Wade and watching him grit his teeth. It said all he needed to know. Kissing his shoulder blade, he listened to each quiet whine, felt each tense in his legs, and could smell the discomfort.

Logan has come to train himself that he was allowed to keep going, having usually backed off at even the slightest sign of pain but he understood that what he was doing was best for him. He’s seen the clots, boils and welts that happened so he could only imagine what this felt like on the inside. Just thinking about it made him want to stop. To tell him no more.

But this was Wade's request. And probably why he's felt so down here recently, it was hard to feel handsome or pretty when your insides hurt like this.

“Breathe.” He reminded him, feeling Wade hitch his breath and still, tensing his legs up as he let his head hang. This one hurt. He knew it did just by how he felt.

But he didn't.

“Wade?..Breathe for me.” He whispers, trying his best to get this over with as fast as he could. He knew how painful it was just from him shutting down, no longer moaning or even saying ‘ow’. Just silence.

The sound of slapping and the jangly hinges of the stall were all that was at the moment until He let out a large gasp, sounding more of a “Hah-” of relief.

Before you could blink, Logan stopped, pulling away as he held him up, beginning to kiss all over the back of his neck. “There's my good boy. Breathe. You're okay. I got you. Bit a blood never killed anybody.” He reassured him, noticing that more than usual was dripping down his leg, his dick covered in the hot infectious red slick.

Nuzzling his cheek, Wade had tears in his eyes, giggling a bit embarrassed but happy with the bit of praise and care he was receiving. “Sttoopp..” he whined. “You're so embarrassing..”

“Oh sure like I'm the one about to be screaming here in a minute-”

“What?”

He flips him around, shoving his back to the wall again as he kisses him, nipping at him and tugging at his lip.

Blushing, Wade squealed. “Jeez Wolvie! What, you got a blood kink or something? You freak!”

“I got a ‘helping you' kink, Asshole. There's a difference.” He grunts in between bites at his neck, sending his head back to give him a big moan.

The best part about busting a prostate cyst is that it meant what once was hiding it, was now gone. Meaning Logan could hit it as many times as he wanted.

Giggling, Wade yelped when picked up, hands placed on the back of the stall, his legs immediately retreating to around his waist. “What are you doing?!”

“Stay.” He growls, shifting his hands to get a better hold of him. “You know what I want.”

And with this, it started. The first couple of times, Wade gasped through, whimpering from the residing pain only to grin, letting his head lean back as tried to focus on holding the stall and not running his hands through those thick locks of his. “H-oH Fuck!”

As the moans flowed through each messy smooch, Giggles, praises, dirty talk, the whole nine yards in this tiny space of theirs, Logan didn't even stop when he heard someone walking in. Since the door had flown open a long time ago, He only glared at the passer byer who stopped for a second to look, Only to jump back and leave when full on snarled at. (Because if not you'd probably die today)

“What the fuck are you looking at!?”

In fact he only fucked him better, rolling his hips up to him, pulling Wade's hips into him enough to make him give a high pitched scream of joy and pleasure. “AAAH!! Logan!! Oh fuck- Logan! Logan, please- Please fuck me- No kiss me! Kiss- mMPhm mh, Mh, MHMmh!” Even though the kisses he'd let everyone in this station know who was fucking him.

Logan.

“Don't be ashamed if you wanna scream my name, sweetheart~” he purrs into his neck, trying to keep his breaths stable and resist the urge to put more holes into him.

“Ah!! H-hah! Logan! There! Yes! Ohh- Yes! yesyesyesyes-” He grunts under his breath, now letting out whiny moans. “Oh Fuck!! Yes! Right there! Cable could never hit there-” he blurted out through his screaming whimpers of pleasure, clawing at the side of the bathroom stall as if Logan was trying to drag him down to hell.

For a split second he stopped, pulling his waist back, hand on his stomach as he positioned him in a certain way again.

Wade whines, assuming Logan quit, starting to complain in a high pitched voice of sexual frustration. “Nooo! That's not fair you know I can't contr-” Only to gasp loudly, like a thick new breath of air would help him any.

He failed.

Sinking his teeth in, Logan began to hit this spot on purpose, Over and over and over. He knew Wade didn't mean it. He said all sorts of random thoughts of his brain decided to say without his consent, but it still made him jealous enough to decide that he didn't give a fuck if anyone heard him anymore, he wanted to ease his brain into that numb state of babbling to him his own name.

How could he ever forget such a thing when someone so hot as Wade was screaming it?

“EEHHh!! Please! Please- Logan. Oh god oh god oh god- Fuck! Logan-” The screams grew quiet, evolving Into more of a pleading whimper, whispering under the harshness of the breath he was trying so desperately to keep and yet couldn't keep anything inside at the moment.

“Logan.. Logan please.. Logan fuck- Logan” he whispers, breathy moans into his face, letting his hands finally drop, coming to hold around his neck, scratching his back instead.

“Oh Logan please- please.. yes.. yes fuck- Logan, hold me- please..”

Logan could have come right then and there from the babbling. It was his favorite part. The perfect balance of his mind drifting into a deep subspace, being relieved from pain, and filled with intimacy.

He knew these moans were just for him, and only him. Quiet enough just so he could hear the sweet sympathy that his loving boy could make for him.

“Logan- Logan.. L-Logan! F-fuck- Logan please.”

He was close. He knew he was. He could feel it from how tightly the coil in his stomach was causing him to stiffen, he could already smell the precum, feel his toes curling in his converse, the hot blood still dripping from him onto his legs.

“Logan.. logan- fuck- Logan.. Logan!” He cried, breaths unevenly hitching as tears came to his eyes. It could be a lot. The pain, the intensity, the numbness in his mind that couldn't quite validate the reason for said pain and intense feeling in his lungs. Subconsciously he was asking for help, to regulate himself and his emotions.

The soft panic of overstimulation that was settling in made Logan slow a moment, taking his time to push himself into the perfect places. Kissing him gently yet hungry, letting out small purrs of appreciation to restart the brain, keep him leveled.

“Hi, bub.” He whispers, kissing away his tears knowing by now just how mindbroke he truly was. And he loved it. God he was so sexy like this. Calling his name, begging him to save him, worried that he'll drop. Both physically and metaphorically. “Shhh. You're alright. I won't drop ya, I got you… ready?”

Wade nods, practically salivating at the offer, arms tight around his neck and much happier despite knowing he would be a bit sore on the ride home.

Taking another bite out of him, He was shoved against the wall in a way that made him gasp and moan deeply, the other kind of sounds Logan adored. Sure, he liked the high pitched ones too but something about that deep voice of his made him go a bit insane, trusting into him like a buck in a rut FINALLY given what was his.

With every balls deep slap of skin, Wade groaned lowly. Shifting his hand position from on his back to placing one hand on his shoulder, the other on his head, petting him as he gripped A fistful of curls, pulling him closer. Pressing his teeth deeper into his skin as he decided to grunt and growl with each thrust, nails digging into Wade’s hips as if it were his birthright to breed him in a dirty subway bathroom.

“Ah fuck- gimmekitsgimmekits PLEASE gimmekits” he mumbles, gritting his teeth, closing his eyes as he held him, legs unwrapping to let him use him how he pleased, trusting him fully not to drop him.

The orgasm hit stronger than a shot of whiskey straight from the bottle. Logan kept their hips together, keeping him pinned, his ass almost touching the wall as he bucked a few more times, wanting as deep as possible. It was only natural for him to pump him full. Not like Wade minded either, having already made a mess on the hoodie and now was limp against the wall.

With his head back, he breathed heavily, beginning to chuckle, moaning at a final buck. Bringing his hands to his hair, Wade giggled, pulling his chin up for a sloppy kiss.

Moving to hold his cheeks in his hands, he smirked. “Who's a good boy?”

Logan scoffed, grumbling a bit, blushing.

“... me”

“That's right. My big strong boy~ Fucks me so good!” he coes, making Logan chuckle, shaking his head. “You're a freak..”

“I'm not the one that dragged me in here.”

“.. touché….. Alright. I guess we better get going before the cops come or something.”

“Why would the cops come?”

“Oh I don't know. Public indecency, you screaming your lungs out bloody murder, it looks like a crime scene in here, Wade.” he mutters, holding his thighs as he pulls out with a groan.

Almost immediately their foreheads came together to watch as the cum spilled out onto his jeans and continued to drop down his legs.

“Aw my pants..”

“Wouldn't be the first time.”

“Certainly not the last.” He commented, now glancing away. “Well uhm.. thanks for.. you know.. turning my guts into strawberry jam..”

He pulls his chin to face him, kissing him again with that shit eating grin that really made wish he could get pregnant just so his children could have the same stupid smirk.

“Darlin’ I'd do it even if you didn't ask me to.”

About 10 minutes later between Logan cleaning up his mess by licking up his thigh (only for more to just replace it seconds later), Helping a jelly legged Wade get dressed again, and slobbering all over him as he kissed him to death- Logan now stood with Wade on his hip, like holding an oversized sleepy toddler in his one arm, their shopping in the other.

Wade's tired snores into his neck was music to his ears as he snuggled up to him, used to the screeches of the train's brakes and nonsense being blared over the speakers.

At time's he would kiss his head, not minding the fact that they both now had Cum stained onto their fronts and just how soaked Wade's bottom was. Either way- He was beautiful like this. Happy, relieved of his pain, and filled to the brim with such love, mixed bodily fluids and- Logan had a feeling he was forgetting something.

He forgot their lunch bag...

“...well shit.”

Hello, if you made it this far, congratulations! ⭐️ you get a gold star. Thank you so much for reading ❤️ I hope you enjoyed it.

[acaciusbride]

Beastly: Raider Era Joel Miller x Reader (Part 1)

Summary: you live in a small commune protected by a strong force of raiders. Every season, your people pay tribute for their protection. After lapsing in payment, your abusive father offers you as a human sacrifice. What you don't expect is for the leader of the gang, Joel, to not be as much of a beastly man as first thought.

A Raider Era Joel fic, loosely inspired by Beauty & The Beast.

CWs: references to abuse (physical), implied fear of SA, canon typical violence, implied age gap, sexual references, coarse language, smut for later chapters. (List will update with chapters)

Chapter Word Count: 3k

Thanks to @gab-thelamb-onthemoon & @joelsgirl for being beta readers & allowing me to infodump about this idea, ILY

Index: Part 2

It’s amazing, how long it took society to peak, in comparison to how easily it fell apart. Rome wasn’t built in a day, but it sure burned in one. In a short fifteen years, since Cordyceps first spread globally, society has all but collapsed. 

Oh, sure, there are the QZs, where FEDRA rules with an iron fist. There are smaller settlements where people try to strive for a semblance of ‘normality’. 

But mostly? The world outside the military strict QZs has become lawless. It’s kill or be killed, serve or rule, protect or intimidate. 

Whereas some people have banded together for the greater good of humanity, for the continued survival of the species? Others have taken advantage of the new order of things, are only out for themselves and those they hold dear. 

Joel Miller falls into the latter category. 

Maybe once, before the outbreak, he had been a good man. Had had a strong moral compass, a good ethic. He’d been a family man, loved his daughter and his brother more than anything or anyone in the world. 

Then the world had gone to hell, taken his daughter from him, and something inside him had broken. It was as though a light had gone out inside him, turning his humanity off. 

Gone was the man who had made jokes and smiled easily. In his place was a man scarred and traumatised, who was capable of enormous acts of violence and brutality, who would survive at any and all cost, not for his sake, not really, but for his brother. The only family he had left. 

Joel had always been a natural leader, if somewhat reluctant. It had come easily to him, before the outbreak. He was always the damn union rep on site. Always the one people came to for advice, looked to for leadership. Not just Tommy, or colleagues he’d known for years either. He always ended up with an apprentice following him round like a chained puppy, asking questions, looking for guidance. 

Maybe it shouldn’t be a surprise at all that he had ended up the leader of this band of people, either. Some were misfits, those who were too anxious to try and venture to the nearest QZ and survive under FEDRA. Some were miscreants who preferred the more lawless lifestyle, who needed a leader so they didn’t venture into abject cruelty. Then there were those like him, who just wanted to survive. Keep going for whatever or whoever they had left. 

Joel didn’t necessarily want to live, but he was fucking good at it. 

Without his humanity, it made him a damn good leader. His group protected several small settlements, in exchange for supplies. Weapons. Whatever the fuck they wanted. 

It was a good deal… for his people. The infected didn’t venture this far out anymore, but the good people in those settlements didn’t need to know that, did they? Their living in fear was his bonus. It kept them in line, and it kept his people alive. 

Recently, one of the settlements fell to disease. Leaving just the one small community under his group’s thumb. The occupants aren’t particularly tough, or particularly smart, just ordinary people who have had the luck to survive behind moderately well constructed walls, the wits to bow to those stronger than them for protection. 

Only, their resources are running out, spread thin with the approaching winter…

Which is where you come in. 

--

You’re old enough to remember the world before. Maybe you hadn’t been an adult, so you hadn’t had to deal with things the older folks in your community grumble on occasion about missing - work, taxes (mostly something called a tax return), good liquor, supermarkets… 

But you do remember. 

You remember the world changing overnight. Remember years of struggling, clawing for survival, until this commune had finally put its walls up and hoped for the best. 

Then the infected had come, and you’d lost half your numbers. The raiders had taken advantage of the weakness in your people, taken out the infected… for a price. 

Now each quarter, your people paid ‘tribute’ to the group of men and women who kept the infected at bay. Really, it was a bribe to keep them from taking over your settlement. Every three months the same half dozen men would show up, fill their truck with supplies and weapons your people had gathered, desperately needed, and promise another three months protection for it. 

Nobody’s been attacked since the deal was struck. You guess that’s a good thing. Or there’s something they aren’t telling you. 

Your father is the closest thing to a mayor your community has. There aren’t enough of you to need a proper governing body beyond a handful of people, but somehow the task of leadership has fallen to him. Perhaps because nobody else wants to be labeled as the one who bows to the raiders. Or maybe it’s because the last mayor your town had was beaten to death by said raiders for non-compliance, and your father was the only one brave (stupid) enough to volunteer for the job after.

You aren’t stupid. You know a bribe for what it is. Only this quarter, you aren’t sure what the plan is. 

The crop yield has been relatively scarce this season. With winter approaching, the settlement doesn’t have much to offer. You’re not stupid, but you know it won’t be enough. 

Usually, you stay home when the raiders come for their tribute. Stay inside with the few children of the commune. 

This time is different. Your father is lacing his boots, throwing on his threadbare coat, when he springs it on you. 

“You’re coming too, this time. We need to show our numbers.” 

It doesn’t occur to you until you’re halfway to what passes as the town square that that’s the precise opposite of what your father usually says. That a show of strength is what got his predecessor killed. But you know better than to question him; he won’t shout at you, he’ll just be condescending, or more likely, won’t answer you at all.

You suppose your curiosity will have to wait, and hope he doesn’t get you all killed.

--

Joel usually sends half a dozen of his people to collect the tribute from the settlement they ‘protect’. It’s a thinly veiled intimidation, closer to extortion than anything else, but it keeps his people fed and lets them bully others, which some of his people need. 

But the last two seasons, their offerings have been slim at best, pissing the most restless of his people off. Joel has no issue with violence. No issue with killing people, or intimidation. But he also knows that starting a bloodbath in their supply settlement is a stupid idea, even if some of his men don’t. 

Which has led him to here. Two men sit in the truck, shoulder to shoulder. One sits in the tray, gripping the roof bar with one hand, a rifle dangling lazily from the other. 

Two others ride beside him, a little behind, in an arrow formation. It didn’t bother Owen to stay behind with the rest of the group. There’s better things he could be doing. If anyone was surprised at Joel deciding to go with them on this run? He hasn’t heard a word of it. 

If anything, they probably think it means he’s planning some sort of punishment for their friends in the settlement. Hell, if they don’t pay up? He’s not against it. 

It never ceases to amaze him just how pathetic these people are. He hasn’t visited the settlement personally in a year or so, but the occupants are still just as miserable. Just as downtrodden and fearful, hiding behind their shitty tin walls and the hope that his folks will protect them. It’s that fear that keeps his people fed, keeps these townspeople in line.

They don’t need to know that there are so few infected out here now, that Joel and his group are probably the biggest - if not only – threat remaining to them. Fear keeps them in line, and if they step out of line? Well, he and his gang aren’t above beating a reminder into them. It’s happened before.

The truck rolls to a stop behind him as they make their way to the centre of the settlement. He dismounts his horse, steps forward to greet the leader of the place. He’s met this man once before, the season after he took out the old mayor for trying to defy him. Beating a man to death isn’t pleasant to witness, but Joel had no problem with committing the act.

His replacement is a small, round man who always wears the same threadbare overcoat, the same twitchy air of nervousness around him, the same oily obedience.

How a man like that became what passes for mayor, Joel has no idea. He’s just as spineless as the rest, just as cowardly, eager to snivel and beg for protection, offering up whatever it takes to save his own skin. It’s a way to live, Joel supposes, but he would never stoop so low.

“Morris.” Joel greets the other man with a cold nod of his head, reaches out a gloved hand for him to shake. All formality. All pleasantries. As if the six men he’s brought with him aren’t capable of gunning down this entire settlement, if he so chooses. Hell, he could probably do it by himself. 

“I’m surprised to see you.” Morris admits as he steps forward from the small group of townsfolk. Joel’s gaze sweeps over them all; a few new faces, his eyes boring into each unfamiliar one. One bears a resemblance to the mayor. Interesting.

His gaze leaves the crowd, returns to the man in front of him.

“We need to have a little chat.”

--

“You don’t say a word. Nobody will benefit from your attempts at being a diplomat.” Your father cautions you as you reach the centre of town. It’s not a long walk. The settlement is barely big enough to call a commune, but still.

You don’t dignify him with an answer, just nod. There’s no point in trying to argue with him, try and prove that you’re an asset. He’s too set in his ways, too firm in the belief that women – especially young ones- should be seen and not heard.

So instead you keep your mouth shut, take your place. Watch the convoy come in. It’s different, being out on the street rather than peeking out a window when they roll in.

The usual truck, two men in the cab, one in the tray, slapping the roof to signal to stop. You’re not familiar enough with their faces, but you assume they’re the same men who come every quarter. Two men on horses, flanking a third.

It’s the third man who interests you, only slightly. Mostly because of the way your father tenses, the way some of the others shift nervously. You vaguely recognise this man; the leader of the group of raiders. The one who had no problem with violence, with getting rid of the old mayor when he didn’t want to play ball.

He’s older, maybe late forties, broad shouldered and has a sort of deadened glint to his dark eyes. Vaguely, you catch yourself wondering what he did, or what happened to him, to put that look in his gaze.

Those cold dark eyes take stock of the place, sweep across each member of your community. His gaze pauses on you, very briefly, flickers to your father then back, recognition. Then he looks away, back to your father.

“We need to have a little chat,” the unknown man says, “your quota has been low, Morris.”

Even in the cold, you can see your father start to sweat. He’s no great hero; his leadership perches precariously on his willingness to bow to whatever this gang of raiders wants. There’s no way of fighting them, and quite frankly? There are worse things out there.

“We’ve had a hard few seasons… Maybe we can make it up in spring?” Your father suggests, trying to sound complacent, apologetic. Mostly, it just sounds desperate.

You wonder if the leader of the gang thinks so, too.

“Now, Morris, you’re already short. Have been for the last two seasons. Maybe if we’d had this little chat earlier, I’d be more inclined to accept the request, but, well… winter’s on its way. It’s hard out there, and these walls you have are so flimsy… anything could happen.”

Your father’s face blanches, clearly aware he’s stepping on toes that shouldn’t be stepped on.

“We have… some supplies in reserve. You can take from there.”

It shouldn’t even surprise you, that he offers up the town’s emergency stockpile to save his own skin, probably thinking of his predecessor. It bothers you, though, makes your skin crawl to see the men from the gang open the barn where the supplies are kept, start hauling them into the back of the truck. Those supplies are for emergencies. For the children, the elderly, the sick. Maybe that’s why you open your mouth.

“Those supplies are for our elderly. Our children.”

The look your father gives you is piercing, promising violence, a sharp retribution later, but you don’t care.

“Excuse my daughter, Joel. She doesn’t understand the way things work, likes to talk when the men are talking.”

You expect the gang leader – Joel – to agree, to ignore you. Instead, he turns that depthless gaze onto you.

“What would you have me do, hm? We have a deal, you know that.” It’s unspoken what he’s implying – he has people relying on him, too.

You’re smart enough to know that it’s a rhetorical question.

“Besides.” Joel turns his attention to the truck, shakes his head. “Even with your stockpile, you’re short. Considerably so. Maybe we should stick around. See why your productivity is so low.”

The threat is implicit. Maybe it’s the threat. Maybe it’s anger at you for speaking out. Or maybe it’s the simple fact that your father is a piece of shit. Still, you don’t expect what happens next.

--

Joel doesn’t want to stick around this small town, with its cowed population and snivelling misogynist of a mayor. He’d rather take what they are owed and go, but they’re up short once again. Not by much, but it’s the principle of the matter. Of making sure Morris knows his place, knows that he and Joel are in no way equals.

He projects the very image of an alpha male, broad and cocky, one hand resting on the pistol at his hip. Casually threatening, and he knows Morris is thinking of the idiot before him. Maybe he should just shoot him, see whether someone smarter replaces him. Smarter and less irritating.

Maybe the other man can see how easily he’s contemplating his death.

“Wait. Wait. I have another offer.”

Joel raises an eyebrow.

“And what could you possibly have, Morris? As you’ve said, you’ve had a difficult harvest, you’ve had to break into your emergency supplies. What do you possibly have to trade to save your own skin?” He makes zero effort to hide his disgust.

“Her.” Morris jerks a shaky thumb to the younger woman beside him, the one who’s clearly his daughter, the one who spoke up.

Joel is so startled by the suggestion that he almost outright refuses.

“What?” It comes out blunter than he planned, as if he’s misheard. Because there’s no way that this idiot is offering up his own daughter as some sort of human sacrifice.

“Take her. I don’t care what you do with her, she’s a complete disappointment. Maybe you can teach her some manners, beat her into submission, God knows I’ve tried. Take her and give us immunity until next fall. Let us rebuild our crops.”

Joel looks past Morris to you, small and nondescript. Then again, everyone is small to him. You look like someone’s just pulled the ground out from under you. Shocked. Horrified. He knows then what you’re thinking, what you’re assuming will happen to you. But he also knows now what happens to you if he leaves you here.

Joel Miller may have lost his humanity, but he was a father once. And he can’t imagine ever, ever offering his own child up as a human sacrifice to save his own skin.

And suddenly, it doesn’t matter about making a quota. What matters is getting you as far away from this place as possible. Away from sharp words and balled fists. Because somewhere, somewhere, buried deep down, a portion of the man he once was is stirring.

“The end of next fall. A year.” Joel agrees, tries not to watch the way Morris shoves you forward to what could well be your doom.

You’re shaking. Can’t even form a protest, for all the good it would do.

Sacrifice. Tribute. Offering. As if you’re no more than another object to be traded. Your father doesn’t even flinch as Joel seizes your wrist, pulls you towards his horse.

“Get on.” His voice is low, but not menacing. If anything he sounds almost sorry. It has to be some sort of trap; you’re certain that when you’re back at their base camp, he’ll have no problem with cruelty, with putting his hands on you. Forcing you, if the mood takes him. Maybe it’s better to just do as he demands.

Shakily, you climb up onto the horse, sit awkward and uncomfortable, tensing when he swings himself up behind you, broad arms keeping you in place as he seizes the reins, gives a nod to his men, who finish loading up and pile back into the truck, onto their own horses.

He throws a final derisive look to your father. The man who sold you.

“One year, Morris. Better get your shit together.” Then he nudges the horse, and rides you both out of the only home you’ve known for years.

[lazyjellyfish300]

The flufftober!! The prompts are so cute omg...

You know what they say about when men having fever, they'd act like they're at the end of their life?😭

I think Atsuya would be one of those men lol. Acting like its the end and pushing us away when he's sick, because its rare for him to get sick, poor guy cant even get up to eat porridge... so... may we get that with the ended up falling asleep together, please? Thank you!

Hi Nonnie!! Thank you so much! 🥰🥰 Omg yes the man cold 😂 he so would, huh? I can definitely imagine Atsuya being one of those men lolol. This is so cute!! Thank you for requesting my love!! 💕

a sick day with atsuya

CW: XFEM!READER, FLUFF, CRACK SLIGHT SUGGESTIVE, MINORS DNI

words: 721

"Atsuya?" 

You call into your quiet apartment as you shrug out of your coat, shed your boots, and hang your keys. You got off work after a slightly concerning text from your boyfriend. Usually a sparce texter, you didn't take notice something was wrong with his one word answers until he mentioned he was home from the school already. 

"Kusa?" You try again, walking down the hall, heart racing slightly if this was some kind of sick practical joke or the worst really did happen and you were about to walk in on him dead on the floor with his tongue hanging out.

You approach the cracked door to your bedroom and push it cautiously, shoulders relaxing at the sight of your Atsuya, shirtless in his boxers, hairy chest and stomach to match in all his manly glory on display for your viewing pleasure with an arm covering his eyes, tissues, and a mangled box of NyQuil on the nightstand. 

No doubt about it, your boyfriend was on the verge of death. 

Well, at least that's what he would've lead you to believe with the inhuman groan that left his throat a moment later. 

"Jus' kill me, it'll be less painful..." He grumbles, keeping his eyes closed. 

"Oh, Kusa..." You shake your head and pout your lips sympathetically. "Baby's got the man flu?" You climb into bed next to him. 

"Not the flu, doll." He grumbles. "Baby has a disease. The godforsaken black plague. This is the same shit that killed healthy strong young men like me back in the day." 

"Ever the drama queen, my love." You kiss his stubbly jaw and he sighs a little. "Well, did you eat anything, drink water, perhaps?" You run tentative fingers carefully through his spiky dark tresses, taking note of his increased temperature. 

"Nah. Didn't wanna wait for the goddamn noodles to heat up in the microwave."

"What the...Kusa! You're killing me." You shake your head. "No wonder you're knocking on death's door. We need to hydrate and get you fed immediately."

"Nnnggghhh." 

"Chop, chop, mister, no exceptions."

-----

The apartment grew warm and cozy eventually as the freshly chopped vegetables stewed in the broth alongside the boiled chicken. Atsuya sat on a stool at the counter with a blanket around his shoulders with a large glass of water and a curly straw, gazing at you like the sun stopped and started with the breath you planted in his lungs. 

Three hearty bowls of bubbling chicken noodle soup and a begrudging 32 oz of water later, color had returned to Kusakabe's face. He looked at you with weary, grateful eyes as you lay curled up next to him on the couch as your favorite show played, heart aching at the adorable sight of your cheeks and your hair squished against a pillow with your legs in his lap. 

"Thanks for saving me, cutie." 

"Mhmm, don't mention it...." You smile lazily and go back to watching, keenly aware of his hands that became a little more daring as they worked into a tantalizing massage on your thighs and hips.

"Atsuya..." You sleepily chastise him. "Thought you were too sick..." A breathy low chuckle as he leans over you, playfully nuzzling his face against yours. 

"Yeah, I'm sick, doll, not on hospice..." he purrs suggestively, brushing his lips against yours "The day I turn you down for sex, just g'head and pull the plug..." He captures your lips in a soft peck. "'Cause I'm obviously not of sound mind..." 

"Mmm...you might get lucky in the morning. I'm exhausted, sweetheart." 

"Hehe, no worries, doll..." Kusakabe lets out a yawn, laying his head on your stomach as he feels himself also being pulled rapidly under the increasing spell of sleep. 

"Haha, Atsuya Kusakabe, grade one sorcerer, is a formidable opponent against any and all curses, but let him catch a cold..." 

"Hey, now..." Kusakabe murmurs. "This doesn't leave our apartment... S'far as everyone at the school is concerned, I'm still unstoppable... I'm only weak for you..." He pauses then drowsily hums, "Don't tell Panda." 

"Mhmm...of course of course... your... *yawn* secret is safe with me, darling..." You manage to get out before you drift off to dreamland. 

"Thanks, baby..." Before he follows right after you while holding you close to his chest.

[the-kr8tor]

TTN oneshot request :): reader who's been invited to one of the parties after Hobie's band gigs. Hobie,being his usual teasing self,tries to make r dance with him to one of the songs that come from the speakers but he can't dance at all,so reader ends up teaching him.

-🎸 anon

Ahhh 🎸 anon!! I love this prompt thank you for sending it 🫶 I changed some things around hope u don't mind ❤️❤️❤️

Pairing: Hobie Brown x fem! Reader/ Spider-punk x fem! Reader

Word count: 1.3k

Tags: no use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader (r is mentioned to wear makeup though) cw drinking, poop jokes lol, TTN! Hobie, TTN! Reader. FLUFF

Thread the Needle Masterlist

TTN oneshots

ʕ⁠·⁠ᴥ⁠·⁠ʔ

You lean against a railing overlooking the spacious backyard. Watching Yuri dismiss the third man who tried his luck tonight is better than any cable tv, she scoffs, waving the disappointed man away with her long nails. Yuri notices you giggling by yourself, she beckons you over to the dance floor with a smile. You shake your head with a laugh, gesturing to your half empty cup. She sighs dramatically, miming a crying face. You blame the booze in her system on why she's so lively. It's a nice change though, you love seeing her prance around the dance floor, looking for a more worthy partner.

The bass booms, playing all the classic punk music in the speakers. The sky is dotted with twinkling stars, cool air blowing past the grassy backyard. Roaming your eyes around the venue, you spot James chatting up a familiar figure, his arm slung comfortably around her shoulders. She laughs at something he said, her curls bouncing on her shoulders. You smile softly, happy for them both.

You turn around to face the inside of the ridiculously huge house. The home is packed with bodies bouncing around, the glass shakes from the loud music blaring inside. You see Ned becoming an unwilling bartender, mixing drinks for everyone after he got a particularly nasty bloody mary from someone who's so drunk they shouldn't even be near the kitchen.

With all the people watching you're doing, there's one person you haven't seen in a while. You wonder what he's up to, hopefully not to sneak behind you to carry and throw you into the icy pool—

“You're not very good at sneaking up on me anymore, Hobs”

Hobie groans right behind you, looking over your shoulder, you smirk at him. “How?” He effortlessly lifts himself up on the railing, arms envelope around you, his chin resting comfortably on your shoulder. You help secure him with your hands around his elbows.

“I can sense you a mile away.” You whisper the next part. “I think I got your spidey senses from hanging around you too much”

“You make it sound like a disease!” The alcohol makes him all gooey inside, just for you. “Y’know I have the cure right here”

You quirk an eyebrow. “Oh? What is it then?” Turning around, you face him fully, his arms never leaving your waist whilst your hands never leave his skin.

Hobie points at his lips quickly before he falls on the ground (like you would even let him fall with your hands holding him steady)

“Here”

“Ah! Is your cure tried and tested? Peer reviewed by scientists?”

“Only one way to find out”

You giggle, meeting him halfway to kiss his lips. He tastes of beer and licorice he's been chewing on since you've arrived at his friend's' house. Your hand blindly slides to the back of his neck, fingers scratching lightly. Hobie smiles into the kiss, his hands tucked into the back pocket of your jeans.

Unfortunately, you need air to survive so you reluctantly pull away. He chases your lips making you peck him thrice to ease his suffering from apparent lack of kisses.

“I think I just overdosed on your cure” you hold him close even with the wooden railing between you.

Hobie chuckles, “You'll be fine” he swipes away the sheen left on your lips.

“So considerate. Where have you been, huh?” You lean close to his ear. “Did you go out and fight crime? Are you okay?”

There's goosebumps on his arms, not from the cold. “Nah, I was in the bathroom, taking a huge dump–”

You clasp your hand over his mouth, Laughing through it. “I literally just ate, babe”

“Just answerin’ your question, Gromit. ‘m being honest it was big,” he measures using his hands, “this big. Record size” Hobie loses his grip on the railing, falling flat on his ass.

“Huh, I see a bigger one right here” you look down, seeing him feign offense with his hand clutching his imaginary pearls.

“I should've thrown you in the pool when I had the chance and then we’ll have a floater” he nonchalantly rests on the grass by his elbows. Looking up at you with a smug grin.

You roll your eyes, walking down the steps to help him up before he gets grass stains all over his leather jacket. Hobie clearly doesn't need your help getting up but he would take any opportunity to hold your hand. Your hands are still slightly cool from the drink, a stark contrast to his warm ones, a welcome difference to the both of you.

Heaving him up, Hobie meets you in a tight embrace, smothering you in his hold; you love it though. Slowly he sways you to the beat of a punk song you recognize from back when you and Hobie were in highschool together. A reminiscent of your younger days with only homework and school to worry about and the deep longing you have for your best friend now turned partner.

If only your younger self could see you now, she’d think you did well for yourself. She'd be proud of all the things you've accomplished with the love of your life with you.

“D’you remember this song?” Hobie whispers in your ear, his piercing kisses the shell of your ear.

“How could I not remember?” You lift your head from the comfort of his chest, eyes staring fondly at Him.

He chuckles, you feel the happiness vibrate from him. “Yeah, but d’you know the backstory?” you shake your head.

“I requested this song to the bloke who was holding us hostage with his shitty songs.” You chortle, Hobie continues his story. “I had to bribe the wanker,” he sighs. “So I could ask you to dance with me.”

Your eyes soften, heat behind your sockets, your hold on him tightens.

“Then I realized I can't fuckin’ dance and I'll make a bloody fool of myself in front of you. So I let the music play and continued to talk to you throughout the party because that was enough for me.” He pauses, your eyes are glossy, glimmering under the porch lights. “Being with you was enough.”

You feel the tears fall so you hide your face on his chest once again, feeling sorry for soaking his shirt, you let your hug tell your feelings.

“Don't hide from me right after I poured my heart out to you.” He laughs, his fingers spread across your nape, rubbing softly, finding you endearing. “C’mon, I need to see my Gromit”

You look up with red eyes, mascara and eyeliner smudged. “Fuck you” you say with tears on your cheeks, trying to sniff it away. But your wide smile and grip on his shirt tells your true feelings. “You're such a little shit”

Hobie laughs loudly, fingertips cleaning away smudged makeup. “Yeah, yeah, but you love this little shit”

You lean up to kiss him, as gentle as he holds you, as affectionate as he loves you.

Sighing, you cup his face. “I do, so much.”

He presses your foreheads together, enough to make tears escape your eyes once again. Hobie's fingers catch them, wiping it away from your skin.

“If you let me teach you will you ask me to dance with you?” Whispering, you loop your arms around his neck, swaying with the beat.

“I might be a lost cause, love.”

“I'm patient, don't worry” you can't seem to keep your lips away from him as you kiss the corner of his lips.

Hobie suddenly pulls away, leading you towards the makeshift dance floor. “Alright then, no time to lose!”

You let him guide you, laughing all the way. He shimmies on the dance floor, long limbs flailing about, eyes staying on you.

You've got your work cut out for you.

[enmi-land]

#🌷 OT9 ENHA INCORRECT QUOTES ?!

OR . . . ot9 enha as random things me and my friends have said to each other (but only the tame/unproblematic edition bc i don’t want to get cancelled) cw. kms/kys jokes

jay, seeing jake on the floor: is he dead?

kiara, whispering: i hope he is

—

mila: i like the smell of new money

ni-ki: you sound like a gold digger

—

kiara: this is my grandma’s car, so if it smells like old lady in here, it’s bc there was one in here.

jake: yeah, you.

—

kiara: if you had to choose to save us (your members) or engenes from drowning, who would you save?

mila: i literally can’t swim

kiara: ok, but if you could swim.

mila: ummmm… both.

kiara: you have to choose—

mila: neither.

kiara: no you have to choose—

mila: suicide.

—

jay, showing up to the group lunch: hey—

sunghoon: fuck my life.

—

heeseung, to sunoo: no homo but i’d date you if you were a girl

sunoo: you have a girlfriend

—

mila: i’m not gay or anything but that girl is so hot, i would let her knock me out

jungwon: …that’s literally the gayest thing i’ve ever heard

—

mila: if you ever feel lonely, remember you have hundreds of white blood cells dying every day to protect you from infection and disease.

jake: i wish i was dying for you bro

jay: it’s not too late to start

—

jay: eyes are the windows to our souls

sunghoon: i see nothing in yours