#cw: bad fishing practices

[sleepyfan-blog]

Netted

Author’s Note:this is mer-nadesir’s debut! I hope you enjoy the fic :D

Next

Tagged: @egrets-not-regrets @kit-williams @bleedingichorhearts @the-pure-angel 

Warnings: injuries, blood mention, poor fishing practices

Summary: You find an astartes caught up in a hooked fishing net, and help him get free.

You hear a low, warning hiss from the tangled mass of netting and hooks that washed up on your favorite beach. Something large and upset struggled within the taut metal cording and was bleeding red blood, the hissing intensifying as the wickedly sharp hooks bit into midnight blue flesh. Was it smart for you to approach this frantic, injured creature as it struggled? Probably not, but there was something very human sounding in the pained sounds that left the being.

“Woah… Hey… Just stay still and I'll get you out of this.” You call out to the being, hoping that your soothing tone of voice would help convey your intentions, if whatever this is didn't understand English.

A large eye the color of a moonless and starless night glares at you suspiciously from a gap in the netting as dagger-sharp teeth gnawed at of the entangling knots as his large head whipped sharply from one side to the other, desperately trying to get himself free “Why help? Strangers.” the astartes growled out.

“Because you need help and are in pain. Will you let me come closer to help you out of the net? Or is there someone I can contact who you do trust to get you out of this?” You asked, keeping your voice even and calm, making sure not to make any sudden movements, so as to not further distress the trapped astartes.

The large mer struggled in the net as a low and pained growl rumbled in his chest. “... My shiver is far from here. I am… Was scouting when this happened.” He stares hard at you, midnight black eyes trying to pierce through your soul. “... If you deliberately hurt me, I will come for you. There is nowhere in this world, or in any other, that I won't be able to track you down and bring you to swift and bloody vengeance.”

This was far from the first time you’d been threatened by an injured and likely anxious astartes, and it was unlikely to be the last, considering the fact that you worked in emergency medicine. “I will do my best not to hurt you on purpose without warning. If I am moving something that is likely to cause you pain, like removing the hooks imbedded into your skin and muscle, I will warn you beforehand. Deal?” You knew better than to say so that he could brace for pain - nor did you have any pain reliever on hand that would work fast enough that wouldn’t be flushed from the Astartes’ system before it could hope to have any effect on him. You’d intended on going for a moonlit stroll down your favorite beach and hadn’t anticipated meeting an astartes in physical and medical distress.

The large, midnight blue astartes stared at you for several long moments before accepting with a rough “Reasonable. I agree.”

You nod, making careful and deliberate movements toward him, telegraphing what you were doing, so as to reduce the likelihood of accidentally startling the mer. Once you reach his side you look up at him, knife in hand, waiting for his agreement for you to start cutting through the netting.

“... Begin.” He huffed after several seconds, though there was a tiny smile lifting the corners of his lips. He seemed to be grateful that you were being so careful of his potential boundaries.

You nod and carefully begin to cut away at the netting binding him in place. Every so often you give him a moment or two of warning before carefully unhooking and pulling out the metal hooks imbedded into his flesh.Once you have his arms free, you offer the knife to him hilt first, silently offering to let him continue to free himself. 

To your surprise the midnight blue astartes shakes his head and says “Continue. Your hands smaller. Better able to get hooks and knots… Doing well.”

You smile a little at his praise and continue to work on freeing the trapped astartes. All told it took you a couple of hours to ensure that every bit of rope and hook was out. You’re grateful for your medical training, which allows you to switch off the part of your brain that is absolutely delighted at the thought of being able to touch an astartes this much. Many of them large, well-muscled and handsome, and this midnight blue and dark red astartes is strikingly handsome, even bloodied and clearly exhausted. “Do you feel any lingering pain anywhere?” You ask as you resist the temptation to run your hands along his chest and tail - for purely professional reasons - some of the hooks were small. 

“Some, but I am healing… Thank you, for helping me.” The Night lord rumbled, cupping you chin with one of his large hands, pitch black eyes shining with mischief. He tilts your chin up and kisses you, his lips chapped but warm.

[boiledegghole]

welcome to kosh's hell! enjoy your stay <3

this is fanart of 'exercises in gratitude (The Barclay Street Flood)'! love that fic. it's by @redeyedsheepskull! me and my friends fucking loved the "corpse chapter"

alternate colorations behind the cut, tw for eyestrain

the original edition! i create my work in black and white before i convert them to the fun gameboy colors (internally referred to as "gayboy colors")

the blood sea edition! named after the titular blood sea in iron lung. teehee

seablood edition! this one is red... again!

duskdawn edition! fucking Ornge

cherub edition! i thought it would be funny if i did a cherub-themed edition. rip king

coldwater edition! this one kinda slays...

floundering edition! based off of his species as stated in barclay street flood

yellowfin tuna! based off of his species as told to me by the author at one point (assumably a prototype edition)

kosh's hell edition! i Really wanted to name one kosh's hell

fish prototype! i actually ended up scrapping most of this body (i only have one layer to work with and it didn't hit right), but i kept the head!

[aeragan]

ᴘᴇʀɪᴏᴅ ꜱᴇx? ⨟ ʜꜱʀ ᴍᴇɴ

✭ pairing(s): aventurine, dr ratio, boothill, gallagher, sunday, sampo, jing yuan, blade, luocha, dan heng, gepard, caelus, welt (seperate) x reader

✩ inspo: im feeling sick in the head and also Fuck Me by Vernon Jane

✧ a/n: uhhmmmm i deserve to be a little freaky and weird and perverse ALSO IDK WHY THE X LOOKS LIKE THAT AND ITS ANNOYING ME TOO. LETS IGNORE IT, TOGETHER

🗒 cw: SMUT, gn! afab reader (for the bad bitches with uteruses), period sex (spoiler: theyre ALL into it.), fingering, face sitting, use of toys, dry humping (?), thigh riding, cunnilingus, thigh job, mutual masturbation, cowgirl/boy position, mating press, not proofread

✎ wc: 4.1k

MINORS DNI, 18+ ONLY

⎯ Aventurine

AVENTURINE is all for it, if it means it’ll make you feel better. He prefers to use toys, if anything. He doesn’t mind getting his hands dirty, but he’s more worried about hurting you. So he’s got a set of vibrators specifically that he likes to use while you’re on your period. And if you ask, he’ll probably buy a couple new ones, as well.

You do your best to stay still underneath Aventurine, eyes shut tight as you buck your hips up against the wand between your legs. Aventurine looks down smugly at you, mirth glimmering in those beautiful eyes of his. The beneath your stomach had long since turned into a delicious feeling of wholeness and warmth, and you couldn’t help but chase after it. Aventurine, for once, cannot bring himself to tease about how desperate you are to cum.

He had amped up the wand to its max intensity, just to make sure you had felt it through your clothes. Not that you hadn’t, you were practically pushing your pussy up against it the minute he had brought out the vibrator, doing anything to get yourself off. You feel the pleasure mounting all too quickly, yet chase after it nonetheless. You grab Aventurine’s wrist and whined, legs tensing and closing as if to ward off the vibrator. And like that, the pressure releases, giving way to a blissful feeling, the last of your cramps fading away so… easily.

“That good, huh?” Aventurine chides, a sultry grin plastered on his features as he lowers the intensity of the vibrator, yet still presses it up against your clothed clit to let you ride out your high. You don’t respond, basking in the sensation (and the fact that your cramps are gone).

⎯ Dr. Ratio

VERITAS may act hesitant when you bring up the idea, but he doesn’t say no. He’s more worried about how he should go about it than anything, and while it isn’t unfamiliar territory to him, he’s just… unsure of himself. Ultimately, he settles on toys, normally vibes, but dildos will do as well.

It was rather late by the time you had come complaining to him, and he was already behind on grading his student’s papers. Normally, he’d tell you to give him a couple more minutes to finish up his work and you give him that time, but with how much you're groaning and talking about the pain, he’s quite quick to put his pen down. He adjusts himself and slides open his legs, patting his thigh for you to sit down on, with barely another word.

And of course you sit down, your cramps had been killing you all day and you were desperate to find any way to get rid of them because painkillers just… weren’t working. You start to weakly grind against his thigh, hands holding yourself up by his strong shoulders. His right arm wraps around your waist and guides you slow rocking movements, fishing through his desk and finding a vibrator wand. He felt a little embarrassed to have kept something so… lewd in his desk, but then again, there were moments like this that made him feel a little bit better about keeping it.

He sets it on a lower setting, pressing it against your clit and you grind against his thigh. He watches intently, his gaze soft as he does his best to coax you through it, small, soft praises that no one would expect from Veritas himself. But he’s worried, more than aroused. If this is what helps your cramps, then he doesn’t mind, he doesn’t even protest. He watches as your face goes from tensed to relaxed, moaning out his name and even small ‘thank you’s as your heat mounts.

⎯ Boothill

You don’t even have to ask BOOTHILL, the minute you complain about your cramps, he’s on his knees, tugging at the hem of your pants. He prefers to eat you out on your period, given his skilled tongue. Any ‘but’s you had when you first brought the idea up were quickly swept away, he’d eat you out every day of the week during your cycle, or even all day, if you needed it.

Boothill groans against your sex, head buried between your thighs as your hands tug at his hair, a silent praise for just how good he was doing. While he feels quite feverish, his pace is slow and languid, drawing out every little sound of yours he can. The metallic taste on his tongue is just another reward, really. His hands grip your thighs as he presses a series of kisses against your clit, before delving his tongue back into your heat.

Soft sighs escape you as he continues his ministrations, unbothered by the way you squirm every so often or tug at his hair. He’s drunk off the taste of you, really. He laps up the blood as if it was his last meal, groaning every now and then when he had to take a breath. Sometimes he murmurs something in your flesh, too muffled for you to hear, but the vibrations of his gravelly voice provide an exquisite feeling. If you could do this all day, you would.

Heat curls beneath your stomach as Boothill suckles on your clit, thighs pressing against either side of his face as you grind your hips further into his mouth like he wasn’t close enough. Your head spins as you finally let go, letting out a low moan and cumming into his mouth. He licks it all up, letting out a low, guttural sound of approval, his mouth pressed against your folds for a second longer. He withdraws with a gentle kiss pressed to your clit, and a cocky grin sent your way. He quite enjoys the mess.

⎯ Gallagher

The minute you brought the idea up, GALLAGHER is down. He’d do anything you asked him to, from simply fingering you to full on penetration, whatever you want, he does. He wants you to feel better, and by Aeons, he’ll do just that. Would period cramps even exist in a dream? Doesn’t matter. If he knows it’ll help you, he’s on it.

His fingers sink deep within your pussy, a satisfied smile gracing his lips as you roll your hips against his fingers, moaning softly. His thumb presses against your clit, rubbing circles against it. Lewd squelching sounds fill your ears and you desperately chase after his fingers every time the pull back slightly, head leaning back against Gallagher’s shoulder, splayed out in his lap.

“That’s it,” He coos, his free hand wrapped around your waist, squeezing at your hip. He presses a quick kiss to the crook of your neck, pulling you impossibly closer as he picks up the pace of his fingers. Heat spreads throughout your body, your eyes rolling back as you surrender to the feeling. “Doesn’t that feel better, sweetheart?”

Before you can catch it, your orgasm sneaks up on you all too quickly. You barely felt it build up, and now you’ve cum on Gallagher’s fingers. He lets out a throaty chuckle as you do so, tilting your head and moaning into his ear. With a few more pumps of his rough fingers, he pulls them out slowly, admiring his work. You breathe heavily, doing what you can to catch your breath. Your eyes follow his hand as he brings it up to his mouth, sucking off the rest of your blood and cum from his fingers with a satisfied, sultry look.

⎯ Sunday

SUNDAY would feel quite… down, knowing that period cramps still exist within Penacony. Knowing you can’t even escape them in the Dreamscape, he can’t help but wallow a little. But, with that, he will do anything to take away the pain. And when you suggest period sex, he’s practically scrambling for a condom.

Water sloshes around you as Sunday’s hands curl up at your sides, nails digging into flesh. He presses his nose to the crook of your neck, moaning against your skin as he bucks his hips up into you. Your back is pressed flush against his chest, his cock buried within you as he does his best to guide you by your hips. He lets out soft groans here and there, evidently enjoying this more than you are.

He does his best to minimize splashing, yet he is eager to please, and to make you feel better. He isn’t rough or fast, taking you at a rather languid pace, but with how feverish his groans are, how his hips stutter every now and then, he’s rather close himself. He can’t help himself, simply being this close to you has him hard. You roll your head back, moaning against his ear, and he just can’t help but cum.

You follow soon after as Sunday peppers kisses against your neck, sloppily at first, but becoming more refined as he shakes off that needy headspace. The pressure in your stomach gives way to blissful heaven then nothingness, the pain that spread to your stomach and legs, gone, just like that. When you turn your head to look at Sunday, he was a gentle smile plastered to his lips, eyelashes fluttering as if he himself had felt your pain go away.

⎯ Argenti

ARGENTI does everything that he can for you when you start your period. No questions asked. In fact, he’s the one that brings up the idea of sex. He’ll eat you out as you wish, finger you, or simply fuck you as gently or as hard as you wish. He doesn’t mind a mess, he actually quite likes it.

He indulges in his desires so easily when it’s you. When his eyes flutter open, he looks up at you with the utmost devotion, head buried between your thighs as you ride his face. Your moans only spur him on, and when you look behind you, you can see his painfully hard erection that has gone untouched. He planned on delighting you in every single way you asked him to, but insisted on starting with his favorite.

Argenti whimpers against your flesh, too caught up in his own selfish desires as his normally profound and rather elegant tongue-fucking turns feverish and sloppy, as if this was something he had always wanted. It was hard for him to break his normally so composed character, and yet here he was, so messy for his lover above him, he himself was desperate to quell the cramps you had been dealing with. His mouth works at a head-spinning pace for once, licking a fat stripe up your folds, kissing your clit, then practically making out with whatever he could put his mouth on.

Just as you orgasm, he lets out a guttural groan, something that came from deep within his throat, lapping up what he can and more. Yet, when you look behind you, Argenti’s cock is drooling, flushed, with sticky white tendrils coating his abdomen. His face flushes when you notice, but he doesn’t hide it. “Apologies…” He mutters against your flesh, giving it another kiss before raising your hips and helping you get off.

⎯Sampo Koski

Whatever you need, SAMPO has for you. He prefers to finger you while on your period, but he doesn’t mind full on sex, or even using toys. If he can’t be there when you’re on your period, he’ll make sure you have plenty of toys to keep yourself… company.

Sampo groans softly behind you, his leg thrown over yours as you two spoon, his fingers gliding over your folds. He doesn’t dare push them in, not yet, anyways. As much as you begged him, he wanted to be as difficult as possible, no matter how much you complained how bad the cramps were getting. Despite that, you were shuddering at any long stroke, the way his pointer and middle finger caged your clit in between them, a satisfied hum coming from his throat.

“Mmm…” He moans, grinding against your ass. He still can’t help getting himself off, the sounds of your breath hitching and soft moans as you ask him for more, how can he not get off on that? How selfish of him, really, to abate your pleasure in favor for his… “Feels good, huh?”

The audacity of this man, it’s as if he’s taunting you. Before you can complain, he finally presses both fingers to your clit, rubbing agonizingly slow circles around it. His grinding borders on desperate as he does so, burying the face in the crook of your neck as his eyebrows furrow. The bastard had came before he even gave you the chance to build up… but he doesn’t leave you hanging. As if he felt bad that he had teased you. His fingers sink into your heat, thumb pressed against your clit. He pumps them at a leisurely pace, unhurried still. Sampo’s breath is heavy as he comes down from his high, head still spun up in the need to please. He’ll apologize correctly, he swears, after you cum AT LEAST twice…

⎯ Jing Yuan

JING YUAN is actually quite delighted to have any hand in making you feel better. From making sure you have you painkillers and enough snacks, to making sure your need is sated. He’s quite happy when you ask for sex, and his go to is NORMALLY fingering, but tonight, he’s feeling a little different…

Warm water runs down your back as you press your lips to Jing Yuan’s shoulder, the scent his cologne filling your senses. After a long day of work, he had proposed a shower with you, but now, it had long been forgotten, his large hands placed on your hips as he rolled his own slowly. His cock is pressed between your thighs, dragging against your folds, the head notching against your clit every few seconds. The push and pull makes your head spin, leaning in to him to keep yourself up.

He had been craving you all day, almost too distracted to finish his work. He didn’t know exactly what brought on the sudden bout of clinginess, you were always on his mind, yes, but nothing quite like this. So, when he came home to you, complaining about your cramps, it felt like every aligned, clicked into place. He was quick to comfort you… and more.

He chuckles softly above you as your nails dig into his arms, which was quickly replaced with a low, content moan. He leans his head down, picking up the pace of his thrusts ever so slightly, causing you to gasp. Your thighs tense as pressure rises beneath your stomach, Jing Yuan kept up with the steady pace. Slowly, drag after drag, the pressure builds, and then releases as you shudder, pressed up against him. He guides you through your orgasm, his thrusts slow as he allowed you to come down from your high. He held off his own orgasm, pulling away from you with a soft smiler, an even softer gaze.

⎯ Blade

BLADE may sound reluctant but he’s quite thrilled with the idea. He doesn’t mind fingering you, but he actually quite enjoys giving you head. To have his mouth pressed against you, a towel beneath you, while he works his magic… he could ask for nothing more.

He’s feeling especially ravenous tonight, and has you perched up on the couch, over his face, while he strokes his cock. The other hand holds you by your thigh, letting out low grunts and groans in between sloppy kisses and licks to your pussy. He’s greedy, but unhurried, making sure to let his contentment be known through lewd noises.

He doesn’t say much, as he normally does, simply feasting on whatever he can. Moans escaped him as he continued to stroke himself, hips bucking impatiently. His teeth scrape against your folds every now and then, taking what he wants. He draws out any sounds he can from you, his pace bordering on desperation. His grip tightens on your thigh, watching as you tense every now and then.

Ultimately, your moans become more frequent, Blade’s sloppy eating getting to you as heat surges through your body, your hands gripping the back of the couch. You look down between your legs and meet Blade’s gaze, fiery and passionate. You can’t help but lose yourself in those eyes, even with such a lewd action. He laps up every drop of your essence, letting out a satisfied hum before shifting his attentions to his own cock, desperate to get himself off, as if he was finished. Which, he wasn’t, really. It was the first of many orgasms that night, he’d make sure it was.

⎯ Luocha

Far be it for LUOCHA to deny you pleasure. Especially when you come to him glassy eyed, hands over your stomach, muttering about how you’d do anything to make the cramps go away. He’d do anything to see you smiling again. And when your eyes light up at the suggestion, he’s more than happy to go through with it.

You had asked him for help, and by Aeons, Luocha would make sure you would feel better. He cages you in via a mating press, his hair falling around you like a veil. His eyes are closed and eyebrows furrowed as he moans, pressing as deep into you as he can. His voice was groggy and heavy, only to have just woken up. Yet he was lucid enough to lose himself within you.

He leans in and presses a feverish kiss to your lips, his strokes slow and measured, pausing every time his cock was fully seated in you. At this moment he could care less about the blood on his dick, too tired to control his desires and submitting to some sort of primal urge that welled within him. Luocha, so normally controlled, yet still a slave to desire.

It was early morning, you yourself didn’t know what time exactly. You had just woken up, and for whatever reason you just couldn’t sleep. Unfortunately, your cramps had caught up to you before you could fall asleep, and aside from moaning and groaning in bed, you had woken up Luocha to help, at least not wanting to be alone while it felt like your cramps were eating you alive. He seemed so eager to help, and now that you were beneath him, you understood why.

⎯ Dan Heng

DAN HENG is not adverse to the idea at all, the first time you had asked, he was quick to suggest toys. Any time your cycle comes around and you suggest period sex, he’s got a towel at the ready and a vibrator of your choice picked out.

He sits behind you, eyes transfixed on your sex as he presses a wand up to your clit. His hand rests on your thigh as you buck your hips against the toy, whining softly. You do your best to keep quiet, Dan Heng’s lack of noise making you feel slightly awkward. Yet, he spurs you on in his own quiet way, pressing the wand a little harder against your clit.

His fingers trail from your thigh to your hip, now resting his chin on your shoulder. He listens intently to all the little sounds you make, before whispering silent praises to you. You had already cum twice, your cramps a distant thought by now. But you had asked for more, and Dan Heng would deliver, as always.

Before your orgasm can creep up on you, he pulls the vibrator away from you and shuffles out from behind you. You complain, but he urges you to lay down, rifling through one of your drawers for a box of condoms. He looks back at you with a barely noticeable smirk. Something that told you to hush up and wait…

⎯ Gepard

While GEPARD is hesitant when the suggestion of period sex is proposed, when you tell him that it could help lessen your cramps, he’s rather eager to get started. He finds that his fingers work best, if you two can’t find a condom.

Gepard is quite antsy when you come home, you had texted him that you had had a bad day, and that your cramps were kicking your ass, and he wanted to make it allll better. He had bought you all sorts of treats, flowers, ordered takeout, the list goes on. And when the door opened he had showered you with all sorts of questions, what else he could do to make your day better, how he can help, whatever he could do. One question makes you shake off your bad mood so quickly, though: “Do you want me to get you your vibrator?”

So there you are, sitting across from Gepard, legs open as you press the want to your clit, while he strokes himself slowly. His eyes drop to your folds, his face practically red. He feels… perverted, but he just can’t help himself. Your soft breaths guiding his arousal, eyes darting nervously between your face and to your pussy, then back to your face.

Eventually, he came prematurely, stuttering over his words and muttering apologies after he does, only to be met with a soft sigh from you. He can’t help but watch with rapt fascination, that same flush painting his face continuously. And when you cum, he practically cuddles up to you, peppering kisses across your face and neck, praising you.

⎯ Caelus

You don’t bring up the idea, CAELUS does. He practically begs before you even get the chance to say you’re down. He goes all in, really, depends on what you are feeling like. You want him to eat you out? He’s on his knees. Want him to fuck you? All good with him. He’ll use toys as well, if you aren’t comfortable with any part of him being in you.

He shudders beneath you as his hands guide your hips up and down his cock, groaning softly, eyes heavy-lidded and glassy, eyes darting everywhere like he doesn’t know exactly what to look at. You prop yourself up by your hands on his chest, head dipped as every thrust makes you forget all about your woes.

He does his best not to cum, simply the sight of you riding him like that, taking what you want, it feels like it’s too much. He always did his best to make your periods tolerable, if you weren’t down for sex, he’d grab any snack he could, make sure you had a heating pad, pain killers, and whatever else you wanted. But when you were down for sex, Aeons, he could go all night. That’s one perk of housing a stellaron inside of his body.

“F-Fudge, you’re good…” Caelus groans. You can’t help but chuckle softly at the word ‘fudge’, you know exactly where– who– he picked it up from, and he returns your chuckle in kind. He was never one to take sex seriously, and will never, even when it’s something like… fucking your cramps away.

⎯ Welt

Who better to take care of you than WELT YANG? He does not mind the mess at all, whichever way you want him to take you, he will do. He’s on top of everything, the painkillers you need, snacks you’d like, eating pads, the whole thing. And when it comes to you asking him about period sex? He gladly says yes.

“Feeling better?” Welt murmurs against your skin, his fingers sinking into your warm heat. He knew well enough that of course one little movement wouldn’t make your cramps go away. But with how reassuring he had been, and even how quick he was to comply with your request for sex. He had set a towel beneath you, and even brought out a myriad of toys to use if you so wished.

Slowly he pumped his fingers inside you, head resting on your shoulder as he watched his own movements. His gentle smile persists as you moan, melting at his touch. His free hand strokes your back, coaxing you through it with soft words as your walls clamp around his fingers. He draws out each motion for you, slow and deliberate, pressing a kiss to your shoulder with each moan you let out.

Even with his slow movements, you find that your orgasm sneaks up on you all too quickly. You press your legs together as if to keep him out, heat curling up beneath your stomach and down your legs. He doesn’t stop, simply nudging your legs open with his free hand, curling his fingers and hitting juuust the right spot. You whine and cum over his fingers, grinding your hips against them weakly. He allows you to ride out your high, that placant smile playing on his lips still.

© sentoooo, 2024 | masterlist | kofi | star header by roseschoices | sfw blog DO NOT REPOST AS YOUR OWN, REPOST ON ANY OTHER PLATFORM, OR USE FOR AI/AI CHATBOTS.

[innerfare]

You See His Cabin For The First Time  

Summary: You see their cabin (or in Sabo's case, his bedroom at the RA base) for the first time.

Characters: Luffy, Usopp, Zoro, Sanji, Ace, Sabo, Law, and Kid

Genre: Fluff

CW: None // SFW

——— 

Luffy: He's literally so proud of just his hammock. Insists it can hold the both of you and could probably hold the entire crew if you tried, asks if you want to try, asks you if you’re sure when you say no. Definitely has a couple of dirty dishes that he’s forgotten about, as well as a few wrappers on the floor. Has some fishing poles, a net, quite a few different games, and a bookshelf that’s full of both comic books and snacks so that he doesn’t have to go all the way to the kitchen if he gets hungry in the middle of the night. 

Zoro: Your first thought is, why does it smell so freaking good in here? You expected dirty laundry strewn around and the stench of sweat and maybe a hint of metal from those blades he was always sharpening. And sure, there is a hint of metal in the air, probably more from the many weights against the wall than his swords, but it also smells fresh, like laundry detergent. He has his own wanted posters on his wall- not just the current one, but the old ones, too, all of them lined up in order so you can see his increasing bounty. He also has a collection of unique booze bottles from all over the world, his equivalent of keeping a map with pins in the locations he’s visited. Oh, and there’s an anatomy coloring book and some markers that belong to Chopper that Zoro keeps in his room because sometimes when Chopper is having a bad day, he wants to chill with his dad big bro. 

Sanji: Sparkling clean, and yet, he’ll apologize anyway because the pillows aren’t fluffy enough, the rug isn’t completely straight, etcetera. His closet is very well organized, all of his clothes ironed and properly taken care of (Sanji’s the rare type to actually read labels and do his laundry accordingly). His most prized possession is a book on the All Blue, which he’s poured over countless times, using color coded tabs to flag various pages and writing detailed notes in the margins. He also came across one of Zeff’s old wanted posters in Loguetown, and he keeps it framed next to his own, the closest thing he has to a family photo.

Usopp: You’re surprised to find he has quite a bit of clutter in his small space. He has a collection of different style slingshots and a surplus of supplies to fix them should they ever break, as well as literal boxes full of special stars and ammunition. He has an entire set up rigged on his desk to create more, and some plants in his windowsill to grow ingredients. In addition, his bookshelves are heavy with various collections of fables and tales; he’s working on his own and hopes to publish it one day, but he doesn’t talk about it because he’s worried nobody will take him seriously, and you only learn about it when you see the notebook he left on his bed. He also has a couple of fun hats, crazy sunglasses, and feather boas that he definitely pulls out when the Straw Hats get a little too drunk. Oh, and there’s a picture of his parents on his nightstand. 

Ace: His cabin is pretty sparse because he tends to travel light. He has a collection of animal teeth secured from a menagerie of wild beasts he’s taken down over the years, and he’s very proud of those teeth. He'll tell you about each one if you ask, is practically bursting at the seems with stories. He has way more animal teeth than he does clothing or books. Also has a pretty sick tiger pelt for a rug (he had intended it as a blanket, but he runs so hot he can’t actually sleep with it). He has Luffy’s wanted poster on his wall, and beside it, a note reminding himself to send money back to Dadan on the first of every month. Buried in the chest at the foot of his bed, he has the original ASL flag. 

Sabo: His bedroom at the Revolutionary Army’s base is a total bachelor pad, and when you see it for the first time, it wasn’t planned, so he’s a little embarrassed by the state of it. He has some dirty dishes he forgot about, some dirty laundry on the floor, and a pile of books on his bed. He spends virtually no time there and probably wouldn’t even have furniture beyond a mattress on the floor if it wasn’t provided by the Revolutionary Army as part of his living quarters. That being said, he did pin Luffy’s and Ace’s wanted posters to his wall, and he has a couple of different lotions and skincare products on his bathroom counter. 

Law: You don’t know what you were expecting- would it be sterile like an operating room? You’re surprised to see comic books and a few action figures. He has some records, too- a bit of rock, some low-key emo music- and to your complete and utter surprise, a candy wrapper on his nightstand. And then there’s the coin collection on his desk, tiny pieces of metal he picked up on his many travels. You’re careful not to have a big reaction to his personality showing through for once. 

“I like your action figures.” 

“They’re kind of childish, but-” 

You cut him off before he can dismiss his own interests as dumb. “No, they’re not. They’re cool.” 

Kid: It’s as messy and ostentatious as you’d expect, but he sheepishly tries to fold the leopard-print blanket crumpled on the bed and put some laundry in the hamper, though you quickly deduce he has no clue which clothes belong in the hamper and which go in his closet. It’s shocking to see him care what someone thinks. He has a pile of lipstick and nail polish on his desk and an impressive collection of weapons he’s stolen from various pirates; he could probably open a museum with all the weapons he has. Also has lots of tools he forgot were in there. TBH, he’s probably as shocked as you are by the state of his cabin because he spends most of his alone time in his workshop, anyway. 

———

Hope you enjoyed it! If you want more, you can check out my masterlist here!

[moonstruckme]

hi bae, can i pls request reader who’s recovering from eating problems and is gaining a bit of weight and gets insecure with poly marauders but they just find her more attractive cause of it

fighting demons rn

🫶🏻🫶🏻

Hi sweetheart, apologies for the wait! I was hunting your demons with a crossbow. Thanks for requesting <3

cw: implied past disordered eating, body image issues

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1.4k words

Your favorite high waisted jeans used to sit just so on your hips, practically hanging off your hip bones. Now, they hug your waist, which you try to reason is where they were always meant to be, but it feels so wrong on your body. Everything about your body feels wrong. You jam your fingers in the waistband, and there’s little give. You’re beginning to wonder if you should even bother with these, when you know you’ll eat and they’ll start to bite into your midsection like a punishment. But they’re your favorite jeans.

James comes through on his way to the bathroom with a careless “Hi, lovie,” and you drop your hands from where they’ve been pinching critically at your waist. 

“Hi,” you echo halfheartedly. 

James pauses, pivoting slightly to give you a curious look. You have an out here, you know. You could fake a smile or feign confusion, and he’d let it go. Perhaps he’d be keeping a closer eye on you today, but James will never push the issue if you don’t feel like talking. 

Maybe it’s the option that makes you think it might be nice to externalize. 

“I’ve gained weight,” you say plainly. There. 

James’ eyebrows shoot up, more surprised at the abruptness of your complaint than the complaint itself. “Well, I should hope so. You’ve been doing really well lately.” 

“It’s just,” you sigh, “my jeans don’t fit.” 

He gives you a quick look-over, then an odd sort of smile. “They look great to me. Do they not feel right?” 

You feel your mouth quirk to the side. A dissatisfied pinch. “They used to feel different.” 

“That’s alright, sweetheart,” he says, going into the bathroom. You hear the satisfying schwick of his deodorant cap sliding off. “Do they still sell those same ones?”

You give a tentative nod as he emerges from the bathroom again, and he shrugs at you, a funny scrunch at the bridge of his nose. 

“Then get them in a bigger size.” 

Not what you want to hear. Not necessarily his fault, either. James doesn’t get it. How could he? The only time James’ body doesn’t look like it was drawn into a superhero comic is the few weeks of off-season where he doesn’t train as hard and gets a bit of pudge around his middle. And even then, it’s a very lovable pudge. James Potter wouldn’t know insecurity if it slept in his bed every night. (Which it does. You do.) 

“That’s not the point,” you say, and despite your best intentions your voice comes out with a petulant edge. “I just—I liked how these ones looked on me before. Don’t you think I look…different?” 

The scrunch migrates from the bridge of his nose to just above it, an unhappy notch between his brows. “Well, yeah. But I mean, I like it.” 

You give him a deadpan look. 

“I’m being honest.” James holds up his hands. “Really, sweetheart, I didn’t want to—I know talking about your body can be an issue for you, so I didn’t want to bring it up, but you’ve been looking fantastic lately.” 

You’re quiet, stuck. You aren’t sure what you’d wanted out of this anymore (validation, maybe?) but you’re not going to get it this way. You only feel bad for putting James in this position. He’s your boyfriend and a good one, he only ever had one way out of this. 

“Sorry,” you say, wrapping your arms around your torso, “I didn’t mean to fish for compliments.” 

“Hey.” He steps into your space, hooking his fingers through your belt loops to turn you towards him. “You’re not asking for anything I don’t want to give. You look amazing, I mean it.” Your eyes fall to his chest and he stoops to follow them, dark brows rising incredulously. “What, you don’t believe me?” 

You sigh. “I’m sorry I brought it up, okay? Can we not—”

“Nope.” James lets go of one of your belt loops but keeps a firm hold on the other. “Sorry, no longer an option.” He begins tugging you out of the room. Your hips follow disloyally, and though you wrap your hands around his wrist, he holds fast. 

“James, come on.” You give a little resistance, but he drags you doggedly onward. You could tear away if you commit to it, but these really are your favorite jeans and James is just as likely to take your belt loop with him. 

In the living room, Sirius is mending a pair of James’ trousers while Remus does the crossword, which involves him reading the clues aloud and Sirius firing off unrelated and too-long words until Remus gets it himself. Remus hears your protest first, brows rising as James brings you into the room. 

“What’s going on?” he asks, somewhat warily. 

“She doesn’t believe me when I tell her she’s lovely,” James says, like Can you believe it? Remus blinks and Sirius’ eyes flit up from his work, one brow quirking.

“That’s not what I said,” you defend. 

He releases you, and you step away, crossing your arms over your midsection. “Go on, then.” James sounds truly encouraging, though dubious. “Tell us how lovely you are, angel.” 

You roll your eyes. It’s difficult not to feel frivolous when they put you on the spot like this. “I was only saying that I don’t like the fit of my jeans now.” 

If you hadn’t had Sirius’ full attention already, you do now. He sets down James’ trousers, beckoning you forward, “C’mere, let’s see.” 

You go to stand between his legs, dread coiled like a snake around your ribcage that only squeezes tighter at the unflinching intensity of Sirius’ gaze while he analyzes your face. 

You look down to escape it, sticking your thumb into the waistband of your jeans. “Look, they’ve gotten small—”

“I can see for myself,” he says softly, moving your hand out of the way and replacing your thumb with his own slender fingers. They’re cool against your abdomen. He slides them around to the side of your waist, tugging experimentally at the denim. “Gorgeous, these fit great. This is exactly where you’d usually want them to be. What’s the issue?” 

“It’s just—they don’t—” You feel more and more ridiculous by the second, and you can’t figure out if you’re frustrated with yourself or with them for that. “They used to sit lower, and now I—I just feel like I look weird.”  

“That’s what I’m trying to tell you,” James insists, seating himself on the coffee table and setting his elbows on his knees. Sirius nudges your ankle with his foot, silent encouragement to sit between him and Remus. You comply. “You don’t look weird, sweetheart, you’re—listen, you’ve always been beautiful, but lately, it’s like—you’re just, you’re stunning.” 

You shrink from the compliment, face humiliatingly warm. “Thanks, Jamie, but you have to say that.” 

“No, he’s right,” Remus chimes in. He sounds so matter-of-fact, as if he’s simply recounting how traffic was on the way home from work today. “You don’t look the same as you did before, true, but it’s not a bad change. You’re just not used to seeing yourself healthy, is all.” 

“Exactly.” James throws up his palms, relieved. 

You consider this. It was warped perspective that had gotten you into this mess. Maybe you’re still not seeing things clearly quite yet. 

Sirius wraps a hand around the inside of your thigh, tugging it over one of his. “Babe, if these jeans are evidence of anything, it’s that you’re finally growing into the size you were always supposed to be. If you eventually have to get a larger pair, then fine. It still won’t mean anything about you. You’re exactly right, understand?” 

You nod, feeling thoroughly chastened, and Sirius grins. His fingertips dig into your thigh as he leans over to kiss your cheek. 

“Honestly, I don’t know how you can’t see it,” James says, looking pleased to have some validation from the other boys. “You’re radiant, lovie, your skin is glowing, you look happier—really, you’ve never been more lovely.” 

“It helps that we know you’re doing better, too,” Remus says, a bit quieter. “Frailty doesn’t suit you, dove. It’s…I love you no matter what, but it does make it easier when you’re kind to yourself. Feels more like we’re on the same team.” 

“Thanks,” you say softly, then once more for good measure. “Thanks, guys.” 

“Told you already,” James says, “you’re not asking for anything we don’t want to give.” 

“You liked it when these jeans fit a bit saggier, showed more skin, yeah?” Sirius asks. You nod with a shrug. It doesn’t feel quite so important now. “We can do that. We’ll get you the same ones, if you want, or another pair that might sit a bit more on your hips.” He gives your thigh a squeeze through your jeans. “Gotta show off this bod, right, babydoll?”

[calypsocolada]

BAD ADVICE | s. nagi

synopsis: nagi gives you terrible advice... authors note: boy am I punctual. this series is so fun to write. i hope you all enjoy! I have one last part planned with isagi as the main li so... that will probably be out this weekend sometime :) wc: 3.2k cw: fluff, possibly ooc!nagi click here for my masterlist!

-----------------------------------------

You’d been rotting in your bed for the past few hours. The embarrassing moment replaying over and over again. You pulled your pillow over your head and squeezed your eyes shut. You could kill Seishiro Nagi. Actually strangle him for the irreparable damage he has done to you. 

There was a boy you liked in school. He was a grade above you. He was aloof and reserved, tall and handsome. You’d gone to a few of his soccer matches at school and when you’d watch him play your heart would soar through the roof of your mouth, an embarrassing display as your eyes lit up. You liked him a lot. And it just so happened that he played on the same team as a childhood friend, Nagi. You’d known Nagi for years… you played in the sandbox with him. He was your first kiss during hide and seek when you were eight. You had a crush on him for the longest time but… your feelings didn’t really seem reciprocated since he sort of treated you like a little sister. He lived two houses over and sometimes you would ride home with him and vice versa. You had a history, a long history. Nagi would help you… surely. 

You clambered down to the field as the boys soccer team ran off. The boy you liked walked at a leisurely pace, he hadn’t even broken a sweat during the game. Your heart swooned just at the sight. You stepped in his path, hoping to introduce yourself when suddenly an arm slung around your shoulders, pulling you a bit off kilter. You fell into Nagi. 

“Hey, take me home.” He yawns, practically hanging off of you. You watched the boy you like stroll by and huffed. 

“Hey take me home please.” You corrected sharply as Nagi just laughed. 

“Yeah, please.” He adds more as an appeasement than anything. You sighed, you missed your chance, again.

“Come on then.” You groaned and stalked off towards the parking lot, Nagi’s hot body still glued to yours. You pushed at him. “Come on, let go! You’re all sweaty.”

“Did you watch me play?” He asks, ignoring your words. “That final goal?” To be honest your eyes were glued to his teammate the entire time so…

“I missed it.” You said and felt the tall boy slump against you. 

“Seriously? What’re you doing in those stands?” He asks, you weren’t going to answer that truthfully because it’s Nagi that’s been asking you to come to his games and if you told him you were distracted that would probably hurt his feelings. 

“I’m sorry, you guys were crushing the other team so I went to get a pretzel.” You lie and luckily Nagi seems satiated by that. 

“Didn’t save me any?” He teased, hand sliding in your coat pocket. You gasped, giggling as you smacked his hand away. 

“No! I didn’t!” 

“How inconsiderate.” He groaned, leaning on you so heavily he about took you both to the concrete. 

“Nagi!” You barked, hand sliding around his hip to stabilize you both. “You’re like a horse sized sloth!” That made Nagi laugh slightly, holding up some of his own weight as he ruffled your hair. 

“You owe me dinner.” He said as you fished out your car keys. You looked at him incredulously as he unlatched himself from you, walking off to the passenger side. 

“I don’t owe you anything.” You barked. 

“Don’t be a hassle. You missed my cool shot then rubbed your pretzel in my face.” 

“I didn’t-“ you were cut off by Nagi slipping in and shutting the door to your car. You groaned as you yanked your door open. “You’re an ass.”

“And calling me names.” Nagi replies drowsily as he leans back in the seat, already closing his eyes. 

“You’re impossible.” You huffed, turning on your car. Nagi was out by the time you turned out of the parking lot and slept soundly the short drive home. When you pulled into your driveway he perked up. 

“Hey… what happened to getting food?” He asked, voice soft from sleep. 

“Snooze you lose.” You say, flicking off your car. Nagi pouts as you get out of the car. 

“Your mom home?” He asks as you roll your eyes. 

“She’s not, so no poaching our dinner.”

“Your house has good snacks.” He points out, slipping out of your car following you to your front door. 

“You’re like a parasite, latching onto me.” You huff but let him follow you inside anyways. After cooking some instant noodles you and Nagi sit on the couch, leisurely watching something he picked. Some game tournaments he found on YouTube. 

“So… you’re teammate… Rin… does he have— someone?” You ask, trying to sound natural but failing as Nagi looks over at you with a strange face. 

“Have someone?” He echoes, a sort of amused expression forming. You looked away instantly, blushing. 

“I’m asking for a friend.” You say but the words sound silly even to your ears. 

“A friend, huh? Which one? It’s not the mean one right? Cause I think Isagi’s got a thing for her-”

“Stop calling her the mean one. And she would be mean if she heard you say that.” You replied. “Now can you answer the question?”

“I don’t know. He barely talks.” Nagi answers, taking a large bite of his noodles, spilling a bit of the broth in his shirt. “Boring sort of guy.” 

“He doesn’t seem boring.”

“Is that so?” Nagi prods and you catch yourself, blushing. “You know I’m starting to think I know this friend better than I thought.” 

“Shut up.”

“Jeez, seriously?” Nagi sits up, setting his bowl on the coffee table. “Y/n…” he almost sounded disappointed. 

“What!” You chirped, embarrassed. 

“You’re not slick.” Nagi yawns. 

“Okay… whatever… I’m the friend.” You shrug. 

“Yeah, I know. But Itoshi? Really? Have you ever even spoken to him before?”

“No! You keep interjecting.” You groan. Nagi’s quiet for a moment as you look over at him. He runs a hand through his hair. 

“You want my help?”

“…Yes.” You concede. 

“Go all out. Put yourself out there. The dudes gloomy, he might like it.” Nagi sighs. You sit up slightly. 

“You think so?” You ask as Nagi shrugs his shoulders. “Alright… thanks for the advice.”

~

Famous last words. Things did not go to plan whatsoever. You did as Nagi said. You went all out and in return you got hit with ‘who’re you?’. Probably top three most embarrassing moments of your life. The worst part of it was… Rin was right. You hadn’t talked to him much if at all. You built this fantasy up in your head and jumped at the smallest lifeboat Nagi had given you only for it to sink under your weight. Why the hell would someone as aloof and quiet as Rin Itoshi like a big show of affection? You felt like an idiot for even believing in Nagi. 

“Okay… yeah it was embarrassing but seriously it’s fine, Y/n. Everyone will forget by Monday.” A friend of yours reassured you over the phone later that night, the mean one as Nagi had so lovingly called her. 

“You didn’t see it, the silence in the hallway… god I won’t be able to sleep.”

“You’re dramatic.” Your friend huffed. “Look, you put yourself out there, how many people can say they did that?” 

“I shouldn’t have done it at all! God I’m such an idiot. I bet Rin and Nagi are laughing it up as we speak. Especially Nagi, that Judas.” You hissed as your friend laughed. 

“I don’t even think Rin Itoshi knows how to laugh. Besides, I'm not sure why you would listen to Nagi’s advice in the first place.” 

“He’s a childhood friend! I thought he’d have my back.” 

“Maybe he thought it would work.” You could hear the well restrained laughter in her tone. You sat up. 

“You’ve seen Isagi today, right? Did he say anything?” You knew it was a stretch. Your friend and Isagi had a sort of… rocky relationship. One you really didn’t understand. Nagi assumed Isagi had a thing for your friend and although that could be true your friend felt very strong negative emotions towards him.

“Do you want me to hit you? The only reason I talk to that know-it-all ball kicker is for student council purposes.” She returned sharply. Yeah… it was a stretch. 

“I’m not sure what you and Isagi do could be considered as talking but-“

“I mean it. I will hit you.”

“I believe you.” You smirked, glad you had called your friend because she had helped you cheer up at least a little bit. Your front doorbell chimed as you startled. Your mom was working late and it was too late for any of the neighbors. “Hey, I’ll call later.” You said, hanging up the phone. You tossed it on your bed and winded your way through the house towards the front door. All you could hear was the gentle pats of rain just outside the door. You peered through the peephole and sighed heavily as you spotted Nagi outside the door. He was the absolute last person you wanted to talk to right now. You turned, pressing your back to the door, closing your eyes as the events of today played in your mind again. It reignited that fire as you whipped around, yanking the door open. Nagi startled at the suddenness of the door. 

“You absolute asshole!” You growled, reaching and yanking the tall boy into your house. Nagi was wet from the rain, his hair wet like a dogs as she slammed the door shut behind him.

“Jesus, what’s wrong?’ Nagi asked as you whirled on him.

“What’s wrong? What’s wrong!” You parroted as Nagi stared at you, blinking and confused. “You didn’t hear? I’m sure I was the laughing stock of school.”

“Didn’t hear what?” Nagi asked calmly, in fact his nonchalance had you seconds away from ripping the hair from his head.

“Your advice! It fucking sucked!” You hissed as Nagi raised a brow and pursed his lips in thought. He had no idea what you were talking about. “I’m surprised the boys on your team weren’t talking about it.” You threw up your hands in defeat.

“Most of the guys skipped today because of the weather. I stayed for a bit but got sick of listening to Isagi flirt with that mean friend of yours.” Nagi groaned, pushing past you as he stripped off his jacket, kicking off his shoes.

“What’re you doing?” You asked incredulously. “You aren’t welcome here!”

“Did you make anything for dinner?” Nagi asked over his shoulder, ignoring you as he walked towards the kitchen.

“Seishiro Nagi.” You growled, that stopped him in his tracks. He looked back with a stricken look on his face.

“Geez, what’s wrong?” He asked, you slowly approached him with a strained smile.

“The advice you gave me about Rin was shit. I put myself out there and he turned me down.”

“I could’ve told you that.” Nagi shrugged. You grabbed the front of his shirt.

“I have had it up to here with you. Please get the fuck out.” You hissed, seething with anger. Nagi stared at you for a moment, it was possible he was deciding if you were actually angry or messing with him but when you didn’t crack a smile he finally understood the seriousness. He reached up and placed a gentle, warm hand over yours.

“Sorry. I thought you were-... What happened? I didn’t hear anything at school.” He explained calmly. You yanked your hand out of his.

“It’s like I said! You gave me shit advice and I completely embarrassed myself in front of most of the school, Nagi. It was humiliating.” You fumed, cheeks blushing at the memory of it. 

“So he turned you down, so what?”

“So what?” You echoed, running a hand down your face. “You know what. Forget it. You don’t understand. Please just leave.” You waved your hand in defeat as he caught your hand again.

“I… don’t get why it’s such a big deal.”

“I like him, Nagi! And now I've completely embarrassed myself in front of him… he’ll never look at me the same.”

“He didn’t look at you before.”

“Are you actively trying to make me never speak to you again?”

“You never talked to him before, Y/n. You’ve only seen him play. Who cares what he thinks?”

“I care!” You groan as he suddenly tugs you to him, you stumble slightly, surprised. 

“He’s nothing! Sure he’s good at soccer but he’s a maniac about the sport. He’s a hassle. He wouldn’t be good for you anyways.” Nagi explains and you can’t remember the last time he seemed so… passionate about something. He always seemed chill, cool headed. He was heating up the same as you. 

“I don’t want to talk about this anymore.” You pushed away from him and this time he didn’t reach for you again. “Just please go.” He stared at you and you couldn’t find it in yourself to meet his eyes. Not this time. There was something different in the air between you both. 

“I’m sorry.” Nagi said softly. You swallowed, your eyes shooting up to meet him. You didn’t expect an apology from him. You had expected him to leave. “I gave you shit advice.” You almost laughed, but your dramatics couldn’t let you find humor in this moment. “On purpose.” He finished as your lips fell open in surprise. 

“What?” You asked, taking a step towards him.

“I did it on purpose.” He repeated.

“I heard you. Why would you do that?” You asked sharply, eyes searching his guilty face. Nagi sighed exhaustedly. 

“I didn’t think you’d ask him so publicly.” 

“Nagi.” You admonished as he sighed again. 

“Do you really not know?” He asked, running a hand over his face as he leaned against the wall, all long legs and dramatics. 

“Know what?” 

“Come on. Aren’t I supposed to be the oblivious one?” He asked and you wanted to pinch him. He sighed once again. “This is such a hassle.” 

“You love that word.” You grumbled annoyed. 

“I invite you to all my games. I try to have dinner with you whenever I can. I ride with you to school as often as possible.” He lists off.

“Okay?”

“Okay?” He mocks as you narrow your eyes. “I like you, Y/n. I’ve liked you since we were eight. Seriously? You didn’t know?” He throws up his hands in frustration. You blinked. And blinked again. You sucked in a breath, almost forgetting how to breathe. You stared at him, processing everything he just said.

“You annoy the shit out of me! You gave me shit advice because you like me! Why didn’t you just say you liked me!” You argued, reaching over and pinching him. He jumps, sucking in a gasp at your pinch.

“Ouch!” He whined, rubbing the spot. You didn’t pinch him that hard as you rolled your eyes. “I didn’t… I didn’t want to ruin things by up and telling you… I was-- trying to find a romantic moment!” He argued back. 

“Romantic moment?” You echoed.

“Uh huh! I was hoping you’d see my sick goal last night and I’d run over and tell you.” He explains and you can’t help it, you dissolve into laughter. 

“Geez, how romantic.” You breathe out in between giggles. Nagi just stares down at you, red faced and pouting. 

“There… there’s been so many times I’ve wanted to tell you… but it never seemed right. Then you started talking about Rin and I just…” Nagi sighs, running a hand down his face. “I’m sorry I embarrassed you. If… if you want I can talk with him.”

“You’d do that?” You ask, voice soft. He met your eyes and the hurt that lined them was palpable, but he nodded his head.

“It’s the least I can do.” 

You thought about letting him squirm but the hurt in his eyes was too much. You didn’t have the heart to tease him or play with his heart, not when he’d been such a good friend to you most of your life.

“Forget it.” You waved slightly. “You're right. I don’t really know him.” His eyes found yours and for the first time you felt something charge in the air. You hadn’t thought about Nagi as more than a friend for the longest time but… something about it had your heart speeding. “Nagi?”

“Hm?” 

“Are you serious? About liking me?” You asked as Nagi’s cheeks blushed, despite his effort to keep a cool facade. He nodded his head and suddenly the hall you two were arguing in felt tighter. You averted your eyes and chewed softly on your bottom lip. There had never really been an awkward moment between you and Nagi before but right now it was unbearable. 

“Is that… okay?”

“Uh huh.” You hummed nervously, fiddling with your hands. You couldn’t look up at him, you just couldn’t. This was the second most embarrassing thing to happen today. “Are you gonna look at me?” He asked and you could hear the smirk on his tone. He shouldn’t be the one smirking, he should be the nervous one! He was the one that confessed after all! Your eyes shot up to meet him. Sure enough he was smirking. Damn him.

“What the hell is so funny?”

“You’re blushing.”

“You’re blushing!” You argued, pointing at his face but again he caught your hand and this time when he tugged you forwards his other hand slid across your cheek into your hair. You knew enough to close your eyes as his lips crashed assuredly into yours. Nagi was a lot of things, he was lazy most of the time. Tired and annoying. And you weren’t sure if he’d ever kissed anyone before but… he kissed exactly how he played on that field, like a pro. What an ass! He was good at everything. He pulled you closer and pressed your back into the wall kissing you as though he’d die if he parted from your lips. It was a lightheaded inducing kiss. You had three kisses in your life. Of course Nagi when you were eight but… it was less than a peck. Then there was the boy from middle school who kissed you during a dance. That was little more than a peck. Then the boy you dated two years ago. He moved away two weeks after your one year anniversary. He was a good kisser, though you had nothing at the time to weigh it against. Now… you did. That boy before… was nothing like Nagi. It felt weird to even think about it since you two had been friends for so long but… really. This was… something different. This was the kind of kiss that pop girls wrote about in their love songs. The kind of kiss you’d dream about for years to come. 

“Where’s your head at?” Nagi asked against your lips, his voice low and breathy, it sent a shiver down your spine. 

“I’m thinking… you need to kiss me again.”

“Mhm,” He hummed amusedly, nodding his head. “Yes ma’am.” 

[shuenkio]

Birthday present | Psh. 🎁

Paring: Sunghoon x M!reader | Genre: Fluff

ᯤ Synopsis: He was unhappy with the gift that you gave him, SH was mad but what kind of present did he truly want?

ᯤ Cw: None maybe.

ᯤ Non proof read | Eng is not my first.

ᯤ This is a work of fanfiction, do not throw unnecessary tantrums on this nsfw/sfw blog. ©Shuenkio

ᯤ Crd to all the owner [dv/pics]

A✓N: probably disappear after this one for real[fr], the exam is under my nose and here I am, writing delusional thoughts. 🫂

To be friends with Sunghoon was so easy; you don't get why all those girls say it's so hard like this, it's so hard like that. When m/n just go and give Sunghoon a bottle of water one time after his practice for the match as a figure skater.

Ever since then, you and him get along pretty quickly, or maybe you're just his teammates? Privilege, of course. But little did you know that Sunghoon is not the type to express his heart or how he feels about something, nor is an exciting surprise out of his expression. He was indeed a cold person, to be honest.

Yet you can still hang out with Sunghoon; having enough patience to be there for him whenever he's spacing out, freezing, is like sometimes you wonder if you have a robot friend. Cloud began to set into a breathtaking sight of night, filled with the city lights lit up. It was time to go back home after a long, intense day of practicing. Sunghoon is not here because he had finished before you ever since this morning.

Checking your phone for a time, you saw a reminder pop up on your notification.

"Sunghoon's birthday today; let's post and wish for him."

Oh, it's actually his birthday; maybe time flies too fast to even think about anything; December 8 is here already. Furrow your brow, rubbing your chin with your slender fingers. Having deep thoughts, what should you give him for his special day? He's not the type who loves luxury things like men do, such as watches, belts, or whatever you just know he'd not too plead at it.

Pop, you suddenly get an idea by gifting him glasses because he likes them a lot. Wait, what if he doesn't like it? Perhaps winter is approaching; a scarf wouldn't be that bad, isn't it? It's keeping everyone warm; each one of us needs it. A scarf that it. Must stop by a fashion store before heading home to see him at his place.

7 p.m. comes by in a blink of an eye, and you find yourself knocking on his door. You didn't realize that he'd be throwing a party and celebrating with his family and friends; all you had in mind was to deliver him his gift. The door cracked open, revealing a taller figure. In front of you, Sunghoon, who had a birthday hat around his head. Funny, because he's not into childish stuff; it must be his mom.

"M/N, you're here! Uh, what are those?" Seeing a plastic bag in your hand makes him wonder what it could be. As you respond quickly by saying it was his gift, so then both of you get inside the house first. The party is still ongoing, yet some of his relatives are already full, which makes the house empty for some reasons.

Settled down all of your stuff in one place as you make your way to where Sunghoon are. He was in a kitchen, pouring soda into two empty cups. Tapping him on the shoulder while your hand is holding a bag behind your back, ready to surprise him even if he won't be surprised anyway.

"M/n? Here, soda, you must be tired from the training!" Said from a tipsy guy, handing you a cup. You didn't accept it yet till you finally handed him the gift you've been wanting to give him before taking the cup. Sunghoon didn't realize he was smiling from ear to ear the moment M/N gave him.

Whether he was surprised or not, a gift is a gift; it was meant to be a little curious. What could that be, isn't it? Fishing inside the brand plastic bag, he found a vintage scarf inside; it suits his skin tone well though, despite being as pale as snow. He then unwrapped and blanketed his neck with his new scarf. Did he like it? You bet he might not by the face he made right now, catching you off guard a little.

"Did you like it? Sunghoon, we've been friends for ages, but I can't deny what your favorite thing is you love the most. Sorry, Hyung, if that's not on your... expected list." Feeling a little hurt and guilty, a present is meant to be accepted in all kind the guest gives, while Sunghoon did otherwise.

"I don't like it, quite much m/n; you should know me better." With a smile that almost wiped his cheeks, Sunghoon frowned, unhappy. The scarf on his neck, the item you spend time thinking deep to find one—guess you're wrong this year. Sigh, you have to make it up to him this time; anything will do.

"Sorry, really, I'll find something more perfect for you; just say it." Picking on your finger's nails, you determined you'd do as Sunghoon told; one word will do; that's all Sunghoon needs to say. The taller's lit up slightly; this is the moment he has been waiting for for years. Anything? Sunghoon likes it.

"We have been friends for ages, right m/n?"

"Yeah?"

"Then, let's not be friends anymore; I'm tired of this friendship." Nani? Goosebumps were running and throwing your skin as your heart sank deeper than a Titanic ship. Did he really say that? What did you do wrong to be as guilty or bad for him to have the guts to no longer want to be friends with you?

"What do you mean, Sunghoon? I've never done anything wrong, am I? Right?" Tears are almost forming; a waterfall could break anytime soon. To prevent that, Sunghoon takes a rewind turn and gets into the point then. He was afraid you'd be a cry mess if he didn't spit any loner.

"Be my boyfriend instead; I hate that I can't be more than a friend! I wanna love you, m/n," placing your palm on your chest; if only only you had heart issues, a second won't spare. M/N almost nearly fainted with the sudden confession from a friend of his, who is the cold-hearted guy. This is something.

"Kill me now."

"I'll take that... As a yes, my boyfriend." 

[shalomniscient]

woah…..that zoya post…………now make them kiss (pretty please 🙏)

this took centuries. im so sorry

breaking point || zoya x reader [NSFT][MDNI]

cw. medical talk (or attempts at), kind of graphic descriptions of injuries (?), power bottom reader and service top zoya, unsafe sex in the sense reader wants to be dicked down so bad they diss condoms (practice safe sex gamers), fingering, creampie

notes. i dunno i just think zoya would like a partner with a little fire to them yk?? reader is just internally very horny for zoya but would not admit it even upon threat of death. also head in hands this is so disjointed im so sorry

taglist. @sinsmockingbird for when you awaken my liege

As an ER doctor, being able to keep a cool head even in intense situations is a priceless skill. You clarity and calmness could be the difference between a life saved and a life lost. Thankfully, you and your sister have always been good at being clinically cold—but even you both have your limits. For Iron, it was when she was forced to amputate her arm.

For you, it's watching a few legionnaires haul their Commander into the ER, barely conscious and looking half-dead.

"Trauma room 2, now," you snap, tossing your clipboard aside and pulling your coat tighter around yourself. Of course this had to happen on the one day Iron was in Eastside picking up supplies. Your mind races as you march alongside the legionnaires as they drag Zoya—hardly responsive, head hanging low, pallor to her skin—onto a cot. Your nurses swarm you like a well trained unit, moths to a light, awaiting your orders. You suck in a breath, let each molecule of air settle in your cells, before you dive headfirst into action.

"Four units of O-negative, and two large bore IVs," you command, your voice even as you move to stand next to the cot. The wound on her abdomen is substantial, and for once you're grateful for her frankly ridiculous fashion choices since it lets you save time on cutting her clothes off. Your gloved hands reach up to cup Zoya's pale face, your eyes cold as you look down at her. "Get the OR prepped and call anesthesia now."

"Zoya," you say firmly, gently shaking her head. "Oi, brute. Can you hear me?"

The commander remains silent, and you frown. Perhaps the situation is worse than you thought. One of the legionnaires, just a girl, shifts anxiously next to the bed. "Boss got hit by a Mania weapon," she explains, her voice trembling as if she's near tears. "It was supposed to be for me, but—"

"Do you know what kind?" you cut her off, and internally you flinch at the way she recedes from the iciness of your gaze. But she shakes her head, and you bite your tongue. The pieces of the diagnosis align in your mind's eye—Mania weapon, unknown effect, caused severe lacerations and subsequent hemorrhaging. High possibility of additional Mania contamination within her bloodstream, although as a Sinner risk of further complication on that avenue is reduced.

You draw in another breath. Okay. You can do this.

"You owe me for this, brute," you mutter, before you kick the locks off the cot wheels and start pushing her to the OR. The double doors greet you like the gateway to purgatory, and you push everything beyond your clinical expertise to the furthest recesses of your mind.

Under the bright OR lights, your form casts a long shadow over Zoya's still one. You exhale.

"Let's begin."

You only finish six hours later.

Your scrubs are stained red up to your elbows, and you can barely feel your feet after being on them for so long. But the heart monitor beeps steadily, and it is the only sound you want to hear now. You thank your nurses and tell them to get some rest. Once they're out of sight, you stumble back and lean against the wall, your eyes slipping shut.

Your hands are shaking.

You exhale. You're barely aware of the fact that you're sliding down the wall until you end up on the floor, the coldness of the tile seeping through your scrubs. The surgery hadn't been easy. Fishing remnants of Mania crystals out of flesh equally as red is always a challenge—often, the patient doesn't survive. Corruption sets in quickly, and all you can do is hand them over to Iron to nip the bud before it blooms.

But you saved her. She's alive, breathing, stable, so why does your heart tremble in your chest? Why does the sight of her blood on your arms make you sick?

Deep down, you know why. But the words knot on your tongue and catch against your teeth every time you try to say them. So instead, you settle for something else. A different emotion, but no less potent. And you pretend that the rush you felt that other day was nothing more than loathing. And whatever it is you're feeling now is just irritation that you had to spend 6 hours stitching her abdomen back together.

"Stupid fucking brute," you mutter to yourself, resting your head on your knees, pulled close to your chest. "Going out and getting yourself hurt like that. Aren't you supposed to be strong?"

You sit on the cold tile for a while, before forcing yourself back onto your feet. Your eyes roam impassively over Zoya's sleeping face, and you can't help but think how... soft she looks, peacefully asleep like this thanks to the anesthesia. It almost makes you want to reach out and stroke her cheek—but you don't, and instead turn on your heel and walk right out of the room.

After all, there’s no point lingering on pipe dreams.

"Doctor!"

You sigh, feeling a headache build between your temples. You turn to the nurse, scowling. "Yes?"

"The, um... the patient in trauma room two is awake," she answers nervously. "And she's trying to—"

Whatever your poor nurse is trying to say is cut off by none other than said patient striding down the hallway, unbothered, even as five of the other strongest nurses you have try to hold her back. She simply drags them along with each confident step. Also, she somehow managed to get her clothes back? You mentally add another thing to your to-do list—you'll have to have a stern talk with whoever manages patient belongings. Zoya stops in front of the front desk and eyes you up and down, and you shoot an unimpressed glare right back at her.

"What do you think you're doing?" you ask flatly, and Zoya shrugs.

"I'm here to say thanks," she responds, and you blink. That... wasn't what you were expecting.

"Oh."

"I'm also going to leave," she adds, and then you scoff, feeling the moment crumble in an instant.

"In your dreams. You're not due to be discharged for three more days." You round the counter to stand defiantly in front of her, and she raises a brow. Around you, your staff shift nervously. If Zoya decides to force her way out, there really is no one who can stop her.

"I'm perfectly fine," she counters, placing a hand on her hip. Your eyes flick down to it, and yes—the glaring wound in her side is healed up, almost beautifully. Such are the 'benefits' of being a Sinner. But you shake your head nonetheless, stubbornly digging your heels in. If Zoya is an unstoppable force, then by God will you be the immovable object.

"You're fine when I say you're fine," you roll your eyes. "Now do I have to put you on a leash or are you going to go back to your room on your own?"

Something flickers in Zoya's eyes, and she makes a derisive noise that has your brow twitching. You can feel your blood starting to simmer just beneath your skin. Really, one of these days she's probably going to give you an aneurysm.

“Hmm, how about this, then? You check me over, and if anything isn’t in already healthy condition, I’ll stay,” Zoya offers, and you cross your arms.

“And if not?”

“Then I’ll leave,” she answers coolly. “Deal?”

Your head throbs. “Fine. Just get in the triage room, I’ll make this quick.”

You stalk your way to the room, Zoya following on your heels like an obedient dog. Like this, it is she who casts a shadow on you, with her once again ridiculous height. It makes you want to see her on her knees.

You banish the though away as quickly as it came and sit Zoya down on the cot. She leans back on both her palms, relaxed as ever, watching as you flit about, pulling on gloves and putting on your stethoscope.

“Breathe in,” you order, and she does. Her lungs sound clear, which is good. You don’t hear the light chime of embedded Mania crystals, which is a relief. Your hand trails down her back before moving to her front, ghosting over her abs.

The injury that had left her bleeding all over your floors is practically gone now—only a thin white line proof it was ever there. You brush your thumb against the scar, and you feel the way her muscles tense beneath your touch.

You do your due diligence, pressing along her abdomen as part of a standard checkup. It’s a perfectly normal procedure to check for organ size, pain and abnormalities, but the thought that this is Zoya you’re touching almost makes your hands tremble. And the way she’s reacting—tense and breathing deep with each inhale—is certainly not helping.

Once you finally finish the exam, there’s a distinct charged feeling in the air. You glance up at Zoya, and her eyes are dark; just like the way they were back then. It makes you swallow reflexively, your blood feeling almost unbearably warm beneath your skin.

You’re still close to her. Your hands are still on her abdomen. You should pull away, but you don’t really want to. A part of you doesn’t even think it can.

“Did I pass, princess?” Zoya breathes, her warm breath fanning across your face. Your eyes narrow, and you look directly into her dark ones like a challenge.

“It’s doctor.”

She smirks. You want to kiss it off her. “Whatever you say, princess.”

“Fuck you,” you snarl, ready to pull away, irritation overtaking the lust in your system before Zoya grabs both your wrists and keeps you close.

“Fuck me yourself,” she whispers, dangerously close to your lips, both an invitation and a challenge.

A better doctor would’ve stepped away. Good thing, then, that you never were the best, because you meet Zoya’s challenge in a kiss that’s more teeth and tongue than anything else. Zoya grins against you, slipping off the cot to tower over you. Her hands move your arms around her neck as she walks you backwards, all while her tongue plunders your mouth.

Zoya pushes you against a wall with enough force to make you gasp, air rushing from your lungs. Her lips and teeth descend on your neck as her hands travel down to your ass, squeezing once before they find your thighs, guiding them to wrap your legs around her waist. You sigh in pleasure at the kisses she presses against the skin of your neck, one of your hands winding in her silvery hair while the other digs into her shoulder to steady yourself.

You’re now completely held up by her, but the fear of falling doesn’t cross your mind even once. You’re pretty sure Zoya can keep you in place by just pinning you to the wall with her hips. You grind your front against her pelvis, and you both groan at the friction against her growing bulge. Zoya’s fingers find the waistband of your scrubs, and she tugs them down roughly.

You tighten your grip in her hair at that, and she hisses in both slight pain and pleasure. “Careful,” you mutter to her, “you’re not allowed to rip them.”

Zoya scoffs against your neck but nonetheless obeys, and you sigh when you feel her knuckles rub against your clothed clit. Zoya exhales as she feels your wetness seep through your panties and onto her skin.

“So fucking wet, princess,” she coos into your ear, dragging a finger along your slit. She presses lightly on the ruined cloth, delighting in the way it sticks to your drenched lower lips. You nip at her jaw, a scrape of your teeth along the defined bone, and Zoya takes the hint.

Her fingers push your panties to the side, and then sinks knuckle deep into your cunt.

You bite down on her shoulder to muffle your moans, your pussy fluttering around the intrusion. Fuck, her fingers are so thick—she’s hardly done anything and you’re already so close to your peak it’s embarassing. Your legs tighten around her waist as she starts pumping her fingers in and out of you, the wet sounds of her working your cunt open echoing in the room. Her thumb presses against your stiff clit and you squirm, burying your face in her neck and panting for breath.

“Gonna cum, princess?” Zoya asks, a breathless edge to her voice. “You’re—fuck—getting tighter, baby.”

“Keep going,” you snap, somewhere between a snarl and a sob. Your entire body is trembling. You seriously might kill her if she does. “Don’t you dare stop.”

Zoya growls, and pistons her fingers even faster all while her thumb draws harsh circles against your clit. You babble whispered praise into her neck before one final, perfect stroke against that spongy spot inside of you had you creaming all over her fingers. The gang leader grunts as she feels your tightness bear down on her, and wetness seep into her palm.

You pant against her neck as you come down from your high, legs twitching. Zoya withdraws her fingers with a wet squelch, and you shudder. But she doesn’t set you down, not just yet, and you know why—or rather, you can feel why. You pull back, leaning your head against the wall, and all while keeping your eyes locked with hers, let your hand brush against the tent in her pants.

Her hips jerk at the sensation, and you smirk. She’s just as pathetically desperate as you are. You brush your hand up and down the clothed length once, then twice, before finally tugging the zipper and her boxers down just enough for her cock to spring free.

Shit, you feel yourself get wetter at just the sight. Her cock slaps against her stomach, painfully hard and big enough that you’re glad she had the control to finger you open first. Zoya growls again when you pump your hand along her length, gathering sticky pre-cum from her drooling tip and laving it down her hardness.

“Wouldn’t happen to keep condoms in here, would you?” she asks, her voice deeper than usual. You roll your eyes at the question.

“No, we don’t keep condoms in the triage room,” you answer, shifting your hips so her cock now rests against your soaked lower lips. “But we do stock morning after pills.”

Zoya’s eyes flicker dangerously, and she grips your hips tight enough to bruise. “You’re playing with fire, princess.”

“Shut up and fuck me,” you retort, moving your hips up and down and letting her cock slide between your pussy lips and bump deliciously against your clit. “I’m on the pill anyway.”

Zoya buries her face in your neck and growls, then angles her cock with your entrance and slowly pushes in. You have to bite your tongue as she enters because fuck, she’s so fucking big. You can feel the way you cunt stretches to accomodate her size, more than it ever has for anyone else and you whimper reflexively.

Zoya squeezes your hips apologetically, kissing your neck as she keeps going. “Gotta relax, princess, c’mon, just relax for me…”

You do your best, and the moment she bottoms out it feels like all the breath has been forced from your lungs. Gravity ensures you have a particularly deep seat on her cock, and it leaves both of you breathless. Zoya meets your eyes, and slowy, she starts to thrust, drawing back before snaping forward in a smooth rhythm that soon has you seeing stars.

She fucks you against the wall with as much force as she can muster without being too loud—the rest of the hospital is just outside the door anyway. She smothers your moans with a kiss, hungry and demanding, her tongue tangling against yours. With each rut of her hips her cock bullies your g-spot and you can feel the knot in your stomach tighten once more.

“‘m going to cum,” you gasp out, eyes fluttering shut from pleasure, “‘m gonna cum, Zoya, please—“

“Go on, then, princess,” she encourages, her thumb starting to work your clit again. “Cum all over this cock like I know you want to.”

You writhe against her, your cunt squeezing her length like a vise. Zoya grunts at the sensation, her thrusts starting to get choppy as she rockets to her own high. Her lips travel from your own then down to your neck, her teeth ghosting the skin there. With one last drive of her hips she buries herself deep inside you and spills her hot cum into your eager cunt, while her teeth sink into the junction between your shoulder and your neck.

Your eyes roll back into your head at the feeling of being filled by and of her, your insides being painted white as she dumps rope after rope of cum into you. Fuck, you’re going to be dripping into your panties for a while after this, but you can’t bring yourself to care as nothing but sheer pleasure courses through your veins.

You don’t know how long it takes before both of you wind down from the high, but Zoya’s still hilted inside you, and a part of you doesn’t want her to leave. You’re both a panting mess, and Zoya draws away from your neck with a breathless sigh.

“So…” she begins, and you can barely manage a noise in response. “I take it I’m clear to be discharged, doctor?”

You only answer her with a quick smack to her shoulder that has her chuckling.

(But you agree, on the condition she comes back for regular check-ups. Zoya has no problems with this arrangement.)

[leeknow-thoughts]

୨୧ POLY!MINLIX X READER HEADCANONS

𝝑𝝔 cw : bullet point format, smut under cut, sfw and nsfw sections, mommy kink (everyone act surprised), sub and dom dynamics, some sub!reader and some dom!reader, pegging, mxm action, poly!minlix, petplay, rimming, some stoned! sex, some stoner!minlix

𝝑𝝔 SFW :

oh my fuck literally the best bfs everrrr

just so so so much love??? it's almost overwhelming???

Minho is so gentle and he takes so much pride in knowing every single stupid thing about you and lixie

oh oh oh he also thinks it's so cute when you and Lix give him nicknames

AND LIX :c MY LIXIE PIXIE :cc

he gives so so so so much love just all the time

whether it's bc he's cuddling into your side at night or he's making you brownies or he's buying you cute little gifts

"oh I saw this and I thought you'd like it!" - Lix (as if the gift isn't an EXPENSIVE ass designer bag or perfume or novelty item)

oh yeah Minho buys you and Lix jewelry a lot... like gets you 3 matching sets for Christmas, birthdays, holidays, new years, anniversaries, etc.

but Minho is a simple man, he lovesssss quality time

oh yeah aquarium dates SO MANY AQUARIUM DATES???

the kitties love looking at the fish

oh oh oh and Lixie loves physical touch???

so the 3 of you are cuddling in bed and probably either playing Mario Kart on the Nintendo switch (which always gets complicated bc Felix rages everytime he gets hit by one of minho's red tortoise shells) or watching a movie (it can't be a horror movie bc lix will cry, and it can't be a movie where an animal dies bc Lix will cry, and it also can't be a detective movie bc Lix will get bored halfway through) or taking a little cat nap (Minho curses, tosses, turns, and talks in his sleep so most of the time he is waking you or lix up, but you 2 don't dare say anything bc it would make Minho feel bad)

oh oh oh and you never have to step foot in the kitchen bc mimo lovesss cooking for you :c

so much praise??? you could literally just breathe and they'd be telling you just how much they love you??? LIKE HELLO?!--

also also also they FUND your hobbies and interests

oh, you like an anime series?? Guess who bought you 5 new figurines of your favorite character just so you'll smile? Lixie did!!! it doesn't matter that it costed a ridiculous amount of money bc it made you smile and that's what matters to Lixie!!

oh, you want to visit Japan someday?? Guess who booked a flight there just bc he loves you sm?? Minho did!!!

oh oh oh they're def sharing their clothes with each other and with you

they think you look so cute in their clothes

𝝑𝝔 NSFW :

the most versatile duo ever oh my fuckkkkkk

oh yeah, two mommys... when they're dominant at least

felix is def nicer when he's dominant :c he's so sweetieful, he's brushing back your hair and kissing your forehead while Minho fingerfucks and spanks you

also also also pet play with them :c

a pair of cute kitty ears and a cute little butt plug??? maybe even a pretty little collar??? oh yeahhhhh

oh oh oh and they're just so full of love for you :c constantly worshipping you like you hung the fucking moon

ORAL FIXATIONNNNNN holy shit lix has the craziest and most insane oral fixation

he's CONSTANTLY sucking on your tits <3

oh oh oh ohhhh and Lix loves sucking on minho's fat cock <3

lix has the CUTEST little cock :c and lovesss when you and Minho take turns kissing it :3

OMG AND Lix lovesss getting pegged and getting his ass fucked by minho??? oh yeahhhhh he'd KILL FOR IT

also also also rimming with the two of them??? letting Minho sit on your face while you lap at his cute little hole?? IF I EXPLODEEE

oh oh oh and minho loves fingering you while you lay on his lap, especially if you have your kitty stuff on, oh oh oh and while lixie humps his leg??? LITERAL HEAVEN

and they're subby too ??? :c

subby Minho needs to be spoken of more bc yeah :c

after a long day of dance practice and Minho is tired and you and lix just want to help him feel better?

sit him down on the couch and let Lix ride him while you let him suck on your pretty tits <3 he'll love the two of you forever

oh oh oh and fuck minho's cute little hole while Lixie sucks on his cock?????

they're just so full of love for you and it shows <3

also SHOWER SEX!!! this is the only form of a quickie that they like is early morning shower sex

also also also wake and bake + sex??? they loveee especially on their mornings off or their days off?? they're taking turns eating your sweet cunt as the sun comes up >:3

[bucketsofmonsters]

Deep Water - Part 5

cw: the ocean, begrudging kissing done for practical reasons, discussions of drowning, blood, malnourishment, more tags to be added as the story continues

merman x fem reader

Word count: 3k

read on ao3

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

Simon wretched. He wretched in front of them and it burned his throat and stung his ego as he emptied his stomachs of human food in front of his human and your awful little friend.

Finn had brought him this. Maybe if you'd brought him food it wouldn't make him feel this awful.

Probably not, but maybe.

He didn't like being brought food by this man anyway. It felt too much like courting. 

He would preen at the idea of you bringing him food if he weren't currently emptying his stomachs in uncomfortably shallow water

Shallow water he bore for you. Not for him. Stupid little man.

He hated that he needed him. Needed him to bring him fish and these horrible toxins they’d decided to try. 

“Probably not bread then,” he heard you say and he shook his head

No. No more of this bread. Not if he had anything to say about it, thank you very much.

“Okay,” your stupid little human said, still looking nervous. As he should be. If you hadn’t stood between them, he’d be dead. Even in the state he was in, he could lure him right in past the rocky shore and into deeper waters. 

But he wouldn’t, for reasons he didn’t like to think about, his stomachs turning again as he did. 

The two of you exchanged words once more, ones he hadn’t been paying attention to, before the stupid human left again. 

You sat on the shore beside him and he pulled himself out of the water next to you. 

His gills ached a little as he shifted so frequently from water to air but he couldn’t pass up the opportunity to lay beside you. 

You stared out at the sea, eyes a little distant and yet still warm. Even when they weren’t looking at him.

He couldn’t bring himself to feel jealous, not when he got to look at you like this. Even if that look wasn't directed at him. 

You spoke softly and contemplatively when you did. “They were together. Finn and Isobel. She was my sister, I don’t know if I ever told you about her.”

He shook his head, wishing he knew more of you. Wishing you’d share more of yourself with him.

But he couldn’t really blame you, what had he told you of himself?

“She’s smart,” he said, contented at the fact that Finn had apparently already been rejected by one of your own. 

“Smart?”

“You said were. He is not a suitable mate.”

You shifted on the rocks, something he’d come to realize you did when you’d been made uncomfortable, usually by him. He could rarely understand why, despite how frequently it happened. This was one of those times and he waited, patiently, for you to make it clear to him what he had done. 

“She never left him. They were together until she died.”

“Oh.” A horrible sense of dread overwhelmed him. “How?”

“She drowned,” you said, picking up a rock and throwing it out into the water. 

He was glad you weren’t looking at him, eyes locked into the horizon as you spoke. He was certain the worry was written across every feature on his face. 

Did he do that? He didn't know. That felt worse almost, that someone so dear to you could have been so insignificant to him that he may have killed her without even knowing

“Simon?” you asked, words fading in past the intense, buzzing panic. 

He wasn't sure how he felt when you called him that. A foreign, half-remembered name. You'd seemed displeased the first time he’d told it to you but you continued to use it so it couldn’t have been that bad. 

He’d caught himself calling himself that in his own mind, of late. It was easy to when your voice was the only thing that filled his head. 

He wished he had a name like you did, one he’d been given at birth so that when you said it it felt as if you were speaking him, like you could pour his essence out of your mouth with the affection he often heard in your voice. 

As he focused once again he saw the horrible human, holding a fish this time. He looked worried too and Simon wanted to snap at him for the look. How dare he pity him, he wasn’t to be pitied. He could swallow him up, could fix this problem easily, all on his own. 

And then your panicked eyes under choppy water filled his vision. 

He lowered his head, violence seeping out of him, sufficiently cowed, and took the fish. 

They’d been dead a while and he took no satisfaction in sinking his teeth into the soft flesh. 

Eating above the water was messy. The blood clung to his jaw, dripping down his face as he tore a chunk out of the creature.

If he weren’t so hungry he might’ve cared. 

A ravenous force took him until all he was left with was stubborn meat stuck on bones. 

Only then did he look at you. You looked disgusted with him, eyes wide and mouth slightly agape. He shied away from your gaze, tears welling up in his eyes. 

It felt like everything he did was wrong, displeased you and made you look at him like that. 

He slid wordlessly back into the water, not emerging onto the shore until all the blood had seeped into the water.

The concern was back on your face when he returned. 

“Was that okay?” you prompted him gently as he stared up at you. “You feel a little better now?”

He nodded, eyes locked on yours. 

A soft sigh escaped you, lips barely parting to let it leave you. He wanted to feel it, the gentle air passing over his skin, the soft lips he’d felt against his before. 

“Good,” you said, and your smile reached your eyes. 

It didn’t take long for you to depart, leaving to sleep far away from him. 

He did his best to rest and then he did what he’s begun doing most days, he milled about in the water, lonely and near the shore.

He felt an intense panic when he didn’t have eyes on you. If he could get his hands on you, cold and vulnerable in open waters, so could someone else. 

He wondered what he’d do if someone pulled Finn under. He liked to think he’d be noble and protect him, save someone so dear to you. Or at least that he’d turn and choose to let him go, allow him to be dragged under.

He knew that in all likelihood, he would freeze. He found himself doing that a lot lately. It seemed to come alongside the panic more often than not. 

Later, you came to the shore with your soft eyes and he did what he always did. He fought down overwhelming urges to pull you under, to drown you and feast, to protect you as his mate, to beg you to hunt for him as his body became more and more convinced he had lost the ability to do it himself, to do any number of things you’d despise him for wanting. 

He lay on the shore, frozen, until he felt his mind come back to him. 

The fish had helped, he thought. It didn’t take quite as long for the urges to leave him. 

You came bearing more of them. 

Well, you didn’t. Finn did. But he could pretend, think that maybe he was just carrying them to the shore, that really they were from you. 

He knew that they weren’t but he was no stranger to trying to read intention into the things you did. 

It was so easy to slip into, to pretend every action was a secret message of adoration, just like his were for you. 

But they weren’t and when he allowed himself to pretend all he’d done was hurt you, so he needed to be done with that now. 

If you wanted something from him, you’d tell him. 

If you felt something for him, you’d tell him. 

But you hadn’t, and that was fine. He wouldn’t push. 

But he couldn’t quite stop himself from pretending. Surely it was fine, so long as he didn’t act on it. 

Finn dropped the fish on the shore and Simon dove for them. 

It was unseemly but he couldn’t help it. The hunger had left a steady ache inside him and he would take any chance at relief. 

The basket held a few fish, five or six of them strewn inside. 

It was enough to be full. He could’ve cried at the sight. 

But he had more important things to be doing and so instead, he grabbed the basked firmly and slid back into the water, dragging them under. 

He flipped the basket as he immersed himself in the water so the fish wouldn’t escape him and rise to the surface, holding them protectively to his chest. 

He’d wanted to tear into them on the shore but he’d seen your face the last time. He could not see it again, the revulsion that had painted itself there. 

So instead, no longer dissuaded by your presence, he devoured them.

Blood clouded the water as he ate, swallowing mouthfuls of flesh one after the other.

It wasn’t the safest way to eat, could surely attract attention from other hungry creatures, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. He’d done as much caring as he was capable of. 

When he was done, he returned to the two of you. 

Some of the foam lining the gentle waves ran red, stained by remnants of blood washing to shore. 

You both had the decency not to comment on it, though he watched your eyes flick down and then quickly back up. 

He wondered if you’d begrudge him this too. Your food wasn’t quite as messy as his was, was further from the creatures you ate, even when you ate meat just as he did. 

He’d seen it before, basically unrecognizable, no blood pooling or ripping out bones as you ate. A more seemly affair. 

Finn’s eyes lingered longer on the red, something quietly sad in his eyes, before they darted up to Simon. 

As you sat, fawning over Simon and ensuring he had enough to eat, he found it difficult to bask in your attention the way he wanted, that gaze remaining steadily on him. 

He tried not to notice Finn as often as he could. He brought about feelings that were better avoided, especially in front of you. 

Currently, that was difficult, due to the fact that he was staring Simon down, some horrible thought forming behind his eyes. 

“What’s it like?” he blurted out, cutting you off in a way that made Simon want to snarl at him. “Being under the water like that?” He sounded eager.

“Horrible,” you said with a little huff, your words turning bitter. 

He did not begrudge you for the harshness of your words. He would move to land if he could, to prove to you he held no loyalty for the ocean. 

“No,” Finn tried to clarify. “Not just swimming, actually being able to stay down there, to breathe it and live it.”

“I know,” you insisted. “I’ve been down there. It’s awful.”

Finn’s eyes flicked between the two of you like he was trying to decipher something. “How do you… please tell me you're human. I don’t know how much more of this I can take.”

You reeled back a little at his words, like the thought of you being like him had never occurred to you. He supposed maybe it hadn’t, maybe the possibility of what things would be like if you were the same hadn’t haunted you as it did him. 

“No,” you said with a swift, decisive shake of your head. “Nothing like that. He just does this strange thing where you can breathe underwater. It’s happened a few times now. It’s awful, I don’t recommend it.”

Your unfavorable words did nothing to snuff out the excitement blooming across his face. “Could you do that to me?”

Simon’s nose wrinkled at the thought. “I’d have to kiss you.”

“Oh. Well, it wouldn’t mean anything, it’s just practical.” 

A spike of panic shot through him at the thought that you believed the same about the kiss you had shared with him. That second one that changed his life.

It was practical, he supposed. At least the first one, underwater with panic in your eyes. The second couldn’t be. He couldn’t make sense of it, refused to accept it. 

But this one could be, he supposed.

He turned to you, unsure what he was looking for. 

You seemed just as uncertain as he felt. You spent a while searching for words, mulling them over, before settling on, “It hurts like hell.”

He was quick to reassure you both that it was fine and he didn’t mind. Simon didn’t much care what he minded. 

But then you sighed, slow and resigned, and gave him a look that if he was reading your expression right, which he’d discovered he often wasn’t, was saying ‘please.’

And he couldn’t disappoint you. 

With a huff and a frustrated look directed at you, he grabbed Finn’s hand and began yanking him back into the water. 

Of course, it would have been easier to simply lure him in, but he had a feeling you would not have approved of that.

So instead he yanked him, slowly but surely, into deeper waters. 

The brush of his lips, however brief, revealed rough lips, not like yours, not soft and sweet and so dear to him.

He did his best to lose the touch in the scramble of pulling him into the water. 

He watched the fight that went on in Finn’s eyes as he tried to convince his brain that he was allowed to breathe, saw the moment of panic when his breath could be held no longer and his body forced him to inhale a heavy breath. 

He knew it was wrong to feel a little swell of satisfaction now that he knew that it hurt to suck in water where air should be, and yet he couldn’t quite muster the shame that should follow such a feeling. 

Only as he saw the pain in his eyes did he realize how horrible of a decision this was for Finn. He’d put himself in so much danger, offered himself up to a siren, for what? To be able to see under the waves for a few more minutes? Surely the man could just go for a swim. 

He didn’t know the truth, that he was probably safer with Simon because at least this way, he’d be left alone by other creatures. He didn’t know that his devotion to you kept him from pulling him down and calling it a freak accident. 

All he knew was that he’d put himself in the water with a starving siren. 

Finn left him behind pretty quickly, moving to investigate the floor of the ocean, trying to look at fish before they swiftly swam away, leaving him behind in cloudy water. 

It felt like an uninteresting affair to Simon but Finn seemed to be getting something from it. 

Some amount of time passed, slipping away as Simon distractedly followed the irritating little human around. 

Eventually, after far too long, he appeared to be done. 

Or maybe he didn’t. Maybe Simon pulled him to shore without a signal. It was hard to read body language when one was irritated. 

With another burst of satisfaction, he pulled Finn onto the shore and watched him heave water from his lungs, some of the embarrassment from the human food incident sinking away. 

Strange. He’d never thought it embarrassing when you’d done it. Now, watching Finn deposit ocean water onto the sand with wet hacking noises, he thought that it was a shameful affair. 

“That was incredible,” Finn managed to gasp out after a few minutes of heaving. 

It didn’t feel right, that he’d taken him down there. That his lips had touched Finns.

He turned to look at you, sitting beside him on the shore, a sympathetic grimace on your face as you watched Finn. 

And then he leaned in and kissed you. 

Not a practical kiss, with no intent to put you anywhere near the water, but one born of only affection. 

It was a brief thing and when he pulled away, you looked almost panicked. 

His heart sank at the realization he’d messed it up again, done something strange and wrong and made you afraid of him. 

But then the tension began to fade from your body, panic shifting into confusion.

“Why did you do that? Am I going into the water?”

He shook his head, face still inches from yours. “I just needed to. I’m sorry if I was wrong.”

He heard something from Finn and refused to turn and look at him when you were so close. It sounded almost like a cough, but not the painful, wet coughs of breathing air once more. It was a short stunted thing. 

Simon, without turning, announced in response to this strange noise, “You can leave.”

A fit of laughter escaped you at his words, burying your head in your hands as you giggled.

He hadn’t been joking.

That was fine though. He liked it when you laughed, even if it was at him. It was never cruel, always soft and with nothing but shining amusement in your eyes.

He wished he was better at making jokes.

When he tried you just stood and stared and when he did not you laughed.

But then, he was never the best at knowing when to laugh either. There was a kinship in that, at least.

When he thought he might be laughing out of turn too much, he suppressed it. You didn't. He thought maybe your smile was too bright to keep down, that maybe it would hurt you like keeping in your air did.

His heart sank a little as he remembered.

Hurting you. The horrible realization that he'd hurt them all.

Maybe some of them laughed out of turn too. He'd never know.

Maybe your sister had.

He turned to leave. He couldn't stand to be here any longer.

He should tell you. He knew he should. But his jaw felt locked shut and his body felt like it was being pulled away, out of his control. 

And so, like a coward, he fled, the water drowning out the sounds of laughter that he left behind.

[kurinhimenezu]

90 Day Baby Daddy - Adam - HH

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Author's Note: Plot lost itself a little but it'll be explained in the next chapters! I have no idea how long this will be so hopefully we'll find out together

CW: Adam cursing in front of babies, mentions of stalking (but not really emphasized)

Enjoy!

Arrem looks worriedly over at her friend typing furiously at her laptop.

“Hey man, I’m just saying…maybe get a student loan? Instead of like selling feet pics to save up for some semesters for college seems a little much, right?”

“I really don’t want to be in even more debt to be honest with you and I am NOT selling feet pics! I was just writing someone’s essay for a couple of bucks” Y/n made a face before picking up her coffee. “At least we can mooch off of some wifi around here”

Arrem nodded and toasted her cup before taking a sip. Her eyes occasionally flitting back and forth to her book and to Y/n.

“Okay what is up, you’ve been staring at me looking like you wanna explode or something” Y/n took another sip of her coffee and placed it down on the coaster.

“I still can’t believe that…” Arrem leaned closer, whispering, “I still can’t believe Adam is the guy that knocked you up…why didn’t you tell us?? We could’ve sued the pants off of the guy for unpaid child support”

Y/n snorted, shaking her head. Arrem was always the practical one, even when her suggestions tend to be a little psychotic and the only one who knows her kid’s actual father.

She looked at her friend, dressed simply with her boots and long sleeves. She’s sometimes jealous that Arrem and the rest of the guys managed to finish their studies with relatively no problem.

Pen and Arrem took the same degree and are studying for their work licenses, working in the diner for the mean time to have some extra cash in the bank.

Fish finished his teaching degree a year before them, gave up teaching after seeing how fucking dumb the students of today are, thus crushing his hope for the younger generation and sunk his savings in a diner that’s surprisingly doing well to support him and his mom.

Which was sweet.

It’s a little difficult to not feel inadequate when you’re stuck someplace you can’t seem to get out of. She did try to finish college, hell she only had a couple of classes left to but being heavily pregnant and having to walk everywhere just to get to class just got too difficult. The judgemental stares didn't help either.

She had to drop out and take care of her baby.

It’s not all bad, she’s grateful for the kid and couldn’t imagine not having her after seeing her after birth. She just wishes she got pregnant on her own terms. Hell after graduating would've been nice.

Y/n frowned, she still couldn’t remember how she got into Adam’s bed in the first place and it’s really bothering her when she has some time for herself to think.

“I’m serious!”

Y/n snapped out of her thoughts, “Hm?”

Arrem sighs, taking a bite of her hashbrown viciously. Girl loves her potatoes. “I mean if it weren’t for him—”

“I know but it’s no use dwelling in the past...besides you love the little bean, right?” Y/N grinned.

Her friend crossed her arms and looked away, “Yeah, I do…she’s got spunk but what’ll you say when she grows up? Toddlers are smart sometimes you know”

“I’ll get to that bridge when I get there right now, I’m enjoying the baby ride”

Arrem uncrossed her arms and turns to look at her, “I’m still sorry…I feel partly responsible for what happened, I shouldn’t have given you all that alcohol and I should’ve kept an eye on you”

Y/n looks at Arrem in surprise. Arrem looks so mad at herself. Has she been holding on to this guilt the whole time?

“Hey, don’t feel responsible, I’m pretty sure I went and wandered off on my own anyway, it just so happens to be Adam I got with”

Her knowing Adam being the father of her child was no baseless accusation.

She knew it was Adam that she got with because she remembered waking up sore but utterly satisfied and his huge autograph written on her stomach along with his “phone number” …in permanent ink.

It took her 3 days to completely scrub all the ink off, (After having Arrem take a picture of course, the picture is tucked away in her little journal along with the rest of the merch she has of Adam’s band. She hates how obsessed she was before the incident)

“Shit man, don’t look now” Arrem mumbled against the lid of her coffee cup.

“Huh?” Y/n discreetly looks at the door, the bell jingling indicating a new customer.

Murmurs start to echo in the small coffee shop and not the usual kind of white noise either. It’s more…excited, quick, hushed whispers and the snapping of phone cameras.

“Yo…hook me up with a venti flat white, would ya? Ya’ll got supersize?”

Y/n internally groaned at hearing that annoying accent. That fucking drawl she thought was charming at one point. Adam has this way of speaking that you can’t really tell where he’s from, like a mix of speech patterns you can’t pinpoint. Y/n just chalked it up to travelling around so much.

The barista flinched at the order before nervously looking at the large man. With that boyish attitude on interviews, Adam still looks intimidating with his studs and spikes with golden eyes lined with what looks like dark smudged charcoal.

Okay she needs to stop.

“Uh sir...that’s more than enough espresso to give a normal man heart palpitations…are you sure?”

Adam looks at the barista like he’s stupid. “Then serve it to me in those little cups then?”

The barista opened his mouth before shutting it closed, nodding his head in defeat, “Yes sir that’ll be $149.99 please”

Y/n choked on her iced coffee at hearing the price, gaping as Adam easily pulled out a black card and swiping it at the machine.  “Jesus man, I didn’t even know this place have those”

Arrem shrugged, tapping on her phone, “He says he’s a struggling artist but you never know with types like him”

“Helloooo ladies”

The two women let out annoyed sighs, one rolling her eyes before looking up at Adam.

“Adam” Arrem nodded, lifting her cup at him, “Big fan”

Adam gave her a finger gun before looking over at Y/n expectantly.

Y/n looks at Adam with a raised brow, judging him from head to toe. “Not so big fan” She smiled at him almost sickly sweet.

Adam huffs, taking a sip of his heart stopping coffee. “Right sooo…” He looks at her awkwardly trying to keep his cool.

It doesn’t help that a bunch of nosy fucks are filming him right now. His PR manager is so gonna fry his ass later.

“Oh! Right…here!” he shoved his hand down his tight leather pants, pulling out a cloth headband, pink and wrinkled with what looks like a fake rhinestone in the middle of it. “Your brat dropped this!” Adam grinned, handing it over to Y/n. He looked almost proud of himself for keeping it safe till now.

Y/n blinked at Adam before looking down at the thing suspiciously, it looked too…expensive to be her baby’s. Before she could protest that it’s impossible to be Addie’s, Arrem nudged her foot with hers.

“Dude...”

Y/n looked at her friend before finally noticing the café’s patrons trying to discreetly tune in to their conversation.

She bit her lip as Adam’s grin widened almost wickedly at seeing her resolve crumble and taking the hairband from his hand.

“Right…thank you SO much Adam, my baby’s been missing this…thing for a few days” Y/n turned the clip around inspecting it. It was shockingly girly, looking at it now she does remember panic buying a ton of baby girl stuff before Addie was born. Maybe she forgot about this particular hairband?

All in all, it doesn’t look too suspicious. Just a normal run of the mill hair clip.

Once Y/n took the ribbon and tied it to her bag, Adam smirked before turning away to sit at the corner booth at the back, the rest of his bandmates coming into the shop to sit at his table.

“Never noticed Addie wears ribbons like this” Arrem nodded at the hairband.

Y/n doesn’t want to make a scene and shrugged, not knowing what to say.

This was the first time she ever saw this hair clip too.

Y/n couldn’t seem to escape Adam lately. From the sleepy part of the city she knew and love turned into the #1 spot for tours, making her daily life seem a little more…ad conscious. Billboards of Adam’s face promoting his new album or a new music video that they’re going to shoot somewhere nearby or other bands opening for Adam playing non stop in TVs in the grocery stores.

Adam had snuck into her life again, remembering her name this time and even giving out his real number. Which she hasn't tried to call.

It wasn’t so bad, the vibes suddenly started becoming energetic with tourists coming in with all the popup events coming in.

Adam would travel around and would always come back after some months to “catch a break” here before going off again.

Maybe she’s feeling a little too full of herself into thinking that a famous rockstar is following her around but it was a little strange.

Sometimes she feels like someone is watching but when she looks around, no one is there. Or it's some rando not even paying attention to her.

But then who else would leave new baby stuff at her doorstep? Definitely not some good Samaritan. Her friends were pretty stumped too when she called to thank them for the gifts.

It was too much to think about and just let it happen.

“Damn how expensive are the frozen vegetables now…?” She mumbled, placing the generic store brand packet in the cart. The grocery was thankfully quiet, the early morning giving her some semblance of peace with the old folks doing their shopping and the sleepy night shifters minding their own business.

Addie gurgled, babbling and taking a bite of her teething ring as she tries to reach for a rubber duck hanging from the shelf.

A large hand plucked the toy from the shelf and handed it to the baby, making Addie squeal happily.

“I’ve never heard you laugh at vegetables before baby…that’s new…” Y/n’s voice trailed off seeing Adam, smiling at her kid and making a rubber duck squeak in his fist.

“Are you serious??”

Adam’s eyes flickered up at her and grinned, “Hey angeltits, looking gorgeous as usual”

“Man your crush on me is really obvious…your groupies must be so sick of seeing me with you”

Adam recoiled from her, handing the duck over to Addie. “Bitch you’re lucky to be in my presence”

Y/n snorts, putting a can of sauce into her basket, “And yet you’re somehow around us whenever you’re ‘on break’ “

Adam made a face and kept quiet, he doesn’t have a good comeback he has to admit so he turned to Addie, “Mommy’s being a cunt huh princesss? Yes she iissss”

Y/n’s eyebrow twitched and pushed Adam’s face away from her laughing kid, “Can you not curse around my baby??”

He only rolled his eyes before looking down at the sorry excuse of groceries in the cart. Something in his gut recoiled.

           | What do you mean?? She can’t be mine!

“Your choices suck ass Y/n” Adam frowned, taking the cart and started shoving actual food into the cart.

| Well...why wouldn’t she tell me then?

“H-hey! It’s not my fault this place has limited stuff-Adam!” Y/n cringed as he grabbed stuff left and right not even checking for the price or sales or even if it was qualified for a coupon before dropping them into the cart.

He even grabbed some of those yogurt bites for Addie.

“Adam” Y/n grabbed his arm, before he could grab a bag of fruit. “Listen…I appreciate the stuff and the concert tickets—”

“Which you didn’t go to and how did you even know it was me sending you those packages?” He pointed out.

She rolled her eyes, “Maybe next time, change your name on the Amazon packages before sending it to my house” Y/n sighs, rubbing her face tiredly. Adam, I can’t afford this stuff…if you think I can you’re sorely mistaken”

Raising a brow, Adam placed the bag of fruit in to the filled cart and started wheeling it to the check out, “And what makes you think I’m letting you pay?”

The cashier started to swipe the stuff in one by one, the prices going up and up.

“Adam—”

“We need to talk Y/n”

Y/n frowned, looking at the man staring nonchalantly at the numbers on the screen before tapping his card easily to pay for everything.

There wasn’t a hint of joking around on his face which was unusual for the normally unserious musician.

Adam took Addie from the cart and carried her, escorting Y/n to the parking lot and letting the cart jockeys help with loading the groceries into the back of his truck.

Y/n wet her lips, already having an idea on what the talk would be with the way Adam was looking at Addie and the way he’s so familiar with holding her…

Shit.

I may have rushed it a little lol

Tags: @sniigura

[sleepymarimo]

𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐛𝐞𝐭 𝐨𝐧 𝐢𝐭.

summary: you and toji meet up at a horse race, waiting for shiu to show up and give you your next job... pairing: toji x fem!assassin!reader cw: none! author note: some funny/fluffy stuff w our favorite sorcerer killer bc im having toji brainrot and had time before class.. wc: 750

when you had gotten assigned on a mission with 𝐓𝐎𝐉𝐈 a month ago, you didn’t expect to meet a 6’2”, muscled up, overly handsome raven haired assassin.

and a sweet talking one at that.

you didn’t expect him to completely fuck up the mission halfway through, killing the target well before your signal.

and after you managed to clean up his mess, you definitely didn’t expect shiu to toss you a extra few hundred yen for keeping the sorcerer killer in line.

one mission became two, then three. and, well…

now here you are, sitting on some flimsy plastic seats at the racetrack where toji insisted on meeting.

he’s late, obviously, but you basked in those few moments of peace and quiet. the calm before the storm.

another thing you didn’t expect from him? how quick he was to get comfy and cozy with you, oozing a carefree attitude that was as irritating as it was amusing.

“hey partner.” he yawned, plopping down in the seat adjacent to you and letting his arm hang off the back of your seat. “d’ya miss me?”

you don’t bother moving, choosing to ignore his question altogether.

there was no escaping this beast. hell, you were already lucky enough that he hadn't broken into your place within the last week.

“hey, how’d you already spend all the cash from our last job?” you question, disapprovingly crossing your arms over your chest. “i paid, like, six months off of my rent with that!”

his hand creeps up, finding purchase on your shoulder and giving it a squeeze. “so i get’ta crash at your place for six more months?”

it’s a love hate relationship between coworkers.

you love to hate him, he hates to love you.

a shot rings through the air and the horses are off.

toji practically drags you with him as he leans forward, a half-grin on his face as he eagerly keeps an eye on his sure to be winning horse.

like a rag doll, you just let it happen. your eyes flicker down to the ticket in his hand. “i bet on a different horse.”

“eh? you finally placed one?” he smirks, a hint of surprise in his emerald irises as he rasps out his next words in a low tone. “look at ya, princess, falling under my bad influence. i’ll take ya to dinner once my horse follows through.”

focusing your attention on the equids sprinting down the track, you shrug and huff out a laugh. “don’t bet on it…”

of course… his horse fails to follow through. when does it ever?

you don’t attempt to bite back your smile at the sight of his admittedly adorable pout.

he clicks his tongue and growls out a curse, his level of comfort around you apparent as he freely expresses his distaste towards the whole situation. “stupid fuckin’ horse…”

holding up your ticket, you wave it in the air for emphasis. “hey, i see why you like this stuff! maybe i won’t have to take this next job, since i just won.”

“bullshit.” his head snaps toward you, before looking away with a click of his tongue. “you serious?”

standing, you pretend to dust off your clothes. “don’t need the job anymore. tell shiu i’m out.”

strong arms wrap around you at a speed that you'll never quite get used to. you’re anchored to his chest, his eyes amusedly peering down at you between strands of ink black hair.

“like hell you are, sweetheart.” he smirks, scarred lips quirking upward. “hey, lemme see your ticket.”

later, when the broker steps into the designated section within the stands, he shakes his head at the sight before him.

fishing for a cigarette, he makes himself known, but makes no move to break up the show.

toji has an arm around your waist, holding you flush to his side. his expression radiates boredom, almost full blown apathy, as if he’s blind to how you thrash against him.

he’s completely unbothered with the palm that’s plastered to his face, attempting to push him away. the knee that you’re digging into his abdomen does nothing to deter him.

“‘ji!” you’re fuming, pride wounded at how easily the assassin can keep you in place. “let go already! it was a joke!”

when toji finally decides to acknowledge the former detective, he lazily raises his free hand in a sort of haphazard wave.

“‘ey, shiu.” he brings you closer, enough to feel your burning cheeks against his skin. “whatcha got for us?”

[devildomwriter]

Believe In What Your Heart is Saying | Leviathan x Reader

.6K Words | GN! Reader | CW: none

Leviathan struggled to calm his heart as he paced his floor, occasionally bumping against the jellyfish lights as he did so.

Henry watched from the aquarium concerned. Leviathan didn’t usually get like this over anything other than his anime and idols and this time Leviathan mouthed the same thing over and over again. The red shade on his face didn’t dim no matter how many times he practiced.

“___, will you, b-b-be, be-b-b-be! Aaaack I can’t say it! Why can’t I say it!?” Leviathan bemoaned and turned to Henry. He placed his hand against the tank and asked Henry for help but the fish did not know how to respond.

Leviathan nodded. “You’re right! I’m too pathetic. They’ll just say no, so why bother?”

Henry blew bubbles at Leviathan trying to communicate he’d said no such thing and Leviathan continued to belittle himself until the clock struck eight and he jumped to his feet, panicking.

“I-is it already time!?” He gasped and quickly requested the password.

“The Christmas password is Ruri’s Santa uniform is the cutest in the worlds!” You called from the other side of the door.

Leviathan swallowed the knot in his throat and opened the door with a shaking hand. He had to keep it together, he couldn’t let you notice anything was different.

But when he saw you in your cute Christmas sweater with a bucket of popcorn to share with him, his blush deepened.

“What’s up with you, Levi? You’re redder than Rudolph’s nose.”

Leviathan laughed awkwardly at your Christmas reference and gestured to the beanbags in front of his TV.

“L-let’s sit down n-now.”

You raised a brow at him curiously, knowing he was acting oddly but agreed. You sat down on the beanbag and Leviathan rushed to grab a throw blanket for you. He wrapped it around you and you beamed up at him.

“Thanks! You’re the sweetest.”

“Wh-huh? Like lol…no j-just…being a good host!”

Leviathan sat down next to you but not as closely as usual.

“What happened with you? Did I finally lose to Ruri-Chan?”

“Huh!? What? Like that’s even possible you’re a million times cuter than Ruri!”

You weren’t expecting that direct of an answer and blushed. As soon as Levi realized what he’d said his face turned even redder than it had been all day.

Henry watched in anticipation from the aquarium as Levi hid in his sweater and tried stuttering an excuse.

“Wh-wh-what I meant was—“

“You’re cute too Levi!” You exclaimed.

“C-cute…?” He didn’t seem too enthused at being called cute although he was still blushing.

“Yes. And handsome.” You said matter of factly.

“Huh! N-no way. Not some gross normie otaku like me!”

You shook your head and glared at him and he gulped in surprise.

“Stop putting yourself down. Are you saying I’m a bad judge?”

He looked shocked and shook his head. “N-no. Everything you do and say is perfect.”

“We’ll I wouldn’t go that far…”

“Oh no, did I say something stupid? Ugh!”

Levi tried to back away but you didn’t let him and wrapped your arms around him. “Don’t worry. You didn’t say anything wrong. Now come on. We’re watching Christmas movies, aren’t we? I’ve been really excited about this.”

“M-me too. I’ve been excited too…B-Because…” he whispered the last part too quietly for you to hear so you leaned in face close to his.

Leviathan blinked in surprise. Assuming you’d heard him confess his feelings, he leaned in to meet your lips.

You were surprised he’d be so bold and realized what he must’ve said as he cupped your cheek with his hand. You blushed and grinned into the gentle touch of your lips.

The kiss was a little awkward but it meant everything to you. He finally pulled away, red and you’re face matched his. You weren’t expecting him to finally confess, it caught you by surprise.

“Hey, Levi…”

“Y-yeah?”

“Tell me again.”

“What? Like, do you want me to want me to have a heart attack? Lol.”

You shook your head and batted your eyes teasingly. His demon form slipped out in his excitement and nodded.

“Then I’ll tell you as many times as you want! I-I love you!”

[novacorpsrecruit]

Rain’s A Good Thing

WC 3,501 | GEN | CW: I’ve never chased a tornado, I don’t know how to drive manual

Read on Ao3

Hawkins, Indiana is a farm town.

Tommy Hagan’s family owned the largest feedlot in the county. Carol Perkins’ father was the leading corn producer in the state of Indiana. During the summer, Andy Hostetter and Chance Murillo worked harvest, and the McKinney family has a turkey farm.

And Steve?

Steve is the furthest thing from a country boy.

His father, Richard Harrington, is (ironically) one of the state’s leading divorce attorneys. His mother, Catherine, hated for Steve to get any sort of dirt on him. He was never allowed in sandboxes when she took him to the park. Never allowed to splash in puddles or play in the rain or roll in the grass.

Never allowed to get dirty.

Never allowed to be an Indiana country boy.

Until he met Eddie.

Eddie didn’t grow up on a farm, but he did spend the majority of his formative years in Forest Hills. When he stayed with Wayne as a child, he made mud pies and played with the trailer park dog. He played in the forest, following the creek deep into the woods and catching crawdads.

Eddie still goes fishing with Wayne. Not afraid to hold the catch of the day, posing for Wayne’s photo. Eddie loves driving on dirt roads, taking the back way to Indy, or just taking a late night cruise.

As much as Eddie denied, denied, denied, he was a country boy through and through.

And although Steve has spent his entire life in Hawkins … he was a city boy.

And Eddie keeps forgetting that.

It was a rainy Saturday afternoon. The third or fourth day in a row. Steve lost count. He hated rainy days. Especially storms. He felt trapped in his own home, but the last few days he spent at the trailer with Eddie felt special. The boys were both off from work and lazily tangled on the couch, watching ‘Used Cars’, questionably ‘borrowed’ from Family Video. Steve called it a perk of his job. Eddie knew Steve picked the movie solely because Eddie admitted that he used to have a crush on Kurt Russell (“Used to?” Steve laughed, “You still do!” “Do not!” “Do too!”), but there was something about the shitty cars driving through the mud of the dealership that had Eddie aching for a drive.

“We should go muddin’,” Eddie grinned, pressing a quick kiss to Steve’s lips before untangling his limbs. He climbed off the couch, taking a few steps into the kitchen to grab his keys off the counter.

“Go what-ing?” Steve said, sitting up.

“Muddin’,” Eddie said with a grin. It falters for a second. “Have you ever gone muddin’ before?”

“No,” Steve wrinkled his nose. “Like… playing in the mud?”

“Kinda,” Eddie shrugged. “It’s more driving around in the mud.”

“I’ve practically been muddling all week leaving the trailer park,” Steve said with a playful frown. “So what? We’re getting my car muddy on purpose?”

“Yeah, that’s the point,” Eddie said. “Besides, we’re not taking your car.” He flips his keys a few time for show. “We need to break this bad boy in.”

The bad boy in question was a 1972 Chevy Cheyenne, which is plenty of broken in. Eddie was able to buy it last month for a few hundred dollars. Eddie has been finding every excuse in the book to ‘break it in’ including taking it to the drive-in, stargazing, going for a late night cruise, a redneck swimming pool (Eddie’s words for the tarp in the bed of the truck and filling it with water), fooling around in the cab of the truck, fooling around in the bed of the truck, and now apparently mudding.

“C’mon,” Eddie whined like a child. “It’s hardly storming out there. I’ll take you out to the Dairy King afterwards. I’ll buy you a milkshake and curly fries.”

“Okay,” Steve sighed. “But were each getting our own milkshake.”

Eddie pumped his fist in the air. Steve couldn’t help but grin. “C’mon!” Eddie said, taking the few steps back to Steve and grabbing his arm, pulling him up. “We’re missing out on valuable mud time.”

“It’s supposed to rain all day,” Steve said, following Eddie to the truck. “There’s gonna be mud for the next few days.”

“Which means we’ll have to go again tomorrow,” Eddie grinned. “Plus it’s more sprinkling than anything. This is hardly anything. Here —“ Eddie handed Steve his mechanic’s work jacket, Eddie’s name stitched in red over the heart. “The finest robe for his majesty.”

Steve rolled his eyes, slipping on the jacket as Eddie ushered him out into the rain and into the Chevy. Eddie was right. The rain was light, nothing that made Steve concerned or worried. He just didn’t want to get his Nikes covered in mud. Eddie promised if they get dirty, he’d throw them in the washing machine with his Reeboks, but promised that they wouldn’t get out of the truck into the mud. Steve shoved his hands into the jacket pockets, feeling the cool metal of Eddie’s lighter against his finger tips. Eddie, the ever so gentleman, took three steps past Steve to the passenger door, yanking it open for Steve.

“Your chariot,” Eddie said with a bow. Steve couldn’t help but grin as he climbed into the truck, Eddie shutting the door behind him. Eddie started to jogged around the truck, jumping against the hood as if he was trying to slide over it to the other side. Steve couldn’t help but laugh, trying to figure out how anyone thought his goofy boyfriend was scary.

“You’re such a dork,” Steve said to Eddie as he climbed into the Chevy.

Eddie shot him a shit eating grin and revved the engine, “but I’m your dork. You ready?”

“As I’ll ever be,” Steve said.

Eddie pulled the truck into reverse, pulling away from the trailer home. Eddie fiddled with the music, going from station to station until he found one that was mostly music and less static. As he drove through the trailer park, the Chevy Cheyenne dug through the mud, leaving deep tracks behind. Eddie pulled onto the highway, driving out of town.

“I thought we were going mudding in the trailer park?” Steve asked.

“You gotta have open space to go muddin’,” Eddie explained. “I figured the fairgrounds, maybe some country roads. I promise, we will be safe. Nobody has ever died from muddin’.” There was a long pause. “Yet.”

“Eds,” Steve warned. Eddie smirked, reaching over to squeeze Steve’s thigh.

“I’m kidding!” Eddie said, squeezing again. “You know I’m a safe driver. I drove your Beemer before and you had no complaints!”

“Because I had a migraine,” Steve said. “And Robin still doesn’t have her license.”

“You would trust Robin over me?” Eddie gasped, jerking his hand away from Steve’s leg and bringing it over his heart. “Sweetheart, you wound me!”

Steve frowned, grabbing Eddie’s hand and placing it back over his thigh. Eddie grinned. “You’re so dramatic.”

“But you love it,” Eddie laughed, squeezing Steve’s thigh. “Right, baby?”

“Right,” Steve said, with a goofy smile. He kept his hand over Eddie’s as they drove a few miles out of town to the fair grounds.

The fairground parking was more dirt than anything. The annual Roane County Fair occurred the first week of July. Steve hasn’t found the energy to go, now that the Fourth of July was associated with being tortured by Russians. But maybe things would be different this year with Eddie holding his hand in secret.

The dirt parking was soaked with rain, mud piles and large puddles. Eddie looked over at Steve with the biggest grin. “You ready?”

“Yeah,” Steve said. “Sure.”

Eddie revved the engine a few times before taking off, Steve jerking back in his seat with a laugh as Eddie drove into the first mud puddle he saw, splashing the windshield with mud. He ran the wipers, smearing the mud on his windshield, steering the car into more mud. The truck slowed in the mud, stuttering against the sludge as it powered through the mud, kicking back. The brakes slipped, the Chevy lurching forward. Steve jerked forward, slamming his hand on the dash to keep him stable.

Eddie let out a hoot of a laugh. He kept his hand on Steve’s thigh, squeezing gently any time he needed to move his hand to switch between first and second gears. He pushed on the gas, the truck accelerating to the next puddle, coating Steve’s window in mud. The shocks in the truck already made Steve feel every bump in the unpaved roads to Eddie’s trailer. The bumps and dips in the fairground seemed worse, jerking the truck up and down unevenly like a rollercoaster ride. Steve couldn’t help but laugh when he felt his ass leave the seat.

“Now you get me!” Eddie grinned, jerking the wheel to the side, finding more mud to dig up with the tires. The thick mud would get stuck in his tires, kicking up to the bed of the truck, even the back window was covered in mud. It was gonna be a bitch to clean, but that’s a problem for another day.

The Chevy slid in the mud, losing traction, sliding ever so slightly. Eddie squeezed Steve’s thigh, holding him down. “Eds —“ Steve braced himself against the door.

“I got it,” Eddie said, pumping on the brakes, regaining control of the truck. “Just a little slide action.”

Steve doesn’t know how long they were out in the fairgrounds. Long enough to get the truck coated in mud. There was no seeing out the back window and the side windows weren’t any better. Eddie was lucky enough that his windshield wipers were able to clean the front windshield enough that he could see the highway as they left. But instead of turning right to go back into town, he turned left.

“Hawkins is that way,” Steve frowned.

“I know,” Eddie said. “I got one more spot to show ya. There’s a road by Hagan’s feedlot that’s usually muddy.”

“God, the feedlot smells,” Steve groaned.

“And it’s gonna smell worse during the rain,” Eddie grinned. “Just hold your breath, it’s just past the feedlot.”

Sure enough, the feedlot reeked. Eddie turned down the dirt road just past the feedlot, driving about a mile down the road where the slightly wet dirt road turned muddy. The road was full of divots and potholes, bouncing the truck with every movement. The mud started to fly back up onto the windshield as the rain started to come down again.

Then, Steve noticed the hill.

The truck started to go up the large hill, stuttering in the mud. Steve swore the truck even slipped backwards a little, but Eddie didn’t flinch.

“Eds —“

“I got this,” Eddie said, pressing on the gas and shifted gears. The tires spun, kicking up more mud against the windows. The rain started to pour harder. Steve reached over his shoulder for the seat belt.

“Eddie —“ Steve said as his seat belt clicked. Eddie squeezed his thigh, letting go so he could grab his seat belt with one hand, pulling it over his shoulder and to his hip. Steve reached over and buckled it in for him. Eddie shot him a quick wink, returning his hand to Steve’s thigh.

“Ready?” Eddie asked. Steve wasn’t sure if there was a choice, now that they were at the top of the hill —

“Oh fuck —!”

The Chevy Cheyenne went over the hill — Steve swore they flew in the air for a brief moment, feeling his gut and his ass leave the seat — and then they went down.

The Chevy was going fast, Eddie’s foot off the gas as they made their way down the hill, kicking up mud and shaking in the truck. Thunder sounded around them. Rain poured. Eddie squeezed Steve’s thigh. Steve grabbed his arm, wrapping his own around him. The Chevy shook, mud landing on the windshield, quickly washed away as the rain grew heavier and heavier. Hail hit the windshield. The traction slipped, sliding ever so slightly, enough to make Steve’s gut drop.

“Eddie —!”

“I got it,” Eddie said, letting go of Steve’s leg and gripped the steering wheel. He pumped the breaks, attempting to slow the truck down. Eddie turned the wiper switch on high, watching them try to push the rain water and mud away from the windshield. The rain poured harder. The road evened out at the bottom of the hill. Eddie could barely see out of the windshield with how heavy the rain was. The truck shook with the winds.

Steve reached for the radio, moving the frequency from FM to AM. Crackling over the speakers came the weather report.

“This is the National Weather Service with an urgent weather report. Severe thunderstorm warning is issued for the following counties: Clay, Greene, Hendricks, Monroe, Morgan, Putnam, and Roane —“

“Just a thunderstorm,” Eddie said, his grip still so tight on the wheel that his knuckles were turning white. “It’ll pass. We’ll be okay once we get out of the rain.”

“Is there a paved road soon?” Steve asked, feeling his heart hammering in his chest. Eddie pressed his lips together. “Ed?”

“About three more miles,” Eddie said. “Or I can try to turn around and we take that hill again.”

Steve couldn’t look out the passenger window, the mud too thick on the glass. He could barely see the road in front of them, let alone how deep the ditches are or when the next cross road was.

“Let’s keep going —“

“A tornado watch has been issued for the following counties: Greene, Monroe, and Roane —“

“Eddie —“

“Got it,” Eddie clenched his jaw, pressing on the gas.

“What’s worse,” Steve asked. “A tornado watch or a warning?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Eddie said. “We hardly get tornadoes. It’s not gonna happen —“

“A tornado warning has been issued for northwest Roane County —“

“Shit,” Eddie muttered.

“Eddie —“

“Yeah,” Eddie nodded. “That’s — that’s us.”

Steve nodded, clenching his jaw. He pulled on his seat belt, as if it would tighten more than it already was.

“It could be anywhere,” Eddie said raising his voice over the wind, holding the wheel tight, focused on keeping them on the road. “Hawkins is in the northwest part of the county. Doesn’t mean it’s touched ground. Just seen. Just —” Eddie shook his hand, barely above the wheel, frustrated. “Keep a look out.”

“I can’t see shit, Eds!” Steve shouted, winds whistling through the windows. The rain curtain made it near impossible to see out the front of the truck. “Pull over!”

“I can’t just — pull over, Steve!” Eddie snapped. “The ditches —“

“We should’ve stayed home!” Steve yelled.

“Trailer ain’t got shit against a tornado,” Eddie punched the steering wheel. “Fuck!”

The winds grew stronger. The truck shook, shocks bouncing like it did on the fairgrounds.

“Eds —“

“I know, Steve —“

“No, Eds —“

“I can’t just pull over —“

“Eddie!” Steve smacked Eddie’s chest, leaning over and pointed out the window. “Fucking stop!”

Eddie glanced out the window, watching a funnel cloud form, twisting in the air to the northeast. “Fuck!”

He slammed on the brakes, instantly regretting it as the truck started to swerve, threatening to spin as the rear wheels lock up. Eddie jerked the wheel, correcting his mistake and keeping the truck on the muddy road. Eddie pumped the brakes, feeling the truck slowly but surely come to a stop.

It felt surreal, in the midst of a storm. The whistling wind shaking the truck, the warm May temperature dropping ten degrees in a matter of moments. Rain and hail banging on the cab’s rooftop. No words exchanged from the boys, just heavy breaths and heartbeats. It wasn’t until the NOAA weather alert repeated for the third time since they stopped, that Eddie realized Steve’s hand was pressed against his chest.

Even then, they couldn’t take their eyes off the funnel cloud, getting bigger by the moment. Winds getting stronger and stronger until —

The tornado touched the ground.

“Holy fucking shit.”

Eddie nodded. “Holy fucking shit is right.”

It didn’t seem like they could do anything but watch.

Eddie wished they would’ve stayed home.

“Eds. Eddie,” Steve said, leaning forward in his seat. “It’s — it’s moving.”

Hell.

Sure enough, the tornado changed courses, no longer heading their direction, but parallel to the highway only a half-mile away. The rain started to lift. The hail stopped.

Eddie let out a laugh.

He reached out, grabbing Steve’s shoulder and shaking it. “God, Steve. I — I think I pissed myself.”

Steve laughed, leaning over and catching Eddie’s lips with his own. “Holy fucking shit.”

“Holy fucking shit is right,” Eddie said, smacking the steering wheel a few times. “Okay,” Eddie laughed, putting the truck into first. “Look, I know it was a mess, but if we go back over the hill —“

“What if we didn’t.”

Eddie raised his eyebrow, looking at Steve. “Then we’re following the storm. Storm’s past, I’ll go slow —“

“What if,” Steve said, a little stronger, slower. His eyes shining with something Eddie’s still not quite sure about. “What if we chased it.”

Eddie laughed in disbelief. “Chased it,” he said. “The tornado?”

“Yeah,” Steve said, a small smirk on his face. “Or are you too scared?”

Eddie’s face broke out into a shit eating grin. He leaned over the center seat, pressing a kiss against Steve’s lips. He leaned back, smacking Steve’s chest a few times, “That’s my country boy! Let’s fucking go!”

Eddie leaned back into his seat, pressing on the gas. Steve let out a laugh, as Eddie switched to second gear. Soon, they ran out of the dirt road, hitting the pavement. Eddie turned right, catching the rain. The tornado was now in full sight through the muddy windshield, maybe two miles out in the country. It wasn’t a large tornado, even close by, Eddie felt like he had decent control over the truck with the wind speeds. Nothing like they experienced minutes before.

They watched as the tornado tore up the pasture.

“You think —“ Steve said, stopping as if he was questioning himself. He looked at Eddie, a curious look on his face. “You think we could get closer?”

“Can we get — yes,” Eddie shot Steve an award winning grin. “Get ready, we’re going off roading.”

“Off-roading? Eds—!” Steve braced himself against the dash as Eddie drove off the road, into the ditch and into the pasture. He drove at an angle, trying to get closure to the tornado, while trying to keep up with it. Steve laughed as the Chevy shook, hitting uneven dirt and mud. Eddie pressed on the gas, shifting gears, speeding up.

The wind grew stronger as they grew closer to the tornado. Blowing pieces of wheat and hay around them. It was one thing seeing the tornado miles away, but up close? It was terrifying and beautiful at the same time. The way the wind controlled and destroyed the land. Dirt clouds at the bottom, the rain clouds following the top. Steve’s seen pictures of damages from tornadoes. Towns leveled by only a few minutes of a tornado. Lives changed in a matter of moments.

And they were following the danger, no way to stop it. No way to prevent the destruction.

That is, until the tornado slowed. They started to catch up on it. Eddie lowered gears, slowing down. Eddie knew. Steve was just figuring it out.

This was the end of the tornado.

Soon, the dirt settled below. The storm clouds above remained, but the rain lightened to a sprinkle. The tornado became smaller and smaller, thinner and thinner until it no longer touched the ground. Then, it practically faded into air, settling down for good and clearing the air.

“Damn,” Eddie said, putting the truck into park in the middle of the pasture. “Fun while it lasted.”

“Really fun,” Steve grinned. “We going storm chasing again tomorrow?”

“Jesus Christ,” Eddie laughed. “Hates the rain, he says! Spends all day locked indoors. We have awaken the real storm here.”

“Guess you could say rain’s a good thing,” Steve grinned. Eddie leaned over the middle seat, catching Steve’s lips with his own. “I think you owe me a milkshake.”

Eddie leaned back into his seat, rocking the truck as he does. “The storm requires a milkshake! To the King, we go!”

Eddie revved the engine, putting it into first gear and pressing on the gas. The Chevy Cheyenne stays true to its country boys, kicking up dirt as it jerks into motion, working its way through the pasture and back onto the pavement. Steve looked over at Eddie, grinning and humming to the radio now that the frequency was off the weather and back on FM. Eddie looked over at Steve, grinning. He placed his hand back on Steve’s thigh, squeezing. Steve put his hand over Eddie’s, running his thumb over Eddie’s knuckles.

Sure. Steve might be afraid of storms, but with Eddie by his side? He could face a fucking tornado.

[moonstruckme]

Camping

summary: the wilderness favors James over you, but it does have some redeeming qualities

cw: mentions of blood, minor injury

James Potter x fem!reader ♡ 1.6k words

Camping hadn’t sounded like such a bad idea last weekend, when James had suggested it. You aren’t a naturally outdoorsy person, but you loved the idea of getting him all to yourself for a couple of days, and what could be more romantic than frolicking through the forest together, the soft light of a campfire, and sleeping under the stars? 

Frolicking, you think sardonically, slapping your cheek in yet another attempt to nail the mosquito that has been trailing you for the past hour, slowly sucking you dry. You could not possibly have been more naive in your imaginings of what camping would entail. Your legs hurt, your supposedly practical shoes are starting to chafe on your ankles, and you’re unsure if the back of your neck is itching from bug bites (completely undeterred by the bug spray you’d applied at the car, by the way) or your ceaseless sweating. You feel tired, and sticky, and sore. 

“Oh, look!” James calls from a few paces ahead of you. “There’s a river up here.” 

You try not to resent him in times like this, but there’s something seriously unjust about how easily your boyfriend has taken to the wilderness. You suppose it simply boils down to one fact: James loves the world, and it loves him right back. A light sheen of sweat has him glistening in the sunlight, his muscled legs effortlessly navigating the landscape, and the breeze has tousled his curls just so as to make hair stylists worldwide mad with envy. He even seems to be getting a tan, whereas you’re strapped into what he calls your “sexy hat”—a beige, floppy thing with vents and a chin fastening—to avoid a sunburn. 

You push ahead on shaky legs until you’re beside James, looking at what appears to you to be more of a creek, or a stream maybe, than a river. 

“Nice,” you say, smiling with all the enthusiasm you can muster. “Wanna go for a swim?”

“Uh, absolutely,” James says, and you suspect he was only waiting for you to ask so it’d be your idea. He sets off for the water, discarding his backpack a few feet away and all but diving in. You follow more warily, not loving the idea of a fish or some other mysterious river dweller brushing up against you, but the prospect of cool, flowing water washing the dirt and sweat from your legs has you stepping out of your shoes and wading in. 

James grasps your hands to keep you from stumbling as you approach him in the middle of the stream. The water here comes up almost to the hems of your shorts, and you’re considering tossing your clothes to the shore if it means you can experience this icy relief all over your body. 

“This is fun, yeah?” James grins, and your heart contracts guiltily as you realize you may not have been as covert with your dissatisfaction as you’d thought. It’s not James’ fault the outdoors doesn’t treat you as kindly as it seems to treat him, and you have no intention of ruining what should be a perfect trip for him. 

“Yeah, it is.” You return his smile, bracing your hands on his shoulders and standing on tiptoe to kiss him. 

He returns your efforts with gusto, pressing his mouth to yours so ardently you have to take a tiny step back to keep your balance, and a sharp pain goes through your heel. 

You gasp, almost biting James’ lip as you rear back. 

“What?” he asks, instantly concerned, and you grip his shoulders tightly, hopping around awkwardly on one foot. 

“I don’t know.” Your foot stings, the water ripping at it even as you do your best to keep it motionless. “I think I stepped on something.”

James curses. “You aren’t wearing water shoes?”

“I don’t own water shoes,” you cry. 

“Okay, sorry,” he says, both of you speaking more sharply than you’d prefer. “Alright, let’s get out.” He picks you up with strong arms under your knees and shoulders, and you can easily blame it on the pain if you swoon a bit as he carries you to the rocky shore, setting you down gingerly. 

You curl your wounded foot close to you, a puddle of watery red already forming on the rock beneath you. There’s a piece of glass stuck in the skin of your heel, soft and already slightly wrinkled from the water, and it’s panic more than hurt that has invisible fingers closing in a suffocating grip around your throat. 

“You’re okay,” James says, watching you with his own barely-leashed panic swimming in his eyes. “Can I have a look?”

You nod, letting him take your ankle cautiously and bring your tender foot onto his lap. You make a small sound of protest at the blood you’re getting on his shorts, but he shushes you, gripping the protruding piece of glass between his fingernails. 

“I’m gonna take it out, okay? Then we can clean it.” He looks at you for approval, and all you can do is nod again before he’s removed the intruder from your heel and your blood is flowing even faster. You hiss at the pain and in mourning for the stain that will certainly never come out of James’ poor shorts. “Aw, I’m sorry, angel,” James coos, grabbing antiseptic spray you had no idea he’d brought from his backpack. He makes short work of cleaning and covering your wound, and even kisses your gross, river-scented foot when he’s done, though the comically small band-aid covering the cut really puts things into perspective for you. 

You’re doing your best to rally the gung-ho attitude you’ll need to get through the rest of this trip when James says, “I know it’s early, but you probably won’t be able to walk much on that for a little while. Want to go ahead and set up camp at that clearing we passed earlier?” and frankly, the idea of this ordeal being over with for the night is too good to pass up. 

“Sure,” you say, trying to feign some reluctance, and he kisses you on the forehead before hauling you up. 

You’re grateful for James’ selfless character (and his sturdy frame) as he lets you lean some of your weight on him, in addition to the not-insignificant weight of his backpack, while you limp the fifteen minutes to the clearing. He takes the tent from his pack as soon as he’s set everything down, unrolling it and placing the first stake at a corner. 

“Here,” you crawl over, taking the mallet from him. “I can do that.” 

James gives you a look like you’ve sprouted a second head. “No,” he says, taking the mallet back from you and starting to hammer in the stake himself, “you’re hurt.”

You can’t help it; you laugh. “Jamie, a cut in my foot hardly keeps me from using my arms.”

He only shakes his head at you. “You just rest, sweetheart. I’ve got it.” 

You consider protesting further, but he seems serious, and eventually you simply shrug, scooting into a patch of shade to watch him work. If your boyfriend wants to do all the hard work, far be it for you to prevent him.

And as the evening goes on, James actually does insist on doing everything for you. He sets up the tent, builds the fire, heats your dinner, and even fashions a little cushion for you to sit on out of a spare blanket. You argue that you’re not all of a sudden made of glass when he won’t let you roast your own marshmallow, but James won’t hear it, and soon you’re lying on the cool ground, using your blanket cushion to pillow your head and looking at the stars. 

“We can start back to the car as soon as we wake up tomorrow,” James says over the chirping of crickets and croaking of frogs, his head just a few inches from yours. “I’m sure you want to be in your own bed.”

“What?” You push up onto your elbow, looking down at him in disbelief. “No, I’ll be okay to walk tomorrow.” You’re fairly sure you were okay to walk today. “Don’t cut the trip short on my account.” 

James only looks at you glumly. “Sweetheart, you weren’t having any fun today. You were miserable, and then you got hurt.” His brows scrunch like even the memory is agonizing for him. “I don’t want to make it worse by having you walk on it all day tomorrow.”

You’re officially the worst girlfriend in the world. James had been looking forward to this all week, and as soon as you’d gotten here, you’d made no secret of how little you were enjoying yourself. “James, I’ll be fine,” you promise. “I was being a wimp today, and now I know what to do to make it easier for myself.” More bug spray, to start with. You sigh, laying your head on his shoulder. “I didn’t mean to spoil your good time. Let me try again tomorrow, okay?” 

“You’re sure?” You can’t see James’ face, but there’s no mistaking the hope in his voice. 

“Positive. You’re so sweet for offering to go home, though.” You tilt your head up until your lips find his, the kiss short and sweet. “Thank you.” 

“Don’t want my girl to have a bad time,” James says, sitting up and pulling you with him so he can kiss you more fully. He casts a forlorn look at your foot. “My poor, injured girl.” 

You grin, bringing your unscathed leg around to straddle his lap. “Not so injured I can’t do anything,” you remind him.

James’ eyebrows rise, his lips slowly curving upward. “Oh, yeah?” he croons, pulling you closer by your waist. “I mean, if you’re sure, sweetheart. But the sexy hat is going to have to stay on."

[v0rewhxre]

QUICK SHORT THOUGHTS (MDNI)

If you remember how back in the One Direction Days, everyone would create those short blurbs about each of the boys? Well here's one with the Bad Omens boys!

MDNI!!!! 18+++++++

CW: SMUTTTTTT: f masturbation, mentions of male masturbation, dom/sub talk, talks of p in v, talks of rope play, talks of handcuffs, some fluffyness (Let me know if I missed any!)

This is my first go at writing something smutty in a long long time so go easy on me :)

How each boy would interact while you masturbated in front of them:

Noah: Noah is a little bit devious when it comes to allowing you to masturbate. On one hand, he LOVES that you feel sexually free enough to masturbate in front of him. He loves the confidence you have in doing it, despite the sheepish smiles you give him when you catch his eyes. That man STARES right at what you're doing with your pussy. When he's in a sub mood, you make him beg to look at your throbbing pussy. And boy does he whimperrrrr when you finally allow him. When he's more dominant he'll tell you what to do. He punishes you by rubbing his own cock, which he knows you get slightly jealous of. Why does he need to use his hand when he has you. It becomes a competition, who moans the loudest, who is going to cum first. It turns into Noah pulling you to the edge of the bed and fucking you doggy style. After you both finish, he helps you with aftercare which turns into him munching on you for a bit.

Folio: Folio is a very sweet boy, and he is submissive to your every will. You have him handcuffed and tied up, forcing him to watch as you ride your dildo in front of him. "You wish this was your cock love, right?" "Could you make me feel this good, love?". He politely says, "yes ma'am" with quick nods. His cock is so angry and hard, bobbing with every moan you let slip. He has tears streaming down his face, watching as you enjoy your toy more than he thinks you enjoy him... which isn't correct. Eventually, you guilty conscious takes over and you decide to make love to Folio instead. Riding him slow and sensually, kissing away his tears when you finally let him cum. You press your forehead against his as you finally allow yourself to finish. Once you're done , you'd both get in the bath and goof around with the fishing rod you bought him (which is a toy that is made for 3 year olds for the bathtub).

Jolly: Jolly is a little selfish, he loves the idea that you would want to get off in front of him but why is he not involved more. He wonders if your vibrator feels better than his fingers on your clit, he also wonders how often you do this when he's not there. When you close your eyes, you better be thinking of him. He often breaks the 'don't touch, only look' rule by slowly creeping his hands to your caress your thighs. Eventually he is sitting so closely that your butt is in his lap. He is slowly rubbing his tip all around your over-stimulated and over-wet slit, he can't help but join in. He doesn't even let you cum by yourself, he's fucking the shit outta you. You both finish at the same time, ending the night lounging around naked playing guitar together.

Nicholas: Let's be real Nicholas is a LOVER, but he also has quite a dominant side about him. He would lovingly watch you, not watch you play with your pussy or the way you use your toy, but intently stare into your eyes which drives you CRAZY (in many ways)! "Nicky look at how wet I am!" "Nicky, look at how well I play with my pussy". But he wouldn't, he would just stare at you with love which honestly made everything feel much more intense. He would watch you cum, and then fuck you slowly and punishingly afterwards. He would edge you until you were practically screaming, begging for some type of release. Only when he was ready to cum would he allow you to go over the edge with him. You both end up a sweaty mess with tangled hair. You would both fall asleep in each other's arms, Nicholas' lips pressed into the top of your head.