#full face mask for the win

[alvindraperzzz]

Cassie progressively got worse and worse at hiding her secret identity

Like, she started out strong. A full on wig, plus skateboard goggles? Excellent, 10/10 disguise. But then she got excited. She’s part of the myth! Shes Wonder Girl! She’s a hero, and she wants people to know. Okay maybe not everyone, but definitely the people she knows. Like her good pal Georgia, who showed up one Wonder Woman issue already in the know.

She walked up to a new classmate and flat out told him she was Wonder Girl. He didn’t believe her, lucky for her. Not her brightest plan.

Rushing out in her pajamas with no time to grab the wig. Supposedly this is where she blows her secret identity (the first time) but no other comic ever mentions this again so I guess nighttime and chaos saved her.

Then she ditches the wig entirely. No mask, no wig. Skateboard goggles rarely over her eyes, instead pushed up into her fringe (an iconic fashion choice, but not much good for covering the face and hiding a secret identity)

Agent Fite ids her immediately (not entirely on her, as Bart and Kon also aren’t great with the whole secret identity thing)

Boy howdy, Cissie’s friend Cassie sure looks a lot like Wonder Girl. Funny how Young Justice members keep showing up around their school (Cassie is so bad at hiding her identity that I’m amazed she didn’t accidentally expose Cissie too; everyone say thanks Anita)

She punches that werewolf through the roof in front of a whole crowd of people (Cassie, I really doubt they��re going to believe steroids)

Finally, Cassie’s secret identity is officially blown (for real this time) when the Silver Swan attacks her school. She never looks back, once they get the no-school-will-accept-her thing settled.

[subskz]

that video of channie getting shy oh my GOD!!!! ☹️🥺 it rly blows my fucking mind that people don’t notice how shy and cute he is. he’s literally the epitome of babyboy i’m sick

right it’s pure insanity ㅠㅠ i can kinda understand if someone’s first impression of him comes from when he’s performing since he’s got such a strong presence, but literally just 5 minutes of seeing how he behaves is all it takes to realize what a baby he is 😭

[sunsetsimon]

i just know simon is the cutest when he laughs. usually he just huffs and shakes his head, amused but not enough to laugh. oh but if he does, suddenly you win the funniest person to ever exist award, because he never laughs! he always covers his mouth with his hand or turns to the side, refusing to let his smile be seen. it's a low 'heheh' sound, almost inaudible from being muffled under his mask. his broad shoulders tremble, his body shaking as he holds back his full laughter.

when he's at home though, you get to see his face uncovered, exposing all of his emotions. the way he curls his lips, trapping them together to not allow himself to laugh. the way his pale cheeks to his neck flush a bright pink when he finds something really funny and can't hold back. how when he's a bit drunk with you things flow easier, soft laughs and touches from him throughout the night.

plus he laughs at the dumbest things too. you'll be watching a video with the straightest face and then simon just goes "pffft," and breaks out into laughter. he loves when you're telling a story about some dumb shit that happened while you were out or something you saw, especially when you're telling him so passionately, it always gets a good chuckle out of him.

[kurooh]

QUICKIES ! — HAIKYUU

⊹₊˚. he thinks the rush and risk of a quickie with you is the best feeling ever.

⟡ feat. timeskip! miya atsumu, bokuto kōtarō, iwaizumi hajime, kuroo tetsurō.

⟡ warnings: 18+ content (mdni), f! reader, creampies, oral sex [m&f], cum swallowing, wall sex, public sex & exhibitionism, degradation, fingering, squirting, sex against a window, not proofread !!

⟡ xoxo, juno: my heart goes out to the neglected haikyuu fans on my blog. this is for you <3

��� MIYA ATSUMU.

“tsumu,” you pant, head falling back into the lockers behind you with a small thud that’s unheard over the sound of skin against skin.

you’re balancing on one jelly-like leg, back pressed into the lockers, the other leg hanging on his arm, toes curling. “oh, right there, tsumu, please,” a breathy whimper leaves your parted lips, and he angles his hips slightly, snapping his cock into you harder. each thrust punches the air out of your lungs, and atsumu knows he won’t be able to last much longer if you keep clenching like this, your pretty face scrunched with pleasure from him.

“fuck, babe— ughhh, yer so pretty like this..” he buries his face in your neck, the pace of his hips becoming unsteady and erratic as he gets closer and closer to coming undone inside you. in the not so far distance, you hear talking and laughing, but ignore it.

your pussy throbs, gummy walls sucking him deep, and he groans out your name, pressing you harder into the lockers. “mmmh, ‘m gonna cum, where d’ya—”

“inside, want it in me,” you cut him off with a whiny plea, “want it dripping out while i watch the game.”

your hand races to press into the small of his back, in an attempt to make sure he doesn’t pull away or out. with a grumble of your name that makes his chest shake, he cums inside of you, just as a door opens nearby.

“tsumu,” you whisper in a panic when he doesn’t make any move to pull out after a few seconds, effectively plugging you full of his cum, “we have to get dressed for your game, y-your friends—”

“nah,” atsumu huffs, staring at your flexing pussy; his cum drips from you, slipping down your thighs mesmerizingly. he practically has hearts in his eyes looking up and down your body.

“i think we’re a little early, kiyoomi,” hinata’s bright voice is suddenly a few rows of lockers away.

“prep before a game is most important,” sakusa replies sternly, “practice and a shower before always guarantees a win, shōyo.”

atsumu’s already in his shorts, helping you pull on an msby jersey, stamped with his number on the back. his cum drips from your cunt as you quickly move past his teammates with a wave, mumbling a dumb excuse as you race out the door.

“atsumu,” sakusa pulls on his mask almost immediately, his guard up. “surely you noticed your girlfriend wearing the jersey backwards.”

— BOKUTO KŌTARŌ.

“you’re gonna win, kou, i promise,” you interrupt your boyfriend’s enthusiastic and nervous rambling, lips trailing over his inner thighs.

“i-i know, but this game is important!” he emphasizes, swallowing thickly as your fingers hook into the waistband of his shorts and boxers. the clothing slides down his thighs, settling at his knees, and you inch closer to his cock — rock hard, hot to the touch, tip sticky with precum.

bokuto chokes out a hushed groan, tangling his fingers in your hair and cupping the back of your head the second you take him into your mouth. he helps you take his entire length into your mouth, spurring you on with his whines and mumbled curses.

“b-baby, fuck, you’re so perfect, ughhh—”

you choke when you finally make it all the way down to his base, your nose practically touching the coarse hair covering his pelvis. eager hands begin to guide you up and down, his tip hitting the back of your throat as you move. bokuto gasps out a string of hazy apologies when he heard you gag particularly hard, but he doesn’t stop— instead, he cups the back of your head firmly and fucks up into your mouth, the movement of his hips sloppy.

“y-you wan’ me to win, right?” his head drops back, the creaky sounds of the locker room bench growing louder beneath him. with your one of your hands positioned on the wood for support, you feel the bench shaking hard.

you nod, your eyes moving from his abs up to his scrunched face; he’s biting down on his bottom lip, worrying it between his teeth, his golden eyes half lidded and teary.

it’s almost filthy, the way bokuto rises off the bench, pushing you away from him before cupping the back of your head— he draws his hips back, leaving his tip in your mouth, then slams all the way inside.

tears spring to your eyes at the force, and you only move closer to him to allow him to use your mouth, or his ‘good luck charm’ before games.

“hahhh, that’s right, take it just like that,” bokuto grunts, “god, you’re gonna make me cum.”

heat rushes through your body and pools in your pelvis, wetting your panties at his words; his well muscled chest, gleaming with sweat, rises and falls rapidly as he pants. as his orgasm approaches, his thighs and abs tense as he buries himself deep in your throat, pulling you close to his pelvis.

his cock thickens on your tongue, throbbing as he finally fills up your throat with his cum; still sensitive, he whimpers as you swallow around him. slowly, bokuto pulls out of your mouth, his cock still hard.

he quickly pulls up his shorts, tugs you to your feet, and gives you a tight hug. “i’m gonna win today, and it’s all cause of you!” he mumbles excitedly into your neck.

“sounds good, kou,” you laugh, rubbing his back. “after the game, meet me back in the locker room, ‘kay?”

— IWAIZUMI HAJIME.

“mmmh, princess— loosen up a little for me, can barely move,” hajime hisses into your ear, spreading your thighs a little wider with his free hand. he curls his fingers inside you, prodding at your sweet spot and stretching out your tight pussy with their girth.

your nails press crescents into his strong shoulders through his shirt as you hold him for support in humping yourself onto his fingers. “t-thank you, haji, i needed this, ah!” your voice cracks when he starts to scissor his fingers in and out of you at an unforgiving pace.

“‘course, baby..” he leans in for a chaste kiss, his olive eyes closing as his lips touch yours.

despite being a hardass with his team, shouting and sometimes even swearing at them, hajime would always be gentle and loving with you all the time. often, you are his outlet when it comes to letting off steam — either through soft or rougher sex.

although he’s disciplined and strong willed, he always melts when you cling to him, eyes shining as you take his hand in yours, guiding him inside your shorts to feel your damp panties. “need you, haji,” was all you’d said earlier, and then he had you on his lap with his big fingers buried in your cunt, the two of you tucked away beneath the bleachers of the gym, right before practice starts. hajime always has time for you.

“o-oh, hajime!” you cry, pushing your face into his chest, feeling the muscle beneath his fitted shirt, “i’m c-cumming, ‘m—”

your hips jerk backwards, his fingers slipping out of you, and your face burns as you squirt all over his lap, his hands, and yourself. a sharp gasp leaves you when you realize you’ve soaked him and his clothes, right before practice.

“h-hajime, i’m so sorry, i—”

he cuts you off by grabbing your chin firmly, tugging you to look at him. “don’t be, babygirl,” he lets you go and slowly starts to slide you off his lap, gesturing for you to stand up.

“i just wanted to make you cum, it’s okay, i still have some time to change,” he murmurs, getting on his knees and wasting the changing time; his tongue slides over your wet inner thighs, and he starts to lick up your cum.

your hands tangle in his dark hair, and you pull him closer to your dripping pussy, eyes rolling back when he presses a wet kiss to your clit.

— KUROO TETSURŌ.

“wow, couldn’t even wait till my lunch break, huh? w-what—shit, so tight—a slut.”

kuroo’s words are shaky, grunted out from above you as he fucks you, bent over with your palms pressed against the window. the glass is smeared with the combination of perspiration and your scented lotion that makes him go insane, the one that has him grabbing you all over.

“harder, tetsu..” you whisper, toes curling in your socks; your short skirt is flipped up, panties wet and pulled to the side. he’s supposed to be leaving his office for a meeting in the next 5 minutes, but when you showed up all pretty and flashed him just a little, he couldn’t resist.

the door wasn’t even closed, and here he was pushing his cock inside you and sliding his large hands under your shirt to grab at your tits.

“you like me fuckin’ you with the door open, right in front of the window, hm? fucking you just like a whore, baby.”

your puffy cunt clenches hard around his cock, and your head falls forward with a needy mewl, drinking in the sight of kuroo’s balls smacking into your clit, his cock pounding in and out of you.

“oh?” he slaps your ass, drawing a whimper from your lips that has him gritting his teeth and tossing his head back, “you like being called a whore, don’t you? you like me using your—ughhh, fuck!—s-slutty pussy like this, yeah?”

“yes, tetsu, god yes,” you keen, hands sliding down the glass as your eyes roll back and your back arches for him, “don’t stop don’t stop, please—”

you hope kuroo will be able to cum before his assistant comes by to remind him of the meeting that’s only a few minutes away — you hear her pushing away from her desk to come to his office, and you can’t find it in yourself to care or be any quieter.

[ilyyoomi]

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ unexpected pda — timeskip! sakusa kiyoomi

sakusa kiyoomi x gn! reader

sakusa kiyoomi isn’t big on pda, he’s the type of guy who prefers showing his affections towards you in private— behind closed doors where it’s just you and him.

though there were rare occasions where he’ll pull you closer by your waist in front of his teammates or lace his fingers tenderly with yours as the two of you are out on a stroll— it always takes you aback, since it doesn’t happen much (as much as you’d wish for it to).

but even with those moments of public affection there was nothing that could’ve prepared you for what he pulled after his victorious match against the schweiden alders.

that day you were standing next to your boyfriend, with an arm full of the gifts he received from his supporters (which you offered to carry) while he was busy signing autographs and accepting many more congrats. then an interviewer interrupts him begging for a second of his time to answer a question. sakusa reluctantly agrees since he was in a good mood.

“congratulations your teams victory! is there anything you plan to do to celebrate this big win?” the interviewer asks holding a microphone up to his mouth covered by his white mask.

sakusa takes a moment to think, and you smile to yourself ready for him to answer with a nice dinner date by the beach with you, or something else cheesy along those lines to satisfy the interviewer. what you don’t expect sakusa to answer with is unhooking his mask from one side of his face so the other covers the onlooking camera recording and crowd to peel off his mask and plant a quick, but sweet kiss on your lips.

“lots of that.” sakusa answers, then loops the other side of his mask back where it belongs like he didn’t just kiss you in front of thousands. but the way his ears were glowing red says otherwise.

both you and the interviewer, especially you have your mouths dropped open at his unexpected display of pda.

your face feels like it’s being baked by an oven, and your brain is going haywire at the public kiss making you unable to speak. sakusa smiles from underneath his mask, finding your reaction amusing and cute.

sakusa doesn’t like pda but sometimes, just sometimes he’ll kiss you in front of a crowd for thousands to see.

authors note: my first post here :) i hope you enjoyed! reblogs or comments are appreciated <3

[cyber333angel]

logan fucking you for the first time in your hyper girlie room and he’s enamoured by you when he’s railing into you and you unconsciously grab a plushie that’s close by to hold on to it 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫

you and logan typically hang out and do “stuff” at his house, for no specific reason other than it’s just easier for the two of you to be there. although he does have a larger house than your comfy little apartment, you spend most nights at his house making use of the kitchen that he never used until the two of your started dating — his house was simply a house until you came along, making it a home filled with good memories. you suggested a sleepover at your apartment one day, straddling his hips as you talk to him, playing with his hair. “you want me to stay at your house?” he ask and you nod your head smiling, “mhm! we are always at your house, you never get to really see mine other than when you drop me off.” and logan agrees, it’s not like it’s a big deal or anything plus he gets to stay in a house that’s filled with smells like you so it’s a win-win.

when it’s the day that logan comes over your apartment is all clean, candles lit and a tidy space. you get up from the couch gleefully as you answer the door, giving him a hug and a kiss when you see him, leading him further into your apartment. the day is filled with a lot of fun where you cook dinner together, force logan to do face masks with you and bake cookies. so as the older man is washing up the last of the dishes you come up behind him, hugging at his waist. “when your done come play with me lo..” you whine, all day has been filled with kisses and teasing but you haven’t gotten to do what you really craved from him. “ive been playing with you all day bub, you gonna tell me what you really want?” logan says looking back at you, your already looking up at him pouting on his back— he knows exactly what you want, he just thinks it’s so cute when you struggle to say it. “don’t be mean.” and you hesitate to say it, almost embarrassed as if you guys haven’t already done everything together. “want you to make me feel good, want you to fuck me logan..” you say the end at a whisper as he dries his hands from the sink and turns around, taking your jaw and kissing you. “see how easy that was, hm? don’t worry ill make you feel good.” he says picking you up and playing you on the island of the kitchen, sucking and biting at your lips like he hadn’t eaten for days. he lifts off the baggy shirt you had on throwing it on the floor as he travels to your neck giving them pecks with his hands traveling down your spine.

he picks you up again and you giggle as he almost speed walks to your trinket, plushie filled bedroom. logan always knew your fondness for stuffed animals, he even got you a lot of them to add to your collection but when you sleep over at his house you don’t really need a bed full of plushies, you only need him. so as he throws you on the bed, he’s slides down your shorts and panties, kneeling in the carpet next to the bed as your legs rest on your shoulders. he chuckles when he glides a finger up your slick folds, “all this for me huh baby?” and you whine at his touch, nodding your head swiftly. “yes s’all for you daddy..!” with that he lowers his head to your cunt licking up a stripe to your clit, sucking on the bud of nerves. he takes two fingers prodding them at your hole before sliding them in, preparing you for his dick. after a couple minutes of him stretching you out and a lot of gripping at the sheets, he decides your ready to take him. standing up and pulling your body to face him, he unbuckles his pants taking his cock out his boxers. he spits in his hand rubbing it all over his cock, jerking at it until it’s fully hard and takes your thighs pulling them around his waist. “im gonna put it in now alright bub?” and you nod in approval, watching him as his positions it at your entrance slowly pushing it in. you wince and logan shushes you, assuring you that your doing so good for him. “atta girl, look its all in..y’re okay.” he says rubbing your rubbing your lower stomach as he starts thrusting slowly, giving you a little more pressure and fast pace each time. eventually you get more relaxed and logan gets rougher, thrusting into faster and harder and you just get so stimulated, grabbing at everything next to you to get some relief since he’s fucking you so hard your mind is starting to go blank. you grab the plushie that closest to you and bring it to your chest— holding it so tightly as logan holds your thighs apart pounding into you. he sees this, chuckling at your little furry assistance. “am I going too hard on you bubba? hmm, need daddy to slow down a bit?” he says rubbing at you knees and you shake your head no, “no s’good lo, just trying to keep u-up..” and he gets what you mean, he knows you feel good but sometimes he forgets how much stronger and how much more stamina he has than you. “oh I see, ill help you cum then sweetheart, not that little plushie.” he says smiling and you giggle throwing it at him. he rest some of his body weight down on you as he holds you in his arms, kissing you and thrusting at a rough pace but a bit slower at the same time. he reaches his hand down to your pussy, finding your clit and rubbing it in circles, you start to get close to your orgasm blabbering in his hold. “hngh..” you cry out as your eyes go half lidded. logan watches your face as you almost come undone, “m’gonna cum lo-logan!” and he just nods, whispering little nothings to you on your way to your orgasm. “oh I know baby, give it to me c’mon. thaaats it good girl.” he says as you shake underneath him, nails scratching at his back as you pant out of breath leaving red marks across his skin. healing immediately of course but the sting still feels good to him, and as you come back to your senses you see that logan didn’t cum yet. “mm lo’ you didn’t cum yet?” and he laughs at you for a moment, leaving you a little confused. “we aren’t done yet bub, might wanna get one of your little plushies ready.”

[ilylovelyz]

⍣ ೋ the times they cried because of you

☆ includes ushijima, iwaizumi, atsumu, kageyama, bokuto

USHIJIMA WAKATOSHI — he never cries. you met this guy when the two of you were young freshman in high-school, and you quickly became a good friend of his. that being said, you never saw him cry. even when the two of you began dating in your senior year, you still never did. years passed, and it was the same as the previous years. sure, he occasionally got upset, but even then, he still put on a stoic display, never really letting you in on that side of him. even at your wedding, he sure showed some emotion but he didn't cry. then came the birth of your first child.

"she's so cute, isn't she 'toshi..?" you said weakly, forehead still damp with sweat, bodu trembling with the aftershocks of your hard, long labor. your eyes fluttered open, focusing on the sight of your dear wakatoshi holding your newborn baby.

your heart fluttered at the soft image of your husband holding the tiny baby closely again his chest, his forehead mere inches away from the baby's forehead. it was barely there, barely noticeable. if it weren't for the reflection of light, then you wouldn't have been able to see the way his eyes were glazed over, corners red, tears brimming at the borderlines of his eyes.

he was so memorized, so in love with this product of you, this product of his and your love. god, you just make him the happiest guy on earth.

with a grunt, he sniffled lightly, trying to mask his emotions. "yeah.."

IWAIZUMI HAJIME — he hates crying. but being the responsible and knowing person he is, he knows that crying is inevitable. but the "strong", reliable guy in him wants to punch himself every-time he feels his eyes sting at the feel of salty tears brimming at his waterline. unbeknownst to you, he would avoid you every-time he felt like he was going to cry, usually hiding in the locked confides of the bathroom. he thought he was hiding it well, until one fateful day where it all came crashing down..

"haji?" you said on the other side of the door. he immediately shot up, his eyes darting to the doorknob. he always made sure to lock it, but today, he was just so exhausted and down that the idea of a lock was forgotten. crap, "hey wait-," before he could even rise up from his slouched kneeling position on the bathtub's side, you opened the door unknowingly. "i just need my–hajime?"

there he was, in all of his fucking glory, hunched over, his face long and clearly expressing his hurt feelings. his heart fell to his stomach, his vision going cloudy as his day just kept getting worse. "hajime?" you called out once more, only your tone had softened, more light and tender. you reached a hand out to him, eyes full of concern. he couldn't help but jolt away from your hand, eyebrows furrowing at your softness.

he didn't like your tone. why are you looking at him like that? like some sad kicked puppy lost in the middle of nowhere? it made him feel so small, so weak. "haji.. are you okay?" you whispered, crouching down to his level outside of the bathtub. you attempted yet again to touch the side of his face, lightly pressing your fingertips against his cheekbone before fully pressing your palm against the side of his face.

his lips trembled as he was just a second away from breaking down, his eyes locked on a single object as to hold on to the last of his will. you sighed softly at his resistance, of course he wouldn't want to cry in front of you, but you don't understand why, afterall, what makes a person weak for crying? "it's okay, hajime."

with that, fat tears finally ran down his cheeks, his eyes shutting close as he finally broke at your words. he could only grab onto your hand as you climbed into the tub, his head going straight into your chest as he sobbed and wailed.

MIYA ATSUMU — surprisingly, you've seen this guy cry many of times before. he cried when getting accepted into nationals, winning nationals, just crying at things any normal person would do. but he never cried for you. no, he held himself to higher standards. he'd never cry for someone, not even for you. yeah, he loved you, but he wasn't about to cry for someone like a little child. all high and mighty, he never thought you would actually have an affect on him like you do now. him being someone who wears his heart proudly on his sleeve, he found himself getting into an argument late at night with you, too prideful to back down.

"are you serious atsumu?! you know i'd never do that!" you yelled, voice hoarse and scratchy due to the ongoing screaming match between you and your boyfriend. "oh really?! then why were ya' 'll over that fucker earlier? huh?!" he yelled back, pointing out the way you were seemingly flirting with a guy at the club earlier.

but you weren't? you would never do that, you're not a scum. "what?! we were just talking?! am i not allowed to TALK to people atsumu?" you scoffed, arms crossing defensively. "if you wanna consider talking as flirting, then let's talk about that girl you were laughing with the other day? huh? let's talk about that!"

his eyebrow raised at your counter, fumbling nervously as he wondered what to say. "w-wh- you know what?! fuck you! i don't know why i'm even dating a bitch like you!" he said, almost immediately regretting his words when he saw the way your eye's widened at his harsh words. the apartment was finally silent as you registered his words, he wishes you had any sort of expression on your face, but you had nothing but a stoic and emotionless face.

"okay then," you finally said, arching your eyebrow in a taunting way, resting your hand down on your hip. "bye." you followed, grabbing your bag and your keys, turning your back on him.

he watched, frozen in his spot as you exited out the apartment with your composure. his body jolted when he heard the slam of the front door, finally letting out that breath he was unknowingly holding. he scoffed at what you said, clenching his jaw tightly as he tried to hold onto his pride. "damn it." he said.

he felt the tear roll down his cheek before he could even register that he was crying. "..damn it!"

KAGEYAMA TOBIO — to him, life is volleyball. his childhood consisted nothing of volleyball, and so will his adulthood. maybe his obsession with volleyball was a little extreme, but you never really minded. he respected you greatly for your patience, he wasn't dumb, he knew that his priority of volleyball was evident, so he always tried to make it up to you by spending time with you whenever you wanted. but it seemed like after awhile, he began to take your patience for granted. it wasn't until the nth time when he didn't show up for the nth date was when he realized.

kageyama was careful to shut the front door as quiet as he could, tiptoeing as he took off his shoes and walked throughout the dark hallways and into the master-bedroom. he jolted like a cat when he sat you sitting up on the side of the bed, back facing the doorway.

"y-you scared me. what are you doing up at this time? it's nearly 10PM." he stuttered obliviously. it was silent for a few seconds before you sighed, slowly turning your head to face him. "you forgot." you muttered before turning back to look at the wall. forgot? forgot what? it was then he noticed the way your hair was done, still clad in a pretty dress.

"o-oh.. the date! i-i'm sorry y/n, i promise i can make it up to you"— "don't bother." you interrupted, voice stern yet monotonous. what do you mean 'don't bother?' you love going on dates don't you? his lips pursed into a straight line, chewing on his bottom lips nervously. "w-what do you mean? i really promise, this thursday i have a free day.." he trailed off when you suddenly stood up from the bed.

"i mean that i think we should break up." his heart dropped at your words, eyes widening. break up? his mouth was agape, mind spinning with different solutions and apologies. before he could detest, you walked over to the corner of the room, pulling up a suitcase that he didn't even notice.

"b-but why? you said yourself that me and you are meant to be together?" he cried out, quickly rushing over to your side and grabbing onto your wrist. he watched your face closely, eyes taking note of every single feature of yours. you inhaled deeply, still refusing to look at him.

"i said that when we were in high-school and didn't have any major responsibilities. things have changed, we aren't in high-school any more. you're now a pro-volleyball player with big responsibilities, and i'm.. someone who clearly has too much time on their hands, wasting it on someone who can't give me any of theirs. it's not your fault, kageyama, but we just don't align anymore."

you finally said, tugging your hand away from his grasp. before you could take a step, his hands were once again on you, gripped onto your shoulders, forcing you to look at him. "but.. you said you would be there for my game at nationals.." he whimpered out, tears threatening to spill from his eyes.

it was then, when you were finally walking out of his apartment, out of his life, was when he finally did realize, that maybe, he did take your patience for granted..

BOKUTO KOUTARO — this guy cries a lot. he's cried so many times you might have to start writing it down somewhere. he rarely masks his emotions, he's an open book. thats what you love so much about him, that he's so open and honest. you love the way he's so eager and sweet, you love the way he's always willing to talk to you and so damn clingy it's like you have your own personal koala. aside from the times he's happy, he's sad, sad because he didn't perform well, or because you didn't kiss him. but you never really made him cry, you'd never do that. or so you thought.

"y/n!! i missed you!" you hear a booming voice yell, his footsteps speeding up at the sight you. he paid no mind when you didn't respond to him, as you were currently hunched over the your work desk, laptop gleaming at you brightly. your back was turned to him, so you were basically calling him for a back hug.

"y/n!" — "not now koutaro." you interrupted, tone serious and stern. he raised his eyebrows at you with surprise, his arms a few inches away from your shoulders as they stilled in their preparation to hug you. "babe? is something wrong?" he asked curiously, lips pouting at your stern denial. you never decline a hug. you love them. right?

"i'm working. can't you see that?" you spit out, sighing deeply. you pull away your cramping fingers away from your keyboard, rubbing them over your sore eyes. "my gosh." you mumble under your breath, eyebrows intensely furrowed with stress. you had been working for a few hours straight, staring at nothing but a bright screen with words that were becoming incoherent to you.

you yelp out when you're suddenly pulled from your chair, being lifted up into bokuto's strong arms as he spins you around. "don't be so sad!" he says cheerfully, hoping to cheer you up with a big warm hug. only— this seems to make you mad. "put me down, koutaro!" you yell, pushing his chest away and forcing him to practically drop you.

"don't you see i'm working?! why are you so damn clingy? you're so annoying, god, why don't you just leave me alone?" you spit out. your words are like venom, stinging his heart greatly as his hair is quickly deflating once your words reach his ears. you simply return to your laptop once you've finished, typing mindlessly once more.

him? annoying? he didn't mean to annoy you..

he couldn't help but softly whimper, left standing in shock. he opened his mouth to say something before your previous words were reminding him to stay silent—leave me alone. he clutched his palms, looking at your turned back with teary eyes. he hopes you don't find him annoying for long..

[if-loves]

on the question of love

// Yandere Capitano

sum: you refuse to eat. capitano makes sure you do.

wc: 966

warnings: probably OOC capitano

a/n: the capitano brainworms are going crazy

likes & reblogs are appreciated :)

“A monster like you doesn’t know love.” Your words are cold and biting, the hatred in your eyes burning. Capitano pays you no mind as the two of you walk to the dining room, maids and guards at every door in between. He knows you’re trying to provoke him.

On the table lies a wonderful selection of dishes, the delicious aroma wafting through the air. No words are exchanged as you sit at the opposite side of him, and he makes no move to eat. Instead, he leans backwards in the chair and clasps his clawed hands together, as if asking you to. You know he’s trying to provoke you.

You refuse to make the first move. Even as your stomach growls, even as your throat thirsts, you’re adamant about winning this imaginary fight.

The clock ticks as each second passes by, the shuffling of shoes the only accompanying noise. The food has grown cold, you’re sure.

Capitano doesn’t seem to be provoked in the slightest. He looks all too happy to sit there for hours on end, watching your refusal of sustenance. Between the two of you, he knows he’ll win this fight; after all, you’re just a hungry little rabbit trying to intimidate a wolf.

“Eat, dearest.” He finally speaks, shivers running down your spine. You can’t see his face let alone his eyes, but you know he’s staring you down.

“I refuse.” You will yourself to continue this rebellion, knowing full well that if there is anything a military captain hates, it is that. However, he doesn’t make any visible indications of displeasure or frustration, only the same icy indifference.

“Is that so?” He hums, and you think it’s quite a horrible sound. All of a sudden, your heart starts pounding and you have an urge, a very strong urge, to run away, to hide, to save yourself. Your fears are given a reason when the once lax man stands, his chair screeching against the floor as he drags it over to your side.

“W-what are you doing?” The stutter in your voice is unavoidable when a monster like him is sitting mere centimeters away from you, and even though you’re trying to quietly move away you find yourself trapped in his presence.

“Merely performing my husbandly duties.” Before you can react, his arm shoots out to grab your jaw, trapping you in his grasp. Perhaps he is unaware of his strength, or perhaps he’s doing it with intention, whatever the reason may be it doesn’t change the fact that you’re sure a bruise will form.

With a leg, he pushes your seat to face him, and locks your legs between his own. His grip has yet to falter, and you’re starting to think that when he does eventually let go (because he has to, right?), you’ll be wearing the shape of his hand for a few days.

With his free hand, he takes the spoon and scoops up some of the food, and brings it to your lips. You’re forced to open, chew and swallow, a wordless threat hanging in the air.

“If you insist on acting like an undisciplined mutt, then I shall treat you like one.” Is all he utters as he almost shoves another spoon into your mouth, and tears of humiliation start to form. You’re vaguely aware of the guards stationed at the doors, of the maids and butlers roaming the mansion, but all you can do is pray for this to be over.

He is insistent on not giving you a moment to breathe as he forces spoon after spoon down your throat, and you can do nothing but let it happen to yourself because what can you do against a Fatui Harbinger? What can you do when faced with one of the strongest beings in Teyvat, except abide by his will?

An eternity has passed when he lets your face go. You’re still trapped between his legs, the darkness of his mask staring at you. Blinking the remaining tears away, you turn away, refusing to look at him, especially not after how he just humiliated you.

“There’s no need to be pouty, beloved.” His horrible, horrible voice calls out to you, and you vaguely feel his hands caressing your cheek. When he stands, his shadow envelops you, and you dread what he intends to do next.

Without warning, his arms slide under your knees and behind your back, and all of a sudden you find yourself in a bridal carry. It feels wrong, unrealistic even, to say that he is doing it gently; a monster like him doesn’t know that word, let alone how to express it.

Capitano is silent as he brings you back to the bedroom he’s forced you to share with him, settling you on the begrudgingly soft bed almost delicately as if he wasn’t just forcing food down your throat.

“You say I don’t know love.” He murmurs, a clawed finger resting idly on your cheek. The sharp tip traces unknown shapes lightly, careful not to dig too deep. You close your eyes and find yourself at a loss for words.

“Perhaps you think I have not the capacity for it.” He lays with you, helmet settled to the nightstand. You don’t feel quite so safe.

“And maybe so. War is not a kind master, and neither am I a kind soldier. However…” The bed rustles quietly as he pulls you into his embrace, his warmth engulfing you like the start of a wildfire.

“If the ache I feel when I am forced to part from you, if the yearning that nestles itself deep in my heart when I am apart from you, if the devotion I feel for you isn’t love… tell me then, darling, what is?”

You don’t quite know either.

[montimer]

Deadpool x reader

Gn!reader,him gaining a crush on ya

He tries not to believe it. Is there even a scenario where you would love him back?

He tries his best to push these feelings away. But he just can't help it, i mean why you gotta be so beautiful and kind to him and your voice, gosh- but the more he tries getting his mind off you the more it hurts. Especially if he goes to drink at a bar and gets so drunk he ends up with someone next to him in the morning.

So instead he lets his obsession grew.

Oh you're shopping? He just happens to be there too! Don't question it, he'll start yapping and drags you with himself.

He invites you over more than usual. You wanna watch a movie? Play games? If he wins he gets a kiss- whoa what,who said that?

He'll wanna have sleepovers. Throw pillow fights and no he won't sleep on the floor, make some space for him. Incase you don't tell him to sleep on the couch he'll totally not creepily stare at you as you sleep. Sure he'll fall asleep,,eventually.

He gives you tiny hints that he loves you. But of course you won't really catch them, after all he acts freaky with everyone.

And by flirting i mean, putting a hand around your shoulder. Telling you that you are gorgeous and calling you nicknames. Showing you a heart with his hands and so much more.

If you let him he would love to hug you every now and then. Tho his hugs get longer and longer the more you let him closer to you.

Speaking of which, he'll let you see his face and know more about his past only after a longer time.

But even then, when he took off his mask and expected a disgusted look or a mean comment, you just smiled at him and reassured that he is beautiful inside and out. Can you be any more charming? He just fall head over heals all over again.

You laugh at his jokes and think hes cool? He is wordless.

He will try to kiss you through his mask and will do it if you don't push him away. "Smooch me!"

Sometimes he stares at you with out noticing.

His room is full of stuff that you gifted to him and photos of you (where he got it? Oh don't worry about it..)

And if you happen to be a hero/etc, he will have a plush and other merch of you around.

He'll even give you a mini version of himself. To keep you safe he says.

He loves to be around you and is overly affectionate.

He squishez his eyes into a smile upon seeing you. He'll wave at you and everything.

He'll draw you silly pictures (mostly the two of you holding hands and being lovey-dovey)

He also leaves you flowers.

If you say nice things to him it'll blow his mind. By nice i mean stuff like "You are cute!" Or "You're the best!". Yeah you really think so? His heart feels like its beating stronger.

He speaks before thinking rather often. He lets his stranger thoughts out. Such thoughts like "You're so hot". He stares wide eyed at you after. Then comes the awkward laugh, just laugh with him please.

Anyways get used to it cuz he'll make your life a living hell, or maybe heaven?

He would ask you to move into an apartment with him, and he won't stop asking that question. Wouldn't it be less lonely and more fun to have a roommate?

He just can't come up with a way to confess..maybe the job will do it itself? No Yes,yes it will Wade don't worry.

[dirtyvulture]

No Glory

Beefy!MMA Fighter!Natasha Romanoff* x Fem!Stripper!Reader

18+ only, read at your own risk

Word count: 3570

Summary: Your club gets a visit from rising boxer Natasha “Black Widow” Romanoff.

*Nat has a 🍆 and is a virgin

AN: Been working on this one for a while... 😉

Sometimes Natasha wonders why she chose this path in life. The chain-link fence of the octagon cage rattles from the spectators’ excitement, reminding her that she’s only here for their entertainment. The eyeballs and cameras drink in the violence and bloodshed like an elixir, the crowd cheering for more. They didn’t pay all that money for a ten-second fight that ends with a single punch to the temple and a body lying still on the mat. They want to see the full three rounds, pushed to the last second, where the fighters can hardly stand straight and blood soaks through the mats.

She circles the pen warily, shifting her weight back to her left leg because her right thigh has swollen to a near-bursting point after taking a rapid succession of roundhouse kicks that probably could’ve fell a house support beam. Blood drips into her left eye and she hopes her eyebrow is at least still attached to her face. She lifts her hands to protect what’s left, her forearms and biceps aching, but she knows if she doesn’t end things soon, she’ll be the one laid out while the audience celebrates.

Her opponent, a pixie-cut blonde with a few inches over her, bounces on the mats with a seemingly endless supply of energy. The only visible damage Natasha’s left on her is a fattened bottom lip. Natasha is annoyed, wishing she had done a better job wearing her opponent out so the end wouldn’t be so difficult. 

She shuffles forward a few steps as much as her injured leg will allow, causing her opponent to bounce back in response. She fruitlessly throws a few punches, which her opponent blocks effortlessly. Her opponent might have the capacity to play around with her the rest of the evening, but Natasha doesn’t have the time. 

She moves backwards now, practically inviting her opponent in for a free hit. When Natasha sees the light of realization in her opponent’s eye, she knows it’s over. She momentarily shifts her weight to her right leg, a spike of adrenaline masking the pain long enough for her to spin on her heel, lifting her left leg as high as she can manage. Her left heel connects with her opponent’s jaw with a satisfying crack.

“KNOCKOUT!” the announcer roars. “Danvers is down!”

Natasha wobbles on both legs as the referee jumps in between her and Danvers, lying frozen stiff on the mats with one arm still raised. She is momentarily jealous of Danvers’s unconsciousness, wishing she could lay down too, but when she sees the look of shock in Danvers’s eyes as she comes to, she isn’t jealous anymore.

“Your winner…Natasha ‘Black Widow’ Romanoff!”

She turns to face the audience, raising a fist and hearing their screams and cheers grow louder. But the win feels empty to her. There was not much at stake at an amateur fight and her reward would be even less after her manager/coach/adoptive father took his cut. Training would be even worse with her new injuries and she already had another fight scheduled in less than a week. As she squints through the bright lights shining down on the octagon, she looks out at the audience, knowing she won’t find you there but wishing she would.

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

“Hey, turn that up,” you say, catching a glimpse of the TV in the mirror.

“Why?” Wanda asks, smearing red lipstick around her mouth. “You’re not into MMA.”

“No, but that one client of hers is,” Jane chimes in and you feel her cheeks heat up. 

“Which one?”

“You know, that buff redhead.”

“Ohhhh.”

You tune them out to focus on the fight. You didn’t really consider Natasha Romanoff a client of yours because she never seemed to want to get actually near you–you could always feel her eyes on you from afar, but every time you approached she suddenly turned icy cold, murmuring excuses and turning down your offer to take her to one of the back rooms for a private show. She was an enigma and a little rude too, but you found yourself hopelessly drawn to her. 

You watch as Natasha limps forward, before spinning around and kicking Danvers in the face. 

“KNOCKOUT! Danvers is down!”

You try to hide your smile. You knew she could do it. She might not have had the greatest track record, but she was still just starting. Maybe she’d come visit you tonight as a way to reward herself, and maybe you’d finally get a real chance to be with her. You turn back to your mirror, reaching for the mascara. You always wanted to make sure you looked the best when she came in.

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

Natasha watches unblinkingly as the nurse presses the enormous ice pack to her bruised thigh, holding it in place with a plastic wrap she’s sure she’s used in the kitchen before. Her ankle is elevated on a chair and she’s only in her underwear now so she caught a full glimpse of the damage Danvers caused before the ice pack hid away most of it. 

She winces when a second nurse pinches the skin above her left eyebrow and presses on a pair of butterfly stitches. 

“How did you win but Danvers walked away better than you?” the first nurse says to no one in particular. Natasha doesn’t answer. 

“I bet the gamblers were not happy with that upset tonight,” the second nurse responds. 

“My daughter knows how to give a show,” a deep Russian voice slurs from behind them. Natasha doesn’t move to acknowledge her father lumber into the locker room. “Very good today, Natasha. Very, very good.” A heavy hand slams painfully on her shoulder and she jolts. “You almost had me fooled, too.” He shakes her and Natasha holds onto the sides of the flimsy metal chair she’s propped in so as not to fall to the floor. “But I trained you well. I know I did.”

“Yes, Dad,” Natasha mumbles, trying to shake his hand off her shoulder. She just wants to be away from everyone now. She hardly cares that it’s her first win in weeks. These were the last people she wanted to be celebrating with.

“Alexei!” The manager walks in next. He’s shorter and smaller than Natasha’s father and Natasha only knows his name as Dreykov. He wears thick-rimmed glasses and has his thin gray hair perpetually slicked back. “I’ve got a good payday for you.”

“For once!” Alexei cheers, walking over to Dreykov. The men share an awkward but enthusiastic handshake, before Dreykov reaches into his coat pocket and pulls out a wad of cash. Natasha swears she can see the dollar signs in her father’s eyes as Dreykov begins peeling and counting bills.

“We’ll be celebrating tonight,” Alexei says as he proudly accepts the money. Almost like it’s an afterthought, he turns towards Natasha and offers her a single, hundred-dollar bill. “Here you go, honey. Treat yourself tonight. Go to that club that you like, but don’t bring any of the girls home.” He and Dreykov laugh. Natasha snatches the bill out of his hand. She knows she’s owed more for her share, but she’s too tired to complain. She hates the situation she’s gotten herself into, but knows there’s no escaping it now.

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

Your eyes scan the club, your vision so well-adjusted to the dim lighting and red LEDs that you can still see faces perfectly well. Either she’s not here yet, or she’s playing her usual game and hiding in the corner with a beer.

Wanda bumps your hip with hers and you remember to keep moving down the catwalk, continuing your performance for the rowdy men cheering by the edge of the stage. But you’re not interested in a single one of them tonight. You’re waiting for the redhead to appear, because this time, you aren’t just going to ogle from afar. 

Natasha carefully lifts herself into a stool at the corner of the bar. The ache in her leg is softened a little by the painkillers her father forced her to take before she left the gym, so she orders a Coke instead of her usual beer. She takes a sip, letting the sugar dissolve in her mouth, and rubs her eyes, suddenly feeling a wave of exhaustion hit her harder than Danvers had. Maybe she should’ve just gone back to her apartment and slept instead of coming here.

“Hi there.”

Natasha nearly jumps out of her seat. You’re suddenly standing next to her, and you look even more beautiful up close. 

“Um, uh…” Natasha splutters, trying not to spill the Coke on herself and setting it back on its coaster. “Hi.”

“I saw your fight earlier. The girls all pitched in for the pay-per-view,” you say.

“Oh.” Natasha feels her cheeks heat up as red as the mood lighting in the club. “That was nice of them.”

“I knew you’d come here to celebrate your win. Congratulations.”

“It was a lucky kick,” Natasha deflects, feeling infinitely embarrassed by your praise.

“No, you won fair and square,” you insist.

“Thanks,” she finally concedes.

“Not even a beer tonight?” you ask, gesturing to her glass of bubbling Coke.

Natasha shakes her head. “I didn’t want to mix alcohol with painkillers.”

“Oh. Sorry about that.” Natasha hears pity in your voice and her stomach twists. She wishes she could appear stronger and cooler. She’s worried that she’s not living up to your expectations as an MMA fighter, even though she had just won a fight (a first in weeks).

“Can I get you something to drink?” she squeaks, desperate to distract herself from the self-loathing.

You wave her offer away. “I was thinking maybe we could go back to one of the private rooms tonight. If you want to, that is.”

“Me? With you?” Natasha blushes as red as her hair. “I…um…” she splutters. “Sorry, I don’t think I have enough money for that right now.”

“My treat,” you say, putting your hand on her forearm, which tenses up considerably under the leather jacket she’s stretching out.

“Oh, that’s um…very nice of you for offering,” she stammers, pulling her arm away. “But you don’t have to. I don’t want to take your time away from paying customers,” she stalls. 

“I want you,” you emphasize, and it makes Natasha’s stomach do somersaults. She’s dreamed of this moment for months, but resigned herself to the fact that she would never have the confidence to ask you this herself. You probably deserved someone much better than her, not a loser who allowed herself to get beat up for a living. 

“Are you sure?” Natasha asks, giving you one final chance to walk away. She didn’t want you to do anything you might later regret.

“Yes,” you assure, and there’s no way someone as dense as Natasha can mistake the passion in your voice for anything less. Natasha finally takes your hand and she hopes you won’t mind the callouses roughening up her palm. She looks around, as if she’s embarrassed someone will catch her with you. But no one is paying attention with the dancers on the stage, where Natasha would normally watch you from afar.

You take her past the bathrooms, through a door she had never noticed before, to an empty hallway marked with more doors. Buzzed on excitement and nerves, Natasha hardly notices the ache in her leg anymore. 

“This one,” you point out the third one on the left and usher her in. 

Natasha isn’t quite sure what she expected, but it almost reminds her of a hotel room. However, she notices there’s no lock on the inside of the door. 

“Um…” Natasha stands there awkwardly behind you as you close the door. “I need you to know something,” she blurts out.

“Yes?”

“I’m a…um, I mean…” She doesn’t know why it’s so hard to admit, she would rather fight Danvers again with both hands tied behind her back. “I’ve never done…this before,” she says lamely, her face reddening in shame.

“Oh.” Natasha deflates when she hears your reaction. “Well, that’s okay,” you add quickly and she stares at you while holding her breath. “I’d love to be your…first.”

“Really?” She doesn’t want you to see her like a chore you have to get done so you can move along your day. “I’m sorry I never approached you first and just watched you from the bar like a creep. I just thought you were so beautiful that you’d never want to give someone like me a chance–”

You lean forward and press your fingers to her lips. Her eyes widen at your touch but she finally picks up the courage to gently lift her hands to your hips, beckoning you to close the distance between the two of you. 

“Are you sure?” Natasha whispers one last time, her breath warm on your cheeks. You nod as she quickly presses her lips to yours, still carrying an air of nervousness. “Should we…the bed?” she suggests, cringing at how crass it sounds.

You hide a chuckle and allow her to lead you to the queen-sized bed, where she sits on the edge first, parting her legs so you can stand between them. You lean down and kiss her again, this time with more passion, and she cups your cheek with her rough palm. She feels the sudden tightening in her pants and shifts her leg to adjust herself.

“It’s your leg okay?” you ask.

“Um, it’s not my leg…”

“Maybe I can help?” you propose, turning your focus first to her belt and then her zipper.  Natasha tries to help you but you push her hands away; instead, she lifts herself off the bed so that you can pull down her pants and boxers. She moans when your hand closes around her shaft and starts tugging at her gently. 

“Y/N,” she whispers, rocking her hips slightly to push more of herself through your hand. Your hand feels infinitely better than hers ever has and just the thought of what your pussy might feel like has her head reeling already. 

“Do you like that?” you ask, ghosting your lips over hers. Natasha tries to kiss you but pulls back and gasps when you squeeze her head, collecting the pre-cum that dribbles out on your finger. She watches with wide eyes as you bring your finger to your mouth and suck it off, and she throbs even harder in your hand.

“Please, Y/N,” she begs, and even her legs are shaking now too (but she suspects that might also be because her muscles are weak).  

“Sit down and take your clothes off,” you tell her, taking off your jacket and tossing it on the floor. Natasha eyes your curves with a spark of lust, but she doesn’t touch you without permission. She hastily tries to follow your instruction, wanting to watch you undress instead, but with a few fumblings rids herself of the leather jacket and the plain white T-shirt she had been wearing underneath. You’ve left yourself in a pair of lacey lingerie as you crawl onto the bed to join her, pushing her back until her spine bumps against the headboard.

“Still okay?” you ask, straddling her waist but mindful of the enormous dark bruise on her right thigh.

“Can I touch you?” Natasha asks, almost squirming underneath you in desperation.

“Of course,” you say, guiding her hands to your hips where she squeezes them roughly, sliding to the backside of your thighs and pulling you towards her. Her hard cock is pressed against her abs when you fall against her and she jogs her hips to create a slight friction between your bodies. You rock forward, smearing some of her pre-cum onto your stomach. Natasha gasps at the sight and feels herself harden even more, until she’s afraid it’s about to burst on the spot.

“I don’t…know how much longer…I’ll last,” she pants, trying to slow the movement of your hips. You’ve hardly touched her and she isn’t even inside you yet, but the shameful thought deflates her just a little bit.

“Just a little more,” you tease, wrapping your hand around her slick cock and pumping it back to full mast again. Natasha grunts and moans, her muscles flexing in an impressive display for you as she tries to enjoy the pleasure without ruining the moment. Her fingers slip under the band of your panties, but you slap her hand away and she looks up at you guiltily.

“Let me,” you insist, leaning back to slowly shimmy out of your panties. Natasha is worried she’ll start drooling when you finally expose yourself to her, where she can see the glimmering wetness of your anticipation. “Look what you’ve done to me,” you say as you lower yourself to press your wetness against her cock. “Feel it.”

“Fuck, Y/N,” Natasha mumbles, wondering if you can feel how hard her cock is throbbing for you too. She cants her hips up to slide herself through your heat, even though the movement reminds her of the pain in her leg. “I need you, baby.”

“I need you too,” you say, moving to match her rhythm. It fills Natasha with happiness to hear you say this; she’s never had it said to her before and quite literally spent most of her time as a punching bag for others. But even if you’re just caught in the heat of the moment and only viewing her as a favor, she wants to enjoy this and couldn’t be more excited you chose to spend time with her tonight.

“Did you bring protection?” you ask, startling Natasha out of the moment.

“Oh…um, yes. It’s in my wallet,” she says, reminded of the little foil packet one of her sparring buddies had given her as a joke. They wouldn’t be laughing anymore when they learned she had finally gotten the chance to use it.

There is an awkward pause as you lift off of Natasha enough for her to slide out and grab the wallet in her jeans, tearing open the packet as she gets on the bed again. Her hands are trembling as she tries rolling the plastic over herself, but you end up helping her finish. 

“Thanks,” she mutters, embarrassed by her own helplessness.

“It’s okay.” You kiss her forehead and hold onto her shoulder with one hand to steady yourself, the other hand gripping onto her shaft and guiding it towards your entrance. “Ready?”

“Yes,” she says, holding her breath and squeezing your hips tighter. 

She easily slides into you, trapping her in a velvet heat that seems to swallow her whole. The two of you moan in unison and Natasha holds herself very still, torn between wanting to bury her entire length in you and not wanting to hurt you. Her heart is racing with exhilaration but she patiently waits for you to start moving, the arousal in her stomach spiking to an almost painful point when she feels how easily she moves through you.    

Her back arches against the headboard when you purposely squeeze her and her nails claw at your thighs. 

“Come on, Nat,” you say, “Come and fuck me.”

Natasha doesn’t respond with words, but jack her hips up hard, meeting your thighs with hers with an audible slap. Her arousal is so strong now it completely drowns out the lightning bolts of pain from her leg as she pistons eagerly into you, trying to fit all of herself into you. She wants your tightness around every inch of her, massaging her in the best way she’s ever been touched before. She can feel herself leaking in the condom and knows it won’t be too much longer until she busts completely. 

But she wants you to feel good too, and doesn’t want to focus too much on her own pleasure. 

You bounce higher with every one of Natasha’s thrusts and she starts to lose her rhythm the closer she gets to release. Her hips and abs burn and she buries her face in your chest, mouthing at your breasts in a last-ditch effort to distract herself, but to no avail. 

Natasha finishes in a few hard spurts that seem to drain all the energy out of her. She lays back limply against the headboard, the muscles in her thighs still twitching. Your riding slows to a full halt as you wait for her body to stop shaking. Natasha reaches up to stroke your face tenderly.

“Thank you,” she whispers, and you beam down at her.

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

Natasha opens her eyes, feeling like she had been hit by a bus. She looks around and doesn’t recognize the space, before she suddenly remembers her successful fight against Danvers, and then the night she had with you. 

But you’re nowhere to be seen now, although Natasha’s clothes, which she had haphazardly tossed to the floor, are now collected in a neat stack on a chair. She gets up to put her clothes on and her phone falls out of her jeans pocket. The screen lights up with text messages from her father, wondering why she was late to practice that morning.

The harshness of reality slapping her in the face, she hurries to dress. She isn’t even sure if she’s supposed to be here, but she finds a back door and sneaks out, unsure if she’ll ever have the confidence to return.

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

AN: Sorry this ended kind of sad, I’ve been really sad lately so it only made sense lol.

Please like, reblog, and comment! Follow for more content. 🥰

[sgt-tombstone]

My take on the "Shut up Soap" trope but make it fluffy because I love soft Ghoap

----

Almost everyone on base has told Soap to shut up at some point, to piss off, to go bother someone else. He tries not to take it personally; the military is a stressful career for anyone, much less the special forces he's surrounded by. He doesn't blame anyone for wanting a little peace and quiet every once in a while. He's even started to anticipate it, going into every conversation with the expectation of getting brushed off or, worse, told off. It makes the disappointment a little easier to bear, at least, and he's always pleasantly surprised if it doesn't happen. Win-win in his books.

The only person who's never done it, who's never made his presence feel like a burden, is Ghost.

He's never once told Soap to go away, to take his energy and chatter elsewhere. Even in the middle of tense missions or sleepless nights, he listens. Or, at least, he lets Soap talk. Doesn't tell him to be quiet.

Soap should know better than to question it, because the fastest way to make a good thing disappear is to draw attention to it, but like always, he doesn't know when to leave well enough alone. They're sitting in Ghost's office, the man himself busy with paperwork while Soap sits on the couch, deep in thought, when he finally gives in to the ill-advised urge.

"Why do you do it?"

As soon as Soap speaks up, Ghost caps his pen and sets it down, turning his full attention to his sergeant. He tilts his head in question.

"Do what, Soap?"

"That," Soap says, waving an arm towards Ghost as if to encapsulate the entirety of his being. "Ye never... Ye never tell me to be quiet."

"I enjoy your company," Ghost says with a shrug, as if were that simple, but Soap frowns.

"Aye, sure," he mutters. "So does Gaz, but even he's told me to piss off before. You always pay attention."

"Is that so odd?" Ghost asks, his eyes narrowing slightly, and Soap has gotten good enough at deciphering his masked expressions to know it's out of confusion rather than suspicion or condemnation.

"You're the only one who does, sir," Soap admits, a little meekly, chewing on his lip to ease some of the discomfort of the admission. "Even when you're knackered or getting shot at or ragin', ye don't tell me tae fuck off."

"Would you rather I did?"

"No!" Soap says quickly, maybe a little too loudly, and he's quick to settle again. "I just dinnae ken why, that's all."

Ghost is quiet for a long moment, his gaze heavy where it sweeps across Soap's face, and he can see the moment that Ghost comes to a decision.

"I know what it's like," he shrugs, aiming for nonchalant and missing by a mile. For the first time since Soap started talking, he drops his eyes to his desk, as if the weight of his confession dragged them down. He picks up his pen again but doesn't uncap it; he just fiddles with it, the only nervous fidget Soap has ever seen from him.

"What what's like?"

"To feel like a ghost in your own life," he says, so quiet that Soap has to lean forward to hear him, hanging off of every word. "To crave the connection that comes so easily to everyone around you. To feel immaterial."

Soap isn't sure what to say to that. It's like Ghost dropped a bomb in the middle of the room that neither of them are willing to address in case mentioning it lights the fuse. He's never heard his own feelings expressed so succinctly, especially from someone else's mouth, and it stuns him into silence, his eyes wide and lips parted in shock.

"You deal with it differently than I did," Ghost continues, looking back up. "You fight back; refuse to let yourself disappear. I embraced it, became the ghost I felt like."

"Do you," Soap starts, his voice raspy in his dry throat, and he swallows before starting again. "Do you still feel like that?"

"No," Ghost says after a pregnant pause, the single word steeped in meaning. Soap feels the gravity of it, caught in the warm depths of Ghost's eyes. "Not anymore."

And as Soap grins, comfort flooding his veins, more potent than whiskey, he thinks that they may have solved each other's problems after all.

[hannahbarberra162]

Emperor's Prize (Alpha Shanks x Omega Reader)

18+ MDNI, on Ao3

Oops! Accidentally wrote another yandere story. This time its Alpha Shanks and Omega Reader.

If I have to keep thinking about it, you can read about it. It’s cringe, it’s overdone, it’s annoying and I don’t care. I did proofread this, but I'll likely do so again in the coming days.

TW: depression, suicidal ideation mentioned, non-con, dubcon, whump, abuse

MIND THE TAGS!

~

Shanks gets more than just the Poneglyphs when he destroys the Victoria Punk, he gets you too. Shanks is kinder than your previous owner, but an Emperor doesn't let treasures slip through his fingers.

~

As you sat on the floor in Kid’s cabin, wrists shackled and chained to his bed, you heard the tell tale sounds of fighting. You knew that Kid was going after Red Haired Shanks in an effort to dislodge the Emperor and take his title. You would never say anything for fear of being slapped across the face or worse, but you didn’t think he was going to win. At least, you hoped he didn’t. You hoped the Emperor killed everyone on board, yourself included. It was what the crew deserved, and your torment would finally end. You would be free of the hell your life had become since the Kid Pirates had taken you from your home. It would probably be a better ending for you than anything else that would happen, anyway.

You’d been living on Beta Island incognito, hiding your status as an Omega. You didn’t want to be sold to a Celestial Dragon in your late teens, as your parents had planned for you. So you’d escaped your home island shortly before your 13th birthday, evading patrol after patrol, living your life on the run. Eventually, you found yourself on Beta Island, which suited you just fine. Only Betas were allowed to live on the island, avoiding all the trouble that the other two dynamics brought with them. You’d taken suppressants since your escape and because you’d never gone into heat, you were able to pass yourself off as a regular Beta. It had been an idyllic time for you, as you worked and made friends with the Betas on your island. You had even deluded yourself into thinking that maybe your life would be alright, when the Kid pirates attacked the island.

You were running away from the chaos and destruction downtown, trying to keep from being spotted as well as you could. Scrambling through an alley, you passed the Captain himself, who was laughing at the bloodshed and pain he was causing innocent people. You thought he hadn’t seen you but you suddenly felt yourself being dragged backwards, back towards the pirate. Panicking, you tried even harder to wriggle away and escape but it proved to be pointless. Later, you found out that he was magnetizing the grommets in your clothes to bring you towards him. Captain Kid grabbed you in his metallic hand once you were close and inhaled a deep whiff of your scent. When you were on suppressants, your ability to scent was dulled but you could still tell you didn’t like his acrid aroma. Kid smelled like sweat, blood, oil, and anger, not an appealing combination. Pushing on the gigantic metallic arm, you tried in vain to dislodge yourself from his grasp. 

“What’s an Omega like you doing on Beta Island?” he asked, crushing your ribs with his gigantic fist. You weren’t sure if he knew his own strength, but he was keeping you in his clutches with ease.

“N-not O-omega,” you grunted out, trying to breathe through the constriction of his hand. You were still squirming, trying to get away from the large pirate.

“Oh yeah? You sure? Your pussy smells like Omega. It’s practically cryin’ for me to take you right here,” he sneered. “Oi! Killer! Take this one back to the ship, lock ‘er in my cabin.” He yelled to a man in a full face mask. Leaning closer to your face, he licked your neck and leered at you. “We’ll find out later if that pussy is Omega or not,” he said, handing you off to Killer. You tried to get away from the masked man, to no avail. Killer was just as strong as his Captain and wasn’t letting you down. Kicking, screaming, pounding his back did nothing as the first mate advanced towards the ship. 

Quickly chaining you to the Captains bed, the first mate considered you for a moment. “I’m going to give you a piece of advice, Omega. Lose the attitude. Otherwise, you won’t last long here.” 

He wasn’t wrong. 

Kid had come back to his cabin once the pirates had sufficiently destroyed your peaceful home. You huddled in the corner of the room, as far as your chains would let you, but the Captain had you before him in seconds. Covered in the blood of your former friends, the Captain had disrobed you, ripping through your clothes like they were paper. 

“Lemme see yer,” Kid said, ogling your now naked form. You tried not to cower, but you couldn’t help but tremble before the raw bloodlust in his eyes. You’d never taken a lover before, you had been too nervous it would interfere with your hormones and expose you as an Omega. Kid's leering had led to groping, which led to much more. That first night he’d bitten, clawed, bruised, kissed, and abused you, leaving you broken in spirit and body. You never fully recovered. You quickly learned he didn’t want you talking, didn't want you making eye contact, didn’t want to hear your crying, didn’t want anything from you except your body. He used you as he saw fit, as ruthless to you as he had been to your island. He never even asked your name, most often calling you ‘Omega,’ or ‘Bitch,’ among other colorful names.

You were the Captain’s sex doll, and the crew treated you as such. No one paid you any mind except to tell you to move the fuck out of the way, or to laugh at you as you stumbled out of the Captain’s quarters when he let you. Killer would occasionally bandage your wounds, but Kid preferred you to wear the marks he put on you. Kid wanted the mating bond to form between the two of you, to solidify the fact that you were his and prevent any rivals from taking you. To do that, he needed to bring you into heat. To try to get you to go into heat, he had tried any old wives tale he could find. He locked you in his quarters, denied you food except for his cum, kept you naked for days on end, bit your neck in a claiming bite, anything that might work. None of it did, but it all left you weakened, depleted, and suicidal. 

Even though you could practically feel his disdain for you, Kid sometimes told you his plans late at night after he finished pumping you full of his come. As you laid with tears drying on your cheeks and blood dripping from fresh wounds he’d given you, he told you about his simmering hatred for Red Haired Shanks and how he wanted his revenge. During these conversations, you encouraged him, praising his strength and skill, and told him that he absolutely was powerful enough to take on the Emperor. You were surprised that your voice held out while you were talking, both from disuse as well as from the effort you had to put into lying to his face. Once when you voiced these opinions, he’d stroked your skin while in thought, the first time his touch hadn’t hurt you. 

The day finally came that he attacked the Emperor. You’d heard him powering up his attack, laughing maniacally as he planned to wipe out the fleet of ships you could see from his cabin window. You cringed, waiting for the sounds of the dying….except it never came. Instead, a sonorous voice boomed out “Divine Departure,” bringing a deafening blast to your ship. Screams had followed, but not the ones you were used to. Rather, you detected the screams coming from the crew, yelling that they didn’t want to die, that the Captain had been defeated, that Killer was also knocked out. 

You couldn’t help it, you laughed long and hard, cackling into the darkness that had consumed the ship. You knew your voice had been ruined from too much choking and screaming, your vocal chords permanently damaged at the hands of your would be Alpha. The sounds you made were harsh and coarse, like a ghoul laughing from beyond the grave. Normally you were too ashamed to speak with your butchered voice, but you were too joyous to care. You were happy he’d received vengeance for some of the violence he brought to the world. You could only hope the ship sank and the rest of you with it. 

A few moments later, the door banged open and Emma stood before you, tears running down her face. She didn’t address you, just unchained you from the post on the Captain's bed and pulled you along with her. She was carrying the Poneglyphs, the Captain’s most prized possession aside from you. Emma was running, giving you barely enough time to avoid being dragged, as she brought you to the center of the deck. She bowed, and when you didn’t follow suit right away, kicked you so that you fell to your knees. Glancing up, you saw why.

All powerful Emperor Red Haired Shanks was on the Victoria Punk, staring down the crew impassively as they pleaded for their lives. You dropped your head, not making eye contact with the Emperor. You’d been hit enough to know that Alphas didn’t want you making eye contact with them in any capacity. Shanks approached Heat, who now held both the Poneglyphs and the end of your chain.

Shanks POV

Shanks observed the panicking Commander as he advanced towards their Captain. Kid’s crew were begging for Shanks’s forgiveness, something that would not be given. They had tried to annihilate his subordinate crews and would have, if Shanks hadn’t acted so quickly. Drawing a gun was dangerous, it put your life on the line. And Kid had been given a warning when Beckman shot off his arm. Some lessons had to be learned the hard way. 

A young woman brought the Road Poneglyphs in her hands, along with someone attached to the end of a chain. Handing her Commander both items, the blue haired girl bowed in supplication to Shanks, awaiting his judgment. Noting the chained woman didn’t do the same, the girl kicked the battered woman, bringing her to her knees. Shanks took the Poneglyphs from the Commander, who also handed him the end of the chain of the cowering woman. Shanks had no interest in slaves, he didn’t keep or want any. The slave kept her gaze averted, looking at the ground as she trembled. Her body was littered with bruises in various stages of healing, as well as cuts and welts. She bore a savage mating bite that was clearly infected, along with bruising circling her neck. Breathing in deeply, Shanks hid his surprise as he realized the small woman was an Omega. 

Omegas were exceedingly rare in the world, they were either sold to Celestial Dragons for an incredible amount of money, or outright stolen from their homes. If an Omega bred with an Alpha or Apex Alpha during their heat, the offspring was guaranteed to be either an Alpha or Omega, unlike other pairings. Because the Celestial Dragons took or bought nearly all of the Omegas in the world, wild Omegas were unbelievably scarce. Shanks hadn’t heard of one being found in over a decade. How the Kid pirates had managed to find one and kept her a secret, Shanks didn’t know. 

He said nothing as his own ship passed by, his crew calling out to him. Shanks removed his Emperor’s cloak, covering the shivering woman in its warmth and his scent. Your small trembling fingers took the fabric and held it shut around your body, as you sniffed the material. You still hadn’t said a word or looked at anything besides the floor, but there would be time to investigate later. Throwing the Omega over his shoulder, Shanks took the Poneglyphs in hand and stepped on the railing of the enemy ship. You were light and put up no struggle when Shanks took you, the only sound emanating from you was the clinking of your chains.

“Look over on the island!” Shanks heard the offending crew yell as he launched himself onto the Red Force. The Omega didn’t shout or scream, just gripped his shoulder a little more tightly as he darted into the air. Landing on the Red Force, Shanks yelled out for Hongo.

“Meet me in my cabin. Ten minutes,” Shanks ordered. The doctor nodded his assent, and went below deck, likely to the infirmary to gather supplies. Handing the Poneglyphs to Beckman, Shanks shifted the Omega in his arms so he was carrying you with his arm under your legs. You moved your face so it was buried in the crook of Shanks’s neck, avoiding looking at either the ship or the crew assembled on the deck. He hoped you were acclimating yourself to his scent, it would make your transition away from your previous mate easier. Even through the fear and pain Shanks smelled on you, he could tell your scent was absolutely delicious, like no other woman he’d smelled before. His cock twitched with the thought of claiming you for his own, though your medical issues needed attention first.

Bringing you to his cabin, Shanks shut the door behind you quietly. Depositing the woman onto his bed, you shrank back further into the cloak as if to hide yourself. You gripped the hem of the garment so hard that your fingers were turning white, matching your face as the color drained out. Ah , Shanks thought to himself, she thinks I’m going to ravage her right now like some animal . It made sense, he’d put you on his bed, what else were you going to think? 

Sitting down next to you on the bed, Shanks didn’t speak. Instead, for the first time in the Emperor’s life, he purred. He was an Apex Alpha, a rare breed of Alpha who was able to control other Alphas. It came with Conqueror’s Haki, the two traits going hand in hand. Purring came to him instinctively, but he’d never felt the urge to do so before. He’d had lovers who’d requested it, but Shanks had always laughed them off like they’d told a joke. But seeing you distressed made the rumble come almost unbidden, rising from his chest like a balm. You still didn’t look at him, but your fingers relaxed incrementally. Shanks continued purring for you as you tensed at his presence next to you, tenderly picking you up to sit on his lap. You sat upright, stiff, your body rigid with fear and apprehension.

“Easy, little Omega, easy,” Shanks said between purrs. You didn’t respond but didn’t object either physically or verbally to anything he was doing. Shanks wound his arm around you, pulling you closer to his chest. The rhythmic sounds were working, lulling you into a state of relaxation and calm as your hands dropped to your lap and your head relaxed against his chest.

Your POV

You were gripping onto the Emperor’s black cloak like it was going to shield you from whatever was going to happen next. It was heavy and warm, smelling like tobacco, cloves, and oranges, a heady combination. Even if your life would be no better under the Emperor, at least this scent wouldn’t make the bile rise in your throat. 

You were still avoiding his gaze, your wrists shaking in the chains under his watch. He’d put you on his bed, likely for the same reasons Kid always had. At least he hadn’t thrown you against the wall or forced you to suck his cock first, making you choke until you cried or passed out. Much to your dismay, he began to purr for you. You’d heard stories during your childhood about the Alpha purr. There were whispers that it was a form of mind control, that it was used to beguile Omegas into doing things against their will. Kid had already done a lot of things against your will, the Emperor didn’t need to purr to make you do anything. You hoped this wasn't a precursor to something vile, though you were long past wishful thinking.

But as the Emperor continued to purr and moved you into his lap, you felt it working despite your efforts to remain alert. The soothing rumble had you taking deep breaths and relaxing your hands. You felt your exhaustion returning to you, adrenaline finally having run its course. Against your better judgment, you laid your head on the broad chest of the Emperor behind you. His well muscled arm encircled you, and you were content to forget the horrors that would likely await you in the coming days, feeling only the warmth and comfort of an Apex Alpha’s purr.

A few minutes later, there was a knock on the door of the cabin, making you jerk upright once again. You’d looked at the door when you’d been surprised, but you quickly affixed your gaze to the floor once again. You hoped Shanks hadn’t seen your mistake, or that he would be willing to forgive you if he did. But he didn’t move to strike you at all, just called out to whoever had the audacity to bother the Captain. 

“Come in, Hongo,” he said calmly. You wanted to hide your face in the crook of his neck again, but you knew there would be no solace found seeking comfort where there was none. Opening the door, a large man with blonde hair came inside, carrying a black leather doctor’s case. You said nothing and remained in place, it was the safest route for the time being. The man, whose name you now knew to be Hongo, walked slowly towards you and his Captain, as if he was walking towards a wild animal.

“How’re we doin’, Captain?” he asked, surveying the scene in front of him. The Captain obviously hadn’t been hurt, he was talking about you.

“Alright,” Shanks answered, arm squeezing you a little tighter. You flinched as the memories of being crushed by Kid’s arm came flooding back to you. “They had an Omega. She needs some help,” he said softly, patting your thigh over his cloak. You were acutely aware that you were completely nude below the cloak. You hoped Shanks wouldn’t take you in front of Hongo, or at least not for the first time. Kid had done whatever he wanted, it didn’t matter to him who saw what he did to you. 

“Sure, no problem,” Hongo replied easily, opening his bag. He brought out a stethoscope first, something you were familiar with. Winding the scope around his neck, he slowly pried the cloak out of your fingers in order to put the bell on your skin. You desperately wanted to stay within the safety of the cloak, but you knew you had no power. If they wanted to see you naked, they were going to get what they wanted. Surprisingly, Hongo didn’t remove the cloak completely, allowing you use it to cover your breasts and lower half while he worked. As Hongo placed the buds in his ears and reached towards you with the scope, you leaned back and away from the advancing hands. You hadn’t meant to, it was instinctive. Shanks started purring for you again as he gently but firmly kept you in place for Hongo, his arm across your waist.

“You’re safe, Omega, he’s not going to hurt you. He’s just checking your lungs and heart,” the Captain said softly. Hongo took his time listening, moving the scope around your back and front. Once he was done, he put the scope away and took out medical gloves. 

“I’m gonna check the wounds on your top half and neck, OK?” Hongo informed you. You said nothing as he began touching the injuries that you’d suffered at the hands of Kid. You kept yourself from making any noises of pain or recoiling when he touched something painful. You knew you looked beaten and ugly, despite avoiding the mirror. Kid always left bite marks, bruises, hickeys, and cuts whenever he was with you. Your breasts looked like they’d been mauled the last time you’d checked them. But the worst of all was your neck - between the times he’d choked you, the bite he’d given you, and the attention he gave your scent glands nightly, it was a column of black and blue. In spite of your efforts, you hissed when Hongo touched your neck tried to move away from his efficient hands. 

But the men weren’t going to let you shrink away from the medical inspection. Shanks cradled your head against his shoulder when Hongo inspected the agonizing bite on the spot between your neck and shoulder, purring all the while. You knew there was something wrong with it, but Kid had never let you touch it or clean the wound, saying that it would affect your mating bond. You thanked the seas that the bond hadn’t formed, but the throbbing pain of the bite had only gotten worse.

“You’ve got a lot of wounds on your torso and neck. Are there more below?” Hongo asked quietly when he was done inspecting your top half. You waited, not knowing if they wanted you to respond or not. Sometimes it was a trick, people would talk about you while you were there but if you responded, you got in trouble. 

“Hm, do you? I thought I saw some before,” Shanks asked you benignly, rubbing his fingers in circles over your skin. They were both quiet for a few moments and you realized they were waiting for you to respond. You couldn’t bring yourself to talk, so you gave a shaky nod while continuing to look at the floor.

“I’m gonna have to look, OK?” Hongo said, crouching down in front of the Captain. He was trying to make eye contact, but you steadfastly stared down, in order to show your obedience. You blinked rapidly several times, willing the tears not to fall from your eyes. You’d been naked in front of so many people, but the fact that Hongo was asking made you feel more vulnerable than ever. You nodded again, but your hands were frozen in place, gripping the cloak with all your meager strength.

“Brave little Omega, doing so well,” the Emperor said into your hair, kissing the top of your head. You didn’t know when the last time you’d been allowed to bathe was, you were sure you smelled disgusting. Shanks unwound his arm from your waist, and slowly tugged the fabric from your hands, letting it fall onto your lap. You tried not to squirm, not to move as the doctor touched your welts and cuts, but you felt humiliated and debased as he poked and prodded you. After a few minutes of inspection, Hongo sighed, stood up to his full towering height and snapped off the gloves.

“There’s a lot going on,” he said to the Emperor, who had rapidly covered you back in the cloak. “She’s got a lot of wounds, some healing, some new. That bite on her neck is infected, it needs to be taken care of immediately. She’s malnourished and has at least one broken rib. And she’s going to go into heat soon.” 

Your eyes finally snapped to the doctor’s, everything lost to the panic suddenly overwhelming you. 

Shanks POV

Perhaps having Dorry and Broggy destroy the ship wasn’t enough. As Shanks watched you flinch away from Hongo’s inspection, his rage rose by the second. He’d seen your naked form on the ship, but the dim light hadn’t revealed to him the depth of your injuries. It was practically a miracle that you were still alive, Shanks thought. It was well known that Omegas weren’t as durable as Betas and Alphas, they were generally treated with care like the treasures they were. But not only were you littered with wounds from head to toe, but you were a shell of a person. You hadn’t said a single word, you hadn’t made eye contact with him yet, and you hadn’t moved an inch outside of where Shanks had placed you. 

Now, with the information that you were going into heat soon, you were panicking. Shanks could feel your heart beating rapidly and saw your chest rising and falling too quickly. The Alpha in him was worried, wanting to soothe the Omega still perched on his lap. Shanks put his hand over your chest, trying to slow the beating of your heart. Even if the Alpha in him wanted to purr and cuddle you until you calmed down, the Captain needed to get a little more information out of you first. You were still lost in your own world, not responding to any stimulus.

“It’s alright, Sweetheart. Everything is going to be just fine. When was your last heat, hmm?” Shanks asked, holding your face in his hand. The touch seemed to ground you, causing you to blink rapidly as if you suddenly remembered there were other people in the room. You shook your head at his question, making Shanks frown at your answer. The longer an Omega went without a heat, the lengthier and more severe the symptoms were when it reappeared. Shanks hoped you hadn’t gone into heat during your time in captivity, it would increase the likelihood of an unwanted pregnancy. Looking at your body, he couldn’t imagine you were capable of carrying life in your current state. 

“What do you mean, little Omega? You haven’t had a heat in a year? Or longer?” Shanks asked. He knew you were scared and upset, but he and Hongo needed to know this information, it was part of the way they would take care of you. He gently turned your face towards his, forcing you to look up at him. You finally looked at his face, though you didn’t meet his eyes. You shook your head again.

“Tell me more, I need to know how to help you,” Shanks prompted, stroking your cheek. You sucked in a shaky breath, trying to gather yourself before speaking.

“Never,” you said in a hoarse whisper. Shanks recognized the voice from the laughter in the wake of battle.

“Never? What do you mean? This would be your first heat?” Hongo asked incredulously. Shanks hadn’t met another Omega, but it was known that they typically had their first heat cycle in their upper teens. 

You nodded, a tear running down your cheek. 

[teddybeartoji]

satoru as the guardian of an itty bitty six year old nobara... he spoils her so fucking much, and he lets her do anything and everything lmao nobara is so loud and lively and satoru fucking loves it like he adooores her so so so much<333333333

lets nobara climb all over him like he's her personal jungle gym whenever she's bored and lets nobara mess up his hair if she so desires. this is all very normal btw,, satoru doesn't even bat an eye when he feels her tugging at his arm as he's cooking, only smiling to himself when nobara grumbles that he's too heavy for her too pull on. satoru just ruffles her hair and tells her that he'll play mario cart with her after they've eaten and just fucking dies out of cuteness agression when nobara stomps her little foot while glaring at him. the hair thing is very casual too – sometimes satoru's just laying on the couch, watching tv, when nobara plops onto his back and just splays herself all over him like a puppy. yk how they sometimes lay on their backs with their paws up in the air – like that. it's very cute!!! she watches the tv with him for a while in silence but then she gets a little bored and goes to play with his hair instead. she styles it, she combs it; she makes fun of it being white, commenting that satoru's just so old already but he loves it.

they have spa days together, too. after a very, very bubbly bath, they're both clad in the cutest pyjamas with equally adorable headbands holding back their head. satoru's never been afraid to spend his money, meaning that the bathroom they share is as big as they come – they both have their own sides, seperate sinks and cupboard for the both of them (satoru really loves spoiling her). nobara has her own little stool to stand on as well, so she can see herself in the mirror perfectly as they wash their faces before applying face masks. sometimes nobara insists on putting on satoru's herself bc she thinks she can do it better. of course, he lets her.

after that, satoru carries her to the couch, so they can watch a movie while the mask dries. they eat popcorn and candy, and joke about whatever's playing on the screen. and when the twenty minutes are up, they both head back to the bathroom to wash their faces again. nobara does this for satoru, too – her eyebrows are furrowed, her eyes determined as she cleans him up. satoru pokes her cheek and laughs as she tells him off, as she tells him to stop messing around. satoru apologizes with a grin.

he blow dries her hair after all the skincare is done, his hands gentle as he combs through the strands. he's extra careful, knowing full well that he'll get reprimanded if he were to tug on her a bit too hard. satoru's rather good at it btw – doing her hair. he's learned how to braid it in different ways, so he's ready for whatever she could ever want. he's got hairties with him at all times, he's even got some hairclips in his pockets – in various shades, to match with the outfit she's wearing.

satoru likes to teasingly call her "little lady". it almost always ends up with her trying to shove him, the argument that 'she's not little' the saying she counters her guardian with. satoru thinks she's very adorable. nobara usually calls him by his name, sometimes by his last name but that's only when she's a little pissed off or when she's trying to be tough. she calls him 'toru' when she's tired though; when she's glued to him, her tiny hands circled around his neck as satoru's carrying her home from the park.

satoru's always there at her taekwondo practices, silently cheering her on as she kicks ass. he's so proud of her, so fucking proud. every once in a while, she turns to him with a big grin on her face, yelling out in excitement after yet another win. satoru is so incredibly proud.

satoru really adores nobara. she might not be his kid, but he still loves her like one. a father, a brother, a guardian - it doesn't matter. family. and nobara couldn't be any happier either – to have somebody that lets her have her fun, that doesn't even try to tone her down in any way. to have somebody that loves her unconditionally. it's everything a child could ever possibly want.

[ghostaholics]

fuck it i'm thinking about grump x sunshine trope and a neighbor au with ghost where he's known for being the building's loner-tenant, this brute bear of a man that keeps to himself.

nobody's ever seen him smile or caught a glimpse of the entirety of his face because he always wears a black surgical mask when he's going to and from his flat; nobody's ever had a full-length conversation with him, because true to his callsign, he's in and out of the building with as much silence and stealth as a ghost. the other residents gossip about him: the water-cooler talk usually goes along the lines of them trying to piece together his story, who he is, what he looks like, whether they should be worried about the fact that he lives there (because there's nothing wrong with being a recluse but he does give off slightly terrifying vibes due to his size and demeanor). the rumor mill’s churning out these outlandish ideas about his private life and they kind of make assumptions based on little things they’ve noticed about him since he’s started living there.

enter in his new neighbor who's never met him, but was advised on her move-in day that he doesn't interact much with the other residents, basically a light debrief on how he can come off as cold and aloof and while some people have made attempts in the past to greet him, they’ve been dissuaded by his general standoffishness and avoidance of any social interaction.

anyways, simon wakes up at odd times throughout the night because he's got the most fucked sleeping schedule from deployment; he can start his day anywhere from 4am, 6pm, and so forth but on one particular morning, he's up at 3:30am, ready to go out for a jog of all things at this hour and then in the hall, he runs into his cute neighbor who's holding this also equally cute german shepherd puppy in her arms; his reaction consists of slowly blinks and a blank expression because he doesn’t quite know what to make of the sight in front of him

and she's staring back at simon with wide, frightened eyes not because she finds him intimidating or anything of that nature (honestly she doesn’t really give two shites about what the others say about him) but because the landlord has a severe and well-known, no-pets policy so she's been sneaking the puppy outside to use the bathroom in creative ways (one of them being at a time where she's certain none of the other tenants are awake) – she's basically been caught red-handed and fuck she's not sure if he's the type to snitch so all she can really say is:

❝ You didn't see anything. ❞

to which he deadpans,

❝... Sure. ❞

because he’s really just trying to mind his own business and not get involved, ducks his head before shouldering past her in the corridor to get outside – he tells himself he can’t bring himself to care about this new development

however, she's not entirely confident that he's going to make good on his word, so she bakes these cookies (special recipe of hers that she’s hopeful will win him over), leaves them in front of his door as a bribe with a card that says please don’t get me evicted ♡ on the inside, which seemed like an excellent plan in theory until he shows up the next day with an empty plate, a very real, very genuine request for more, and a serious demand to see the german shepherd that’s trying to squirm its way out the door to greet simon

edit: love thy neighbor masterlist

[polarisjisung]

KISSES WITH NCT DREAM

pairings: nct dream × fem! reader

genre: fluff

warnings: mentions of giving hickeys (for jeno) + reader is implied to have long(ish) hair + use of pet names

notes: a little different to usual but i want to post more often and I love reading these little headcanons! although I do need to switch it up from all the fluff 🫠

MARK-cozy morning kisses:

mark loves lazy mornings, holding you by the waist to make sure you don't have a chance to escape the warmth of the duvet you're all wrapped up in. sure your hair's a little messy but mark loves the domesticity of waking up next to you. you'll make every attempt to make your way out of the confines of your shared double bed but mark ultimately wins, shutting you up with a kiss when he feels like you're talking too much

"mark baby, please I have work" mark could not care less— really, they should've made it illegal to work weekends

"you have a boyfriend too" he'd tuck the hair falling from your ponytail behind your ear and you're a sucker for the way he'd let his palm rest over your cheek as he pulls you into his chest underneath the covers

"markie, I'll get fired" you know you'd lost the battle the second mark let his eyes land on your lips, the ones that were still shining from the left over lip mask you'd applied the night before, but you still try to bolt out of the covers as fast as you can, undoubtedly you'll get pulled back in by mark just a few seconds later

"don't run from me baby" he's all pouty, you know its all just a facade to get a couple extra minutes in bed with you but saying no to mark just wasn't one of your capabilities

when you finally sigh in defeat,

"just 5 minutes" with a roll of your eyes, he's peppering sweet kisses all over your face, placing a couple pecks on your lips too

"I'll take 5 minutes"

best believe he'll take a lot more than just 5

RENJUN-stupid adorable smiley kisses:

kisses with renjun start out ever so gentle, a quick touch of your lips before he's checking to see your reaction. doesn't matter how long you've been dating, renjun still gives you butterflies every damn time, and he's the same with you, all giddy and kicking his feet, so you both start out so smiley against each other's lips, soft and sweet. on occasion renjun likes to go for deep, more meaningful passionate kisses, and the second you see his starry eyes staring up at you, grin formed into a soft smile, you know his hand is going to reach for your jaw and his lips are going to move rushed against yours

there's a sparkle in his eyes, a glint that tells you renjun won't stop at a few pecks— naturally you don't mind at all

"my love?" he coos, looking up at you, taking in your features as though he's trying to commit every detail of your pretty face to memory, your moles, the shape of your lips and your sparkling eyes, he would memorise it all in that very moment

you swear he looks at you as though you've painted the sky and hung the stars, and every time you catch yourself wondering what you've done to be lucky enough to deserve him

"I love you" as those words slip so effortlessly out of his lips, he'll guide you with a hand against the back of your head to meet his lips again, with more urgency this time

"I love you too" you'd breathe out, an oppurtunity you'd never miss

JENO-neck kisses

jeno loves your lips, kisses, pecks, full on make out sessions— he doesn't mind. but every time he finds your hair tied back and your neck on display he sees it as the perfect chance to show that you're absolutely not single, very much taken in fact. jeno finds joy in carving his initials into your neck or leaving small, unintentional patterns behind sucking and gently biting at the warm skin on your neck. the kisses eventually trail their way up across the bone of your jaw, his hands tugging at the ends of your hair as he twirls it between his fingers. jeno wants it all, quick kisses will do if you're out and about but the second you're home, kissing is at least a 20 minute task.

when you're out, be it hanging out with friends or running errands together, especially in the summer, when you like to tie your hair back a lot more frequently, jeno finds himself going absolutely feral, he's like a child begging his mother to go home

your back is against the wall the second you step through the door, jeno's lips impatiently capturing yours. he's a literal animal, he'll devour any lipstick you're wearing like it was never even there, before his kisses land on your collarbone.

"knew what you were doing when you tied your hair up baby hmm?" jeno likes to think you do it on purpose, to mess with him just a little, admittedly you do, but if you could be honest it had been solely unintentional this time

"come on jeno" your hands land on his chest, almost avoiding the hungry search of his lips for the skin of your neck "didn't know you were so needy"

you like to tease him, his cute agitated kisses becoming a little more intense at your words

equally jeno finds no shame in just how crazy he is for you

"needy for you baby, only you"

something about his urgency mixed with his loyalty forces you to forget about the hickeys you'll spend hours covering up over the next few weeks

HAECHAN- tip of your nose kisses:

haechan loves a makeout session as much as the next person, and despite his forward and bold attitude, sometimes the hard-core kisses just aren't what he's looking for. his favourite solution? kissing the tip of your nose, he likes booping your nose here and there as it is, but in his softest moments, where you find his eyes staring your way in pure awe, haechan's eyes travel to the tip of your nose immediately. it doesn't take long for his lips to follow— a tentative kiss to make sure you're in the mood to be absolutely bombarded with his love

forehead kisses are a close second, and eventually haechan gives in to delicate tender kisses on your lips, his fingers interlaced with yours

"have I ever told you I love you?" kisses with haechan are playful, so you can always tell he's in the mood when that adorable toothy grin shines it's way at you

"multiple times hyuck, every day actually" you'd respond, so giggly that he swears he's falling in love with you all over again, he's not sure if it's possible quite frankly, considering he thinks the same thought everyday

"that's what you deserve baby, I love you" he'd waddle his way over to you on the sofa, that smirk on his face that tells you everything you need to know— the kiss lands perfectly in the centre of your nose, your face soon hidden away in your hands

"don't get shy on me now baby, you know what I wanna hear" he's already trying to get another look at your pretty eyes and when he successfully gets your hands to slide down your face, places a chaste kiss to your forehead

"I love you too hyuck"

"can't hear you buttercup, you're gonna have to show me that pretty face so I can lip read" he's a little too proud of his words, and when you do let your hands down, his lips are all over yours

JAEMIN-lip gloss kisses:

jaemin is a sucker for those shiny, perfect glossy lips of yours, he's a sucker for you full stop, but your lips are practically a superpower.

now jaemin hates strawberries but that pretty pink lip gloss of yours with a little shimmer and that strawberry scent is his absolute favourite, he swears it makes your eyes pop 10x more it's perfect— you're perfect

he loves showering you with affection, be it hugs or kisses, holding your hand or whispering sweet nothings into your ear, jaemin treats you like an absolute princess and when his princess is all dressed up and so absolutely gorgeous, he can't help but ask for one thing for himself. not that jaemin doesn't love seeing you lounging around casually, he thinks you look gorgeous all the time, but seeing the confidence that oozes from your being when you're ready for a big event has his stomach doing backflips

his arms wrap around your waist quicker than you can twist the tube of your lip gloss shut— really there was no point going through your extensive lip combo routine because you should've known jaemin would eat it all up

"my sweet sweet girl, do you think I could have a kiss?" jaemin likes to get extra affectionate in these moments, clinging to you with a smile that reaches his eyes, just to make sure there's no way you can say no

"but nana my lip gloss" you're always trying to make excuses, really it was just because lip products were starting to get expensive, but you don't mind blowing more money on them if it meant you'd have a love like jaemin

"hmm, I'll buy more for you, just give me a kiss pretty please?"

you only make one more attempt at stalling, you know better that you're not winning this battle

"but nana it'll get all over you"

he shrugs, so unbothered you swear you hear your heartbeat ring in your ears

"I like it like that"

jaemin loves the way you tenderly hold his face before you seal his lips in a kiss, when you pull away his lips are glittery and pink just like yours, but his smile seems to have grown ten fold

"you look so pretty nana, my princess" he nods

"your princess, all yours" before locking your lips against his once again

CHENLE-spiderman kisses:

chenle loves the movie, chenle loves you, to him it just made sense and the spiderman kiss has easily become his favourite way to greet you as he walked through the door.

most days chenle would find you seated on the couch, finishing up a project for work when he'd get home, his hand would wrap under your chin and slightly over your neck with ease, lips locking with yours momentarily

"I missed you" he'd whisper, every time as he pulled away from you, placing his things down to a side and slipping into the empty space beside you. his arm would find its rightful place resting over your shoulder before his lips would brush over yours again

"I missed you too"

the both of you would bask in the warm intimacy of the moment, something between you, only for you, that the both of you would secretly look forward to day in and day out

to chenle that was enough, that daily welcome home kiss was practically routine and it was a routine he'd grown used to, practically to the point where when he'd walk in and you weren't working away at a desk or on the sofa, anywhere he could easily guide your head backwards and press his lips to yours, the rest of his day would be ruined

dramatic, would be the best way to describe a kiss deprived chenle

JISUNG-hand kisses:

to jisung kisses are one of the truest levels of intimacy, they come with philosophical and ethical discussions and debates, prophesies of where the universe might be heading in ten years or why you shouldn't take things in life for granted

jisung liked to think, and he appreciated being able to share and discuss his thoughts with you, to him that seemed like one of the purest forms of love, being unashamed to share even the most wild and crazy theories with each other

he admired your passion, the way you'd get lost between your own thoughts, in your own world as you explained a concept to him, one of the many reasons jisung loved you, and in those moments a press of his lips to the knuckles of your hand, already intertwined with his, seemed perfect, like the cherry on top

"I think it's crazy how we don't realise so much of what goes on around us" you're sharing one of those moments of yours again, when you feel like you'd noticed something that made a big impact on your point of view in life and jisung can't help but let that gummy smile flash over his lips, his thumb rubbing up and down the outer surface of your hand

it's beautiful to him, how your legs are laying over his and how you rest your head against his chest and his fingers rake through your hair while you find yourselves in this moment, for a second jisung stops listening, or at least attentively so, trying to take in this fleeting moment of what he thought was the most important part of loving someone

"sung, you seem out of it?" you'd ask the question so concerned, despite a little guilt that he hadn't been able to listen to you, jisung would smile softly and shake his head

"just thinking about how lucky I am to have you"

and his hand would lift yours, quickly pressing a feathery kiss to your knuckles

"I love you" he'd say, a phrase he didn't say often, scared it would lose its meaning, but one he'd say just enough that you'd known how much you meant to him

[eyeless-cunt]

KINKTOBER DAY 1

PROMPT: Anonymous Sex

CREEP: HOODIE

Word Count: 3.2k

CW: 18+, Alcohol use, Sex with a Stranger, Implied Stalking, Smoking/Nicotine use, Intoxicated Sex, Biting, Blood Consumption, Outdoors Sex, Raw Sex, Creampie (they're good for the environment, leave me alone)

KINKTOBER '24 MASTERLIST

I knew pretty well that I'd gotten myself into a situation that maybe I wasn't mentally equipped to handle. The feel of his hands holding my hips steady as I stumbled with the full-bodied grace of a penguin seemed to shock some of my brain into working at a bare minimum level. I was quickly realizing the reality of my situation–that was me being about five minutes away from having sex with a random man–while being minimally wasted. A masked, hooded man that had said maybe a handful of words to me that so far all seemed somewhere between barely amused and slightly bored.

I'd seen him after I left the bar out a back door, avoiding any employee personnel that might tell me it wasn't the right exit. The chill in the air hit me like a train, the regret of being dressed for a night out making me frown. A quick glance around my new surroundings is what had me take note of him. He stood a few feet away, leaning on the corner of a brick building across from me, mask pulled up to the bridge of his nose as he smoked. The orange light above his head had his tan hoodie looking a strange yellow color, the smoke from his cigarette slowly rising to the top of the alleyway.

I wasn't sure what the fabric pulled over his face could even be called besides some makeshift mask, not that I could see much of it anyways in this lighting and with most of it hidden under his hood. That and my blurred vision stacked on top of the way my skin buzzed as his head turned my way. Was he looking at me? Probably, but I couldn't tell for sure, his eyes were completely hidden under what looked to be bleached fabric. I was definitely looking at him. He was tall, and by the way his head tilted as he turned my way, probably watching me watch him.

Maybe some part of me subconsciously knew I was about to step into the deep end–a sudden rush of adrenaline pumping through my body as I felt my feet start moving closer to the hooded man. I watched the corner of his mouth quirk upwards as I approached, my semi-drunk confidence fueling actions I’d never take sober.

“Is that a cosplay?” I regretted the words as soon as they were out, obviously it wasn't. Probably. He didn't seem to have any reaction, until he inhaled his cigarette and blew a cloud of smoke directly at my face. It smelled good coming out of his mouth. That thought had my eyes visibly widening, I couldn't believe I enjoyed what would normally be something I'd consider viciously rude. And yet I still found myself taking a deep breath, only able to laugh a little at the action.

“No then? Sorry.” He hummed, pulling an obviously stepped on pack out of his pocket, motioning it to me. That was surprisingly nice of him, considering his previous action.

“Ah, no, sorry I don't smoke at all. Thank you though,” I rushed the words out despite really wanting to take one from his hand. I wasn't entirely sure what it was about this man that made me want to pick up the habit just so I could stand out here with him longer.

“You sure?” His voice came out rough, deep with a broken edge that told me he hadn't spoken in probably hours. Looking at him, though I figured it could be much longer. That thought had me obnoxiously pleased with myself, simply for the fact that I had him speaking to me.

“Probably, I don't know. I think my lungs would probably get hacked out of me if I tried and someone would probbbbablyyy have to call, like, an ambulance…or something. I dunno.” He did a sort of huff/laugh that came entirely from his nose and I took it as a win.

A drop from above landed on my shoulder, prompting me to look upwards. There wasn't much I could tell from the sky this late at night, everything was pretty much the same shade of dark. “Is it raining…?” I trailed off, holding a hand out to feel the beginning stages of the downpour.

“It's sprinkling. Are you gonna go inside?” I asked the question without expecting much of an answer.

“No. Are you?” His question seemed expectant, in what way I was unsure. His smoke drifted my way with the wind from the new change in weather, but neither of us bothered to move.

“Mmmmm…no, rain is fine.” I looked at him, extremely curious to find out what was under that mask. The only thing I could see was a cigarette between lips I’d like to be between and some facial hair. From what I could tell he seemed a bit scruffy.

I had to tear my eyes away from his mouth, realizing that he could probably see how drunk I was. Was this a case of playing along with a drunk person? I'd done it many times, letting a drunkard on the corner talk my ear off as I walked past as a nicety. Well…whatever. I had him here and I may never see him again, so I figured why not talk his ear off and maybe he'll politely find a way to excuse himself when he's had enough of me. Although he didn't seem the type to let me off politely it was the best case scenario in my mind.

“What're you doing here?” I was hoping for an answer and not a, ‘none of your business,’ kind of response. Maybe I became too hopeful when I drank.

“Watching.” I pursed my lips, eyes squinting and trying to make sense of whatever that meant.

“Uh huh. Right.” I looked around the alley we were in, completely devoid of people, life, soul, or anything that could possibly be watched. “So you're watching…,” I trailed off, stuck. “You're watching the…sky.” A quick glance upwards would tell you that it definitely wasn't that. Light pollution had the stars millions of miles away where they should be, and any detail of anything was completely submerged in the inky blackness of the atmosphere.

“You're right.” He nodded in a way that seemed mocking to my alcohol soaked brain.

“Seriously?” My eyes narrowed, almost completely sure I was being made fun of.

“A star in the sky. That's what I'm watching.” He pointed his cigarette upwards, stray ash falling and disintegrating in a fresh and slowly growing puddle below our feet. I looked up only to find absolutely nothing still.

“I don't see it though? Can you even see through that thing?”

“Perfectly.” I felt tension materialize in the air with that one word. Although maybe it had been here the entire time and I was too dense to realize. For whatever reason it felt like every hair on my body raised, as if I was feeling the full weight of his gaze on me. Did his words have a double meaning? I recognized that there was a lot more happening here that I'd never be able to grasp in my current state.

“Maybe I should smoke…,” the words drew out slowly but I wasn't sure if I was joking or if I meant it. My feet started to feel sore in my heels, and I tried to shift my weight only for my heel to get caught in a pothole, causing my ankle to give out.

That was how I ended up with his hands on my hips and his cigarette discarded into a fresh puddle. I heard the rain start to come down heavier as I let him lift me into his arms, my legs wrapping around his waist like it was a natural reflex. He didn't say a word while my eyes were plastered to his mouth, the unexpected fullness of his lips seemingly beckoning me closer. I pressed my mouth against his, wondering if maybe he'd drop me into a pothole because of it. Unexpectedly he only encouraged it, his tongue slipping just past my teeth, mouth slotted against mine with a much fiercer hunger than I thought him capable of.

He slid a hand under my ass for support, his other remaining on my hip and holding me against him with an almost crushing force. I didn't mind at all, it gave me the once in a lifetime opportunity to feel his build under all these baggy clothes, a thing I'd been contemplating to myself just five minutes ago.

He pushed my back up against the wall, freeing a hand and threading it through my hair, holding my mouth against his. I felt my hips start grinding into him. I pulled away, a small sober part of me remembering what sense and shame was as I basically gulped air into my lungs. His lips looked practically bruised, his teeth red. Red?

“I think you're bleeding,” I said, still breathing heavily. He shook his head, a smirk that could win magazine awards lighting up what I could see of his face. It had me fervently wishing I could see his eyes. He swiped his thumb over my lips, bringing it back to show me the bright red. The rain had it sliding down from his thumb, running down his arm and onto the wet asphalt.

“Your blood, angel.” The pet name had me swooning. He slipped his thumb in his mouth, and I watched transfixed as he sucked the blood off. He kissed me again, the taste of copper filling my mouth as I felt his tongue again, teeth just as hungry as before. I wasn't sure how good of an idea this was, grinding against a stranger behind a bar where an employee could walk out at any time–but he felt deliciously good against me, for whatever that's worth.

His hand slipped under my dress squeezing my ass as he rocked his hips against me, causing me to whine out between his teeth, my tongue still colliding with anything it could reach. He let out a low hum in response, slowly slipping my dress up my body. The feeling of the now rain soaked fabric sliding against my skin had me sobering up a bit, if only for a few moments.

“Wha-,” I struggled to push the words out, catching my breath, a seemingly harder than life task as I felt his hard-on push against me through his jeans. “Out here? Someone’ll see.” I huffed, eyes trained on where his eyes should be. I really wanted to slip my fingers under that fabric.

He pulled me up, readjusting me against him and pulling my mouth back down to meet his. He started walking just like that, causing me to almost jump out of his arms, scared of being dropped and hitting the cold wet ground. He held me tighter, not stopping despite my obvious fear. I gripped his shoulders like a lifeline, my legs wrapped around him as tight as possible. My dress being up around my hips and the feeling of him bumping and rubbing against my clit as he walked had me almost completely forgetting my fear, mewls I would normally consider pathetic leaving my mouth. I didn't even think about where he was taking me, my focus entirely on his neck. It was bare, his ‘mask’ still pulled up over and sat on the bridge of his nose. I latched onto the spot right beside his shoulder, sucking and biting like he was mine to claim. Maybe I wanted him to be.

I heard him hiss as I sucked, his steps faltering for barely a second before he pulled himself back together. I continued my assault in various places, leaving behind dark crimson stained bites. He grunted, finally pressing me against a new wall, still outside but somewhat shielded from the rain.

I looked to see that we were nestled between two brick buildings, one being the bar. He'd brought us to the side, banking on the loud music and long alleyways being enough cover. Even if it wasn't I felt myself trusting his judgement despite the risks. Whether that be because of whatever strange pull I seemed to have towards him or my questionable sobriety didn't mean much. All that mattered was getting his mouth back on mine and hopefully that mask off of his face.

“Good enough, angel?” I only managed to mummer a simple ‘mhm,’ against his lips as I pulled him back to his rightful place against me. I heard the pull of his zipper, feeling the back of his hand brushing against me had me whimpering in his mouth, his knuckles rubbing against my clit, most likely that was his purpose. I reached between us to pull him out of his jeans, my hand awkwardly getting caught but managing anyway.

“You're eager,” he practically has to spit the words out, my grip on his hood keeping him snug against me. I feel his smile against my lips, his joy plainly apparent. “Mhmmm, and you're talkative.” I feel him slip my underwear to the side, fingers tracing their way through my folds. “While you're feeling social–what’s your name?” It almost feels silly to ask, his fingers now spreading me open with the confidence and familiarity of a man that should know me much more than he actually does.

“Hoodie,” he manages to grunt the words out, my hand reaching down between us to grab at him. He hisses as I lick my hand, rubbing my wet palm over his head slowly. “That's not a name.” I feel almost offended that he'd lie to me or give me a pseudonym. I find myself pumping him with a bitter roughness, more annoyed than I should be at the fact that this faceless man has the gall to lie to me while his fingers are teasing my entrance. He doesn't seem to mind the rough friction, his assault on my body steady.

“It's my name.” I'm considering the truth of his words when he pushes a finger inside of me, the feeling of him pumping while his thumb rubs at me making me almost lightheaded with pleasure. I can't even push out the words to form a ‘is that German,’ joke about his name.

He pulls his fingers out quickly, taking a moment to readjust me. My surprise at the fact that he's still holding me is outshined by the pleasure that he's obviously strong enough to do so. He lines himself up with me, pressing his tip at my entrance, almost teasingly. I roll my hips, feeling him against me in a way that has me ready to push him inside myself. He pulls me in against his lips by my neck, teeth nipping at my lips in a way that feels hungry. I feel him push inside me, the burn causing me to squeeze my legs that are wrapped about him, my fingers digging into his back and gripping his hood in a death grip.

I let out a heavy breath as he finally bottoms out, the fullness causing me to gasp against his mouth. I'm expecting a more severe roughness to follow–the same ravenous hunger he's shown me so far. Not the way his hand almost gently cups the back of my head, his lips pressing to mine much slower than what he'd made me become used to. I find myself matching his slow pace, sucking at his bottom lip as he begins evenly thrusting into me, a heavy hand gripping my ass and keeping me pressed against him despite the movement. It was like he calmed down as soon as he finally took me.

In my haze I realize how softly he's kissing me–how lovingly–he holds me. How gently he held me the entire time without me realizing until now. The way he fucks into me doesn't feel like the random hook-up it is, the raunchy drunk sex it should be. Despite his rough tongue and mannerisms he's touching me like a beloved lover. His lips move like he treasures me, an unseen promise held in the way his tongue slips around mine. I can't find any rhyme or reason to the treatment, but I find that I love it all the same. The way he encourages me slowly, words low and even as he tells me how good I'm doing. I feel myself fluttering around him as he keeps talking, the most words I've heard come out of his mouth settle in my chest.

I slip a hand up the back of his mask, fingers threading into his hair and gently tugging, loving the way his hair feels in my hand. He grunts at the feeling, slowly picking up the pace as I try to move my hips in an attempt to sink him deeper, the position not allowing much wiggle room for me to adjust. I feel myself building closer to an orgasm, the way he sounds driving me closer and closer. He's fucking into me while buried in my neck, his mouth now latched under my ear. I can feel him marking me in various places, my eyes fluttering with the combination of his mouth on me and him moving inside of me. My hand reaches to slip up the front of his mask but he stops me, caging my wrist away. I feel upset, wondering why he's decided I'm still not allowed to know him.

“Not yet,” he practically has to grit out, the words sounding like a promise. Whether they are or not doesn't matter, my core seizing as he drives me over the edge, a gentle wave pushing me through the orgasm. I'm a sputtering and whining mess, writhing as he fucks me through it. His pace slows and I practically deflate in his arms, my legs gone limp as he wraps his arms around me and sets me down gently to help me readjust my clothing. The chill in the air has me shivering, the loss of warmth he provided me apparent. I wasn't sure when the rain stopped, but I had forgotten about it entirely. It had gotten only colder, and I felt myself laying against his chest, uncaring about the implications that were laid out in the action.

His fingers found my hair, stroking the back of my head and twirling the damp strands. I couldn't help but nuzzle my head against his chest, the soft warmth of his hoodie beckoning me closer as I felt a slight soreness begin between my legs. I felt his arms wrap around me and pull me up into a princess carry, the unexpected loss of stability making my head swirl. I began to protest but he paid me no mind.

The sway and pace of his walking had my eyes lulling closed, the fight to stay awake disintegrating into nothing as I listened to his words, barely able to make sense of them. “Sleep, I'll take you home.” Before I could even begin questioning how he knew where I lived I was slipping away, breathing softly in his arms as the light went out.