#he looks like a man who knows his way around a fan boat

[sergeant-angels-trashcan]

Why is Roy harper giving me bayou boy/swamp man vibes.

[innerfare]

Smutty Mihawk Headcanons

Summary: a collection of NSFW Mihawk headcanons

Genre: pure smut (afab!reader)

CW: a little bit of knife play (cutting clothes not skin), dirty talk, low-key masochist Mihawk, exhibitionism on the down low

———

Bisexual icon.

King of sexual tension.

Marine hunter? More like marine fucker. 

Is eternally bored, but has a keen interest in lingerie, and he rather likes cutting it off you. He never thought he would enjoy drawing a knife or sword during sex, but he finds the trust you put in him invigorating. 

A very passionate lover. His insistence on being the best carries over into the bedroom. As such, he’s no fan of quickies. He wants you tied up in his four poster bed, the curtains pulled back to allow moonlight to filter in from the balcony, your naked body sprawled across his silk sheets until the sun rises. 

Talks dirty but getting a moan out of this man is like pulling teeth. Also won’t tell you if you’ve pleased him. Your only indication is that he comes back for more. 

Of course, if you do want to get a moan out of him, the best way is to hurt him. Likes if you rake your nails up and down his back, yank his hair, bite him (especially the spot between his thumb and index finger after sucking his fingers), squeeze his face in your hands, maybe even slap him.

And then there's his bondage kink. If you tie him up, it better be to whip him. He'll start out goading you in that bored tone of his, accusing you of half-assing it, telling you to hit him harder. You know you've gotten to him when the comments cease and he bites his lip, his brow furrowing.

Doesn’t just fuck. He spars. 

Saying it again, cannot emphasize this enough, he loves a biter.  

Wants a partner who wants to be chased, as most people either throw themselves at his feet or run away with no hope of being caught. Will chase you down the halls of his castle and ravage you wherever he catches you. Poor Perona has a list of sofas she no longer sits on, counters she refuses to put food on, and entire staircases she avoids. There are even certain mirrors she doesn’t want to look in, even if the marks have been wiped away. Zoro doesn’t fully believe her when she gives him the rundown, thinking nobody can be that feral, particularly not his stoic teacher, who in his mind is the picture of restraint and civility, until he’s training by himself one day in the courtyard and happens to see you appear in one of the towers, only for Mihawk to appear after you and rather lewd sounds to follow. Also sees Mihawk fucking you hard in a window one time, and over a balcony another time. Zoro quickly learns not to enter the wine cellar between the hours of six and ten PM. 

Lives for dangerous sexual situations. Has fucked you in the woods at night despite the menagerie of dangerous beasts running around, has fucked you from behind in an open window several stories high, your front half hanging out, has even fucked you in his small boat on stormy, raging seas. Every duel he has ever enjoyed has been charged with sexual tension.

In addition to these trysts, he wants you in his bed every night after dinner. You either shower or bathe together, and then he works you into a sweat so you need another one.  

Worries deeply if you ever reject his advances, thinks it must be his fault. “Have I displeased you in some way? Tell me, my love, and I will make it right.” It’s times like this that any veneer of disinterest falls away and you see just how much he cares for you. 

Has certain pet names reserved for the bedroom. “My mewling kitten,” is his current favorite. 

Always does that thing where he strokes your temple with his thumb when he fucks you in missionary. It’s supposed to be a reassuring gesture when you’re struggling to take all of him, but it riles you up more than it calms you down. Uses his other hand to pull one of your legs up as far as it will go, so he’s pinning you down but comforting you about it. 

Loves to feel you up in the bath.

If he has more than one glass of wine, he will be going down on you. The more wine he has, the bigger his appetite for you. It gets worse with stronger liquor. When the Red Hair pirates come to stay and Shanks insists on breaking into the whiskey Mihawk keeps for that very occasion, you know you won’t be sleeping until they leave (and that Shanks will be going down on you, too). 

His favorite is to go down on you on his dining table. It makes you feel very exposed considering he strips you down but remains clothed (as is common with Mihawk when he's domming) and the dining room is very large with many doors that anyone could walk through. But that's what Mihawk enjoys about it.

If you go down on him, his hands will most certainly be in your hair. He loves smoothing your hair, and if it’s long, pulling it back into a makeshift ponytail to get the best possible view of your pretty face. 

Once moaned Shanks’ name in bed. Neither of you ever addressed it, but you do always flirt with Shanks when he and his crew come around because it seems to peak your lover’s interest. You haven’t proposed a threesome because you don’t want to share him with the Red-Haired drunk. 

———

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

[xazse]

mr compress x kittygirl hybrid! reader and i will worship the ground you walk 😣😣🙏🙏🙏

SWEET GIRL

Synopsis: Mr.Compress feels a certain inkling and intensity within himself.

Notes: this is great I know you just submitted this really recent but I wanted to let some of my fans know that I will now write for MHA!!! SEND ME SOME STUFF (don’t worry to my others who have sent jjk requests I’m working on them<333)) (sorry I just had to do something with the league and them meeting kitty girl)

Pairings: Mr.Compress x KittyGirl!Hybrid

Warnings: Smut + mean!League Members + rough handling + rough kissing + fingering + penetration + Fem!reader + Hybrid!reader

Mr.Compress had dragged in another stray: you he had known for at least a month before introducing you to the league. He found you digging through some rubble searching for food. He had felt extremely bad and just felt the need to take you.

So that’s what he did, he took you and you didn’t fight at all he just went, scooped you up. You looked a tad bit confused but when he gave you some food you were attached, he gave you plenty of opportunities to leave but every time you’d look around for him and once you found him you’d loop your arms with his and follow. It was downright adorable.

After some time had passed he chose to introduce you to his beloved league.

“She looks stupid, get her out.”

“That’s so mean Tomura! I think she looks adoreable!”

“You are very right Toga, Shigaraki isn’t used to cutesy things.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” The blue haired man exclaimed from the bar.

“Why not give er’ a change Shigaraki? She could prove to be useful.” Spinner is always trying to be the middle man, Mr.Compress can certainly rely on him to get you in good with everyone.

“Useful my ass.” Dabi’s the one who speaks up.

“It wouldn’t be wise for you to talk, you’re in the same boat as her.” Shigaraki backfires.

“Tried to help you, dick.”

It hadn’t even been 40 minutes sitting as the league chats and discusses various things, Toga and Twice won’t leave you alone they insist on playing with your tail and rubbing your pointy ears: pushing them back just to watch them pop right back in place.

You aren’t complaining one bit, you love the extra attention they’re giving you, you can’t quite make out what they’re saying but nonetheless you know it’s nothing but sweet words minus twice sometimes blurting random crude things.

Leaving them proves to be the worst, “tears” are exchanged when Mr. Compress is ready to depart and you have to leave the new friends you just made. He reassures you that you’ll be able to see everyone again very soon.

Mr compress loves you a tenth fold you’re impressed by his tricks others find to be unfunny but you will sit for hours and watch him show off, clapping with the biggest smile on your cute face. It drives him mad to have his own personal fan.

It makes his cock throb when he’s doing one of his tricks and you look so curious to find out what’s next, he can’t focus on finishing it when you’re swooning right in front of him, he basically attacks you with sloppy kisses.

His thick tongue invades your mouth, his actions aren’t careful, he needs to be inside you right now.

He sits on his hind legs and traps you with his thighs on either side. He takes his hard cock out and jerks himself a few times right over your exposed stomach. you’ve all of a sudden gone shy on him, trying to avoid the intense way he’s staring down at you.

He stops for a moment to rid you of your bra, then your panties whilst also undressing himself fully too.

Even after all this time you’re still hiding your body from him like he hasn’t explored every single inch of you. He pays that no mind and moves to rub your cunt, he makes sure not to directly touch your clit.

He moves his skillful fingers around your lips, dipping in and out of your hole to get you used to the feeling. Sweet moans slip from your throat, your breath hitches everytime he so much as grazes the englared bud.

Impatient Compress starts full on fucking you with his fingers, he has to use a little of his strength to keep your leg nice and still for him. You’re full on moaning, it feels so damn good, the way his fingers abuse your wet hole in the meanest motions he can muster.

He makes eye contact with you when he pulls his fingers out and licks them, making sure to clean them dry.

He’s got you plenty wet, he rubs the tip of his cock in between your lips even touching your sensitive clit, he hadn’t even made you cum and you’re already so jumpy.

His thick cock starts to push inside you, slowly filling you of him, taking him is no walk in the park, he’s more long than anything, you grip whatever you can as he pushes past your tight hole.

Atsuhiro lets you adjust to him, he can hear slight sniffling from you, poor thing, he’ll make you happy in just a moment: that moment being now, he pushes your legs a little towards your torso angling his cock more snuggly.

Atushiro is never one to rush sex with you, he likes to be in the moment so he can enjoy and really feel you but now he can’t wait, he starts thrusting fast and deep, your fat cunt accepting every inch so easily now.

He’s been obsessed with your pussy the first day you and him had sex, you’re so tight and warm, he draws his hips back all the way letting his cock fall out to admire the slick it’s covered in, just to slam right back into you.

“Nnng..”

“Feels… so good Sako..” your moans sound so choked up in your throat, making you all the more desperate for more clearly.

His face is a beautiful shade of pink, groans mixed with yours slipping from his bitten lips, you truly don’t know the effects your cunt has on him, everytime he pulls back you suck him right back in.

Your tail has a mind of its own when it wraps around his torso, moving along with the rhythm of his hips.

You wipe the tears that have found their way to your face, your body spasms in that familiar way, along with your pussy tightening even more around him. He holds you down by your tummy, securing you in place so you don’t thrash everywhere.

He slams down in you one last time, pushing you right over the edge you cum with a loud yelp followed by quiet whines that die down, through this whole thing he’s praising you, kissing your soddened cheeks.

Your chest rapidly tries to calm down, feeling the aftershocks of a nasty orgasm.

Later that night he makes sure to rub your pointy ears and cuddle you as close as possible.

[dev1lm4n]

lesson one: sensitive

ko-fi | series masterlist

pairing: porn star!joel miller x f!reader

summary: under several notable circumstances, mr. miller finally decided that he'd be the best teacher for your first debut into sexual activities. even when all of it is to prepare you for your successful date.

word count: 5.4k (i know.. i went a little crazy on this lol)

warnings: explicit (18+), set in 2013, pre-outbreak, age gap (joel in mid 30's and reader in early 20's), inexperienced but not dumb reader, fingering, he's kinda mean, check umbrella warning on series masterlist

notes: i had so much fun writing this! tbh this one is super filthy compared to the other one so.. forgive me 🤲 COMMENT n REBLOG if u liked it

“I could take you home if you’d like. Pretty girls like you shouldn’t roam the street alone.”

Simon, more commonly referred to as Robotic Class Guy or French Fries, was surprisingly not half as bad as you thought he would be. He had all the height of a man but none of the bulk. From behind he could be easily spotted as someone in their late teens to early thirties, mostly blaming his horrid graphic tee and skinny jeans combo, but when he turned that face was all boy. His caramel hair flopped over his eyes in the way no office worker could get away with and on his wrist were bracelets in woven leather. 

At first, you accepted his awkward invite out of spite. 

Just to rid yourself of a certain plague festering upon your head, feasting on your brain cells so that you’d think of nothing but Mr. Miller in all his glory. Him with his tight worn-out jeans, spread open enough that you could see a naughty peak of his bulge, while he watched the soccer game. Him with his shirt off, bathing in the summer-induced moisture, while he mowed the front lawn and edged the curb. Him with his thumb parting your lips, looking at you like he’s about to consume you alive, but of course he didn’t. 

At least now that Simon came around, you’d have a new port to anchor your boat on.

“No, thanks, I’m alright. My..”

Who was Mr. Miller to you again? 

Your.. father? Absolutely not. Even if he’s taken you in as a part of the Miller family, just like how he used to say, you would feel like it’d be morbidly repulsive to deduce him to that particular role. For fuckssake, you stick a finger up your cunt every single week to the thought of him fucking you like one of his girls.

Then would a family friend be better of a word? Or should you just say that he’s a guardian of yours? But that’d be confusing, wouldn’t it? You glanced at your watch, counting the hour and minute hand as if it’d give you a revelation on how to answer Simon’s pop quiz.

“Someone promised to pick me up.”

That sure did sound ominous.

With a promise to leave a message to his cell once you’ve returned home safely, you stepped out of the quaint local restaurant. It was warm outside and you weren’t particularly fond of that. Heat has always been your mortal enemy; something about the musty scent of middle school boys’ armpits after PE class mixed in with the pungent perfumes they use to try and hide it has left you permanently traumatized. Your once-cheery mood had long evaporated along with any semblance of coolness. You tugged at the hem of your sundress, fanning yourself with your hand in a futile attempt to find relief from the stifling heat. This is hell!

Where was Mr. Miller?

Mr. Miller must've read your mind, because a honk quickly resonated. He was on the very corner of the parking lot; his large pickup truck looked hilariously out of place when compared to the array of city cars parked by his side. You swore you could see him grin from behind the shaded tint of his window, perhaps entertained at your almost too obvious annoyance. The thought made your heart jump and maybe even did a front-flip. God, you’re helpless!

As you beelined down the sidewalk and on to him, the heat seemed to intensify with every step. Beads of sweat formed on your forehead, causing your hair to stick in weird shapes. You just hope that his truck’s AC works.

“Hi.. Hi, Mr. Miller.”

“Hey, sweetheart. How was it?”

The nickname never ceased to exude so much power. ‘Sweetheart’ made you feel as if a tail had grown out right from the hilt of your ass and you had no other choice than to swish it around excitedly. You propped up one leg on the washed-off gray carpet, before swinging yourself into the vehicle in one go. The door closed behind with a loud thud. As you leaned back, you cringed at the feeling of your sweat-soaked dress clinging onto your skin. You felt like some marinated beef, sticky and in need of a quick shower.

“It was alright,” you hummed.

“Alright? Now that made me all the more curious,” he grinned, nudging your side with the edge of his elbow. “Com’on now. Tell me all about it, will ya?”

“Mr. Miller, are you trying to embarrass me?”

Mr. Miller’s soothing brown eyes that were stuck on the glittering street lights came flickering over to you, as if he’s actually afraid that perhaps he’s made you uncomfortable. His shoulders squared and his jaw slackened for just a split second as he tried to grasp for any nuance you’ve just given. You then smiled at him, relieving him of his worries.

It’s a little jarring to say that you think he’s quite cute. In the same way people find puppies cute, or those strawberry-shaped trinkets. He’s a little socially-awkward in his own way. Embarrassed to ask the waitress to bring his plate back, but would be confident bullying his cock into a tight cunt. Would definitely get kooky when asked to join a parents-teacher conference, but would whisper filthy things on the internet.

“I ain’t tryna make you embarrassed,” he huffed out. “I just wanna know you’re safe.”

How nice. If only he knew why you went on dates in the first place.

“He’s alright, Mr. Miller. Kind, decently groomed, respectful,” you replied, flicking through your Twitter feed mindlessly. “Better than most college guys.”

“Did he pick you up?”

Your forehead scrunched up. “I ordered a cab.”

“Did he at least get the door for you?”

“It’s not exactly the 1900’s, is it?” you quipped back at him.

He raised his eyebrows, waiting for your answer.

“If you’re that curious, then no.”

“Well then, did he pay for dinner?”

“No, well.. I did offer for us to split it,” you reasoned.

“Well, sweetie, he’s not too respectful. Is he?”

“Yeah.. but he’s cute.”

He’s cute and you’re desperate to get over Mr. Miller. Terribly so. At first, the entire situation with having your pornstar crush be the head of your host family was hilarious, it’s a joke written by itself. But then the desires went through the roof in a matter of weeks and you’re sure that you’d actually jump him one of these days. He’s attached to the back of your mind like some ghostly presence. Everything he said and done carved at your brittle wall of determination and one day it’s all going to fall apart like broken glass. You needed to stop it from happening. 

There was a minute or so where he didn’t have anything to say. He hadn’t let go of the handbrakes either, though he appeared to be squeezing the leather cover of the steering wheel tighter.

“Cute ain’t enough for a man, sweetheart.”

Mr. Miller finally pushed down the handbrakes and released the pickup truck from the small parking lot. His large hands skillfully turned the wheels to fit through the tiny gaps, guiding the vehicle towards the open road. You shut your eyes for a good minute, then you let out a weighted sigh. Almost as if you’re a deflated balloon.

The drive was going to be a long one, considering the restaurant you’re on was in the heart of the town and Mr. Miller’s humble abode was more towards the outskirts. Would he continue preaching about the importance of Southern manners and being a gentleman? Because if he did, perhaps you’d just shut him up with a kiss.

“I’m just a little nervous,” you broke the silence.

“Because of the boy?”

“Sorta, yeah. It’s my first time..”

You clicked your phone shut, stuffing it on the cup holder next to the car stick. The entire conversation was making you nauseous. You had to press on the button on your left to slide down the windows in order to take in fresh air. Through the open window, a gentle breeze tousled the top of your hair, carrying with it the familiar scent of Summer in Austin. As he drove closer into the outskirts of town, the lights gradually faded behind into a sea of twinkling stars.

“First time in what?”

“In all this,” your hand motioned the idea abstractly.

“You’ve never dated?”

An enthusiastic grin snaked its way to his lips.

“I have! But it’s not- it’s not real. It’s middle school romance. We meet each other in the hallways, hold hands and giggle about it, then go on pizza dates,” you tried to explain. “I’ve never dated properly.”

“Why not?”

“Because,” you tousled your hair in frustration. “Just because, Mr. Miller. I’m not sure either. Maybe I’m just comfortable in my own little bubble?”

“Then this boy.. What’s his name again?”

“Simon.”

“Right, Simon. Are you thinking of dating Simon properly?”

“Maybe,” you muttered.

“Maybe I could teach you,” he paused. “Well, that is if you’d like this old man to teach you old tricks.”

Your hands tightly clutched the edge of your seat. A rise of bile disturbed your throat's peace as a knot of anxiety started to form in your stomach. This is what you’re working towards.

You didn’t want to admit it, because admitting means legitimizing what you had in mind, but you were hoping for him to offer you help in any way that he felt was right. Despite your.. odd relationship with him, he was your guardian and you’ve seen the way he dealt with all Sarah’s problems with soft-spoken words and fair actions. You trusted him to help you delve into this new world of adult romance, but it’s not like you’re expecting for him to agree on it. Shit, shit, shit! You couldn’t think straight.

“Com’on then. Tell me what you’re so nervous of.”

“You’re gonna laugh at me,” you groaned.

“I’m not!”

“You are,” you persisted.

“Fine. I promise not to laugh.”

You took a deep breath. The single word sticky on the end of your tongue.

“Sex.”

The pickup truck swerved.

To your surprise, instead of howling and laughing at your lack of experience, he was quiet. Awfully so to the point where you think you’d rather have him laugh at your patheticness instead of giving you the cold shoulder. You rolled the window back up, giving him your full attention as you waited for him to do something. He looked tense; the grip he had on the steering wheel was so tight you could see the leather developing crescent-shaped marks. What was he thinking of?

“Do I.. do I have to give you the talk?”

“God, no! Mr. Miller, I’m not clueless,” you looked horrified that he even considered giving you the birds and the bees talk. “I am, but I know what happens.”

The hours you’ve spent analyzing each and every one of his videos surely made an impact on how you view sex. Perhaps not the most accurate one, since you were merely looking through a 720p video and not being present in the scene, but you knew how sex goes. How it starts, what arousal looks like, what appears to feel good and what doesn’t, and how good an orgasm looks like when induced by another person. Mr. Miller might not be aware of how much he’s taught you. Not directly, but in a cause-and-action kind of way.

“Then what are you afraid of?” he hummed.

“Making a mistake,” you muttered dejectedly. “Of it not feeling good.”

A beat passed.

“Do you..” he struggled to speak properly. “Do you want me to teach you?”

What were you thinking! It was one thing to harbor intense, disgustingly filthy feelings towards a man who perceived you as an addition to his family, but it was another thing to act on it desperately. Your mind reeled back towards the exact moment when you agreed on his proposition. How you agreed on it instantly as if it wasn’t even a question, how you nodded your head miserably as if you were afraid that you’d miss this one chance, how you buckled your knees at the thought.

God, how pathetic can you be! You didn’t remember much after such a cathartic turn of events. All you managed to compile in that pretty little head of yours was that he took a different interchange, then slipped onto a highway towards.. whatever this place was.

It was on the outskirts of town. Opposite to where he lived. Big trees grew tall and heavy as they provided a mystique veil for the trailer house. You remembered the shade of peeling paint covering the outside, sky blue. The lanterns provided ample lighting for it to be spotted from a distance, but not enough to attract rowdy attention. Mr. Miller told you to come inside first while he secured his pickup truck properly. He mentioned a thing or two about racoons or squirrels, but you were too high off adrenaline to even notice. Being in the property, you instantly knew where you were.

This was his lair.

Where he shoots his videos, where he invites all his pretty co-stars to make them moan and whimper about how good his cock felt and how deep it went, where he edits those striking millennial-core thumbnails. Your throat grew dry and you began to think if it’s time to bail. He’d understand, wouldn’t he? Mr. Miller would just take you home and forget about it. Then, by next summer, you’d be out of his hair and he’d never even think about it.

A creak sounded from the front door. You jumped.

“Hi, sweetheart. You okay?”

You nodded. Your entire body went cold, especially the tips of your fingers and toes as you saw him come close. One step at a time. Almost as if he’s trying to make sure he doesn’t scare you too much. Mr. Miller looked awfully big up close. You never seemed to notice this entirely when you see him around the house, but when he’s confined in this miniscule trailer house, he looked massive. His presence towered over every last bit of your confidence. It’s surely crumpling - your confidence - slowly dissipating into thin when he was flushed against your chest. 

“I’m okay, Mr. Miller.”

He pulled a foldable chair from one of the open compartments, before taking a seat on it. He spread his legs, as always, and had this look in his eyes. 

“You sure you wanna do this?” he paused, before resuming. “You could tell me you don’t feel like doin’ this anymore and I could take you home. Won’t talk about it anymore if you don’t wanna.”

“I.. I want to do this, Mr. Miller.”

“Are you sure? There ain’t no pressure in this. I’m simply here to help you, sweetheart, so if you feel like-”

“I get it, okay, I get it. I trust you. A lot. And I know you’d be the best person to teach me.”

What were you even saying? This was straight out of your wildest wet dreams and perhaps that’s why you’re so adamant about it. You watched silently as he contemplated his choices. Mr. Miller scratched his beard for a short while, his gaze focused beyond you and you could almost watch in real-time how his morals and values crumbled onto the creaky floorboards. He stood up from his small chair and headed right towards where you were standing idly. Is this what May felt like in those videos?

“Alright, sweetheart. I ain’t a vocal man so this is gonna be challenging even for me,” he chuckled gruffly. “Every man has their way of settlin’ with their ladies, but I like ‘em stripped off their clothing first. So will you be a pretty thing and do that for me?”

For a second, you were as still as a rock. Entirely not used to having the person who initiated many if not all of your orgasms giving you these orders in real life. He’s right there in front of you, flesh and bones, telling you to strip off your clothing. It felt like a fever dream. You must’ve had a weird look on your face, because a grin started to form on those chapped lips of his.

Conscious of the mistake, you quickly reacted. Almost skittishly in a way as you pulled on the zipper that’s located on your right ribs. Your fingers fumbled with one another, as if it’s been braided into one, but you managed to loosen it after a few attempts. You slipped your right arm under the spaghetti straps, before you slipped the other one. The only thing holding your modesty together was your one arm that’s holding onto the support-less front flap of your sundress.

“Com’on now. It’s just me. You can act shy and adorable around Simon, but not this old man,” he teased.

You nodded, hesitantly letting your arms fall to the side. The terribly warm weather encouraged you not to wear a bra. Although you wondered if 3 PM you knew that you’re going to be engaging in some promiscuous agenda this evening. You looked up into his eyes for some kind of guidance, in which he responded with a curt nod, before you tugged on the dress so that it’d slide onto the floor.

Now the only piece of modesty you’re wearing is your plain white panties. Your breasts were entirely exposed, cold nipples firming up as it reacted to the change of temperature. This is embarrassing! Mr. Miller was being incredibly methodical in the ways in which he approached the situation, lacking sloppy mouthy kisses and feverish touches.

“Smart girl,” he complimented, almost on instinct. “Let’s get on the bed, yeah?”

You moved adjacent to him. Mr. Miller was gentle when he patted the spot next to him, allowing you to settle down properly while he fixed a pillow behind your back. To think that you’re positioned on the same bed where you’ve witnessed him please an array of girls made you feel some sort of way. A hitch in your heart, a twitch in your hole. You’ve never witnessed him this gentle. He’s always fond of establishing the power he held on the dynamic he’s presented, always telling girls what to do in quick succession and calling them humiliating names if they fail to do as told. With you, he was sweet and rather funny.

“In my experience, one of the things girls like the most is to be withdrawn from control,” he spoke up into the thick air. You didn’t miss the way his eyes cruised along your beaded nipples, or the way it watched you with feral precision. “Of course, it depends on the person. But you. I think you’re a sensitive one, are you?”

You nodded obediently.

“Cross your arms behind your back,” he ordered and watched closely as you followed suit. “Lean back onto the pillow.”

You copied his order. Only then did your finicky brain finally compute that you’re limited off your movements now. With your body weight acting like paper weight for your arms, it’d be impossible for you to react in quick time.

“Good girl.”

His mindless comment made you tighten your thighs together.

“I’m gonna touch you, okay?” he whispered gently. You could watch how he’s slowly approaching you with much caution. His arms caged you in as it dug into the tangled sheets next to you. He’s testing the currents, making sure you’re fully consenting to the experience before he makes any mistake that might ruin your perception of sex. “Ask your little friend to touch you slowly. None of that frisky aimless touching. If he pulled on your nipples and called it a day, I’d leave his ass.”

This little routine he had, the one Wicked Fantasies had, was memorized into your head and to watch it take place right in front of you made you ecstatic. He caressed the side of your face. Gently even with those big, large fingers of his, he managed to take up a good portion of your cheek. Mr. Miller then made his way to your lips. He swiped it once over your upper lip, then another time over your thicker bottom lip. You’d anticipate for him to stick his thumb in deep enough so that he could see your uvula properly, but he didn’t. Instead, he settled on pressing down your tongue as if to pin it against the lower floor of your mouth. A good amount of saliva was collected that when he pulled away, a lewd string remained intact.

“Do you know why I like pinning a girl’s tongue down?” he queried to increase comfort in a way.

“No,” you whispered breathlessly. “Why?”

“It makes ‘em docile,” he muttered. “Encourages submission and I like a pretty girl who listens.”

Mr. Miller’s fingers dragged through the curves and texture of your warm skin, leaving goosebumps on his wake, before he finally reached your two perky nubs. Each one hardened before he could give them the treatment they both deserved, which in a way broke his routine, but instead of being irritated, he appeared to be pleased.

Girls in his videos weren’t as sensitive as you. They didn’t get riled up just by a little touching and teasing. Seeing you like this was a refreshing touch. One that made the wrinkles on his forehead ripple as his eyebrows quirked. He circled his calloused finger around where the pigmentation started. Once, twice. Right until he was merciful enough to press against the apex of your nipples.

You squirmed.

“So sensitive, are you?” he cooed. “Tell Simon to play with your sensitive little nipples, hm? You look like you could cum just by this.”

“O-oh please!”

“Please?”

You couldn’t respond. Not when he’s rolling the most sensitive part of your nipples between the pads of his thumb and the side of his pointer finger. Touching your breasts with your own nimble hands felt nothing like what he’s doing right now. You instinctually grinded your leaking pussy down onto the bed, almost like an animal in heat.

“Poor thing couldn’t even tell me what she wants. What would Simon think, hm? A girl with no self control like you,” he hummed. Mr. Miller quickly held onto your thighs so that you’d stop rocking onto the bed and getting off from pleasure he���s not offering. Your eyes met his, searching for help, but the sweet and respectful Mr. Miller wasn’t there anymore. “Alright now, sweetheart. You have ta make sure that you’re thoroughly aroused before thinkin’ of even touchin’ this place.”

“You’re new at this,” he hummed. His fingers slipped off the hold he had on your nipples before it slid down your stomach and settled precisely above your clothed clitoris. “It’s gonna hurt bad if you’re not properly lubricated. Sex is supposed to be fun, not painful so if some guy tells you that it’s supposed to hurt, don’t listen to his dumb shit.”

Mr. Miller was incredibly informative if you put aside the fact that he’s touching you in all the right places that it’s making you go dumb. He spent the time explaining why an action must be provided and how to perform it, when you know for a fact that this is not what he’s used to doing. Wicked Fantasies was known to be straight with words, using minimal sentences to provide his co-stars with just the right amount of information. You could tell he’s holding back the urge to be meaner, to act the way he likes, just for you to be more comfortable.

“Let’s take a look, shall we? You think I did a good job, darlin’?”

It’s dark out. There’s only one source of light that’s present in the room. A small bedside lamp in the shape of an elephant, Sarah’s favorite animal that’s grown to be yours as well. This session with him felt intimate; you’d expect for him to bring out the bright light panels and reflectors just like in those videos you watched of him, but instead, he mostly depended on the moonlight rays.

You were acutely aware of how those dark eyes of his mirrored your own. The way he studied you was unlike any other, not with an invasive intent, but rather with heed. You watched as he hooked his fingers on each side of your panties. Slowly dragging it down, only to stop to wait for you to ease your thighs upwards.

“Look at you,” he chuckled. “I’m right about you bein’ sensitive. Don’t think we need any lube when your pussy looks like this.”

By instinct, you brought your thighs together, shy that he’s observing you with such vulgar intensity. He hummed out a tone of disapproval and quickly placed his arms on both of your knees, prying the two apart as if he’s opening a stubborn can of bolognese. You bit your bottom lip, stifling the noise of embarrassment.

Anxiety bubbled up inside of you. You wondered if you looked okay down there - no other men had seen it besides him! - or if there was something strange that caused him to halt. There was a lewd string of sticky arousal pooling on the center of your panties. You silently watched as it stretched and broke as Mr. Miller pulled the thin fabric away.

“You’re soaked, sweetie,” he teased.

“Mr. Miller, that’s- that’s embarrassing..”

“You like to touch yourself, don’t you?”

Your eyes flickered towards his direction in fear. Has he discovered your incurable obsession for him and his erotic videos? That couldn’t be, could it? There’s no scientific correlation between being extremely aroused with masturbation as far as you’re aware, but the confidence he exude made you doubt yourself. Mr. Miller moved in a painfully slow tempo, taking his time to caress your inner thighs and stomach before even considering touching you where it ached. His calloused fingers felt different against your skin. It left a fiery trail in its wake.

“No, I don’t,” you lied with a breathless squeak.

“It’s okay if you like to touch yourself, y’know,” he whispered as if taunting you. “Girls who like to touch themselves understand themselves better.”

Mr. Miller finally touched you properly. His pointer finger probed against your clitoris, touching in the lightest feathery manner possible that you couldn’t have felt it if you weren’t concentrating. Your hips followed the brief source of pleasure, only to be disappointed when you notice that he wasn’t there. He pulled his finger close to his mouth and made a big show out of it. The way your arousal glistened under the pale moon rays, Mr. Miller teased you with his expressions and mannerism. He dipped the stained finger in his lips to have a good taste while keeping  eye contact.

“Please touch me.”

“What was that, sweetheart?” he hummed.

“Please touch me again. It feels go-”

You were cut off immediately when he lazily drew a perfect circle on top of your hooded clit.

“Fuck, please, please, sir.”

Ah, he liked that. He liked the new name you’ve granted him. Mr. Miller was kind enough to resume what he was doing. His finger descended down onto your throbbing hole to gather a good amount of slick before he brought it up to aid his ventures.

“The best way to feel good is controlled pleasure. It feels better to be denied than to receive boring continual pleasure, so..” he paused his movement all together. “I’m gonna teach you a little game.”

“A little game..” you sounded like you’re about to cry from his sudden withdrawal.

“Count to ten, properly. Then I’ll reward you with more. If you fail, then we gotta start from the very beginning,” he explained. His warm breath fanning over your sensitive clit. “You think you can do that, pretty girl?”

“Yes.”

“I’ll start now.”

“One, two..”

You felt how he made his laps around your nub. It was much more intense than the pleasures you’ve initiated before. Compared to rutting against a pillow, grinding against a bedpost, or laying under the tub’s running water, this felt like an entire new experience. You fought to keep still, but it’s gradually getting harder when his finger starts prodding against your tight little hole.

“Three, four. Please, Mr. Miller. Oh god,” you whimpered by accident. He didn’t like that one bit by the look he gave you. There weren’t rules and promises to this, no dynamic the two of you have agreed on, but you couldn’t help but be terrified of his disapproval. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, sir.”

“From the start,” he ordered.

“One, two, three..”

You could barely remember the numbers in your head despite encountering them almost every day of the week. You’re a smart girl, knows your ways around things, but being touched by Mr. Miller makes you go all dumb.

“Four, five, six..”

Your thighs began to twitch and spasm. You catched the way he pulled back the hood to your clit to get a more direct touch. It was working wonders as the sensation now is a lot more electrifying. Arousal dribbled down your twitching hole and onto the crack of your rear, wetting the sheets beneath you with the sticky clear substance.

“Seven, eight, n- nine!”

You jutted your hips out when his fingers brushed over your clit once more, the sensitive bundle of nerves extra aware of his presence, and he managed to hold you back once more. He’s forgiving. You knew he’d punish his co-stars if they couldn’t stay still like you, but he let this one slide. He continued rubbing slow, tight circles only to alter into an eight shape.

“Ten.”

The ultimatum. It has arrived, your key to heaven.

“Smart girl,” he cooed, never actually stopping. “This little hole of yours looks neglected, hm?”

“Yes, pleasepleaseplease.”

“Touch your clit slowly like I taught you,” he ordered. “You can do that can you, sweetheart?”

You nodded, distraught and ruined. With his sweet permission, you pulled one arm out from your back and rested it right above your clit. Slow and steady. Just like how he ordered. Mr. Miller on the other hand was slicking up his pointer finger with his tongue. Fuck, that looks so god damn hot.

He had pressed his sole finger deep into your warmth with no hesitation whatsoever. The combination of his calloused finger against your walls and the golden freckles inside his narrowed irises had you reaching out for his forearm. Your nails came in contact with his skin as you dug upon it, crescent shapes formed in pinkish shades atop his skin. You had to sit up as the only way you’re getting through this is by leaning on his sturdy arm.

“Oh, you like that, huh? Filthy girls like you love to get their holes filled?”

What you didn’t expect was having him press a second finger in. His one finger was thicker than what you’re used to, but two fingers? That makes you an overachiever for sure. You looked up to meet his eyes frantically. You knew he wouldn’t be kind enough to withdraw the action when his mind is already set on it, but it was worth the try. He cocked his head arrogantly as he pursued his plans. Mr. Miller’s middle finger was a tight fit. Barely able to slip past the ring of muscles. Though when he did manage to get himself in, a loud moan escaped your lips. 

“Mr. Miller. I can’t- I’ve never- never taken two fingers!”

“I know you can do it, sweetheart,” his free hand went over to run over your sweaty hair, admiring every inch of you. “You wanna please that boy, don’t you? Little Simon?”

He was skillful with his fingers, perhaps from his job requirements. Although it’s still incredible how he managed to have you squirming, yelling how you’re about to cum in a matter of seconds. All he did was switch between pumping the two in you, creating the filthiest sounds, and reaching upwards to hit that certain spot of yours. You rubbed your clit with much concentration as you followed after his thrusts.

“Mr- oh.. Mr. Miller! I’m gonna cum, sir.”

“You’re gonna do that for me?” he grinned, pushing his fingers into you as deep as they could go. He maintained a steady pace, emphasizing pressure on that spongy spot up top that you’ve never managed to reach with your stubby fingers. “Pretty girl gonna cum from my fingers?”

“Yes, yes.. sir. Please.”

“Cum for me, darlin’” he whispered. “Show me how good you can be.”

Oh god, you're in a lot of trouble.

[blorbocedes]

For the trope mash-up: didnt mean to turn you on + innocent physical touch for franco 'milf-hunter' colapinto and checo/lewis

okay hear me out. what if checo was a woman instead 🤭🫣

Checo's had a fucking year.

The car is shit. She's been saying for so long but now they finally believe it as even Redbull’s wunderkind Max struggles in it. Every other interview, news cycle is about her retiring, her being unceremoniously kicked out as drivers salivate for her seat, her middling performance due to early pre-menopausal hormones? Just 2 years ago, she was the Mexican Queen of Defense, and now it's 'is she Redbull’s DEI hire?' The stories have become outlandish, announcing her second pregnancy and retirement at Mexican Grand Prix. That's why after Daniel, who had very clearly been brought in to replace her, was switched mid season she posted the Wolf of Wall Street clip on her instagram to make it clear: I’m not fucking leaving.

So forgive her if she's been seeking a little respite elsewhere.

There's a hot, young Argentine at Williams that's been eyeing her. Checo’s a woman on the F1 grid, she's been eyed like that thousands of times, most of it unwanted. Although, it fell off after she birthed the twins and her tits never returned to their glory days. So it's a little flattering reminder she's still got it. Being able to speak in the same language also helps, not having to translate everything for doublespeak. They have rapport.

“How old are you?” Checo asks at the club. She's not there to celebrate, she just needs a drink. Franco’s at the stage where finishing a race is cause for celebration.

“Twenty five.” Franco replies in her ear entirely too quickly, with a grin.

Checo raised an eyebrow. She didn't keep track of the rookies but she sure as hell knew they weren't doing twenty five year old rookies anymore.

A group of tourists seem to recognize her, probably fans and she's in no autographing mood so she pulls Franco in closer in front of her, to block her five foot four self from the world. He misreads the signal, but is all too happy to step in closer; personal space be damned.

“Okay. I lied. I didn't want to freak you out.” Franco confesses sheepishly.

Checo drinks her whiskey, assessing it. “I was winning karting races while you were in diapers, yes?”

It makes her feel old just saying it. She doesn't know how Fernando does it.

Franco nods, pupils going dark.

“And…” she raises her left hand, eyes pointing to her wedding ring.

Franco smirks. “I don't mind if you don't.” He leans in for the kiss, and Checo leans back denying him. Too public. She's learned from that mistake. She does put her left hand on his nape, stroking it and praising the boldness. It's dangerous, sleeping with another driver. When you're a woman, it gives them too much power. That's why Checo never acted on Max's obvious interest. But Franco doesn't have a seat next year yet... as temporary and harmless to her prospects as it gets.

“Come on,” Franco’s voice betrays the frustration underneath the trying hard to be suave, “I know you're thinking it too. You'd rather be on a boat with me than this totally lame club. And what I might lack in experience, I can make up for in stamina.” He practically purrs in her ear.

“A boat? Williams is not paying you that much.” Checo laughs, even as she entertains the line about stamina. James is a penny pincher to a fault. And Franco might get F1 groupies impressed with that line, but as the primary breadwinner she knows a little better.

Franco’s undeterred. “Your boat then. I can be your yacht boy.”

Now wouldn't Checo love to be sunning on a boat, no kids running around, being waited on hand and foot by an eager, younger man who can go for round two in ten minutes. God, she hasn't been filled up in a satisfying way in so long, her cunt throbs at the fantasy, aided by the tall, warm body in front of her.

Checo bites her lower lip, and looks around. Nobody around them in paying attention to the dark corner they're in anymore. She takes Franco’s hand and places it over her breast, holding his gaze. For all his smooth-talking, Franco seems momentarily stunned, mouth parting in surprise. He has naturally red lips, Checo wants to bite on it. He tentatively squeezes her breast, and after seeing her nod, starts kneading it, thumb trying to find her nipple through the layers of her polo shirt and sports bra.

“Can I please eat you?” Franco’s voice is husky as he begs.

[super-cosmic-library]

kiss with a fist (better than none)

written for @steddie-week day 2 I prompt: hands

wc: 1299 I rated: M I tags: omegaverse, dubious consent, alpha eddie munson, omega steve harrington I cw: mentions of billy hargrove I [ao3]

Steve has only ever known the cruelness hands bring. The sting of his alpha father’s fist, when he acted too much like an omega. The hollow promises penned by his omega mother, who couldn’t stick around, even for her only pup. The pain of a kick or a shove given to him by partner after partner, who all claimed their actions were out of love. It’s no wonder Steve’s wires got crossed.

When Billy beats the shit out of him in the Fall of their senior year, Steve can’t help but wonder if the alpha loves him too. And when the man continues to beat and harass him throughout the rest of high school, he assumes he’s being courted.

When Billy dies in the summer of ‘85 after the hands of a stranger had bloodied the omega up, he can’t help but fall into rejection sickness.

He closes himself off from the rest of the world, only pretending to be fine when the kids ask for him. Even then, he’s too blinded by his own heartache to see that Max is suffering from the loss too. The only one to know he’s sick is Robin. The beta had bullied her way into his heart through drug-addled confessions on a bathroom floor.

In the months following that awful July, she forces her way into his life and home, making sure he eats and tries her best to distract him from his sorrow. And it works. Over time, he learns how to take care of himself again. On several occasions, she even gets him to laugh again. But it’s not quite enough.

It’s not Robin’s fault, no matter how much she acts like it is. She’s a beta, after all. How could she know what he needs? And how would she be able to give it to him? He tries to reassure her of this. His body needs the embrace of an alpha. He needs the comfort of a nest. But Billy is dead, and when his father was around, he’d never felt safe enough to learn how to make a nest. The ones Robin tries to help him with never feel or smell right.

So, he tries to get by with what he can. He starts dating again. The attention of an alpha brings him some level of comfort, but then when he learns he isn’t wanted for more than a night of fun, he finds he feels worse than before. So, he goes back to his lumpy nest and curls up with Robin, watching cartoons until the world around him numbs enough for him to fall asleep. 

It goes on like this week after week. He’s too tired to watch after the pups in his pack. He doesn’t see how the group has been slowly drifting apart. He knows some of the pups found a new person to idolize. Super senior alpha Eddie Munson is all Dustin can talk about whenever he stops by Family Video. If he could find it in himself to care more, Steve would fight back against the feeling of being replaced. But he doesn’t.

And life goes on.

March of ‘86 rolls around and with it the Upside Down rears its ugly head. Dustin and Max, who’s looking worse for wear, rush into Family Video, talking a mile a minute about how Eddie has gone missing. While he might not be the biggest fan of the guy, he knows the alpha is important to the pups, so of course he agrees to help find him. Besides, the search is a nice distraction from the ever-present ache in his chest.

When they enter Reefer Rick’s decrepit boat house, Steve imagines himself as a Scooby Doo character investigating a haunted old mansion. For the first time since the Fourth of July, he feels a bit like himself again. He’s heckling Dustin, and Max is snarking at them both, while Robin rambles on about the dangers of tetanus. The three of them don’t even notice the saltwater smell of a feral alpha.

Steve’s attacking a tarped boat with a wooden oar when it happens.

Hands grab him, forcing him up against a post. The jagged glass of a broken bottle grazes his mating gland. Distantly, he hears Robin freaking out, while Dustin tries his best to reason with a near-feral Eddie. 

The alpha doesn’t seem to notice the pup. All his focus is trained on Steve, who’s overcome by the smell of ozone and the wide brown eyes staring into his soul.

Slick runs down his legs, soaking through his jeans. He lets out a needy, involuntary whine.  

Madness and longing are slowly creeping into his being, but they feel entirely different than what he’s experienced over the past nine months. He feels like he did when Billy had towered over him in the Byers’ old home but more intense.

Glass breaks the skin on his neck as Eddie starts to rut up against him. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees his friends advance to help him, but Eddie lets out a sharp growl. He somehow knows that if he could, he would be growling too.

The broken bottle clatters to the ground. The alpha places his arms against the post on either side of Steve, shielding him from his friends. The action makes his knees weak and his head light.

“Eddie, it’s me, Dustin,” the pup says in a calm voice. “We come in peace. Please release Steve, and we can talk.”

Steve has to squeeze his eyes shut in order to force the words out. “No. I wanna . . .”

He nuzzles against Eddie, who’s been scenting him. It’s been so long since he’s felt the care of an alpha, that he loses his train of thought. His mind feels sluggish. His sole attention is on the hard line of the alpha against him.

Robin ushers the pups out, understanding in a way that only a soulmate could, that this is exactly what Steve’s body needs. Later, he’ll figure out a way to thank her. And to apologize for surely scarring her and the pups for life. For now, he nips at Eddie’s musky skin.

With rough hands, Eddie shoves him to the ground. Seams rip as the alpha tears off their clothes. Laid out bare beneath him, the feral beast runs his hands over Steve’s skin, threading his fingers through his chest hair and kneading at the bit of extra omegan fat around his belly.

“Mine.” Eddie’s voice sends shivers straight down to his toes.

Eddie pushes Steve’s knees up to his chest, leaving bite marks that break the skin on his calves and thighs. His heart flutters. Unlike the other alphas he had slept with, who had demanded he present to them, Eddie wants to look him in the eyes and see the pleasure he wrings out of him. The omega swoons.

When he fucks him, it’s rough and desperate and just what he needs to feel levelheaded again. Eddie pounds into him with so much force, he pushes Steve against the weathered floor. His skin catches on each splinter, leaving hundreds of tiny cuts that will make laying on his back uncomfortable for at least a week. The prospect of having lasting marks from their union fills Steve with excitement.

Eddie’s knot expands inside him, filling him with warmth and pups. Before he knows what’s happening, the alpha’s razor-sharp teeth sink into the omega’s mating gland. 

Euphoria rushes through him. Finally, he has someone who will love him the way his inner omega needs and will not leave him.

The alpha presents his neck to him, and he bites down, blood filling his mouth, completing the bond.

And for the first time since July, Steve feels like he can finally breathe. 

[janitorhutcherson]

finnick odair who was never in the games but instead is your average man who lives in a coastal city in california. he’s rough around the edges still, gruff, sarcastic, and cocky, but he is happy and free. he’s more soft spoken and his guard is let down more, but only around specific people. mostly only around you.

finnick odair who owns a fishing company called ‘odair fisheries.’ he spends most of his time out on a little sailboat he’s made up. he’ll spend hours out in the ocean, just him, a cooler, and his fishing rod. his golden tan skin is sunburnt in some areas from long exposure and lack of sunscreen, something you’d gotten onto him about ten times too many. his body is covered in little tattoos of seashells, sea turtles, boat anchors, small outlines of fish. a seashell necklace sits around his neck, homemade from your delicate and loving hands.

finnick odair who’d practically BEG for you to come fishing with him. you weren’t the biggest fan. something about sitting out in the searing heat all day on a rocking surface didn’t seem all that appealing to you, but when finnick would look at you with his big blue puppy dog eyes, his bottom lip sticking out, you couldn’t resist. if you were determined to deny his suggestions, he’d go even further, throwing in a desperate, “please, sweetheart, you know i hate being without you as is.” as always, you’d give in, not particularly loving the sweat dripping off of your forehead but loving admiring your partner in front of you. you loved the way his face scrunched up in focus as he cast the line, his eyes perched on a particular spot. you loved the way his muscles tensed as he reeled the line in, or the way he huddled over you when attempting to teach you how to fish for the hundredth time (once again unsuccessful, though you know he’d try again tomorrow).

finnick odair who also taught children to fish as a part of his company. on weekend mornings, he’d have different classes that would last about 30 minutes. at the beginning, he’d take a group of kids out to a dock near his boat and he would teach the basics. by the end of the block of classes, he’d have even kids as little as 5 out fishing on his boat with him. he loved the kids like his own, growing attached to each and every one of them. you loved watching him teach, seeing how he’d sweetly hug the little boy gripping onto his leg back or how he’d soothe the crying little girl who fell and scraped your knee. he’d get you involved in helping to wrangle the kids, too, watching you intently as you’d braid a little girl’s hair for her or cradle one of the youngest ones on your hip. finnick wanted kids more than anything and he wanted them with you, his mind going crazy, desperate for a little family with you every time he saw you with children. it’s safe to say finnick’s baby fever is crazy.

finnick odair who spends rainy sunday mornings with nothing else to do playing guitar hero and other various video games. as rain would pelt down heavily on the roof of the house, the waves rocking the boat a little too much for him to even dare to attempt the seas (although he had in unsafe weather one too many times for your liking), you’d be awoken far too early in the morning to the smell of freshly baked muffins (from a box) and the sound of some rock song on the tv mixed with plastic clanking. you’d trudge into the living room, fuzzy blanket wrapped around your cold shoulders, and plop down onto the couch where a muffin already awaited you with some warm coffee on the side table. you couldn’t help but laugh as you nestled into your corner on the couch, turning yourself into a nest of blanket. finnick would be going crazy with the guitar strapped around his neck, resting at his somewhat bare torso. he’d be jamming out in his underwear, hair tussled, eyes still puffy with sleep. his nimble fingers would click through the red, blue, green, yellow pieces as his piercing blue eyes focused on the screen. you couldn’t help but fall more in love with him as you begin to doze back off in your corner.

finnick odair who loves intimacy. it was something that didn’t come easy to him. although things were much simpler for finnick odair in this life than in the hunger games, he still had his guard up. you’d taught him how to be intimate, how to love and to feel love, how to share his feelings with more than just ‘i love you.’ at night, he would spoon you to sleep, hand always resting on your stomach from behind, nuzzled up as close as he could get. if he was holding you the other direction, he’d hold you close into his chest, resting his nose in your hair, taking in your scent. “you are my entire ocean, the sea breeze that makes the waves move, the crystal blue water, all the way up to the glisten in the sea, sweet girl,” he’d mutter into your ear. even when you were fast asleep, he’d still whisper sweet nothings into your ear. when you’d take showers, he’d carefully sneak in and slip in behind you, almost always causing you to fall, but he’d be prepared and catch you. he’d then tenderly wash through your hair for you, pressing little kisses to your shoulders. finnick loved and adored you and he’d do anything possible to show that.

[copperbadge]

I’ve been watching a lot of Olympic surfing since it’s soothing and beautiful sprinkled with moments of mouth-dropping excitement and it got me thinking - would Monday compete for Askazer-Shivadlakia? I could totally see the royal family on a boat screaming at the top of their lungs for her :D

I see you've seen the picture of the king and queen of the Netherlands at the Olympics :D

[ID: A photograph of two people wearing orange hats and sunglasses, looking very much like a mom and dad cheering on their kid; the woman has a floral peasant blouse on, and the man is wearing a ring tee that reads PARIS with a VIP badge around his neck.]

I swore I had made a post about Monday competing in the Olympics but it turns out it was a discussion carried out in comments. :D So allow me to elaborate....

To represent a country in the Olympics you have to be a "national" of said country. Broadly, that's anyone who has significant allegiance to a country. By the time August 2024 rolls around Monday will have been a resident for two years and she has a royal visa plus biological children who are citizens, and her brother-in-law is the elected head of state, so I'm thinking that qualifies. Fons-Askaz is a popular surf spot but it's mostly tourists, so she's not taking a spot from someone who should be representing the country, which is important to her. One reason Monday and Eddie like Shivadh culture so much is that it's very like their own -- sportsmanship is a closely held value.

Now, not to be a killjoy, but would Monday choose to compete in the Olympics? Like a lot of sports, surfing has its own competitions, and does she want to associate with an organization that she must, being her, have serious ethical concerns over? Setting aside that she's competing in Tahiti, and I can't find much coverage about how Tahitians feel about that, olympic host cities regularly do brutal clearances of unhoused and poor people, constantly overspend on elaborate athletic facilities that then rot emptily, and in the case of Paris, create what critics have called a "two tier" system based on how much you can pay. As I predicted, temperatures in the olympic village are regularly hitting the eighties indoors, and those who couldn't afford air conditioning struggle to compete at the level of their wealthier peer countries. An Italian gold-medalist swimmer has taken to sleeping in parks because he can't sleep in his room. Monday can bring her own personal chef to Tahiti with her, but that's because he's her brother. Not to mention the issues surrounding the way wealth improves training and skill, the way genetics play a part, and the appalling record of the IOC on gender and race.

As may be evident, I'm not a fan of the olympics. I don't watch them and haven't for 25 years now. I'm not going to claim the reason is ethical concerns, because I just plain don't give much of a damn about olympic competition and I follow soccer which is as abusive and toxic just in different ways. But it doesn't help that there are so many issues. And yeah, it absolutely is also thrilling and fun, which is why I feel bad talking about this! And for some sports truly it is the only place they get to show or compete (don't get me started on television networks who get to call what is and isn't broadcast, let alone archived) but this is a moral question athletes are going to have to start to grapple with.

And ALL THAT SAID....

Monday knows this will realistically be her last olympics. She will still be competing at the elite level for a few years and will have a long career as a coach if she does well; she might even qualify in 2028, but at that point she'll be in her mid thirties and likely not still in championship form, and will have had time to train Shivadh surfers so they can compete. And Gregory is not only fond of Monday and kind of in agreement about the olympics, but he is very, very loyal to the woman who carried his children.

So she has nothing to lose, really, and competing in the Olympics, especially if she does well, is a fantastic way to bring attention to how fucked up they are.

I doubt I'd ever write it, except maybe as a short story, but if I did it would be about Monday declaring herself an Activist Competitor, putting the olympics on blast every time she's got a mic in her face, and plotting it with the boys ahead of time so that when the press or even the IOC runs to them, they shrug and say, "What do you want us to do about it? We agree with her. If the IOC doesn't like it they know what to do," basically daring them to fix their shit or ban her.

And there is some fun to be had with it too! You've got Georgie becoming an inadvertent icon as Monday's girlfriend, Gregory and Eddie cheering her on while holding the twins, Joan (and possibly Noah, given he'll be on summer break from college) romping around the place with recording equipment. And also fun, Michaelis and Jes agreeing to go to Paris instead because there are other Shivadh competing and they have to represent the side.

Monday didn't even ask the others to join her in activism because she didn't want them to risk their careers at her say-so, but they are Shivadh, after all, and one of their favorite things to do is fuck shit up, so they absolutely would lead an insurrection in Paris, probably wearing shirts that read WE'RE TOO HOT TO SLEEP. Jes absolutely has a shirt reading NB FOR AC.

I think you have to actually commit war crimes to get a country banned from the olympics (and even then, sometimes you get a pass) but I do think it would be funny if the Paris contingent caused so many issues that I could title the story "We Got Banned From The Olympics And All We Got Were These Dumb Gold Medals". Especially if the gold medals aren't even olympic medals, they're medals Gregory had made to reward the Shivadh athletes for their actions. Gold medal in activism for everyone!

[zepp-l1n]

The Same

Pairing: Daniel Matthews x Fem!reader

summary: Daniel meets someone in the same boat as him at a "Jigsaw victim therapy group" session. fic type - hurt/comfort, post Saw 2, fluff?? warning - 2000s emo x 2000s emo, canon level Saw violence, both reader and Daniel have PTSD, mentions of past drug use, mentions of body scarring from the traps, self harm (??) word count - 1,779 a/n: hiiii! sorry my posting has been kinda off and on for the past few months, but I'm hoping now that school and my personal schedule is a little more chill, I'll be able to write and post more often. <3 (also, what's up with the lack of Daniel fics?)

Group therapy wasn't Daniel's idea. He knew he needed to talk about the things he had gone through and seen, which is why he had originally gone to one-on-one therapy, but when his therapist had suggested joining Bobby Dagen's group he had been very apprehensive. At first, Daniel had been very against the idea. He found Bobby very pretentious and overzealous, and the entire "Jigsaw victim therapy group" to be a scam for Bobby's fan's entertainment. For months his therapist and his mother brought up the group again and again, leading to Daniel finally deciding to go in the hopes of getting them to shut up about it.

Now, Daniel found himself in the room Bobby would rent out for each session. They were all sitting side by side in the formation of a circle, letting each person have a clear view of everyone else. Not one person in the room, other than bobby, looked elated to be there.

Daniel sat in his folded out seat, arms crossed and head turned downward. So far, the entire experience had been uncomfortable. Bobby had gone on one of his regularly scheduled "We should be grateful!" spiels, and multiple people had shared their sob-stories. For 30 minuets Daniel had to endure the same arguments and conversations over and over. He sat in silence, never once making himself known - choosing to sit and pick at his black, long-sleeved undershirt the entire time.

Daniel had been so focused on his own thoughts that when he finally glanced back up, he noticed all the eyes on him. "Daniel?" Bobby called out.

"Hmm?" his reply was short and uninterested.

"I asked if you would like to share your story with the others. Would you?" Bobby asked. The smile he gave Daniel as he spoke made him divert his eyes. Daniel shrugged, not knowing if he truly wanted to. "If you'd like to wait that's okay. Whenever you're ready, Daniel."

The other's diverted their attention to Luba afterwards, taking in her story. Daniel silently listened, just waiting for the session to be over. They continued this way, story after story, until the door swung open, creating a loud noise. In it's opening was a girl, presumably around Daniel's age from what he could see.

"Ah, (Y/N), nice of you to finally join us." Bobby sarcastically spoke.

The teen stepped into the room, waving at a man in the corner that Daniel hadn't noticed before, and continued towards the circle. The silver chain hanging from her belt loops lightly rattled against her black cargo-jeans as she walked his way. "Oh shut up, Bobby. Some of us have lives outside the whole Jigsaw shit." she scoffed, her eyeliner covered eyes glaring at the older man. The girl, (Y/N) as Daniel her Bobby call her, took a open seat a few chairs down from Daniel, giving him a tight-lipped smile and a wave of her ringed hand before turning towards the others.

"Now, now, (Y/N). There's no need for hostility here - we're all the same." Bobby cheerfully stated, causing the girl to roll her eyes. "Here, since you missed when everyone else did it, why don't you introduce yourself to out newest member. This is Daniel." his arm directed (Y/N)'s eyes to her fellow teen.

(Y/N)'s dark-red lips turned up into a forced smile before she spoke. "Hi, I'm (Y/N). I'm the girl who was found a week after a trap that wasn't even hers, half dead and tied to the mutilated corpse of her sister. Nice to meet you!" The smile dropped immediately after she finished her sentence.

"Sorry Daniel. Just ignore her. She's still a little apprehensive to be doing this." Daniel awkwardly nodded at Bobby's explanation. "Good, now why don't we continue..." Daniel couldn't focus on Bobby as he spoke - his attention was solely caught on (Y/N)'s appearance. On top of the jeans and chain, she also had a shirt similar to what he would usually wear. It was red and white, and he could tell it was showing some kind of band-logo, but he couldn't get a clear enough look to tell what band. Glancing down at his own white t-shirt, he caught similarities between the two, finally realizing who it was. "Wrath of the Gods." he whispered.

(Y/N)'s head lightly turned her head, seemingly asking him to repeat himself.

"Your shirt. It's 'Wrath of the Gods' - like mine." he lightly smiled. "You like them?"

She glances down, taking in her own shirt and then his. "Huh... Yeah, my sister, she uh, introduced me to their music a few years ago. This was her shirt actually; she gave me it when she got a new one before the trap."

"Sounds like she was pretty cool." Daniel muttered. By this point, (Y/N) had moved over a seat so they could talk without bothering any of the others.

She smiled before whispering back, "She was."

Now that she was closer, Daniel could see the scarring on her face, neck, arms, and hands. He couldn't help but wonder what she fully went through if that was the result of her trap. It also made him wonder if the same scarring would cascade down her legs and torso too. Did the scarring all look the same; how many were there; were some more gory than others? Hundreds of questions flew through his mind as he looked at her.

"How'd you get them?" Daniel didn't even register the fact that he had spoken.

"Huh?" (Y/N) whispered.

"Sorry, uh, your scars. If you don't mind me asking, how'd you get them? I mean, you don't have to tell me. Y'know, I don't want to cross any boundar-" Daniel's rant was cut off by (Y/N).

"It's fine, Daniel." she sighed, giving him a sad smile. "I got these during my sister's 'game'"

"Your sister's game?" Daniel asked, hoping she would clarify.

(Y/N) looked over at the others, making sure no one was bothered by their conversation, before continuing. "Yeah. My sister was the one being tested. It was my fault, but she was the one who got the consequences." she paused, taking a moment to fully think about how to explain her experience. "My parents died when I was little, and my sister had turned 18 a few weeks before they did. After that, she took me in; became my legal guardian, y'know. She was a nurse too, so a lot of the time I was either by myself or out with friends. When my friend Amy finally got her learners, we went out one evening and ended up in an accident. That led to me being on a shit-ton of pain meds, and eventually I got hooked. It was really bad. Jane, my sister, had access to a lot of pain medication, and I used that against her. I begged for weeks for her to steal me them. She, uh... She eventually couldn't take seeing me so bad, so she broke a lot of rules and brought me some. I guess Jigsaw found out, and he thought I was pulling her down. When he took us, his whole argument in the tape was that I was bad for her, and if she got rid of her baggage - me - then she'd be free and would go places in life. If she didn't get rid of me, she'd die." Once again, (Y/N) paused, collecting herself. "He had us tied together to this weird chair set up. It was on these rails, and in front of either of us were these things I could only describe as 'the open-faced turkey sandwich version of a woodchipper'. She was supposed to kill me - push me into mine. I begged and pleaded for her to just do it, cause, I mean, he was right. I was the only bad thing in her life. She would've been better off without me."

"If she died, and didn't want to hurt you, then how did you end up with all the scars?" Daniel quietly asked.

"I did it to myself." Daniel's eyes widened at how casually she said it. "She wouldn't push back and put me into the woodchipper, so I did it myself. I put my feet on the edges of the rails and pushed myself forwards into it. I got close enough to cut myself up a bit. I thought I was gonna save her." (Y/N)'s eyes began to water, and she quickly wiped it away. "Jane was always stronger than me, though. She pulled back and kept us at the midpoint. We were there when the timer went off. I guess it was motorized, cause when the timer went off, we moved backwards. Jane went straight into it. There was nothing I could do but sit there and listen to her screams. Jigsaw and his little groupies never came for me. I was supposed to die, so they left me there. For about a week I was strapped to the trap and what was left of my sister, out of it from blood loss, hunger, and dehydration. Some homeless guy eventually found everything and called the police."

"Wow..." Daniel muttered.

"Yeah, I know." (Y/N) hesitantly chuckled. "Since then I've been doing two sessions of regular therapy a week, this, and rehab."

As she finished her sentence, Bobby loudly spoke up. "Alright guys, today was great! It is time we wrap up though. I hope to see everyone again next week, and I hope you have a great rest of your week." The two teens watched as he walked back to the doorway of the room, stopping next to his wife, lawyer, bestfriend, and publicist.

"Well, I guess that's enough trauma dumping for today." (Y/N) glanced back over at Daniel. "Listen, uh, y'know, 'Wrath of the Gods' has a show this weekend. You should come, so we could hang out some more. To be honest, I need more friends who listen to music I like." she laughed.

Daniel grinned, "Yeah, why not?"

"Good, good." (Y/N) mumbled. "Listen, I gotta go, my foster dad picks me up from these things, but I'll see you this weekend."

"Yeah, yeah, see you later." he smiled. Daniel contently watched as she got up, and headed for the door.

As she got closer to the door, (Y/N) turned back around and waved at him. "Bye, Danny."

(Y/N) turned back around and exited, leaving Daniel to sit in the room alone, thinking over what had just happened. "Holy shit." he dramatically exhaled. Maybe coming to the "Jigsaw victim therapy group" wasn't that bad of an idea.

[jjclopelover]

How he talks to/about her v.s. How he talks to/about him

I'm back with more analysis' about JJPope and why it's better than anything either of them had with Kie.

Today I'm talking about JJ and how he speaks of and to them and why the difference in how he does it speaks VOLUMES.

JJ talking about Kie (S1): "Of course, I'm hitting on her. She's a super-hot, rich, hippie chick, slumming with us. Why? I can't figure it out either, but who cares, bro? I know that door's locked because I tried it. Have you?"

JJ talking about Pope(S2): "Ain't all that bad. Just look at the guy over there. He would do anything for us. That's a Pouge if I've ever seen one. Bone-deep. That's just one man's opinion, though."

THE DIFFERENCE.

JJ talking to/about Pope:

"For once in your life, trust someone else."

~~~

"You're the golden boy."

~~~

Topper: "Hey, I just wanna make sure everyone here is okay with ending up in federal prison."

JJ: "Uh, if it gets to that, yeah, I'll do it for Pope."

~~~

"I'm here for you, Pope. Welcome to my world, okay?"

~~~

JJ talking to/about Kie:

"And you--I mean, you're already rich as fuck anyway. Why would you bother?"

~~~

"Okay. Not all of us can afford unlimited data plans, Kiara."

~~~

"Hell of a job melting it down, Dr.Frankenstein."

~~~

(I don't need to put anymore as all of JJ's quotes for Kie are from the first half of S1 lol.)

As you can see, JJ speaks highly of Pope and lowly of Kie. He sees being a pouge as a badge of honor and gave Pope the highest honor. He sees Pope as someone he can relate too and shares a deep connection too.

He doesn't see that with Kie.

And I hear Jiara stans saying "What about S3? He was so worried about her and went back to get her!"

And to that, I say, "Yeah...cuz it's JJ."

His number one trait as a character is his loyalty. It's his best trait as it shows how much he will do for his friends. But also his worst trait as he puts his friends over his own being and in the end it only hurts him.

JJ would have reacted the same if it was anyone else in that situation.

Like when John B was a wanted criminal, JJ did anything for him. (risking to get arrested himself, shooting cops, and being by his side when he was on the run)

Or when Sarah is dealing with Ward or Rafe, JJ is always watching over her. (running after a car that held a drugged Sarah unconscious in the back, jumping in a shipping crate to get her and the cross back, staying by her side, and keeping an eye on her when John B was found guilty in court.)

And even Cleo who just joined the crew, JJ makes sure to treat her like the rest of the pouges. (like when he praised her for convincing Pope's parents to let him go to South America)

And we all know that he would do the same if not more for Pope. (going to jail for him, almost getting arrested for him again, taking over an entire boat of men to get his cross plus Sarah, risking being seen with him at Midsummers when he was supposed to be undercover, taking a beating from his dad for him, fighting for him at the outdoor movie, being super protective about him anytime he was around Limbrey and Renfield, keeping the secret that Pope was the one who actually sunk the boat and lying to the others, bringing Pope to his cousin Ricky's house to save his life even tho Ricky was still pissed at him for stealing his ambulance.)

And many, MANY, more.

The way we are introduced to JJ who loves and protects Pope but pushes Kie aside

versus

The way they "built up" S3 JJ for a toxic relationship with Kie but as a result of that he has to push Pope aside.

The writers and creators gave us s1 JJ, that's how his character was made and supposed to be portrayed. S3 JJ was built off toxic fans who threatened their way into an unfortunate canon ship.

Toxic stans = Toxic ship.

You Jiara stans wonder why JJ felt out of character, or why the Jiara chemistry felt forced or fake. That's because it was.

You can't force chemistry.

All the OBX cast did chemistry reads to see which duos worked together as a couple and which didn't. But the one duo that did not do a chemistry read was JJ and Kie (Rudy and Madi)

why?

because the creators saw no need. as they weren't even thinking of getting those two characters together. JJ was supposed to end up with Cleo. That was one of the many reasons Cleo came back as a main character.

What they would do with Kie and Pope, I don't know and I don't care. But Any ending would have been better than canon Jiara.

Anywaysssss

JJ treats Pope like he's his partner

and

JJ treats Kie like she's his sister

But let's be honest...we all see that, don't we?

Editor's note: Sry this took so long lol, life's been busy :)

[rambleonwaywardson]

Clegan Olympics Headcanons

Some headcanons I have about Buck and Bucky as Olympic athletes, initially inspired by this post by @brotherwtf and my replies to it with @impalachick. I just felt like fleshing these ideas out a bit more. Anyone feel free to add to it!

John as a gymnast and Gale as a horseback rider:

First of all, Bucky is a gymnast. it's easy to imagine him as a rower because of Boys in the Boat, but hear me out... LOOK at those thighs, those shoulders. He's a bit tall but shhhh it's fine, he'd excel at men's gymnastics. Especially rings and floor.

He's been doing gymnastics since he was little -- just imagine a tiny sassy Bucky tumbling around and doing handstands. He's always been good, but when he hit puberty and put on all that muscle, wow.

He definitely has strengths in certain events, but he's an all-around gymnast with a tendency for pushing boundaries. He's known for the raw power and strength he shows in his events. I don't think this is his first Olympics either, since gymnasts tend to be on the younger side. He's been on the map probably since he started college.

He's just getting better with age, though. People don't pay as much attention to men's gymnastics as they do women's, but man they talk about John Egan (it helps that everyone is a little in love with him).

I've decided to indulge myself and imagine Gale as an equestrian. He does eventing (jumping, dressage, and cross-country)

He didn't grow up with any fancy horses or trainers or tack. He wore hand-me-downs for years and trained green horses from the ground up and worked tirelessly on farms in exchange for ride time. He worked for every inch of what he's accomplished, always for the love of the animal and of the sport.

The equestrian athletes tend to be older, so this might be Gale's first Olympics. He's the new young hotty on the equestrian team that everyone wants to watch. Maybe in this way John kind of helps him navigate being an Olympian.

I don't know how or when they first meet, but one of the first things John notices about Gale (other than how beautiful he is and that voice and those eyes) is how deeply he cares for and loves his horse, who is his partner in this crazy sport. I imagine Gale as an animal-lover, and he values his horse more than anything else in this world (except, eventually, maybe John)

John has next to no experience with horses. He's not scared of them, but appropriately wary perhaps. And Gale's horse is tall, which doesn't help. He's nervous the first time Gale takes him into the stables but tries to act like he's not. He wants so badly for Gale's horse to like him (she does).

Also I feel like Gale rides a mare -- they're sassy and opinionated and so so loyal for the right person (vague parallel to John??? lol)

They start learning about each others' sports and try to watch every event the other is in, becoming each others' biggest fans even if they only half know what's going on. John is always a little terrified watching Gale ride, especially during cross-country. Gale thinks he's crazy for this because he can barely watch sometimes when John is flipping through the air so high off the ground like that.

Them exploring Paris together when they're not competing!!! Imagine the general shenanigans and romance and cuteness of them galivanting around the city together.

They definitely get some attention as a sort of "it" couple during the games and pictures start circulating of them together. An unlikely pairing across sports, especially because Gale and John have such different personalities and reputations. The attention makes Gale a little uncomfortable, so John starts making a point to obnoxiously block any photos reporters try to take of them together. This ends up just making Gale laugh and he tells John to stop.

When they're home, they try to teach each other basics of their sports. Gale gives John a pony ride on his Olympic sport horse who is worth thousands and thousands of dollars and tries to teach him how to ride by himself. John is clumsy about it but only falls maybe once, and he's determined to please Gale so he keeps trying. John tries to teach Gale how to do some basic tumbling but Gale, while strong in his own right, just does not have that type of strength, coordination, or flexibility and repeatedly falls on his ass before adamantly refusing to ever do it again (I love those videos of olympic athletes trying each others' sports)

Totally did not mean to build on this so much and don't intend to do anything with it but I'm gonna be thinking about this a lot I think.

[a3dan13]

American Girls - Alex Turner x fem!Reader

Word Count: 729

Summary: Running into Alex Turner after being his classmate. Inspired by AM Alex.

Warnings: None! (sassy man warning 💅)

‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ - - ୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵ 

You grew up with Alex Turner and went to high school with him. He never took an interest in you; he said that American girls weren't really "his thing" when you asked if he'd want to hang out. You settled for being a sort of fan when the Monkeys got big. You bought the records, and you told your friends that you knew him whenever he was mentioned. You expected their faces of interest. You expected them to ask if you knew he was gonna be famous. You expected their looks when you told them that he was kind of an ass. You did not expect him to walk into the bar every teen sneaks into as a rite of passage in your town, which also happened to be your current workplace.

He and his bandmates strode up to the bar, some slightly aware of a few of the turning heads. "Ey love, 'ow are you?" Alex greeted as he took a seat. For a moment, you thought he may have recognized you, but you quickly realized he was just being kind to the bartender, who he did not know, let alone remember. Ouch.

"Good, and you?" you smiled. He looked a bit taken aback by your American accent.

"I'm alright. Say how does an American girl make it to Sheffield?" he quipped.

"By plane,” you remarked, “or boat if you're old fashioned. What can I get you?"

"Whiskey, neat." You got to pouring the drink and felt his eyes staring at you as you went along. You started to feel a bit self-conscious. Your black tank top was tight and didn't leave much to the imagination. On top of that, you were sweaty from working and your hair was swept into a messy ponytail. "You look oddly familiar," he said as you slid his glass across the bar to him.

"Is that so?"

"I don't know if it's the accent or... you just remind me of this American gal I went to school with."

"No shit," you blurted. His eyebrows shot up. He stared at you for a bit and then the look of realization lit up in his eyes.

"No shit!" he repeated, "You!"

"You don't remember my name," you laughed at him and tried to hide that you were a bit hurt.

"Nah," his voice trailed, "yeah..." He looked up at you apologetically. "Well, that makes me seem like an asshole." He rubbed his temples. "Allow me to restart," he held his hand out. "Hi, I'm Alex, I'm an ass, and you are?"

You returned his handshake, "I'm Y/N, very nice to meet such a respectful ass." He chuckled and ran his hand along the side of his hair, effectively slicking back any stray strands. You helped a few other patrons before you heard him speak up again.

"So, what have you been up to Y/N?"

"Well," you gestured to the bar. "I feel like I should be asking you."

"I have interviews for that, but I'd much prefer to hear about you."

You felt a blush pool across your cheeks. Was he flirting with you?

"I finished secondary, tried university, wasn't my thing," you told him. His eyes lingered on the way you moved with your hands on your hips as you talked. "I wanted to be an artist, I, uh-, paint.," you stammered feeling a bit shy about your shattered dreams. "But, you know, or maybe you don't, but there's a lot of painters out there, so..."

"None as cute as you though I reckon," he said almost slyly as if he hadn't meant for you to hear it... like it was a secret.

"'Scuse me?" you laughed, wanting him to repeat himself to make sure you didn't just imagine the compliment.

"You're beautiful."

"I thought you weren't into American girls," you said skeptically treading around his advances, as tempting as they were.

"Times are changin'. You've changed," he replied.

"So you thought I was ugly?"

"What? No!" he yelped nervously. "That's not what I meant." His exasperation amused you and you began to giggle at him. It was cute, how flustered he got, over you. You pulled a napkin from a tray on the bar, scribbled your number on it, and slid it across the bar to him.

"Call me, Turner." His tensely pursed lips melted into a goofy smile.

"Yes ma'am."

A/N: Should I make a part two for this where they go out on a date or smthg? lmk 💋 thank you for reading🫶

[captain-mj]

I love Hybrid Au's and was wondering if you could write one for Korangi? (You don't have to if you don't want to) also I love your writing, your story's are the reason I got so interested in reading fan fiction ❤❤

Shout out to my friends helping me pick the creatures to use <3

König watched Horangi with great interest. The man was... strange. There was an air around him. He was always curious of things he didn't understand.

König had watched him take items apart and put them back together over and over again until he got it right. It was something they shared. Though, where Horangi sought simply to understand, König wanted to know where hiding places were.

Fully shifted, he was just five inches and a half, huge for a wolf spider, yes, but still small and agile enough to tuck away into tiny places. Being a spider wasn't the most glamorous of the animals. He was perfect for infiltration and stealth, but only for short term missions.

Spiders didn't last long when people knew about them.

Horangi was assumed to be a tiger. Only assumed that, never explicitly stated. It was a mystery that bothered König. He didn't understand why he never put the rumors to rest by just coming out and saying it.

The two were paired up on a mission, again. König had used his connections as Colonel to get them paired together as often as he could without being suspicious.

Horangi looked up at him and he almost shivered. His eyes were dark. Inhumanly so. if Horangi ever admitted that he kept his eyes shifted all the time, he'd believe him.

König hummed. "How would you like to do this, Horangi?"

"Simple enough. We sneak in, find the information and leave. Kill whoever becomes a problem."

König nodded and they jumped off the boat, swimming under the water and into the base. He was rather fast himself but Horangi went straight past him, moving through the water so fluidly that König could barely see him. Horangi paused and turned around to watch him, treading water.

König caught up to him and smiled at him. Horangi continued on. They started to sneak through the place, with König occasionally shifting to let them through doors. They dispatched anyone that they came across with extreme prejudice.

Several of them were coming though and they'd undoubtedly blow their cover. Before Horangi could start looking for hiding places, König grabbed him and jumped up, ripping his gloves off with his teeth. His hands had small claws like a spiders so they were able to sink into the ceiling and keep him, and Horangi who was on his chest, face bright red, stuck there. They stayed quiet as the unsuspecting men passed underneath them.

Horangi glared at him. "Don't ever do something so undignified with me again." He hit his shoulder once König had gently sent him down.

"What? Don't like heights?"

"Not one bit." Horangi hissed at him before continuing on his journey.

König didn't understand the distain but he let it go, continuing onward.

Horangi was quick, like a cat. He had an amazing sense of smell and just as good eyesight, looking through the inky blackness of the night with a degree of accuracy that not even König could match.

Yes, it would make sense for him to be a cat.

But König didn't think that was right. It just felt... wrong.

They managed to get all of their items with an impressive body count of 42. König had done most of the killing but Horangi won coolest kill with a rather impressive knife trick that König found rather attractive honestly. He kept that part to himself, unsure on how... accepting Horangi would be of such ideas.

Now it was just a matter of escaping with enemy combatants. They slipped back under the water and tried to quickly make their way back.

Horangi was so fast. König could barely even focus on him.

The water was too dark and he could tell after a moment he had gotten turned around. Technically, he could go into a form of suspended animation to keep from needing oxygen, but it was too risky. In human form, he was a huge target. In spider form, there was no way of knowing where he'd end up. So he needed to stay awake and aware but he couldn't breath nor could he reasonably surface. Doing so would result in a very fast headshot wound.

Right as he gave up, deciding that resurfacing would have to be worth it, he noticed movement in the water.

A... shark? While not unreasonable, most sharks would have fled from here now with all the noise. König knew they were usually rather peaceful creatures, but he probably looked like an easy meal here. He tried to remember what you're supposed to do with a shark.

Just... move them right? Grab their nose and point them in a different direction?

He saw the dog tags first and paused.

Horangi?

Huh.... a shark... Somehow, that was more reasonable than a cat to him.

Horangi shifted back and bumped him against the rocks. König tried to make it clear that he needed to breath and right now if possible, but before he could, Horangi kissed him.

It was blissful. Everything König had been wanting since laying his eyes on him. His lips were cold but plush. Inviting. König's stubble rubbed against his skin as he tried to deepen it.

Horangi pushed air into his lungs and König's vision unblurred. Horangi's teeth cut his lips. His hand sank into his shoulder and yanked him forward.

Even with König's weight, Horangi got them back to the ship faster than König ever could.

He dropped him on deck and stopped to catch his breath. His mask had been torn and so had most of his clothing. Unlike König, who shrank and could easily just crawl back into his crumpled clothes before shifting back, Horangi had gotten rather big.

König sank down as the boatsmen started the ship. "Still got everything?"

"Yes. Flashdrive secure, sir."

König grabbed one of his spare neck gaiters and handed it to him. Horangi quickly put it on and sank down next to him. He checked the flash drive to make sure none of the water got into the packaging. Once he was satisfied, he put it away.

"Should I be expecting more kisses in the future?"

"Only if you drown again."

"I can't actually drown, though I appreciate the save nonetheless." König said softly, tilting his head back. "Knew you weren't a cat."

"Going to tell people on base?"

"No. If you don't wish for people to know, I won't tell them. Plus they'll start sending you on more underwater missions."

"And that would be a problem how?"

"I hate underwater missions."

Horangi only looked confused for another second before his eyes narrowed. He hit his shoulder rather hard and mumbled something in Korean.

König watched him for a moment, worried he had overstepped or maybe just showed too much of his hand, but Horangi slumped into him. "You're heavy. If you expect me to carry you, you're going to have to lose some weight."

"Little hard at my height, what if I promise you won't have to carry me again?"

"Deal. And maybe you'll take me out to dinner?"

"As a date or an apology?"

"Both. Scared me when you weren't right behind me."

[cirilla-fiona-riannon]

Francis Drake Main Story

This is simply a fan translation and is not intended as a replacement for the game. Expect grammatical errors.

This is just a rough translation.

One year later.

Mitsuki: "Well then, I'm off to go shopping."

Sebastian: "Okay. Take care."

Dazai: "Be careful not to trip."

Mitsuki: "Hehe, I'm not a child, you know? But thank you."

Mitsuki returned the residents' smiles and left the dining hall.

Isaac, who was eating, watched her leave with a thoughtful gaze.

Dazai: "What's wrong, Isaac? You seem concerned about Toshiko-san."

Isaac: "It's nothing. I just hope she's okay."

Isaac: "The other day, I saw her gazing at the boat on the Seine River, so I got a little worried."

Dazai & Sebastian: ".........."

The three of them thought about the person she must have been thinking about, a man who lived in the mansion for a while a year ago.

Sebastian: "It looks like she still can't forget about him."

Dazai: "Yeah. They say time heals sadness, but no one can ever truly replace someone."

Mitsuki: "Alright, I didn't forget to buy anything."

I checked the contents of the shopping bag and nodded to myself.

(I finished shopping pretty quickly, and there's not much work at the mansion today, so maybe...)

(........)

Before I could even think about it, my feet naturally moved toward a certain place.

Over the past year, I found myself visiting the places that held memories of Drake whenever I had the time.

One was the Seine River, and the other was a room with a domed ceiling and bookshelves. I removed the padlock that hung on the entrance of the building and stepped inside.

(Of course, no one's here.)

The only things present in the room were the light coming in through the window and silence.

This place was apparently his hiding place.

And at the back of the room, that door was still there.

(It still won't open, huh?)

I lightly put my hand on it and pulled, but the door remained motionless.

Over the past year, the door has never been opened. Despite that, Comte decided to manage this place to ensure that the door wouldn't be forced open or misused by someone.

I was given a special key to the building and occasionally came to check on it.

(I'm visiting this place out of nostalgia, but deep down, I'm still hoping he will come back.)

(I can't completely get rid of that faint hope.)

Even after a year, I still love him.

No matter how much I distract myself with other things, he always remains in my heart.

(There's no one else I've loved deeply or who has stirred my heart like he did.)

Whenever I recalled the days we spent together and the events that occurred between us, my feelings for him intensified, never fading.

(Even if I don't say it, everyone in the mansion seems to care.)

(I know it'd be better if I forgot about him, but...)

(I still want to hold on to these precious feelings he gave me.)

Even if someday they sink deep into the sea of my heart and become painful memories, for now, I want to embrace this love.

As if to confirm the presence of those feelings, I pressed the center of my chest tightly. Then, as I turned on my heel, a creaking sound came from behind me.

(Huh...?)

Turning around, I saw the untouched door slowly opening before my eyes.

Mitsuki: "Kyaah!?"

Then, with the sound of wings flapping, something flew out from the gap in the open door.

I followed the afterimage and saw a parrot with bright red wings.

Mitsuki: "Draco!?"

The moment I called his name, someone pulled my body backward.

???: "The woman of destiny."

(No way, it can't be.)

Hearing the whisper up close, I anxiously turned around, and my gaze met his clear, aquamarine eyes.

Drake: "Fawn."

Mitsuki: "Drake?"

There was the person I had always longed to meet.

The person I still love dearly.

Mitsuki: "Drake, Drake!"

I called out his name and embraced him with an uncontrollable impulse.

(Why is he here?)

(Ah, but that doesn't matter anymore.)

Overwhelming joy replaced my surprise and doubt.

Drake: "Mitsuki."

He called my name and wrapped his arm around my back.

Drake: "Ah, damn it. Even though I tried to act cool when we said goodbye, I still find myself longing for you."

The hand that was gently touching me gradually increased its strength and held me tightly.

Surrounded by his warmth, the overflowing, unstoppable emotions turned into tears streaming down my cheeks.

Mitsuki: "I missed you, Drake."

Mitsuki: "I thought I'd never see you again. I thought you had gone to some distant world."

Drake: "I also thought I'd never see you again."

Mitsuki: "Still, you came back."

Drake: "Yeah."

Drake: "It looks like I couldn't hide my true feelings."

He muttered with a faint, bitter smile, and I looked up at him, confused. He then narrowed his eyes and gently wiped my wet cheek with his fingertips.

Drake: "Behind the door, Galileo and I made a bet this time."

------------Flashback-----------

Galileo: "Drake, I'll go on alone from here."

As they used the door to travel through eras, Galileo suddenly stopped in front of Drake.

Galileo: "Don't follow me until you can't see me anymore."

Drake: "Ha? What the hell are you talking about?"

Galileo shrugged off Drake's question and glanced at the hallway lined with antiques.

Galileo: "The destination of this hallway responds to our desires."

Galileo: "If your wishes and mine overlap, we will meet again in one of the worlds."

Drake: "........."

Galileo: "However, if meeting that girl, the woman of destiny, has changed your wish, then the destination you will reach will also be different."

Drake: "So you want to bet on whether I'm seeking the same fate as you based on the destination of this hallway?"

Galileo: "Yeah."

Galileo let out a faint sigh. It sounded like he was already anticipating what was to come.

Galileo: "If our paths differ, then there is no need for a companion anymore."

Galileo: "You can do as you please."

---------Flashback Ends--------

Drake: "So I crossed the hallway alone and arrived here."

Drake: "To where you are."

Mitsuki: "........."

Drake: "I lost the bet. Even though I tried to avoid it to establish boundaries, in the end, I couldn't betray my own desires."

(The door led him to what he wanted.)

His eyes, looking straight at me, conveyed that I was the one.

Drake: "Mitsuki."

He took my hand and put it in the center of his chest.

Drake: "I will never betray the feelings you gave me."

Drake: "Even if we never meet again, I thought that believing in you would be enough."

Drake: "But touching you like this won't work anymore."

He tightly gripped my hand, touching his chest.

Drake: "With this hand, I want to claim you. I want you."

Drake: "I love you, Mitsuki."

Mitsuki: "Drake, me too."

My honest words of love were swallowed by his lips as we exchanged a kiss that I had been waiting for for over a year.

A few days later, in the afternoon, in the mansion's garden:

Napoleon: "It feels good to hang the laundry in a weather like this."

Sebastian: "Thank you for your help. Hanging out and doing chores with you is really a dream come true."

Sebastian savored the moment while spreading the freshly washed sheets.

Napoleon: "You're exaggerating. I don't mind this much."

Napoleon: "Mitsuki had the day off today, right? Did she go out?"

Sebastian: "Yes, she went to see that person. She plans to stay overnight."

Napoleon: "I see."

Napoleon smiled gently, thinking about Mitsuki's recent happy demeanor.

Suddenly, Sebastian muttered a few words beside him.

Sebastian: "The mansion was fun when Drake was here, though I don't think he'll come back anymore."

Napoleon: "…......"

The day Drake reappeared in this world, he visited the mansion with Mitsuki.

------------Flashback-----------

Drake: "No matter what, I can't get along with you guys."

Drake: "However, I won't lay a hand on you anymore."

Drake: "There is still a possibility that your existence will have an impact on the world. So I'll be watching your lives as a vampire, hoping for the possibility of your demise."

With that bold declaration, Drake seemed refreshingly resolute.

---------Flashback Ends--------

Napoleon: "No matter what his thoughts may be, we just have to see that Mitsuki never cries again."

With a determined gaze that wouldn't lose to Drake, Napoleon looked up at the sky.

Above his head was a blue sky as deep as the azure sea.

As the crescent moon rises in the night sky, we exchange words in a planetarium-like place with beautiful lights scattered on the ceiling.

Mitsuki: "Coming back and immediately working on the Seine River is so typical of you."

Drake: "You either earn your own food or steal it."

Drake: "So, how was it to be back on Captain Drake's luxurious cruise ship after a long time?"

Mitsuki: "It was fun, but, as always, your tour-guiding skills suck!"

Drake: "Haha, I'll work on it."

He lightly leaned against the armrest of the sofa, where I sat, and laughed openly. When I quietly sighed in relief, he seemed to notice the subtle change in my demeanor and tilted his head.

Drake: "What's up? You seem oddly relieved."

Mitsuki: "Yeah. I'm just happy that you're by my side."

Mitsuki: "Because you're the kind of person who might set sail on a ship and disappear when I'm not looking."

Drake: "........."

Drake was like a ship that crossed the sea without being fazed by the high waves of a storm.

A person who set sail and navigated through the open sea without the need for any landmarks.

Perhaps, after testing whether I would betray him and experiencing a separation once, that impression became even stronger.

(It's probably just me being anxious, but...)

I lowered my gaze, and he pulled my head gently against his chest.

Mitsuki: “Drake?”

Drake: “This time, I need to make you believe in me.”

His voice echoed gently from the spot where my cheek touched, and my heart raced with excitement.

Drake: “Hey, Fawn. I don’t get along with the folks in the mansion, and I don’t care what happens to this world.”

Drake: “I honestly thought about going through the door again to chase after Galileo since I’m the only one who can accompany him on his journey, but...”

He murmured with a hint of loneliness.

Drake: “When I met you again, I realized I couldn’t live a life I didn’t want.”

(Drake...)

Drake: “So, for me and Galileo, I decided to be the gatekeeper here.”

Mitsuki: “Gatekeeper?”

He deepened his grin like a mischievous child.

Drake: “I’ll prevent anyone who tries to use the door he created and interferes with his journey.”

Drake: “Even though we’re far apart, I could at least do this much.”

Drake: “I betrayed Galileo in the very end. Even though he said he didn’t need me anymore, I will betray his intentions for leaving me behind.”

Mitsuki: “Hehe. Is that your way of getting back at him?”

Drake: “Yeah.”

He narrowed his eyes and chuckled.

(I'm not sure what his relationship with Galileo was like, but I'm sure he was also carrying something that resonated with his despair at the world.)

I wonder if I'll ever meet him again.

Suddenly, he tilted his face and peered into my eyes.

Drake: "That's my conclusion. From now on, I'll be by your side."

Drake: "Believe me a little, little fawn."

As he looked at me, seemingly gauging my mood, a ticklish feeling welled inside me.

Mitsuki: "Yeah, I believe you. I trust you."

(He didn't even believe in himself, but now he's telling me this.)

Drake: "Thanks. I have to live up to your trust."

Returning my smile, he patted my head and climbed down from the armrest, placing his hands on the backrest and pinning me from the front.

Drake: "But be prepared, okay? Because I won't let you go anymore."

Drake: "The next time I leave, I'm taking you with me."

(I really can't compete with him.)

Just when I thought he was showing a boyish smile, he suddenly put on a serious expression, confusing me.

Gently and intensely, just like the waves, he has continued to stir my heart since the day we met.

Mitsuki: "Yeah. Take me away."

Mitsuki: "I want you to take me wherever you go."

Mitsuki: "But, you know? I might be the one to steal you away. The outcome of our bet is still uncertain."

Drake: "----!"

Drake: "Haha, you really know how to catch a pirate's heart."

Intentionally teasing me, he laughed playfully and swiftly stole a kiss from my lips.

Mitsuki: "That's so sneaky!"

Drake: "Sneaky? But that isn't enough."

He drew close to me again and pecked me two to three times.

As the kisses gradually deepened, my chest grew warm and pounded faster.

(I don’t want to be separated from him anymore. I’ll follow him wherever he goes, even to the ends of the sea, even if destruction awaits us there.)

If the world were to crumble, I would face it with Francis by my side.

If the future is filled with hope and connection, then he will be mine.

This is our never-ending gamble, a promise that will never be betrayed.

In between our kisses, he suddenly removed his cape.

Suddenly recalling something, I gently pushed his chest back.

Mitsuki: “Wait, there’s something I’ve been wanting to return to you.”

What I took out of my bag was his golden gun. I had brought it back and kept it with me all this time.

Drake: “Ah, that. It’s fine. You can keep it.”

Mitsuki: “Huh? But...”

Drake: “You’re prone to getting involved in danger, so it’s better for you to have a means to protect yourself.”

Drake: “Well, if anything happens to you, I’ll always come to your rescue.”

His reliable smile gave me an absolute sense of reassurance, making my heart skip a beat.

Mitsuki: “You’re right. I believe that you’ll always come to my rescue, no matter what.”

Mitsuki: "But you might be the most dangerous thing for me."

Drake: "Me?"

Mitsuki: "Yes. Because you're a pirate who is so destructive and could even make my heart pound so hard it could break."

Drake: "Heh? Well then, you better aim for me before it breaks."

Laughing, Francis untied his hair and grabbed my wrist, pointing the gun I held at his own chest.

Drake: "I don't mind getting shot or betrayed by you."

Drake: "I love you enough to feel that way."

(Francis.)

When we first met, I wanted to trust him, so I believed.

When I said I was okay with being betrayed, he shot me with a terribly cold gaze.

But now he was saying the same thing as me.

(Love seemed to surpass the sorrow of betrayal.)

Mitsuki: "I love you too."

Mitsuki: "If I were to shoot your chest, what I'd put in there wouldn't be a bullet, but love."

Drake: "Haha! That sounds perfect!"

His eyes, clear as the sea, which embraced both joy and sorrow, reflected me.

Drake: "If I betray you again, don't hesitate to pull the trigger."

Drake: "I'll die with your bullet in my chest."

Will this love be pierced by betrayal?

I hesitated to believe and suffered from my nearly broken feelings, yet I still couldn't betray him because I ended up falling in love.

(No matter what happens, I will believe in you.)

(And...)

In the love that exists between us, a love that will never be betrayed.

Previous Part ╎ Masterlist ╎ Dramatic End

[starlightshadowsworld]

The fucking grip the aftermath of the boat fight has on my soul.

Just... Atsushi gripping Poe's book like a lifeline. Because Ranpo's inside and Atsushi can't lose him.

He can't lose anyone else.

He's drenched from head to toe in water but it doesn't register to him. Atsushi won't take off Akutugawa's coat because he's afraid it'll vanish if he does.

It's all he has left of him.

Atsushi who's had it beaten into him that he doesn't deserve to live, if he can't save others.

Blaming himself for all of this.

Because it should've been him. It was supposed to be him. The whole world was supposed to turn on me, so why didn't he?

Why am I still here?

Ango helping Atsushi out of the water.

Seeing a familiar coat and an even more familiar blank stare. Eyes that were always warm and bright now empty and cold.

The look of a man who had lost everything. Something in Ango's chest hurts, he'd promised to protect this kid.

And here he was.

Ango sits Atsushi down, grabs a towel from his car and asks if he can dry him off. Because Atsushi won't do it himself, it's like he's not even here with him.

Atsushi just nods.

Ango's never been much of a talker, but he starts talking about some company party he was invited too a while back.

He's not sure if Atsushi is listening but he knows he needs something to distract him. Ango's done this routine more than anyone could've guessed.

At some point the book begins to glow, Ranpo appears before them. There's none of his usual fan fair and snark. He looks around wildly before his gaze settles onto Atsushi.

Several emotions flash through Ranpo's eyes, settling on relief and he takes a few hesitant steps forward.

Atsushi doesn't react.

"Atsushi."

"You're not real."

Ranpo smiles but it's sad. "How do I prove I'm real, Atsushi?"

Atsushi putting the book down to reach into his pocket and pulling out a lollipop. Handing it to Ranpo who huffs.

"I would never have that, it's nasty."

And Atsushi nodding because that's true and he holds another one that Ranpo beams at and takes. Because it's his favourite and only Ranpo would know...

Ranpo's here and he's real.

Ranpo holding his arms out to catch Atsushi as he sobs. He cards a hand through Atsushi's hair like he's seen Dazai do countless times.

He won't pretend like he's not happy Atsushi survived. He won't pretend he's not relieved that Atsushi is safe.

But he can't pretend he doesn't feel guilty watching him cry. It was the only way he'd survive, jumping into Poe's book.

That didn't make leaving him feel any better.

So Ranpo holds Atsushi who grips onto him because he's so afraid Ranpo will vanish. And Ranpo swears he will never leave Atsushi again.

He knew Atsushi wouldn't run. He knew Atsushi wouldn't leave him behind. He'd rather than die and the ache in Ranpo's heart only grows.

He doesn't want to know how the fight went. Not yet at least, Atsushi deserved all the time he could get to heal.

Time Ranpo couldn't give him but he'd give him as long as he could.

He helps Atsushi to his feet, they head into Ango's car. Ango puts on the heating to try and warm Atsushi back up.

Atsushi, exhausted falls asleep with his head on Ranpo's shoulder. Ranpo and Ango exchange looks in the mirror.

He was under their protection now.

Like I am so close to just writing this into a fic like... Ahhh.

[ablobwhowrites]

Can I send a Splatoon request (m/n) is a Octoling male idol and everyone is crazy yandere for him.anything about him will be gone in seconds, like (m/n) merch gone,concert tickets sold out etc..

Life is good, being apart of deep cut after marina and pearls final splatfest. M/n was the fourth member of the deep cut as he was friends with bigman and he was able to get m/n in the group plus shiver and frye loved having m/n around. Having a unique features made m/n stand out a lot like with his hair being similar to Marina's but just more short like her old hair style. Plus luckily everyone thought m/n wears some kind of eyeliner and many things about him being different than other octolings on the surface but shiver tells everyone that m/n is just a different species of octolings probably from another city away from here.

M/n sighed after the camera turned off for today as the director yelled "all right everyone where on commercial break!" Frye looked at m/n seeing him look down a bit "you okay m/n? Your not all happy like you are usually" frye said looking to him as shiver looked at frye then m/n as m/n quickly sat up straight "oh! Nothing, just thinking about things really. Just woke up on the wrong side of bed" he laughed a bit trying not to worry the three "well you can tell use anything if you need anything off your chest" big man said with the screen he holds turns off for now as m/n sat there in silence for a few seconds "no I'm good....just going to go to the bathroom" m/n said as he got off the stage and walked away to backstage into the hall, but not going it the bathroom but just leans on the wall and going in his phone.

Then when to splatagram (work with me here, I don't know many Splatoon canon apps) many post of some ads, inklings showing off food at restaurants or food trucks, but then m/n stops scrolling and sees a tag that caused m/n to raise his brow "fanclub? I didn't know I had a fan club....I thought shiver, frye and bigman or anyone else had fanclubs.." he said to himself as soon as he clicked the tag, a boat load of post ranging from inklings to octolings even others from far away not even in this city. It was terrifying to m/n seeing so many things about him and the merch that he didn't even know existed of him, plushies, shirts, pants, hats, figures and so much more "I never made these brand deals?! How is there so many! And how is there so much fan merch of me…" M/n then was panicking not from the people who loves him cause he just tried to make himself thing it's just everyone supporting him, even making himself think it was all just a phase everyone was going through a obsessive phase but the slim chance that dj Octavia could find this, he could get kidnapped like Callie that one time, he could be brainwashed, so many terrible thoughts run through his head thinking of so many things that could happen if he was found out, would he be sanitized? Just like all his friends to be his mindless killing machine if he's taken back? M/n screamed as he felt something touch his shoulder as he quickly turned to see who was it that spooked him so bad and it was just the jellyfish intern "mr.m/n, where about to come back on soon" the intern said as m/n's heart was still racing "right...right, tell them I'll be there just give me a bit to um...just get myself ready" m/n told the intern as they nodded and walked back to the studio to tell them which has m/n all alone again "your just paranoid, nothing bad can happen...dj Octavia won't know, even if he does marina is a long ways from here so she's safe and Octavia wouldn't do something that ambitious" m/n said to himself as he turned off his phone and walked back to the studio with his head held up high hoping this might be a good week or even a good year.

"sir! We found something you might like" a elite octoling said as she held what looked like a small keychain, it was shiny and had the picture of m/n on it, in pastel colors seeming happy with the other side having his 'friends' all with him and all looking happy, DJ Octavia was silent, he was taking in the details of this keychain pictures "m/n is on the surface...just how marina is" Dj Octavia said as he took the keychain onto his tentacle and examined it, the underground felt so empty without m/n around. The small splats of colors on the walls or just anything that was colorful he could put anywhere, the small city's of the octarian underground loved the small splats of colors, any kind it made the underground feel less gloomy but after DJ Octavia's defeat in inkoplis and that damned squid sisters music that Octavia hated so much, salt in this wound those agents gave him taking away power to the city and then now this, Octavia felt humiliated that the only octoling soldier that made the situation of the octarians being under ground feel a bit less gloomy and just less of a hell hole was on the surface cause of the now lazy inklings and the octoings that managed to get on the surface now having audacity to rub this in his face just saying to Octavia that m/n was theirs now, it made Octavia livid that his m/n and only his m/n is now on the surface, his tentacle gripped the keychain in his tentacle until a crack was formed on the sides and his grip loosened. His gaze goes back to the elite octoling soldier "bring m/n back here, no matter who you have to hurt, no matter what you have to do, bring m/n back here" Octavia said the soldier nodded and was about to go get some of the other octolings to get ready for this mission "wait, take this" Octavia handed the soldier a pair of glasses, the same ones callie had on when she was kidnapped here "it'll make it more simple but these ones will make sure m/n won't be able to fight back so easily" Octavia said as then he waved his tentacle to dismiss the soldier, the elite octoling walked out to tell her team the new mission now with the hypno glasses in hand...to be continued

(I hope this is good, I've been trying to work on my writing more)