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multifandomimagines999 · 2 years ago

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May I get mark sloan x reader please? Like reader has been on call for like three days straight and is super exhausted. And while charting, reader falls asleep standing up and Mark props them up and takes them to an on call room and makes sure they get some rest ? Thank you so much !

Exhaustion, Mark Sloan x reader

Summary: An exhausted reader collapsed and her boyfriend comes to her rescue...then it all makes sense

Warnings: Fluff, Exhaustion, overworking, throwing up

Note: I tweaked it a bit @theichabbieclub but I hope you still like it! I'm just getting back into this.

"You look like crap," commented Alex as we walked down the hallway.

"Oh thanks. I feel like it too," you admitted, "I've been working a double because we're short staffed on the peds floor as you know. So I've been bouncing around non-stop. I'm exhausted."

"And crabby. Clearly you haven't been able to screw your secret boyfriend too."

"Shut it Karev!" you growled, slapping him in the arm, "I am never going to tell you who it is if you keep making comments like that."

"Fine," he grumbled, "I've gotta get to the Nic-U. What have they got you covering today?"

"I've got a marathon surgery with Robbins, Shepherd, and Sloan on a 6 year old girl with a facial tumor."

"Damn that's rad. Good luck."

"Thanks."

You went into the surgery with a clear head, ready to save this little girl's life. We began and about two hours into it, Mark showed up to help work on the facial reconstruction and repair. His portion of the surgery took about three to four hours.

"Alright...I'm done here. She's all yours to finish up with."

"Take my tool," you whispered to Avery, suddenly not feeling well.

"Why?"

"Just do it!"

He took it and then immediately everything went black.

3rd POV

"Dr. (Y/L/N)!" yelled Robbins as her resident's body hit the floor.

"That's why she handed me her tool," Jackson realized.

"Can someone please check on them please?" asked Arizona as she continued working.

"I got it!" Mark announced before rushing over to her side.

Their relationship was still a secret, so he tried his best to hide his romantic concern in the moment. He scooped her up as carried her out of the OR to an empty gurney. He took her to a private room and began examining her.

--------

You woke up to a flashlight shining in your eyes and a hand on your forehead. As the darkness disappeared, you saw that the flashlight belonged to Mark. You groaned as your head pulsed with pain.

"What happened?" you asked as he sat down on the edge of the bed.

"You might want to tell me... You passed out in the OR. I hooked you up to an IV because from the looks of it you're severely dehydrated."

"Mark I-" you were interrupted by a horrible feeling in your gut.

You jerked up, reaching for the bucket before puking. When you were done emptying you stomach, you collapsed back on the bed. You suddenly felt sweaty with hair plastered against your forehead.

"Dr. Sloan, I may know what's wrong?" Karev jogged in, out of breath, "I heard the news about (Y/F/N). Three of the peds kids just came down with the flu. All three kids were your patients that you've been dealing with during this double shift. And with you being so overworked, your immune system was weaker, so combined with the dehydration, you got sick."

"Well shit."

"Looks like I have my diagnoses," Mark replied, and you just glared at him.

"I hate you right now."

"I know."

"Wait a minute?" Karev questioned, stepping in the room and shutting the door, "Sloan's your secret boyfriend?!"

"You tell anybody, I will kill you. You understand me Alex? I will make sure every girl in this hospital knows what a man whore you are and you will never get laid again. Got it?"

"Yeah yeah, calm your panties. I'll let Bailey know you're so sick with the flu that you can't drive and that I asked Dr. Sloan to take care of you since he's already been exposed. Okay?"

"Thank you Alex."

"Yeah whatever."

***

You laid on the couch with Mark, all cuddled up in sweats and his shirt. While you were hot to the touch, you yourself were feeling cold. Your body ached and your head was still throbbing. You rested your head in his lap while he played with your hair soothingly.

"How are you feeling babe?" he asked, looking down at you.

"Like shit," you admitted, making him chuckle.

"Well you still look cute if that makes you feel any better."

"A little."

"Mark please. You shouldn't see me like this. We've only been together for three months."

"(Y/F/N), we slept together before we started dating and on the first date we talked about our deep dark issues. I think it's okay if I see you with the flu. Now let me please be there for you."

"Fair point."

Anytime you felt you were going to be sick, he was there, holding your hair back and assuring you soothingly. Anything he could do to help you, he wanted to.

Mark held your hair back as another round came up. God this was hell. Physical and emotional hell. When he walked out to go grab something, you laid down on the cool tile. He came back in with a water bottle and some crackers along with a smile.

"What? The tile is nice and cold."

He helped pull you up so you were sitting up against the cabinets, "You know you need to drink to re-hydrate. And these crackers might help."

Your hair was a mess as he brushed it out and sat beside you. He rubbed your back lovingly until your eyes felt heavy and all you wanted to do was sleep.

"Alright. Lets get you to bed," he spoke, sweeping you into his arms.

He placed you into bed and disappeared before coming back with a fresh garbage can. After placing it beside the bed, he climbed in next to you.

"Mark, you don't have to stay with me. You could get sick and-"

"I'm not leaving unless you need me to get something."

"What about work?"

"I'll call in. You're more important."

A smile crossed your face as you rolled over, resting your head on his chest. His arm snaked around you, one around your waist and the other stroked your hair. Finally, you were feeling a little bit better.

"Try to sleep. I'll still be here."

"Thank you," you mumbled sleepily, "I love you."

"I love you too."

#greys anatomy x reader #mark sloan #mark sloan x reader #mark sloan fluff #greys anatomy imagines

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ddaz3d-and-cc0nfused · 1 year ago

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𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐍: Possession w/ Rick Grimes

a/n: it's the way i got sicker and actually caught the stomach flu this time!! so, you know i'm having a bunch of fun! my sarcasm aside, i've been trying to write when the nausea fades so lord knows when any of these will be on time again. i have the immune system of a newborn baby LMAOOOO.

masterlist | kinktober masterlist | AO3

Rick had no right to be so possessive over you, to have his fingers dig painfully into the plush of your hip at the fact that you were flirting with other men at Deanna's welcoming party; but you'd be damned if you said you didn't like it.

You could count the amount of times you'd slept with Rick on your hand. It was back at the prison when everything with the Governor and Woodbury had settled the first time around. It was a connection you both tiptoed around back when things were unstable, but once the dam had broken and you guys had given in, you didn't need labels to know that you were his.

Maybe you flirted with them because you were genuinely interested in pursuing other men, or perhaps you wanted to see how badly Rick actually wanted you; because there was that time between the fall of the prison to being discovered by Aaron. How were you supposed to know if the flame in his heart burned as forcefully and bright as yours?

Well, if the snap of his hips against your pelvis were any consolation.

"Fuck, Rick!" You swore, your hands frantically searching around the duvet cover for purchase.

He'd made you dwell in the intense suffocation that was his fury for the rest of night until he hastily hurried the both of you home. For the first time since your group had gotten there, he'd ventured up the stairs of his designated home, where he'd proceeded to take you right there in the master bedroom.

With your legs perched on his shoulders, he bent you in half, pounding into your pussy with no remorse.

"Shut up." He all but spat at you through a grunt. You rolled your lips between your teeth to hold back your noises, eyes squeezed shut tightly.

"You asked for it girl," He admonished. "Actin' like I don't take care of you." His displeasure was followed by another harsh thrust. His cock kissed your g-spot deliciously, sending you squirming.

"You think any of them boys could make you feel this good?" He growled. A pathetic whimper managed to make its way out of your throat. You managed to shake your head, but that didn't seem to be enough for him, because his large, rough hand slapped the side of your full thigh.

You yelped at the pain. "Didn't I jus' ask you a question?" You nodded, "Yes! Yes! 'M sorry. Fuck. No, none of them could!"

And he'd make sure you knew that.

ೃ⁀➷ my lovely taglist!: @alina02 @louderfortheback @minervadashwood @their-love @fandomsarelifee @theendofthe70s @nomajdetective @mgg-theprettiestboy @phoenixblack89 @murdadixon @hallecarey1 @bunnybabe-babydoll @alixwriter @dixonzzgirl @violettavirus

#♡ ― nsfmeau !#kinktober #kinktober 2023 #kinktober day thirteen #plus size reader #x plus size reader #plus size!reader #x chubby reader #chubby reader #rick fanfiction #rick grimes fanfiction #rick grimes kinktober #rick x reader #rick grimes x reader #rick grimes x plus size reader #rick grimes smut #smut #fanfiction

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cleaner-in-grey · 2 years ago

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"Could be depression? I do know I have generalized anxiety, a panic disorder, agoraphobia...I've been told I can be very neurotic and difficult to work with when I get in a mood. Especially when...well....I get reeeeeally energetic, excited, invincible even, practically bouncing off the walls combined with the rest of the stuff. Been probably a few months since the last time I felt like that though," he sighed. He vaguely remembered the time when he accidentally stabbed himself during one of those episodes.

He really didn't want to get into what had triggered his downward mood, it hurt too much to think about and he would probably bite if forced to talk about it...about him.

"Anyway, the book would be quite helpful...I think chickens are pretty cool. I used to have a small flock, but....I haven't seen them since I retired. I just hope that they're doing okay. I wish I had the space here for them like I did at my last job assignment, but I don't..." He knew they probably were since his son's grandpa was a bit of a softy when it came to the animals on his ranch, just raised them as pets.

"I really do wish I could put some things off though, but bodies pile up rather quickly here...and processing can take hours."

"I'm a bird your a bird we should go for a fly some time!" 8> -dodomedic

".....I mean. I guess? I guess we could??" He blinks slowly as he looks at the medic in front of him. He was just more surprised that he'd been approached by someone in all honesty. His head tilts a little.

@dodomedic

#I love Dodo so much #-slaps top of Rudolf's head- This man has so many issues #he is so mentally ill #ngl the birdening is the only thing keeping his immune system from really going into the shitter

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the-midnight-blooms · 4 months ago

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hear a siren's call | cjh

pairing: siren!choi jongho x fisher!reader AU: fantasy au word count: 4.6k

masterlist

Whatever you do, do not follow a Siren’s call. Its sweet voice may entice you, its looks may blind you. But to follow its heed, is to open your arms to the Angel of Death and say “Let me be your devotee.” To follow its call is to be marked by the Siren, forever.

The hypnotic beam of the ocean called for her in the dead of the night, where the dilapidating of her dwindling soul aided her quest to hunt for the food she was deprived of. It was the allure of the ocean too. Calling her name, its whispers sent a tantalising shiver down her spine, beckoning her. Magnetising her. Each of her limbs bowed to the sea, begging to feel the rush of cacophonous tides slap against her skin. The spray of sea salt-a musk, she could get intoxicated on until the Angel of Death travelled to her from darkened lands.

Her fingers flipped over the dense pages eyes scouring over reams of text and intricate drawings of the enigmatic creatures that harboured the sea, she sat on the floor of her boat, the barge settling upon the large expanse of the desolate sea. The moon hung serenely in the sky, the flickering of candles that penetrated the bleak homes had been blown out as sleep overtook the aching hearts of the townspeople. Over the past few weeks, the village had been struck with a shortage of food. Prices inflated as terrified fisherman refused to sail out into the sea and hunt for fish. It seemed the weather was equally aghast to the earth's aquarian- for a storm was brewing, the sky darkening into a stony grey, wind howling every night parrying against the wooden doors that were tightly locked, the metal hinges gripped onto the architraves for dear life. When she asked why they were so terrified, it was revealed that a daring fisherman had angered the Siren’s; thinking that a man was God and not made by him. Thinking that a Siren's land could easily be as colonised as one human colonised another. In turn their malevolent roars had burst his ear drums, their nails as sharp as knives impaled brutally into his supple flesh. With severed limbs, and gashes embroidered into his corpse, they had pushed back at the boat-rolling onto the port with poisoned fishes. A mockery. A warning, even.

Do not dare to anger a Siren. Its wrath exceeds boundaries that surpasses human imagination.

But the townspeople were wrought with hunger, starvation killing of the younger child with a weakened immune system that was simply pending on a trigger. Starvation had killed off her mother too, along with her father-who had in fact been taken by the sea itself. It was just her and her brother remaining, hungry and struggling to make ends meet with his measly job as a clerk. He promised that when he’d conjured sufficient funds, they’d move to the city to forge a better life for themselves and she would too be able to work. Though that seemed impossible with the way that progression, in his line of work, was almost unattainable. Thus, with her already struggling to stand on her own two feet-she decided to take matters in her own hands. It seemed quite impulsive of her, but she had enough skill to fish for the whole economy- it was just the danger she needed to steer clear off. As long as she didn’t venture into their lands and cause a ruckus, she’d be fine. Right?

“What am I supposed to do? If I don't go out there then we'll both be dead by the end of the month.” She argued. He slumped deeper into the sofa, resting his head in his palms.

“I’m just going to have to travel to the nearest town and see what they have.”

“The nearest town is three hours away. How will you cope?”

“I’ll cope alright. You stay here, its too dangerous. If the Sirens don't take you, the sea will.” He patted her head, gingerly as if to console her. She hated the way she was confined to their small home, feeling helpless as every day her brother came back home with little pennies in his pocket. Despite her best efforts to convince him otherwise, she failed a number of times. It wasn't until he handed her all of the information she needed into the palm of her hand, that he had catalysed her venture out to the coast.

“The fishermen are thinking about going out to sea again.” Her ears perked up at the news, though she kept her gaze fixated to the chopping board as she sliced the vegetables. Flicking her eyes over to the stirring pot, she stirred the soup, her hands circulating the pot- before gripping the knife again. Picking up the map settled beside him, he ambled to her side-leaning against the countertop. “Look. They’ve said that on the safe side, we won’t use the first and second harbour. We’ll have to use the Queen’s Harbour, but steer clear of this part instead.” Fixating her gaze on the map, she gave him a curt nod, reeling in the co-ordinates and committing as much as she could-subtly moving forward as if she could not see the map clearly from where she stood.

“That’s good, but you should plan to make your trip anyway. They’ve been saying that for two weeks straight but nobody's been moving.” She advised. Agreeing with her - he grabbed the tin off the shelf, folding up the map neatly before placing it in. He didn’t notice her memorising his words, lips moving up and down as she poured his soup into the bowl dropping it in front of him. Before the dawn rose, she scuttled out of her bed-reaching for the tin on the shelf to steal the map.

Their fishing boat was not the largest among the array that sat proudly upon the shoal of the iridescent waves. It was ghostly white in colour, but perhaps the most meticulously cared for seeing that when their father had left it to their possession, he entrusted them to care of it. No matter how scarcely they went fishing. Throwing in her tools, she jumped into the boat, unravelling the ropes that tied the boat down to the docks. Hauling at the heavy oars, the barge drifted outwards towards the large expanse of the sea. She didn't travel too far out, considering the fish were mostly dense near the rocky shores. Moving out early was tactful too; grabbing the bait from the box, she pierced it to the end of the hook, slinging the line into the water.

Her luck was poor. The wind had gotten a lot colder picking up its pace, and she forgot her coat back at home in the rush of having to escape to the shore without being seen. With trembling limbs, she tried and tried again-growing tired and hungry yet all the fish seemed to have dispersed. Paddling out a little, she tried a number of areas yet she failed.

"Come on fishies. I gotta eat." She pleaded, turning the reel handle, the fly line drew up and out of the water. The hook was empty. With an exasperated sigh, melancholia flooded through her. Losing all hope, she wrapped away all of her equipment settling it to the side. One last time, she peered into the water, hoping to find a small aquarian shimmering beneath. Instead, she sought the silhouette of a much larger figure- flickers of a broad back with dark hair. A Siren?

“Come throw your heart into the waves

Your soul is lost, and still it saves

Drink me in and come undone”

A melodious voice permeated her ears, its hum serenading her blood, smoothing the flow of her palpitating heart. Its voice so eerily translucent, vibrating through her muscles, shimmering in the breeze as her hair fluttered delicately in the midnight sky. Her body paralysed to the spot, her skin itching to rip the fabric that clung to her like glue. At once, she lunged for the oars ignoring the intense rippling of the cerulean sea as she travelled the surface of the boat. Her arms rowed powerfully, as the waters rocked harshly against her. Panicked breaths escaped her, as she oared through the waters, the port in sight though tiredness gnawed at her aching muscles.

“Bring your body unto me”

Her eyes felt itself droop, her panicked breaths became eroticised by its seductive voice. She hated the bewitchment, she hated the way she wanted to feel its touch upon her cold, paling skin. Yet she persisted against her wild emotions, rowing and rowing. A shriek escaped her lips, as the boat rocked backwards upon a sudden weight. Paralysed to the spot, the saccharine hums edged closer. A shadow loomed above her, creeping down, its slender fingers reaching to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear.

“My sweet girl, you’re so strong.” A masculine voice whispered, sending a shot of delirium through her. “Let me gift you, my dear.” A pearl necklace clasped itself around her neck. Her hands flung towards it immediately. Daringly, he pressed his lips to the gleam of her neck. Instantly, she snapped her head around and the enigmatic figure was gone, lost to the sea. As soon as she reached the port, she grabbed all the fishing tools and dashed back to her home. With the dawn slowly infiltrating the sky, she placed all of the tools into the shed, and traipsed back into her bedroom.

Catching her eyes in the mirror, the pearl necklace was coated with a silvery blue, glistening in the darkness of her room. Her hands slid to the back of her neck, in a desperate attempt to find the clasp. There was no clasp. Immediately, panic fulfilled her, tears rushing to the brim of her eyes. She’d just have to pull it off. Yet she could not, as she tried to tug at the pearls, the skin around her neck pulled violently. With a painful gasp, a weary sob eructed from her - flopping onto her bed she continued to sob into the pillow.

She was marked by a Siren. There was no other possible explanation. Reaching for the book she'd thrown onto her bed, she frantically flipped through the pages. Looking for something, anything, on markings; their potentially symbolic meanings and how to get rid of them.

Siren's can mark humans in a multiple of ways. There are three key types of markings. A tattoo can simply mean the mark of death. Marking can also be through inhabiting sharp canines, longer nails even a tail which allows a Siren to share your body so it can walk freely across the lands. This is temporary, the markings can be removed safely. The last one is marking by what the Siren's call 'gifting'. This is mainly carried out by male Sirens, they often give their human counterparts gifts such as earrings, bracelets, necklaces.

On instinct her hands flew to her neck, where a string of pearls were embedded into her skin, the bumps sending a jolt of despair through her. It felt like a set of hands gripping around her neck. Her eyes shot back down to the book spread across the laps, patiently waiting for her brother's footsteps to stop loitering outside her door.

This is potentially one of the worst types of marking. This is the mark of 'love' where the Siren's now own the body of their lover. It is up to them to do what they wish, whether it be marriage, mating, slavery, a slow death. This mark can only be removed by the Siren itself.

"Where did you get that necklace?" Her brother pondered, the same evening as he came back from work. They sat opposite each other on the dining table, in the crook of their tiny kitchen.

"Oh, erm Mum's jewellery box." Giving her sheepish smile, he turned back to his food.

"It looks nice, speaking of. One of our regular clients at work was asking about you. He saw that photo of you, me and Mum that we took last year." Humming as if she was paying attention, her spoon ran through the middle of her plate-playing with her food. Her ears had tuned out the sound of his voice as her eyes wandered out into the distance where the sea rested upon the crest of the shore. She had no choice but to go back, she needed to find the Siren who marked and get the wretched necklace of her neck. "Anyways, he's rich so I think you should marry him."

"Marry who?"

"San. We wouldn't have to worry about money again, plus he likes you." Her eyebrows creased in confusion, before huffing. He’d brought up the topic of marriage before, wanting his sister to be married to someone who could protect her better than him. Keep her safe and more comfortable than he ever could. In response, she’d tease him about having a wife- but he’d only shake his head saying he needed a lot more money and job security before settling down to start a family.

"Where did San come from?"

"Where you even listening to me?" He questioned with furrowed brows, wiping his hands with the napkin. Her silence caused him to release a sigh of frustration, throwing the dirty tissue her way.

At night, she moved along the shore again-once again unravelling the ropes, setting out to sail. At first she had to wait for her brother to fall asleep, which seemed futile due to his incessant insomnia, which had him roaming around the home at merciless hours. The waters were eerily quiet, letting go of the oars, she got up, summoning as much courage as she had to peak over the side of the boat.

"Bring your body unto me."

A jostle of horror coursed through her veins, as a pair of hands gripped onto the hull. Aerial hums transgressed the cool air once more, his round face slowly arose from the water, big eyes captivating her-the curve of his cheeks and menacingly charming smile, that had her body swaying towards him. His skin was tinted with a light blue shade, his collarbones painted in a gleaning silver glitter. His bare chest triggered a warm flush to spread over her cheeks. Following the movements of his pink lips, she could not help herself as she leaned over the side of the boat to draw her hands closer to him.

"Let your graveyard be the sea, Come away and drink it in."

His large hands ensnared around her wrist, jerking her body over the side, a potent force sunk her under the tumultuous waves. Her lungs screeched for air, the blood inside sizzling as the Siren tightened his grip swimming towards the bed of the sea. Her mind in a haze, body: his, as she heeded to his command. The bewitching croons dispersed as they moved closer to bed; the roar of the wind, rushing of water, wind rippling the surface ached her ears. Before she knew it, the bed of the sea drowned her in-her body pushed through the small crevices into a distant land.

A harsh cough escaped her, exhaling loudly, her body slumped against a rock, eyes fluttering as her temple felt as if a trident had been lodged through it. The Siren sook in her figure with his wide eyes. Her body trembled as an array of goosebumps rippled over her skin, she caught a glint in her peripheral vision-the outline of a sharp blade within arms reach. Upon seeing the Siren, she retreated backwards in fear.

"Were you the one to put this necklace on me?" He nodded, his wide eyes glossed with a certain type of innocence, the type that made her want to forgive him. "Can you take it off?" Her voice brimmed with desolation. His lips pulled into a frown.

“I can't. You belong to Choi Jongho now. You're mine.” Just as she predicted, he would hold his ground-stating true to her textbook knowledge of his remarks. She understood why they said to never follow a Siren’s call now; the beauty of his man had her unconsciously drifting towards him. The desire to outstretch her hand and address the surface of his smooth skin, to feel his bare skin pressed against hers. Those thoughts felt abhorred, but Siren’s were creatures of seduction; pumping lust into their subjects. One last time, her hands reached to the back of het neck; in an attempt to rid herself of the necklace he draped around her. With no clasp she slid her finger through the pearls-yanking the beads as hard as she could feeling the harrowing stretch of her skin as she tugged; her breath becoming lodged in her throat. “Don’t! You’ll rip out your throat.” Arduously, her arms fell at her sides as her weak endeavours failed pathetically.

"Why-why did you do this to me?" Resting her back against the rock, her chest heaved furiously.

"I like pretty things. If I see something pretty, I keep it." Suddenly, her arm stuck out towards him, as if her fingers were magnets attracted to the opposite pole. Harshly she tried to retract, yet instead her whole body lurched forward- into the water-twirling as if orchestrating an elegant dance. Taking an agitating step back, her limbs heavy as she tried to repel her body against him.

“Stop this!” This time both arms stuck out as if she was reaching out for him. Firmly plastering both feet to the ground, her arms remained fixated in the same humiliating position.

“If you want to hug me, you’ll have to come a bit closer.” He teased, he found the spectacle in front of him quite amusing.

“I don’t want a hug. Stop this now!” She didn’t mean for her voice to be crowded with as much apprehension and desperation as it was now, her bottom lip quivering slightly. It was so painful to repel, yet it was damning to surrender.

“I can’t. Our souls are bound now, the attraction you’re feeling? One day you won’t even be able to fight back.” She slumped to the floor, rubbing her hand against her chest as if it would soothe the pain she was feeling. Her lungs were burning, her heart was palpitating, the tension between was growing thick was every waking moment. Shutting her eyes, she curled up into a ball; the tormenting pull on her muscles relaxed, she released a contented sigh for a single second, before she felt a warm weight rest on her waist.

“Get your hand off me.” She snapped, a warm chuckle escaped from his pink lips.

“It feels much better, though. Doesn’t it?”

“No.” His hand retracted immediately at her dismissal, the pain washed slowly into her blood again, like the tides that tugged the sand slipping into unspeakable depths of the ocean- the sharp spike jolting through her so much that she could not even breathe. Irrationally, she jumped into his arms- craving his skin as one craved morphine; wrapping her arms around his own waist to feel the morphine that soothed the burn of a thousand hot knives impaling her supple skin. The pain dispersed as if it was never there to begin with. “Could you at least get the necklace off me?” She begged, peering to look up at him through her lashes. She was just going to have to play his game and win.

“Why?” His lips fell into a frown.

“I don’t like pearls.” She lied. Of course she adored them, she spent the majority of her childhood picking them out from oyster shells-creating small pearl necklaces and earrings.

“What do you like instead? Sapphires? Gold?” Running his hands through the length of her hair, he placed a gentle kiss on the top of her forehead.

“I don’t really like jewellery. Could you just take it off? Please?” His eyes narrowed in suspicion. “My love.” She whispered, his heart swayed with her every breath-drunk on the fumes of her every exhale. Catching sight of the fish hook behind him, she leaned forward, momentarily stopping in front of his face. Was she really going to do this? What choice do I have? Delicately, she pressed her own lips to his, circling her arms around her neck, to pull his head towards her. Her arms outstretched behind her to yeild the blade as close to her as she could. He pushed his body forward, her back hitting daintily against the rock. His body hovered over hers; warm breath leaving a trail of desire littering over her skin. Before she could blink, he began to pepper kisses over her neck. Slowly and softly his head slid down, dangerously lower and lower. It was then she realised how low cut the neck of her dress was. Unconsciously, her hands rinsed through his raven hair-pressing his head down deeper into her collarbone. With a hand around her neck, the heavy weight of the pearls lightened the load on her neck.

“Thank you.” She breathed out. With his head dug into her collarbone, she held back a grunt as she strained to reach for blade, the handle slipping into her palms like glue. Languidly, she drew the knife closer to his abdomen- the honed end waltzed on his skin. Taking a deep breath, the knife dug into the crevice of his skin; pushing the weight of his body off her, she scrambled to her feet, the ends spewing blood like raindrops. His heaving breaths pervaded the air, his siren eyes glaring out.

“I love you and this how repay me?” Letting out a forced laugh, his cackles sent dangerous ripples through the water- before he could do anything else she darted away from rock- the drag of the water halting her. “You clever bitch!” His scream echoed within the caverns yet her feet travelled as far as they could away from him, the water rising from her knees all the way to her chest. She hadn’t thought this was through- how would she get out? Quickly, her eyes scouted her surroundings, until she found a small hole carved within a rock yet large enough for her to fit through. Inhaling a deep breath, she dove into the water arms and legs moving powerfully to resist the harsh waves his anger had conjured. Lurching herself of the sea bed, she swung up her arms, flailing her legs to travel upwards feeling his angered roar tremble through her bones.

“You are no more, you are no less.

For all must die, all must rest.”

His hymns would not work now, she was no longer bound to him with the pearls having been rid from her body. Her head pushed up the surface of the water, oxygen powering into her lungs- inhaling as much as she could. Kicking her feet to stay afloat, she glided towards the boat- with an iron tight fist she flung herself over, rolling onto the floor. Nimbly, she got up towards the oars; smacking them down as hard as she could into the water. The boar tipped backwards with the sudden weight, her head snapping back; she was succumbed to his deadly gaze. If looks could kill.

“You forgot the necklace.” He threw the pearls in her direction, the clatter making her flinch. As fast as she could, she took hold of the oar-slamming the wood against his knees as hard as she could. Letting out a painful grunt, she tackled him to the floor. With a fish hook in sight, she grabbed it- as a beggar grabbed morsel- lifting it above her head, pummelling it into his rubbery skin. Drowning out the sounds of his screams, as she mutilated his skin; gutting it as one gut fish. Repeating the action. Until her arms had given up on her. Chucking the blade into the water, tears rushing to the brim of her eyes, she let out a pained sob. A scream terrorised the waters, purling through the underworld, stunting the water’s fluidity. Her blood stained hands cupped her sides of her cheeks, running through her hair- tears washing away the blood over his body.

In the distance, a figure had pounded into the water- using the little strength she had to push the boat on its head. A Siren’s body floated down towards the sea bed, as the soft waves carried her body to the docks.

Her brother’s trip to the next town proved successful, they were far from hungry-and he bought a little more than he should have; managing to sell a load in the town’s market. After a while, the fisherman formed a congregation and finally went out to sea. At first she was unsure if the Siren’s were still angry as she killed Jongho. Then again, she didn’t know how beloved he was to them. She didn’t want to know either, the image of his dead body engraved in her head. Yet when they came back with mounds of fish, and the economy was booming again, she had come to a quick conclusion that he must have not been anything but a head count. She never went near the sea again, for every step closer to the coast meant a step closer to Jongho despite the fact that his soul had been taken by the Angel of Death. At night, she could not help but let her mind litter to the way his touch kissed her skin; soon after she was reminded of the way she brutally murdered him. Over time, she suffered from insomnia like her brother, staying hidden in her bedroom to avoid suspicion of her sudden sleep apnea.

“Are you sure you don’t want to go fishing with me?” She nodded, unable to tell him that their boat had been lost the waves now- with a few bits of their equipment. Perhaps it was her brother’s insomnia that had impaired his judgement, for he didn’t notice the missing equipment and when he didn’t enquire about the missing boat- confusion struck through her. “What about the boat? It’s still there, why would it be anywhere else?” At first she didn’t believe him, so summoning all the fortitude she had, she made her way down to the docks to see him off to the sea. And there it was. No blood stains, no damage, pearly white as it had always been. Not wanting to entertain a foreign thought (of Jongho not being dead) she assumed maybe the other fisherman had been kind enough to return it to them.

Maybe it was San. She’d finally met him that day by the docks- she could understand her brother’s insistence to marry him. For now, she’d wait and let things settle as they were- and he was a kind soul keen on waiting for her.

Sat on her bed, lazily drifting her eyes through the words on a book- she aimlessly drew her pencil across. A knock, followed by the door creaking open, got her up from her bed- her brother stood in the doorway summoning for her.

“I made a friend whilst fishing.”

“That would be a first.” She joked, placing her book aside to give him attention.

“I thought I’d introduce you to him. He’s a natural at hunting for fish. And he let me use his equipment too.” She followed her brother to the front door. “I invited him to dinner.” She gave him a pointed look, huffing as she’d have to prepare food for one more mouth. Braking violently by the doorway, her mouth hung slightly agape as she took in the figure before her.

He turned around, those same wide eyes greeting her again. His round cheeks, uplifting as he pulled his lips into a charming smile. He was clad in the same fisherman’s dress as her brother, hair smoothed back as if untouched by a drop water. He sent a taunting wave.

“Hi, I’m Jongho.” Her words lodged in her throat, her brother sending her a displeased look.

“I’m sorry Jongho, she’s shy sometimes.” He flicked his hand reassuringly. Digging his hand into his pocket, he pulled a rectangular black velvet box.

“Here, I heard you like pearls.”

DO NOT REPOST, TRANSLATE, REPURPOSE, OR PLAGISRISE ANY OF THE WORK HERE

A/N: may edit later!!!! Bro just wanted to give her some pearls 😭 we need more jongho’s, oc gotta get her shit together honestly 🙄✋🏻 the song is from a book called The Siren by Kiera Cass

let me know if you’d like to be added to the tag list for any future fics I post!

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prncssie · 3 days ago

Text

TWO ⎯⎯ ★ s. ryomen m. list

content warning minors and trump supporters do not interact. neither are welcome here. in this specific chapter, it gets suggestive towards the end but there is no on page smut. you can expect consensual groping in a public setting and "dick" is written once. also, the bouncer is described as creepy and acts as such but his appearance is short

WHEN I GROW UP

you thought when you strolled through the glass doors of an acting agency, — a grand building lined with glass walls, allowing the sunlight to filter into the lobby — you’d be greeted with warm smiles and maybe even a mint. this is not what you were expecting. it smells clean, citrusy, like fresh squeezed lemons and pine. the hardwood flooring, tan and matte, are smooth beneath your new balances. it’s nearly glittering a pathway guiding you to the front desk. your resume, shielded behind the manilla folder, is tucked tightly to your chest. you’ve even worn your best off-duty outfit, aiming for something simple to show off your spark. a black tube top and black jeans, perfect for forcing focus to your face full of sweet features, dollike and docile enough to render a certain impression on camera, you hope.

“hi,” you speak soft at first, a smile gracing your mouth when the receptionist lifts her head. “yeah, um, my name is ⭐︎ and i heard you had an open call today.” you can’t help the way your shoulders inch up towards your ear, a subconscious way of making yourself smaller, biting away at the ball of white hot nervousness rolling in the base of your tummy. “i was hoping to get in on that.”

it’s a shame her blonde bun is pulled so tight, straining what little polite receptors she has in her system because all the receptionist does is size you up with so much of a twitch of her glossed lips. she doesn’t smile when she slaps the clipboard atop the reflective material of the black desk. “sign here,” for a millisecond, if you'd even count it that, her lips pull tight upwards before she’s returning to whatever she was doing before, nails clacking against the keyboard. “head down that hall to the left. they’ll give you a number. wait for it to be called.”

as soon as you’re finished scribbling the black gen pen down on the white sheet, boxes full of signatures, pages stacked on over the other, she takes it back with a flat palm, dragging it over the open space. “break a leg.” and then it’s as if you were never there. you fade into the background. perhaps in her eyes, you’ve dissipated into light particles. “thanks so much,” is all you can say, lifting your eyebrows with an unamused grin, “brenda.” you catch her name off the nameplate as you leave.

this has to be normal, right? it’s not like hospitality comes with the service, if you can even call it that. people are snobby, thinking their proximity to the stars gives them some sort of privilege or immunity. sure, you wouldn’t normally take such disrespect or disregard for you as a person but maybe you could consider it as a good thing. a blessing in disguise, a side effect of success. this is the closest you’ve been to being in something bigger than yourself, an open call for anything other than a commercial for whole milk or sponsorship from some website.

you have to believe it. otherwise . . .

down the hall and the left, right? you couldn’t miss it if you tried. the bodies milling about give enough clue as to what was going on, numbers taped and pinned to shirts, pants, skirts. the jitters that you swallowed, or tried to, threaten to break free, itching just below the surface of your skin. your mouth is dry but far too wet at the same time. are you drooling? but when your hand lifts to your lips, disguised as checking for lipgloss rolling too far out of place, you don’t feel anything out of the ordinary. still, with each step closer to the check-in table, your brain cannot stop formulating new possibilities of embarrassment. you could trip, you could forget your lines, you could throw up. none of it’s helping, especially when they’re looking at you with such expecting gazes. getting the number is the easy part, though. all you have to do is write your name down and pick it up. alike many of the others, you opt to tape it, pressing the sticky adhesive into the denim of your pants.

you find yourself in your own desolate space in the hallway, stuck between warm bodies rehearsing their lines and casting sparing glances at the competition around them. you’re unsure where to look. there’s nothing particularly beneficial about staring down the other wannabe actors around you but the idea of focusing so hard on the tiling doesn’t seem too idealistic, either. you’ve always been told it’s best to stand tall anyway, pushing an aura of confidence, even if it’s fake.

and so you do for as long as you stand there. you push your shoulders back and force all that tension between your shoulder blades, straightening your posture for as long as the situation demands. evidently, until your casting is over and you get to return home.

it’s a slow process, slower than you think it would be. you were sure when you left work a few hours ago that you’d have enough time to rinse the smell of fryer grease and burgers off your skin — you’ve since replaced it with silky strawberry lotion and powdery vanilla perfume — and arrive with more than enough time to spare. of course, you did hope it wouldn’t take too long, maybe an hour or two to finish the whole thing. however, when you pull your phone out of your little black prada shoulder bag, you learn that more than three hours have passed.

that’s a ridiculous amount of time to stand, waiting as others go into that room and leave with smiles on their faces or tears in their eyes. sometimes, they don’t have an expression at all. they simply open that heavy door and wander down the hallway, leaving an air of mystery as to what could have happened. you like to fantasize, making up stories about each person and what they could have possibly done to fail. it’s your only entertainment, one that sends you into a trance-like state as you watch and eye each passerby.

it works for a while, dulling your boredom while you wait for your turn. you would have missed the sudden whispery uproar if it weren’t for the girl beside you. her hair brushes against your arm when she turns her head to whisper to the person next to you. instinctively, you cover the tickled area with your palm and look over, bringing your attention closer to the chatter. it’s bit unexpected how suddenly it rises. in just a few minutes, the dull crowd, tired of standing and waiting, begins to buzz with excitement. around you, people whisper, eyes gawking and following figures moving through the hall.

at first glance, it doesn’t take you long to identify just who is attracting all this uproar. even if people weren’t damn near pointing at the hulking figure disregarding his attention, you’d recognize him regardless. it’s hard to miss the dyed pink hair, black roots peaking just below the tufts. his undercut is just as crisp as the pictures, fresh from recent maintenance. there’s a smirk tugging at his lips, arrogant and knowing, like all the attention he’s receiving simply strokes his ego, filling up his head with pride. he walks in a saunter, fingers wrapped around his phone and tilting his head in the onlookers direction. you can get glimpses of his iconic black gel polish, catching the glimmer of the overhead lighting.

sukuna ryomen, one of the greatest stars in the industry at this very moment. the it boy, the icon, the muse of most directors. you could be seeing too far into things when he passes you, but for a second, when your eyes make contact, there’s a particular . . . tension. perhaps you’re imagining it, a warped notion in your head that blended reality with fantasy, but his eyebrows furrow, just slightly. they twitch, jumping upwards before letting you become one with the rest of his admirers.

“ – role in another movie,” it’s a whisper coming from beside you, a comment made in his wake, after he had already made his appearance and left a notable impact. “that’s what i heard, at least. i think it’s a thriller. some psychological shit.”

a thriller? the sukuna ryomen in a thriller? it’s been a while since there’s been a movie you’be been genuinely excited to see but the prospect of such a big name with an equally big aura taking on a role like that? you’re already itching with anticipation at the thought. you wish you could be there, watch him rehearse his lines, see how he prepares for the role. there’s endless lessons you an take out of his book but you’ll never have the chance. not as long as you’re just someone auditioning and he’s at the top of the ranks.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ ★

“no, cherry. i’m not getting the role.” you’re shoving airpods into your ears as you dejectedly make your way out the building. you pull your bag even farther on your shoulder, ignoring the harsh squeals your shoes make when you don’t entirely lift them off the ground. it’s what they deserve anyway, this whole company, after throwing you to the side like that. it contrasts with the clicks of heels and draws judging glares towards you but you ignore them. they’re nothing and they mean nothing after setting up such a massive event, one that you spent weeks preparing for, just for it to be pointless. “turns out, they already had someone in mind. it’s such —,” you pause, just long enough to step outside the glass doors, “such bullshit.”

“aw, honey,” her sweet southern drawl does little to comfort you as warm as it is. if anything, the empathy dripping from it riles you up further. she means well, truly. cherry is as disappointed as you are. in the short span of working together, she’s become something of a confidant, the only person who knows your goals of reaching the stars. it’s not a secret you hold close to your heart for any particular reason. it’s just . . . well, it’s just this. no one wants people to know about their setbacks. you wouldn’t find any joy in sharing your worst failures.

cherry is different, though. she’s kind about it. she has a big heart, keeping in negative comments she might have to herself. besides, cherry has a dream, too, to walk in fashion week. it was a drunken confession, sitting on the floor of your studio apartment after consuming enough white wine to send you both into fits of giggles. you considered it a housewarming.

“how do you know that? did they tell you?” she has to raise her voice over the beeping fryer alarm and the rustling around her. of course in normal cherry fashion, she picks up the phone during work hours when business is slow and she has time to waste.

“they don’t have to tell me for me to know.” you want to press your hands into your eyes, perhaps lay down beneath your sheets and hide away from the world until the fury building inside withers away. “i went in there and did my audition. they were all like ‘oh, ⭐︎, you did so good. you look so cute on camera, you’re so talented’,” you raise your voice a couple octaves to mock the casting directors, rolling your brown eyes in tandem with your words. “that’s not what they actually said but whatever. the point is, some girl walks in and they’re all over her.”

you click your tongue in a fluid motion, scrolling through the app library in search of whichever rideshare app you’ve downloaded since moving out here. with what little income you make, there’s no way you’ll be able to afford a car for the next couple of months, or even years in this economy. a ten minute ride back to your home is nothing compared to the cost of car payments and gas. “i’ve never seen her before, which is the crazy part. i don’t remember what they said her name was. edamame, uraume, whatever the fuck.”

“wait, no. i’ve heard of that name before. i’m pretty sure she was in that show with that guy.” for a moment, you hear her pause, presumably directing her attention to someone else. “yeah, honey. i’ll be right with you, m’kay? listen, ⭐︎, i gotta go, but i’ll see you tonight. we’re still on for tonight, right? i’ll take you out to this place i know. you’ll love it. i hear lotsa famous people go there. maybe you’ll meet someone who can get you a fancy role.”

your eyes settle on the dark colored sedan underlined with an identifying combination of letters and numbers. it’s only a couple dollars and you have the money to spare. you didn’t feel particularly inclined to walk those couple blocks, anyway. you find her words sort of . . . comforting, now. as optimistic as such a small possibility seems, the idea of simply running into someone worthwhile all while dancing the night away excites you. as unlikely as such an easy shortcut to success is, you still consider the small chance to be a chance at all.

“yeah, okay,” you respond with a distant sounding voice as you navigate through the nine dollar payment. it takes a few seconds for the screen to reload, proposing you begin to make your way to the pickup location. “i’ll see you later.”

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ ★

the club cherry took you to, it’s everything and nothing you expected it to be at the same time. you scrolled through pictures of the three story building on google reviews while cherry showered, filling up the small confines of her bathroom with steam and the scent of dove cucumber body wash; she insisted on you getting ready at her place after seeing the lackluster apparel hanging in your closet. you didn’t think they were that bad and yet, she parroted on and on that the bouncer would not let you in the clothes you planned on wearing. and she was right, he wouldn’t. here he stood, scrutinizing and slightly predatory gaze across each clubgoer. he took his time with the women, eyebrow quirking when someone particularly piqued his interest. gross, but expected.

it’s just as lively as you thought it would be, people milling around the entrance with id in hand. occasionally, the cars driving by would slow down and glance at the pedestrians, some gathered in groups and drunkenly skipping down the pavement. the lights are flashy, the people are giggly. it's exactly as a club scene should be. the only thing that’s missing is . . . well, the music.

you make note of it as you stand in line, arms wrapped around your body and shifting your weight from leg to leg. there’s no music, at least none you can hear. back in your little town closer to the rural edges of the countryside, you spent quite enough time at the club. you treated it as your own personal spotlight, finding great fun in putting on different personas to enchant men for the night. it could be considered where your love for acting really started, or maybe not. maybe you just sound crazy.

“okay, when we get up there,” cherry leans into you, ducking her head to get her words more clearly heard in your ear. she’s already a couple inches taller than you and with the heels on her black boots pushing her up, those inches became more than just a couple, “don’t say anythin’. well, you can speak but i’ll handle most of it. mike is real fickle. he likes to flirt with the girls and if you don’t make him happy, you don’t get in.”

“you brought me to a place where the girls are forced to be creeped on by the bouncer for admission?”

cherry clicks her tongue at your words. she follows the flow of the line and takes a step forward, momentarily looking over her shoulder to meet your eyes. “sometimes he doesn’t make us pay.”

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ ★

you’re drunk. you don’t have to ask someone to know. there’s no need for a breathalyzer, no need to hang of cherry’s shoulder and smile that pink-lipped, sugar-coated, loopy smile. the confirmation is in the way you walk. it’s in your tingling hands and your tingling lips. it’s in your airy laughter and your slurred words as you teeter across the dance floor. it’s in the way you sit now, perched on the edge of a chair and drunkenly kissing . . . someone. a girl, a guy, you don’t know. it wouldn’t make any difference really.

they’re probably just as drunk as you are, hands gripping and pulling at your dress, or rather the dress you borrowed. in the back of your mind, you’re scowling and making note to check for snags later, considering how ungracious they’re being. so much so that you’ve been tasked with the responsibility of tugging your dress up every so often as the constant threat of your boobs slipping out.

you’re not enjoying this, not as much as you want to be. you’re meant to loosen up, get out there, “make connections, whatever that means to you”, as cherry said in her honeyed dialect. that’s what you hoped to do, connect your mouth to another’s in a way that enthralled you in a more lustrous way, with tensions that weigh heavy in a bubble that surrounds you and makes you hungry for more.

you kind of sit there while they begin to mouth along your jawline with more tongue than you prefer. the distaste hits you strong enough you to put your hands on their shoulders after minutes of kissing starving lips. with a firm grasp, you push just slightly, politely even. you still give them that drunken smile even with the sudden detachment and rise to your feet. the base of your shoes knock against the metal leg of the chair and you stumble a few steps on your way up. “i will be right back.” you doubt your voice carries over the bass-boosted music. the beat alone vibrates the floor and rattles your brain in your skull. you both know this isn’t true, or at least you know and that’s enough for you. your toothy smile is concealed as your face falls to rest and you turn, purposefully taking a winding route through the crowd.

you lost cherry a while ago. in retrospect, she’s a bit of a terrible friend for vanishing like that so suddenly with the assumption that you’d be fine. the fault really lied in the decision that you should both drink tonight, as if two wasted girls were ever a good idea. however, it’s too late to be playing the blame game. you’re already taking wobbly strides under the strobe lights while a mixture of house and electronic plays in the background. there’s no real destination you’re heading towards. you follow the movement of the crowd, swaying and leaning. left, right, left, right.

in the moment, staying just where you are is appealing. it calls to you like a siren’s song, begging and pleading with you to stay. have another drink, kiss someone else, live under the colored lights. before you know it, you’re dancing to the music. it’s not what you’d typically listen to but when you’ve had this many shots in those cute little glasses, anything will do. your eyes are still closed as you dance, pulling moves from your mental catalog of video vixens and pop icons. it’s a mess, a flurry of arms and legs. your hair becomes an accessory, an extension of yourself, an object of seduction when you brush it out your face. your hips find the beat with ease and you find enjoyment in being alone, despite knowing you probably should be apprehensive.

it doesn’t take long before there’s a hand settled on your hip, hovering at first, waiting for permission to make contact with your skin. you spot it somehow in your drunken haze and take a hold of it without hesitation. you stamp the hand against your hip, ruffling the dress you adorn beneath their light hold. you only have a short moment to glance over your shoulder and assess the stranger you have welcomed into your one person party. he’s a pleasing sight, although slightly obscured by the blinding overhead lighting, constantly moving and flashing shades of blue, purple, and red. you catch tufts of black and pink lips upturned into a smirk.

it’s good enough for you so you turn and bend at the waist, dipping your head and letting your soft curls toss over your crown. you push the clothed and plush fat of your ass against the stiff fabric of this stranger’s jeans. you both move in an enthralling whirl. you just, met, or rather just become aware of each other’s presence, but somehow you mesh together in a balanced blend of bodies and flirtatious glances.

his hand is firm on your chest. he can feel the warmth of your bare skin where the dress leaves you exposed. he’s pleased to discover he can also feel the swell of your breasts and where they begin to deviate from your otherwise leveled skin. he has to bend at the waist to get to you, but once he does, you’re back to standing, chest to back and a grin on your face. his breath is hot on your ear and his voice is deep. it warms your drunken insides like a warm cider, thoroughly spiced. “are you here with someone?”

your feet tangle with themselves as you turn to face him. you’re careful, slow, calculating each step and maintaining your balance with a strong grip of his forearms. you squeeze and hum at the strong muscle relaxed beneath. “maybe, probably. if she’s still here.” you’re moving again, languidly resting your arm over his shoulder. “what’s your name?” you have to place a hand over the top of your head to cover your eyes from the glaring color changing lights. he looks familiar, extremely familiar. however, you’re drunk and it’s dark. you aren’t so concerned with placing a distinct name to a face and more concerned with what you’ll be calling this person you presume you’re going home with tonight.

sure, it wasn’t what you originally believed yourself to be doing. the thought hadn’t even crossed your mind, nor would you do this on any other occasion but it’s your first night out in a new town. you’ve had the letdown of a century and your boss is absolute shit, never showing up to do anything but complain and order you around. with a pretty boy right at your fingertips, why should you deny yourself? just for one night, at least.

it takes him a second. you assume he doesn’t quite hear you over the music bumping in the background because he blinks, dark eyebrows drawing together just slightly, and that smirk is returning right back on his pink lips. “kuyo,” his hands downwards, smoothening under the crease of your butt.

“unusual name but whatever you say.” your eyes track him low-lidded and just barely disguising the hearts beginning to form in your eyes. he moves close enough for you to smell the alcohol on his breath. it reeks of something strong, something like henessey cocktailed with a flurry of drinks downed without a second thought.

kuyo can only chuckle, one that goes unheard in your ears. he ignores your little comment, experimentally grazing his fingers along your body, both clothed and unclothed while gauging your reaction. and when he finds none, just your sweet smile, he continues pulling and squeezing and groping with little regard for those around you. you’re in a club. people should expect to see a little frisking. “i don’t like beating around the bush and i’m sure you’re a smart girl so you know what i’m gonna say. do you want to go back with me or not? we’d have to go to yours though. roommates.”

you almost laugh. there’s already a giggle building in your throat at his sheer audacity. kuyo didn’t even ask. he didn’t suggest, didn’t pose a question. he simply invited himself over, granted, that’s if you let him. usually, you’d pull back. you’d scoff in kuyo’s face, shake your head and disappear, never to be seen again. but his hands, they’re so strong. and his shoulders are so broad, and his chest is so firm, and his smile is so— “this better be the best night of my life, pretty boy.”

he gives one final squeeze to your midsection, savoring that feeling of plush skin molding around his fingers. the next time kuyo feels it, he knows it’ll be without these silly restrictions such as clothes and peering eyes. not that he’d mind, but he does doubt you want to be split on his dick in the middle of a club. “oh trust, it will be.”

©️ prncessie | do not repost on to other platforms, plagiarize, modify, translate, or use for any ai platforms. my work is my own and it comes from my brain so you’ll have to use yours too

taglist — comment to be added

@excedr

#ִ •°. *࿐. *. ⋆ ▻ 𝙙𝙚𝙡𝙪𝙡𝙪 #sukuna ryomen x reader #jjk sukuna #ryomen sukuna x reader #sukuna ryomen #ryomen sukuna #sukuna x reader #black reader #sukuna x black reader #x black reader

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propertyofwhitney67 · 3 months ago

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May I get some headcanons of the Love interests from DoL and whether they are an ass or tits person (thighs and belly also included) and why they like that certain body part?

OMG thank you so much for asking this!!! <3

I only did human Li's and if you can't tell I have favorites and others I have no idea what to do with lol

Whitney

Honestly, he's probably an ass guy. He likes to grab your ass and pull you close. Also has a lot of fun randomly slapping it.

He has so many plushies he's running out of places to put them

Loves to take pictures of you when you're not paying attention

Gets excited when it rains bc it means he gets to hang out with you alone in the park

I don't care what lore says, that slut dyes his hair

wears a lot of rings

He's actually smart but doesn't give a shit about school

Likes cold showers (freak)

Doesn’t get sick often but when he does he’s down for the count. He’s absolutely miserable and such a baby.

wears eyeliner

hates menthol cigarettes

Kylar

Thighs and tits kinda guy. Perfect pillows and he loves to grope them.

Has a serious mommy kink (duh)

collects hair from your hairbrush

bad immune system and gets sick a lot and will play it up so you'll take care of him

runs very cold and has so many blankets

prefers baths to showers

bites their nails till they bleed

has monthly nightmares about his parents

C!Sydney

Hmm maybe tits and ass. Has fun groping and spanking you.

manipulative

kinda a good artist, mostly drawing

crazy skin care routine

also wears eyeliner

gets manicures and pedicures

Robin

Thighs and belly. Loves to nuzzle into your stomach and use your thighs are a pillow.

loves indie games and hates horror games

very meticulous about his daily routine

collects small rocks

loves pizza

hates the smell of cigarettes, they make him feel sick

Alex

Tits and thighs...not sure

Misses their family despite everything that's happened

black sheep of the family for unknown reasons

honestly hates their life and was running on spite before you came along

Avery

Tits and ass. It's Avery, enough said.

Nepo baby who wants to make a name for themselves

comes from newish money

has a few different cars

Has killed an orphan or two. This is nonnegotiable.

gets manicures and pedicures but doesn't paint their nails

Eden

Thighs and belly...also not sure

hates scented candles, they give him headaches

good at sewing but never has time for it

wastes no part of the animals he hunts, everything is used in some way or another

#asks #madison's headcanons #dol #dol whitney #whitney the bully #dol kylar #kylar the loner #dol sydney #sydney the fallen #dol alex #alex the farmhand #dol avery #avery the businessperson #dol eden #eden the hunter #degrees of lewdity

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patheticpeoplesupreme · 26 days ago

Text

Sparks In A Socket

[Airplane turns into a lightning demon — because system wanted some fun]

[just a WIP lol I can never do full oneshots because I love skipping all over the place haha don’t we love cliffhangers?]

He tried to breathe, he really did. But fuck, how could one NOT panic when there’s a storm surrounding the mountain AND THRE ARE BURSTS OF LIGHTNING COMING FROM HIS—HIS HANDS WERE TURNING LIGHT BLUE????

WHAT THE FUCK.

He glared at the system through his blurring vision, dammit, he didn’t even do anything weird this time!!! He was just doing paperwork!?!

[ (ง•̀.•́)ง Fight on, User 01!]

“Why—“ He stuttered on his breath, fighting the urge to curl up into himself, knowing that doing that would make the scent of burnt ash worse, “Why do I—Why lightning powers?”

[It’s a special event! User 02 has also turned into a demon for a brief period of time.]

Helpful! Really helpful!

“Can you please change my powers, System!?” Shang Qinghua pleaded desperately, see? You can see he’s really desperate because he’s using his “please’s” (and kneeling on the ground sobbing)

[System can do that for 1000000 B points!]

THAT’S ABSURD, AND A SCAM!?!? HOW HARD CAN CHANGING A POWER BE???

[(┳◇┳) it takes a lot of power!]

Screw you System!!!?!?!?

Shakily, he wrote a letter to his head disciple, telling her that he’ll be leaving for a while and another for Shen Qingqiu. He taps on the pendant that Mobei—Jun gave him so that he could travel around between the palace and the sect with ease and tried to take comfort in the chill and lack of thunder blaring in his ears.

The jitters scuttle all over the palm of his hands, and he flinches at the sight of sparks. He could see the snow on his fingers melting, maybe this was a bad idea?

No— he just needs to get inside of his palace, to his room, where everything’s blocked off and where he’ll be safe and where everyone around him is safe—God he can now understand why Elsa locked herself away when she accidentally hurt her sister— He darts inside, not giving a second glance to the guards’ bewildered look at his back.

—

He huddled as close to the fire as he could, trying not to stare at the frost on his window. The frost made the window translucent, some parts of the window had water droplets that had yet to be frozen. Some slipped down the window. He really tried not to stare at those.

His body was restless, he couldn’t stop twitching, he tried rubbing his hands together, but it only fueled the sparks in his hands, static static static— not dangerous, he reminded himself.

He would be fine.

He’s probably immune to the sparks, the lightning, he’s fine.

His gaze fall back to the drips of water.

It reminds him of the water bottle next to his computer. It reminds him of the cup noodles sitting right in front of him, tumbling tumbling tumbling— it’s NOT TUMBLING.

Shang Qinghua leans against the wall and shuts his eyes.

Just breathing.

inhale exhale. inhale exhale. inhale exhale.

“Qinghua?”

Many things happened after that statement.

1. He jumped away from the voice, almost mashing his back against the wall, unintentionally slapping the big cold hand that was reaching for him.

2. He didn’t scream, no, Shang Qinghua let out an eardrum—shattering shriek and with his eyes popping open with shock, along with the sound of thunder rumbled through the room.

3. Various flashes of light burst from his hands, a few crackling bursts crashed into the window glass, shattering it completely causing the icy winds to come into the room. Some sparks of lightning ricocheted off his wall breaking the lamp above his head, some singed the wooden parts of his bed and his desk.

After the lightning died down, he stared right into the dumbfounded ice demon’s eyes, mind completely blank, his body completely shutting down on him in his panic.

He had a full view of the destruction, he could feel the shards of glass from the lamp above him, the glow from his handsl, the rumbling of thunder in his ears doesn’t dissipate, nor does the smell of fire or the tingling feeling in his bones. He’s not dying, Shang Qinghua reminds himself, he’s not.

He’s not in pain, he’s completely dry and he just hit his king and the air in his lungs is leaving him.

“S—Sorry—“ he stuttered out, trying to hit his chest into breathing again, it only kind of helps.

He could swear that Mobei-Jun had a concerned look on his face.

—

#svsss #shang qinghua #svsss au #shen qingqiu #my post #shen yuan #svsss fanfiction #hurt/comfort #Lightning Demon Shang Qinghua AU

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hound-of-ulster · 6 months ago

Text

Tried writing it and can't seem to make the muse spark, maybe I'll try again later, but for now I must share, lol. Have my brain gremlin.

Dish-Pit!Danny (Lazarus pit pun intended.)

Danny runs from Amity for one reason or another, ends up in Gotham, and what is a kid who hasn't graduated from school to do?

Get a job in food service.

He's hired as a dishwasher at Gotham Prep. And since things happen as they do in kitchens and with #TypicalGothamCorruption, he takes over the unofficial duties of taking care of the alternative diet students. Be it allergies or vegan/vegetarian. Shout out to Sam and Lunch Lady for being his inspiration/shoulder devil angel combo.

Works on getting his GED and eventually night classes. Working at a schools works well for it. Let's throw in an employee assistance program for college or something.

Damien meets him while taking a tour.

Tour guide: "Gotham Prep has a dedicated chef for alternate diets your precious student may have." *And it's just Dish-pit!Danny.*

Damian: "How many students do you cook for here?"

Danny: "well, that depends. I have 4 vegetarians, 2 vegans, every now and again the 3 pescaterians. Plus the 15 that pay me to tell their parents when they call that 'yes they are being fed the very best plant products at school' while they really just eat steak, and then 3 more gluten free ones I take care of sides dishes for mainly. So. Like. 11. Give or take the menu."

I could see Danny being the guy to accept bribes. "Put your name down and it 10 bucks every time your mom calls."

"Tanner said it was 5?"

"Tanner isn't a dick to Cynthia when she serves him. Say please and thank you next time and it might go down to 5. It's an Entitled Upcharge, get used to it."

Damien bonds. Like a feral cat claiming territory. Does a background check and decides that Danny is on probation. Plus, his lentil soup slaps.

When Tim loses his spleen, he too joins the cult of Danny. Can't eat from a buffet with a compromised immune system. And I imagine Gotham Prep as a fancy buffet. Because I said so.

Add in a sick moment when one of the boys only wants a dish Danny cooks, which gets the other batfam into stealing his recipe, and when that doesn't work, eventually Danny himself is plopped in Alfred's kitchen with the frilly apron of shame tied around him, frog marched to make it.

"He won't stop making puppy dog eyes at us. Fix him."

Headcanon he is similar in age to Jason, maybe they meet in GED classes... haha

The siblings all have a pact to keep him from Bruce.

"He's adoption bait."

"Oh, absolutely. Let him grow up, he's doing well on his own."

*Danny, living off lunch leftovers from work and spite to finish his GED/degree*

"He's doing amazing sweetie!"

#danny phantom #batman #batfam #danny fenton #prompt #maybe #you know what #go for it

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tiredfox64 · 4 months ago

Text

My honest chances of getting with the MK Men

Okay so basically this is me rating myself (cause my brain don’t shut up) on how likely it is that any of the mk men would date me. This will be MK1 mind you

Bi-Han: 0%-10%- Not a chance in hell. He doesn’t want to hear about my day, he doesn’t want to listen about my hyperfixations, he doesn’t like my hair, my body type ain’t it, he doesn’t believe I have mental illnesses, he hates that I take hot showers, the list goes on. That 10% is if I have the balls to bite back I think he’d like that.

Kuai Liang: 40%- He’d see me as a nice woman but would recognize that I don’t want to be mature all the time. And my definition of tradition is way different than his. Studded belts, raccoon tails, and Juicy Couture are not traditional.

Tomas: 80%- Okay, I’m biased here cause I love this man. But I genuinely don’t think he cares too much. If I’m loving, he will take me. The missing 20% is because I can get aggressive or heated quickly.

Syzoth: 50%-100%- I’d say 50% because he did have a family before so he might not want to move on which is okay. But I think he would like me cause I love reptiles and I’m not afraid to eat a cricket or two.

Rain: 50%- Being smart never stopped me from being a dumbass but I think he will see I’m still smart no matter what. Although I love this man to death I deadass think we would have fights cause he’s cocky.

Johnny Cage: 30%- He would think he’s too cool for me. Simple as that. Will he flirt with me? Maybe. Will he date me? Slim chance.

Kenshi: 70%- He chill tbh. I don’t think he would have a problem with my weight or my illnesses. We’ll find a way to vibe. But I’m not the first girl he would pick.

Raiden: 90%- Similar with Tomas he don’t care too much. He doesn’t get scared by me getting heated. That 10% is because we’ve lived different lives so it would be hard to find middle ground. I can’t take silence 😭.

Kung Lao: 70%- He’d love my family more than me. They make good food. I can cook too but he wants the whole family to bring him pupusas and Shepard’s Pie.

Geras: 0%- Nothing against me, he just has an important job and I respect that.

Liu Kang: 10%- Again I think this would be nothing against me he just loves his Kitana. But there is a tiny chance for me I feel like.

Reiko: 30%- He doesn’t like earthrealmers and I’m not sure he would like my body type. But I think he would love my attitude so that’s where that little percent comes from.

Shao: 0%- Nope, just nope. He hates earthrealmers. Wouldn’t give me the time of day.

Havik: 80%- Okay hear me out. I get points off because I’m religious (so I follow a god) and I am against anarchy. Other than that, he would love me. Like I feel like he would love a chubby girl. He’d love my hair, he’d love my tattoos, he’d love the way I express myself (being topless). I’d love to watch analog horror series with him. I’d give him a kiss every time I’d get scared.

Baraka: 0%- He had a family once and he doesn’t want to infect me. That’s reasonable.

Shang Tsung: 50%- Listen, I’d feel like he’d fuck with anybody. If I tell him how good my immune system is that gives me points. That means I’m durable to experiment on. And he can give me back shots while doing it.

Quan Chi: 10%- Nope, I’d lift my rosary up before letting him close. He was fucking with spirits I’d curse him out for that and he would not like me. He would like that I have an attitude.

Ermac: 0.01%-…well at least one of those fuckers inside of there would like me.

BONUS ROUND: KAMEOS (my favorites to be exact)

Mavado: 100%- Yeah he’s loyal to his clan but if I slap him and immediately kiss him after that’s it he’s done. He loyal to me and his clan after that.

Stryker: 50%- I’M good, everyone else in my life has a problem.

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floralcavern · 2 months ago

Text

Ship alphabet

Benlor

Affection:

Absolute cuddle bugs, these two. Always have to be touching, whether is be hand holds or back rubs. Taylor’s go to is caressing Ben’s cheek and Ben’s is nuzzling into her hair.

Bashful:

Taylor’s pretty confident and self assured, so she doesn’t tend to get bashful. Ben, on the other hand? Flustered so, so, so easily.

Cuddle:

Taylor is definitely the big spoon. Ben is super warm, too. Which is great, because Taylor tend to get cold easily!

Dancing:

Ben likes to dance to old jazz. Like, slow dance, yknow? He just wraps his arms around Taylor’s shoulders and they sway around a bit. And then Taylor grabs his arms and spins him around when the beat picks up.

Ending:

They’re not the type to break up because of high emotions. They would probably come to the realization that the spark is just gone and come to the agreement to break up. But I think Ben would take it the hardest.

Fiancé:

Ben proposed to her at a robotics competition that she had won. Taylor says that her day went from 100 to 100,000 in that moment.

Gentle:

Oh, they are both so gentle. If Taylor was excited, she would just squish his cheeks and giggle. If Ben were excited, he’d be literally vibrating until Taylor gave him permission to shake her around, which he does by grabbing her by the shoulders and shaking her very softly as to not make her too dizzy.

Hugs:

The two best hug givers in the group. The two of them hugging is so comfortable it may tear this world apart. Ben’s gentleness, size, and warmth meet Taylor’s softness and firm grip. They also have very long hugs, I think.

I love you:

Ben likes to tap it out in Morse code on Taylor’s palm or the back of her hand, just casually. They could all be hanging out as a group and he’ll just do it completely randomly. Taylor says it every night when they’re on the phone and they’re about to hang up.

Jealousy:

Taylor doesn’t tend to get jealous, but when she does, she becomes really salty and then she gets really guilty that she’s really salty because she knows she’s overreacting. When Ben gets jealous, he practically slaps himself because he doesn’t want to be an overly possessive boyfriend.

Kiss:

Such soft kisses between these two, omg. Taylor probably initiated their first ever one and Ben just melted into it because he hasn’t been given such sweet affection in so damn long.

Love language:

Ben’s love language is 75% quality time and 25% physical touch. Taylor’s is 50% quality time and 50% gift giving.

Marriage:

Ben totally cried at their wedding. Absolutely. A RIVER of tears. Taylor had an absolute blast planning the wedding, as well.

Normalcy:

Their sense of normalcy is going on walks and watching silly little romcoms (their favorite would be When Harry Met Sally) and cuddling.

Open:

Ben has to take a while to be open with Taylor, but once they’re further into the relationship, he occasionally vents to her or cries into her shoulder. Taylor is also pretty open with Ben, talking about her worries for Tyler and her mom. They’re both great listeners, too.

Past relationships:

Ben has never dated anyone, but I think he’s had one or two past crushes before. But after the incident, he’s had trouble getting close enough to anyone to catch romantic feelings. Taylor has probably dated one guy before, I imagine he was a friend of Tyler’s but she dumped him.

Quiver:

Taylor doing literally anything makes him weak in the knees, omg, he is such a lover boy. Taylor finds herself becoming absolutely weak when Ben plays guitar or hums.

Realize:

Taylor realized she had feelings for Ben one day when she saw him being a good big brother to Lily. Something about him being such a caring sibling and good with kids just awoke something in her. Ben realized his feelings at the arcade.

Sick:

I imagine Ben has a very bad immune system, especially after he moved to Georgia, probably because he’s not used to the new plant pollen that’s in the air. Taylor has the immune system of a god, though. She never gets sick. Probably because she’s always working out in her shop (she also gives me the vibes of a kid who probably ate dirt growing up 😭)

Talk:

They talk a lot about nothing. Late night talks and giggles and tons of inside jokes that they like to tell each other through Morse code.

Ugly:

I literally don’t think Ben can think of a single thing he would find unattractive (neither physically or personality wise) about Taylor. Taylor doesn’t either, but she does wish Ben would cut himself some slack more often.

Vanished:

If Taylor disappeared? ….I don’t want to think about the people Ben would hurt to figure out what happened. If Ben disappeared? Taylor is going feral, 100%. Remember when Tyler was in the hospital? That’s going to be her same reaction if Ben goes missing.

Whole:

Ben tries his damn hardest to not be codependent, but damnit, he cannot feel whole without Taylor. She is his other half, part of his soul. Taylor feels relatively whole without Ben, but Ben is still just a little piece in her heart. He’s still part of her. He’s her person, yknow?

Xtra:

The two like to babysit Lily together. Lily thinks of Taylor like a big sister. I think Taylor would even take her on a girls’ day.

Y me?:

Ben literally has to ask Taylor almost every day if she still likes him. He does NOT feel worthy to be her boyfriend. Taylor feels no sense of that kind of feeling, knowing she’s happy with Ben and Ben is happy with her and in the end, that’s all that matters.

Zzzz:

So sleepy, these two. Taylor has her arms wrapped around Ben’s stomach and Ben is completely nuzzled into her neck. Sleepy guys, these two.

#school bus graveyard #sbg #Ben clark #ben sbg #taylor hernandez #taylor sbg #benlor #shipping #Ship alphabet #Shipping alphabet

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scekrex · 9 months ago

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You know who it is, it's ya boy! 🕺

So. Obviously a crack fic, if anyone is wondering - no, I don't smoke pot, I'm just very stupid with dumb, but creative ideas, about Adam, Lute and the reader having a mission given to them from Sera, we're they have to got to the Earth in their human disguises (Of course Adam is just Adam without the mask and brown eyes, because Alex Brightman, fuck yeah) to do some business with some of the governments. What they didn't think of is the fact that when they got their human disguises, they also came with human traits, like being able to get absolutely hammered. Like for angels it would take a lot of alcohol (I'm looking at you Castiel when you drank a whole ass liquor store) to get drunk, but humans have a weaker immune system when it comes to percentages. So Adam the drunkest of them all getting the amazing idea of stealing a shopping cart, a little less drunk reader agreeing and them running off before Lute could stop them, Adam in the cart, reader pushing. In the end they accidentally drove off the sidewalk and launched themselves into the damn brook. Lute panicked before they emerged, laughing their asses off, Adam just started to glide his hands over his clothes as if he wanted to hand wash them. Here cue the meme:

-I'M WASHING ME AND MY CLOTHES

-He's drunk as fuck

-Biiitch, I'm washing me and my clothes 😌

With the "I'm washing me and my clothes" being Adam, "He's drunk as fuck" being Lute and the reader just floating in the water next to Adam wondering what the hell he was doing before catching the vibe and doing the same. Now imagine Sera just wanting to check on them and their progress through that orb in Heaven like during "You didn't know" 😂 Miss girl would face plam so hard her big ass lashes would fly off her face 😂😂😂

Bro. Bro I adore you and I adore your fucking crack prompts, they're my new favorite thing to write. So here ya go babes

Drunk 'n' Nasty

pairing: Adam x male!reader

warnings: language, use of alcohol, yet another crack fic

note: not beta read bc fuck you I don't have beta readers

Lute grabbed your wrist and pulled you away from the bar entrance, Adam had already been grabbed by his shirt to keep him from entering the building. “No, Sera explicitly said that we need to get this over with as fast as possible,” the lieutenant spoke in a firm voice as she dragged both you and your husband away from the pub, “So we will finish the job and then straight up head back to heaven.”

You pounded at her, “You’re no fun, c’mon Lute just let us have one drink, in and out in no time.” But the exorcist shook her head and stood her ground, “No. One drink will lead to two and two drinks will lead to you and Adam getting completely wasted.” Adam wiggled out of her grip and slapped the hand she had wrapped around your wrist. Yes, Sera had given you orders, but where was the fun in having human disguises if you weren't able to enjoy the night on earth?

“Oh fucking quit it, danger tits, we all know it will end like that either way,” Adam groaned and rolled his eyes, “Loosen up, bitch.” Lute side eyed the first man critically but eventually gave in with a sigh. She wordlessly stepped aside so the two of you were able to enter the crowded bar and Adam dragged you inside before Lute was able to change her mind again. “Let’s fucking go,” the brunette cheered and sat down at the counter. He patted his thigh as his now brown eyes caught yours, “C’mere babes.” That he didn't need to tell you twice, you closed the small gab that was left between the two of you and sat down on his thigh as the first man ordered two shots of whiskey for the both of you, he knew Lute wouldn't drink, she appeared to be quite tense ever since the three of you had arrived on earth.

Once the drinks were put down in front of you, you immediately reached for the tiny shot glass and downed it in one go by tilting your head back, Adam's eyes were locked on your throat as he was able to see how you swallowed the liquid, a nasty grin appeared on his lips as he leaned in a little closer to you, “Fuck, how often will I get that view tonight?” “Depends,” you grinned back at him, the pleasant yet unusual burn of alcohol made you shiver slightly, “How often do ya wanna see it, pretty boy?” Adam leaned in even closer until his lips brushed softly against your ear and his hot breath hit your face, “I don't think I will ever get enough of it.” And with that he downed his own shot just to slam the empty glass on the counter and ask the bartender for another round.

“Sir,” Lute had managed to get through the crowd somehow and was now standing behind you, “That was your one shot, we'll leave now.” Adam looked at you, it was so weird to see the first man with dark brown eyes instead of bright golden ones, but it was something you could get used to, they seemed honest, not that his golden eyes were serving you lies but the brown orbs just felt different, more personal. “Lute, do us a fucking favor and find some dude who will pull that massive fucking stick outta your ass so we can enjoy ourselves for a little while,” your husband shared his opinion on Lute's behavior towards the both of you, then he turned around again to focus on the drinks on the counter. The first man raised his glass, you did the same and in union you purred, “To us.” Another shot was swallowed and you slowly felt your cheeks heating up because of the alcohol. Oh how you had missed the burning liquor.

“I will regret this,” Lute grumbled as the exorcist sat down on the stool next to you. Your eyes beamed at her and you were quick to order three cocktails, visibly happy that she had decided to join you. “Just because I'm sitting down doesn't mean I will drink with you, it's enough of a burden that you two are,” she hissed and eyed the neon pink drink suspiciously as it was placed in front of her. “Don’t be such a princess, it's just one drink,” Adam commented and pushed the pretty looking drink a little closer to Lute. She however, simply passed it to some chick that was passing by. And that was the moment you chose to ignore the woman for the rest of the evening. If she was fine with staying sober and doing as stupid fucking Sera said, so be it, you and Adam however had other plans.

It didn't really take long for the alcohol to actually punch you two in the face though, heaven offered no such things as alcohol, weed, crack or nicotine so the tolerance bar for Adam and you was basically on the floor. And that was probably part of the reason why the two of you had one hell of a blast running away from Lute.

And then Adam spotted the supermarket that wasn't too far away from the pub so he made quick work of picking you up bridal style and then he was on his way to investigate whatever it was that was going on there. “What now, big guy, are we taking off together? Away from stick-in-the-ass-Lute and go-fuck-yourself-Sera?” you chuckled as the brunette continued to carry you over to the empty parking lot. “Damn fucking right, babes,” Adam agreed. The taller man let you down once your destination was reached and he immediately saw something new he wanted to investigate.

The fucking shopping carts.

So you tagged along, mainly to make sure Adam wouldn't hurt himself but also because you were curious too. You weren't quite sure how, but somehow Adam had managed to disconnect the metal chain from the cart, the first man was pulling it away from the others and as soon as it stopped moving, he climbed in it to sit down, “What are you waiting for, bitch, fucking push me!” Adam pointed to the street.

Lute had just managed to catch up to you two drunken asses as you rushed past her. You pushed the shopping cart as fast as physically possible, “Fuck yeah,” Adam yelled and threw his fists in the air, that man was having the time of his life - or well, existence. Either way it was fun, you two were having fun.

Lute on the other hand regretted every single decision that had led her to his exact moment, if she could she would punch her past self for even agreeing to coming with you. Fuck what had she been thinking, that you two would take this serious for once? Yeah, dead fucking wrong.

It was all fun and games until you stumbled over your own feet, lost control of the cart and pushed it right into the brook that was besides the sidewalk you had been running on. Your alcohol clouded brain didn't even think of letting go and therefore you fell with Adam. Instead of being bummed about it, you thought of this as an upgrade though, because now you were floating on water.

“Adam look,” you called for your husband, “I’m floating.” Adam turned around in order to see what you were doing and chuckled at the sight. “‘m washin’ me ‘n’ my clothes,” the brunette explained what he was doing as he slid his hands all across his body, crumbling up his very wet clothes.

Lute had finally managed to fully catch up to you and just watched you with annoyance. “He’s drunk as fuck,” she grumbled, clearly talking to you but you simply shook your head violently, you somehow managed to get over to where Adam was washing himself and his clothes and helped him by sliding your hands all over his body too, “Bitch, we're washing him and his clothes.”

The brunette turned around to face you and poked your chest, “If you handsome bitch keep touching me like that I might just fuck you right here, right now,” the words he spoke were a little hard to understand die to the alcohol he had been drinking earlier. But hard to understand didn't mean impossible to understand, because as soon as your brain had processed the words your husband had spoken you pressed your entire body against his, your wet clothes clinging onto each other.

“Oh Lord have mercy,” Lute prayed as she covered her ears and turned around so that she wouldn't have to watch.

“Yeah? What's stopping you, big guy?” you were up for the challenge, if he wanted to fuck you right there, then he should get to do that. At least that's how you saw it.

Sera had a gut feeling that told her to check on the group and so she did. But what she saw was something she surely hadn't expected. Lute was standing on the sidewalk, the woman was still covering her ears and had squeezed her eyes shut in order to tune out what was happening behind her back.

Because Adam and you were standing in a brook, both fully naked. Sera immediately regretted what she had just done, she wanted to unsee what her eyes had been able to see. She stopped the transmission in an instant. That had simply been too much for her nerves, she had also made the decision to never address what was currently going down on earth.

Spoiler: Adam was going down on you.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel adam #adam x male reader #male reader #adam x y/n #adam x reader #adam x you

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