#i want to try actual short short hair but that needs too much maintaining by someone who knows what they re doing. also lot of convos i dont

[kalmeria]

haircut time hhehehe (the recent case of merubrain mighttttt have sth to do with it)

[whytheylosttheirminds]

espresso - rafe cameron

summary: Rafe met you a few weeks ago and he hasn't slept a wink since. You, however, have never slept better.

content: straight up smut, 18+ minors do not interact!!

You sink into your bed, the cool, crisp sheets feeling amazing against your freshly lotioned skin. Your laptop plays your favorite episode of your favorite show, the one you’ve watched so many times it’s like white noise. How do you sleep at night? Really fucking well.

Just as you begin to drift into a sea of pleasant dreams, your phone buzzes violently on the nightstand, lighting up your room. You groan at the interruption, squinting in the harsh screen light as you check to see who’s calling. The contact reads: 'tall blond (island club??)'. 

“Yes?” You mumble, answering the phone mid-yawn.

“Where are you?” His deep voice practically growls.

“Busy,” you lie.

“Doin’ what?” He tries to sound annoyed, but can’t hide the jealous curiosity.

“None of your business,” you taunt him.

“Can I come over?”

“Maybe I already have someone here,” you laugh.

“Y/n please don’t fuck with me, I need to see you, now.” You’ll never let him know the intensity in his voice makes you clench your legs together, getting wet imagining how desperate he must look right now.

“You can come over, but the door’s locked and I don’t feel like getting up,” you say, adding in another yawn to try to maintain your dismissive tone.

A loud TAP TAP TAP on your bedroom window makes you jump. You sit still in bed for a minute, heart beating with fear. Then, through the phone and the window, you hear his voice, “I already tried the door.”

Your stomach does somersaults as you pad over to the window in your tank top and plaid pajama shorts, opening the curtain to see him crouched at your window, phone still to his ear, having climbed onto the roof to get to you. He doesn’t smile, just looks you up and down with ravenous eyes. You suppress an arrogant smile. This boy is down bad. 

“I told you I’m busy,” you say into the phone. 

He hangs up on you and raises his voice so you can hear him through the window, “y/n, let me in right now or I’ll break this fucking window.”

You roll your eyes and lean forward towards the glass, purposefully pushing your cleavage together and loving the way he watches like he wants to consume you whole.

“You’re so dramatic,” you mouth to him through the glass.

Ignoring your taunt, he starts trying to pry open the window, shaking it so hard, you think he might actually just break through the lock and get it open.

“Okay, relaaaax,” you laugh, unlocking the window so he can pull it up. He’s in it so quickly, hands immediately all over you as you stand in the middle of your room. 

“Can I help you?” You ask sarcastically as he locks his lips to your neck, hands on your ass, tits, hips, hair, devouring you. You put your hands on top of his, removing them from you, but still holding onto them. You tilt your head at him, waiting for an answer.

“I can’t sleep,” he mumbles, a harsh gulp making his Adam’s apple bob. “Can’t stop fucking thinking about you.”

“Aw,” you tsk with pity. “I know you can't, baby.” You take his hands and put them back on your tits, encouraging him to squeeze. He groans and rolls his eyes back, deliciously obsessed with having you in his hands.

He sinks to his knees in front of you, and you run your hands through his hair gently, before catching the ends between your fingers and tugging, forcing his head back so he has to look up at you. His eyes are glazed over with lust, you want to lick up the long column of his neck, sweaty from his climb to your second story window. But you’re having too much fun making him weak.

“I was sleeping like a baby,” you lie. “You woke me up.”

“I..I’m sorry,” he stutters, chest rising and falling with rapid breaths. Maintaining your firm grip on his hair, you scan your eyes down his body until they land on the prominent bulge building in his sweatpants.

You lean down to get close to his face, his open mouth inches from yours. “Then you better make it up to me.”

He nods quickly, licking his lips. You release your grip on his hair and stand straight. Still on his knees, head level with your middle, he reaches for you tentatively, and you give him a nod of permission. He grabs the hem of your tank top, lifting it to reveal the soft skin of your stomach. He places a kiss on your stomach, it tickles, but you refuse to flinch and reveal how excited you are. He licks a stripe up and down, over your belly button and down toward the waistband of your shorts, making your pussy flutter as his hot mouth gets closer to it. He hooks his fingers over the waistband and slowly pulls them down, having to shimmy them a bit to make it over the curve of your ass. When you’re revealed to him, no panties, he actually whimpers.

“Can I taste you, please? Need to taste you,” he begs.

He watches in raptured anticipation as you grab the bunched up hem of your tank top and pull it over your head with two arms, your tits bouncing as you throw it to the side. You step backwards, keeping your eyes locked to him, and sit on your bed. You slide back toward the middle of the bed, propped up by your elbows, opening your legs. He looks like he might pass out.

“Stand up,” you instruct.

He obeys immediately, his tall frame filling the space in your room, his big shadow cast on the wall by the dim glow from the street lamp outside your window.

“Take your shirt off.” Once again he complies with no hesitation, one hand on the back of his t-shirt, his tricep flexing as he pulls it over his head in one swift motion. 'Fucking hell he’s so hot' you think, but don’t say, as you drink in his perfect body. Just the right mix of toned and muscular. Soft, tan skin covered in goosebumps from his wildly heightened senses. 

You bite your lip and taunt him with your eyes, silently nodding your head toward the bed, an order for him to return to his knees.

He crouches low, crawling toward you. He runs his large hands up the side of your legs and keeps his eyes on you the whole way until he’s inches from your pussy. You’re soaked now, but you know he won’t tease you for it, both of you addicted to the power dynamic here.

Still keeping his eyes on you, he licks a stripe up your pussy, groaning at how good you taste and sending a deep vibration right through you.

Your head falls back, eyes rolling as you sigh at the feeling. The sight of you getting lost in the pleasure ignites a fire in him and he begins eating you out like a starving man. You grind your hips into him, pushing his face further into your pussy, covering him in your wetness. 

He suddenly switches the direction of his tongue, sharpening it into a point that begins flicking over your clit with firm pressure. Your arms give out and you fall back onto your bed with a thud. Your hands shoot to his hair, pulling hard, making him groan in delight. Your soft moans are angelic, making him harder than he thought possible. He bucks his hips into the edge of your mattress desperately. You can feel it move beneath you as he ruts into it and you know he’s getting himself off, the thought of it making you gush even more.

“Love the way this pussy tastes,” he mumbles against your inner thigh. “Been wanting to taste you all day.”

“Then shut up and do it.” It comes out harsher than you meant it, but he loves it, knowing you’re frustrated because you’re so close to coming all over his face. He doesn’t hold back any longer, aggressively pulling your clit into his mouth and sucking hard.

“Shit!” You cry out through gritted teeth. “Don’t you dare fucking stop.” 

“Never,” he says quickly before moving his tongue to your entrance, thrusting it in and out as he shakes his head back and forth so his nose rubs over your clit. Your eyes are shut so tight you’re seeing stars. 

“You gonna make me cum?” You taunt him. He just nods, not wanting to separate his mouth from you for a second. 

He makes good on his promise and you're thrown over the edge, a loud cry escaping your hoarse throat. Clamping your thighs around his head, he grabs your hips and presses you into the mattress as his tongue works you through your orgasm. 

Once you’ve settled down, he lays on top of you, head on your bare chest, listening to the slowing of your heartbeat.

“I haven’t slept since the night I met you,” he confesses quietly.

“I know, baby,” you run your nails up and down his back soothingly. “I know.”

In the morning, you pull up his contact in your phone and change his name to 'Rafe'.

a/n: this is my first time posting just fully smut no real plot and i'm scared everybody be cool about it!!!!

[thecapricunt1616]

It’s 5:30 am and I literally have been awake for the past 3 hours trying to fall asleep but this fucking guy

This beautiful British blonde FUCK has been plaguing my every brain cell and it’s SICK. Thinking abt early mornings with him and how tender and sweet he’d be GRRRAH (more BTC)

But okok so imagine you’re having a hard time falling back asleep, it’s like 3:45 am but you don’t care, it’s actually a pleasant surprise for you when you wake earlier then normal, because your man isn’t usually far behind.

Like Carmy, he wants to be the first one up, the first one ready, the first one that gets to work. So naturally he’s rousing at 4, taking a good 5 minutes to lay with you and smother you in gentle kisses, light enough to assure you wouldn’t wake too soon, but enough to satisfy himself that he gave you enough love and attention before he got to work.

That is something different between those two. Carmy sees a relationship as a distraction and something he needs to tread carefully with so he doesn’t dedicate too much of his mind or time to it - but Luca? He worships his girl, and he will spend any second possible at your side while still maintaining his regimented routine.

Lucas anxiety comes about time, it’s different than Carmys. Luca is always early, he has mastered knowing the very minute he has to be out of bed and taking the 5 steps to the boat houses bathroom and cutting the water on that takes 3 minutes to come to a comfortable temperature. But until then? He is kissing your cheeks, your nose, your hairline, your neck, your chest, your stomach, your thighs. He’s snuggling you close and whispering how much he loves you, and his plans for the day even if he well knows you’re dead to the world still.

He would work extra minutes and seconds into his morning routine between brushing his teeth and getting dressed and styling his hair he would come and give you a sweet kiss to the head or lips, sometimes gently caressing your hair if you stirred from the action.

But this particular morning, Luca was elated, but a bit confused, to see you looking right back at him when he hit stop on his alarm after the second beep. “Morning, trying to come for my gig as being the early riser in this relationship?” His voice was deep and rich with sleep. He pulled you in, kissing the top of your head and rubbing your back soothingly which caused your eyes to flutter shut at the lovely feeling. He was so warm, he smelt so distinctly him. You nuzzled your face into his bare chest, planting gentle kisses on the skin

“The universe is against me. I feel tired but I’ve been laying with my eyes closed for hours, this is helping though- but I don’t want it to now cause I love you and wanna talk” you said and he chuckled a bit, kissing the top of your head again and giving you a loving squeeze

“I love you, darling. What’s on your mind, mm?” He asked and gently pets your hair. You nuzzle into his neck, a small smile on your lips.

“I’m not telling you cause you work too hard as it is” you said and he smiled himself, snorting a laugh

“So you’re thinking of something you want to eat, got it. Well what is plaguing that pretty mind baby I may have some spare time today” he resumed his gentle back rub, his short nails running along your skin and giving you goosebumps where he touched.

“Lemon posset” you admit and he hums, pressing another kiss to your forehead this time

“And why do you think that’s so hard love? I’ll bring you some back later.” He said and you groan

“Luca you work 10 hours today, I’d rather you be home with me then making me some stupid intricate craving”

“Hush, I can work it out love don’t worry. Just gotta move some things around it’ll be no big deal”

And yeah he’s gonna be home early, with dessert and dinner - just to prove a point that he knows how to manage his time

[savannahsdeath]

Can we get something where Ellie is injured and when reader takes care of her she feels embarrassed bc she doesn't want to seem weak. But then she like starts crying about "not being strong enough" and just have some cute fluff from reader <33

AHHHZHSBHX i love writing fluff sm like its so comforting !!

ELLIE WILLIAMS X READER

mdni please<3

warnings: minors safe i think?? blood, crying

writers note: its kinda short n all but omghauzb i love ellie sm i need to give her a biiiiggg hug and just never let go like😓🩷my poor baby:(

you intensively listened to the sharp ticking of the clock, waiting for something that'd break the cycle. for someone, actually. for your precious girlfriend ellie, which had a patrol somewhere around jackson. you stayed quiet, listening intently for any signs of her. the sounds of the clock in the background seemed to taunt you, like a reminder of how much time was passing and you had to wait even longer to hear news from her.

it was something about midnight when she finally came knocking on the door, completely soaked in freezing rain. her hair was wet, her face drenched, she looked miserable. you rushed to get a towel to help her dry her hair and body.

when you were done you wrapped your hands around her. she hissed and you instantly pulled away, giving her a pout of pure worry and concern. your eyes inspected her body, without effect. your hands reached out for her top, wanting to take it off and look for any injuries, but she firmly gripped your wrists.

"babe, stop." she said, and maybe you'd listen to her, if her voice didn't sound like begging. and if she begged, she was hiding something.

you freed your hands and rolled her shirt up, revealing a nasty wound on her side. it looked like bullet scratch and it was a miracle - a few millimeters to the left and the shot would pierce her waist.

ellie mumbled a quiet 'fuck...' as her attempt to hide it from you failed. she did her best to look unfazed and pretend to not be in pain, knowing it'd only add to the embarrassment.

ellie sighed and pulled your hands away from the wound, pushing you back. she took a deep breath, the pain evident on her face, and rolled her shirt back down.

"it's fine, i'm fine." she falsely reassured, her shaky voice betraying her attempt to sound tough. she forced a weak smile, trying to play down your worries, but you could tell she wasn't okay.

"ellie, you're bleeding!" you shook your head, your eyes darting back and forth from her wound and her face.

you dragged her to the bedroom, taking a first aid kit from the bathroom on the way. she stayed silent as you softly but forcefully sat her on the bed and started preparing everything.

"this will... sting a bit." you warned her before looking at the disinfectant. you knew it'll do way more than just 'sting a bit'.

ellie avoided looking at you, hating how vulnerable the whole situation makes her feel. she gritted her teeth as you started cleaning the wound, trying to maintain her composure as best as she could. you could hear her breathing get heavier as the pain began to set in, but she was too proud to let you see her cry.

as you continued to work, she looked away from you, ashamed that you had to fix her mistakes. she knew she should have been more careful and hated how weak she appeared in front of you.

"i'm sorry for making you do this." she murmured, her voice barely audible.

ellie sucked in a sharp breath and clenched the sheets as you applied the disinfectant. a wave of pain washed over her, but she managed to stay silent and hold back a scream.

you finished cleaning the wound and began to bandage it, being careful not to hurt her any further. as you worked, you heard ellie sniffle as she struggled to hold back her emotions. you looked up and saw that ellie is watching you with a mixture of gratitude and embarrassment. her eyes were glistening with unshed tears and she was biting her lip to hold back a wail of agony and relief.

"thank you..." she whispered, her voice breaking.

"don't mention it." you said, your eyes full of sympathy for your suffering girlfriend. you gave her a reassuring smile, best you could manage as her pain hurt you too.

ellie took a deep breath, trying to compose herself as the pain subsided, but she couldn't hold back her tears any longer. she buried her face in her hands as she sobbed bitterly, her whole body shaking with emotion.

you gently wrapped her in a hug, holding her tight to give her some comfort. you whispered reassuring words in her ear, trying to calm her down.

"it's alright- sh, shhh..." you stroked her hair in an attempt to provide some solace. "i'll always be here for you, love."

her arms desperately seeked for support in your body, as her tears slowly dropped and soaked into your shirt.

"how can i keep you safe if i can't even take care of myself?" she mumbled, her voice muffled as her face was pressed against your chest.

you continued to hold ellie in your arms, trying to provide her with the comfort and reassurance she needed.

"you're always taking care of me, and now it's my turn to take care of you." you whispered, gently stroking her hair.

ellie looks up at you, her eyes full of gratitude. you feel her embrace tighten as she clings to you for support.

"my strong, amazing els." you smile, giving her a gentle kiss on the forehead.

you held ellie for what seemed like an eternity, neither of you wanting to let go anytime soon. as you continued to cradle her in your arms, you could feel her warm tears running down your chest, now even beneath your shirt.

you felt her begin to calm down, her sobs easing up and her grip on you gradually loosening. suddenly, she pressed her body against you even tighter, almost like she was afraid of losing you after you've provided her with such comfort.

"i love you." she whispered, burying her head in your chest.

you continued gently stroking ellie's hair, unable to stop smiling at her confession.

"i love you too." you whispered back, as if you just shared a really important secret with her, hugging her tightly.

you felt her relax, her body going limp as she nestled into your chest. it felt like time has stopped, and the two of you together in the moment was all that mattered.

you pressed your forehead against ellie's, looking deep into her green eyes.

"always, forever." you added, before sharing your first kiss in a long while.

[pandora-writes-one-piece]

The Meet Cute - Ace's Story - 5

Source for pic

Firestarter 5

Word Count: 4862

Tags For The Whole Story: Fem!Reader, slight NSFW (It's mature, not explicit), slightly sugestive behaviour, flirting, jealousy, frenemies, sexual tension, miscommunication, unresolved tension, slight angst, slow-burn, romantic comedy vibes, alternate universe modern setting, swearing, drinking, fluff, feelings realisation, denial of feelings.

Special Warning: English is not my first language, I apologise for any possible spelling or grammar mistakes.

Summary: After moving away from the hustle and bustle of Grand Line City to help your father around the property following a horse-riding accident - and in the hopes of healing your broken heart after your asshole ex-fiancé cheated - you settle into the country calmness of the Calm Belt. You intended to have some alone time, to reflect and heal, but your childhood friend's older brother, Ace, seems to be there just to upset that fragile peace you're striving for. He's a flirt and a womaniser. But why does he also have to be so handsome and perfect? And how long can you resist his charms?

Notes: And just as things progress, they fall back again. Is it Ace's problem, or is it the fact that you have so much trouble trusting his intentions?

Tag List: @rosidaze @beachaddict48

Masterlist for previous introductory chapters.

|Previous Chapter| | |Next Chapter|

You refuse to let yourself be broken down by this. It's nothing you weren't expecting. You just need to remain cool, gather your wandering thoughts, and actually go back to acting like a friend around him, instead of acting like a jealous girlfriend. 

Because you are not!

You regret almost immediately blowing up in his face, but it’s such an uncontrollable feeling! And you are in no way entitled to it. You’re just his friend! Nothing else!

Though you're not quite sure why he was acting so cold towards you, it's nothing you don't deserve, seeing as you've treated him quite coldly during the party as well, maintaining your distance, trying to avoid exactly this feeling of powerlessness. 

Did he deserve the way you snapped at him? 

No. 

Were you right about it? 

No. Probably not. 

But seeing him shy away from your touch made you feel slighted, and made you feel, once more, like you're less than the girls he usually hooks up with. Like you're not enough. An empty feeling that settles somewhere around your stomach and makes you nauseous.

Shanks raises his eyebrow at you when you pass by him outside. Benn Beckman waves and you are forced to stop because you don't want to be rude to your father's good friend.

“Benn! Hi!”

He says your name and chuckles as he crosses his arms over his chest. “You're all grown up, look at you!”

“And what an interesting choice for an outfit…” Your father grunts as he spots Ace's shirt. 

Crumpling your smelly dress in your hands, you stutter before letting out a nervous laugh. “Right! I spilled a drink on my dress and A-... hmm, Ace lent me his shirt.” You mumble the last part as Beckman stifles a laugh with pursed lips. 

To his credit, Shanks controls himself rather well. He takes two deep breaths and tousles his hair, his eyes wandering around and stopping anywhere but on your own. “I, um… you… um… Is Ace…” He exhales sharply and you decide to cut both of your misery short. 

“Nothing is happening between me and Ace. I got way too drunk and Ace threw me in his bed  before I drank even more and-...”

“What?!” Shanks’ face reddens and Beckman whistles. 

“No, not like that, dad, come on! He just put me there to sleep it off before I passed out! He took care of me, nothing else.” You groan while hiding your face behind your hands. “God!” You squeal. “Can I go inside, please?”

“Yes!” Shanks grunts, exasperatedly and you disappear, Beckman’s laugh still echoing in your ears. 

-*-

You pace your room from one side to the other, phone in hand, hair still wet from showering, and dripping fat droplets on your bare shoulders as you still have the towel draped around your body. You've drafted about three different texts to Ace. And you've deleted them all. 

You want to apologise to him but, at the same time, you're still mad at him. So it's a weird feeling, one that hangs heavily upon your stomach. 

Sighing, you lock your phone and stand at your window, staring straight at Mr. Garp’s house. At Ace's window. 

Huffing your frustration into the air, you lean on the windowsill, one hand resting against your chin and the other crossed over your chest. 

You're obsessing. You know it. And you need to shake that feeling away! If you could just… 

“No!” Suddenly you gasp, your eyes opening wide. Snippets of last night start to play in your mind and you are rudely reminded of what you said to Ace. 

What you did to Ace. 

Ride that cowboy. Scratch that itch.

No! 

Did you really straddle Ace and try to kiss him? Did you suggest he should just fuck you so you could both move on? Have you no shame?

Your cheeks burn as your breath quickens. No wonder he was so cold with you in the morning! You treated him like a piece of meat! 

And he refused you again… 

But this time he was absolutely right! You were drunk! 

As if on cue, Ace opens his curtains, hair also dripping wet and towel on his waist. He's about to turn but he sees you. You can't see the expression on his face, but he doesn't seem to be smiling. 

You wave shyly. 

He doesn't. 

Sighing, you unlock your phone. You deserve the cold shoulder. But he deserves an apology. 

His phone doesn't even ring once before he picks it up, already guessing what you meant to do. 

“Hi.” You whisper and see him cock his head to one side, hand sitting on the side frame of the window, arm muscles flexing, and you thank the gods above for the distance because this is a very sinful image of him. 

“Hey.”

“I'm sorry. I…” You face-palm yourself in embarrassment. “Ugh! I just started to remember what I said and did to you last night! I'm sorry, I'm so sorry!”

A few seconds pass before you're greeted by his chuckle. “Okay.”

“No, no! It's not okay!” You wave your hand in the air. “God, Ace! I’m so embarrassed even thinking about it. I didn’t mean any of it! Please, don’t take it seriously… alcohol does funny things to me!”

Even though you can’t see his expression from this far, you watch as he scratches the back of his head. “I didn’t even take it seriously yesterday. Don’t worry. I know you were pissed drunk, which I kind of warned you about, so that’s on you.” He still sounds very serious. 

“You were right. You were so right! And the things I've told you today? When all you wanted to do was help me and keep me safe…!? You were right to keep your distance from me this morning! I practically harassed you Ace, I'm sorry… I’m such a big idiot…” 

“I’m not upset with that, don’t worry.” His tone seems lighter, but he’s still holding back.

“Then if that wasn’t it, why were you acting so distant this morning?” Your voice is barely a whisper. You try to recall what you might’ve done wrong besides that whole riding him debacle, but you come up short. Unless you really were right and he wanted to hook up with someone and you cock-blocked him. 

He remains silent for a while, maybe weighing if you're worth sharing his reasons with or not. “Just hungover. Sorry about that.”

“I’m not sure I buy that answer.” Grunting, you sit at the windowsill, eyes never leaving his form. He shakes his head and gestures. 

“Don't sit like that, crazy! The window’s open! You might fall.”

A light chuckle escapes your lips. “So, does that mean you accept my apologies?”

He gives you a thumbs-up from across the window. “You're okay by my book, Firestarter. But seriously, get off from there.”

Raising your hand in a silent apology, you take your legs away from the window, sitting up. “I'm off the sill. And, for the record, I like that…”

“What?”

“Firestarter.”

His chuckle sounds warm this time and you smile at him, even though he might not be able to see the smile from where he's standing. 

“Yeah, I like that too…” 

You take a very deep, steadying breath, and the thought of hanging up crosses your mind. You should hang up. You don't want to get more involved. You really don't. You need space from him. You need to stop this obsession. 

“So, what are you going to do now?” He asks, putting an end to your miserable thoughts. 

Twirling a strand of hair in your hand, you take a step back. “Get out of this wet thing, dress, and I don't have any more plans today. Maybe I'll call Nami to see if she's going to the Jubilee.” 

You remember there being a fair there, with rides and other games, and a big Ferris wheel. You might check that out. 

“Need help with the dressing part?” He says cheekily and you realise he’s trying to get your flirty dynamic back on track, so that pulls a cheeky grin from your lips as well.  

Don't get involved. Space. Stop obsessing. He flirts with everyone!

“I can manage alone, cowboy.” 

You hear him chuckle again. “I'll be at the Jubilee later. The firemen have a little stand there, selling some merchandise and today is my day to manage it. If you go, stop by, will you? We have calendars.”

“Oh! You do? Like the sexy ones?”

“Could they be anything else when I'm on them?” You can practically hear his smirk over the phone. 

“Well I was thinking more about Luffy… And Robin says that your coworker Franky is quite the man as well… Maybe I'll see if they're featured in my favourite months.” 

You giggle at his reaction because he takes a step back with a hand over his heart. “And here I was, willing to sign your copy…”

“Well, if you put lipstick on and leave a kiss near your signature, I might get a copy, then!”

“It's a deal.”

Simple, easy, fun, natural. You sigh. You need to distance yourself from him but it's so hard. 

“Bye, Ace.” You whisper. Maybe you just have to resign yourself to pining and obsessing for an unattainable man forever. You're only hurting yourself, anyway. 

“See you later, Firestarter.”

-*-

The girls aren't free. It's one of their coworker’s birthday and there's a dinner and a party they need to attend, but they promise to join you to watch the fireworks at midnight. Since the rest of your friends are all at the Jubilee, you decide to go, even if you're going solo. 

Dressing casually in jeans, a halter top and a cardigan, you cross your fingers and pat your car affectionately before turning the ignition. It works perfectly and you realise you still haven't thanked Kid for fixing it. 

Finding a spot to park gives you a headache but you finally spot a minivan leaving and gleefully take its place since it's really close to the entrance. 

The festival looks really pretty with all the lights and music, and the sweet smells of candied apples and popcorn. People seem happy and that makes you smile as well. You spot your father and approach him to lay a kiss on his cheek and see how his back is. 

“I'm fine, bug. Benn is doing all the heavy work.” His friend chuckles as he lifts another kid by the waist so he can ride the pony. “You're alone?”

Nodding, you fake a pout. “Nami and Robin have a birthday party to attend.”

“And Ace?” He tries with a slight raise of his brow. 

You try to disguise a blush, but fail miserably. 

“He's working, dad. And we're just friends. Now I'm going to stroll around and say hi to people. Do you want a hotdog?”

He pats your head patronisingly. “I'm fine, bug! See you later.”

You say your goodbyes to your dad and Beckman and continue your stroll. There are homemade goods stands - jams, honey, dried meats - there are handmade product stands - jewellery, toys, linen - and that's where you spend most of your time, actually buying some handmade cute jewellery before you move on. 

There's a place for the animals - where your father is - and then, up ahead, the games and food section, where you intend to spend some time and hope to find familiar faces. But you intend to buy a hotdog first, since you skipped dinner at home, knowing there would be plenty of food to taste at the Jubilee.

You’re in line waiting and swaying your feet to the beat of the happy song, when your turn finally comes.

“A hotdog, please. With all the works!” You smile and fish out a bill from your wallet.

“Make that two and I’ll pay.”

A smirk appears on your lips as you look to your side only to be met with Ace’s wide grin. He’s wearing the fireman’s uniform, well, half of it anyway. He has the uniform pants on, but only a black t-shirt on top. A freaking fitted black t-shirt that showcases all of his ripped muscles. 

“You paid for the pizza, the other day. It’s my turn.” You whine and stand on tiptoes, trying to reach the lady behind the high counter of the food truck before Ace, but he’s taller and familiar with the lady, as it seems, because she smiles at him and takes the bill from his hand, completely ignoring you. 

“Come on, Firestarter, did you really think I was going to let you pay for food?”

“Yes!”

“Well, you were wrong.”

He receives the two hot dogs, thanks the lady and beckons you to follow him. You’re expecting him to go to the tables in the food section, but he goes into the back of the food truck and, after walking for a little bit, to a place less illuminated and away from the Jubilee, - completely ignoring your questions as to where he’s leading you - you realise you know where you are.

It’s the park. The kids’ playground where you used to play when you were younger. Except it has new toys now and an iron fence around it, with a gate that’s apparently locked at night. 

“Hold this.” He says and hands you the hotdogs. You do and he jumps the fence with ease by placing one hand on it and jumping over. You would be impressed, if the fence wasn’t just a very small thing that hits you around the waist. “No cheering?” He asks with a grin.

“A child could do that.”

“That’s where you’re wrong, because then, this fence wouldn’t be necessary.” You bite back a chuckle as to not indulge his jokes, but he notices your amusement. Then, without notice, he reaches and picks you up, bridal style, to hoist you over the fence.

You yelp but you can’t do anything because both your hands are occupied with the food, so you let him carry you to his side of the fence, expecting him to put you down immediately, but he doesn’t. 

“You can put me down, Ace.” Did your voice falter? Because you’re sure it did.

He just smells so good. And he’s so warm, and taut, and he’s staring right into your eyes, making you shiver and hold your breath. You can’t stop staring at him as well and all you can think about is how good his lips would feel against yours, and are they as soft and juicy as they look?

Is he leaning in, though? He’s leaning in!

He’s leaning in!!

There’s an alarm blaring in your head telling you to pull back or to jump or drop a hotdog, anything to get you out of this situation, but you want this situation so badly. What is wrong with a kiss? Could your thoughts from the previous night be correct? If you scratch the itch, as Nami so eloquently put it, could you be free of it?

Sadly you don’t get to put that theory to the test, because both of you hear a low chuckle coming from the swings and the sound of old swing chains creaking.

“You guys are really adorable.”

“Deuce!?” Ace exclaims with a loud groan and you take the opportunity to swing your leg to the side and get away from Ace’s hold. You almost lose your balance, but his grip on your back doesn’t falter and you don’t fall. 

“I’m serious.” He sounds serious. “Adorable. I’m not even going to intrude. I was going to stay silent, smoke my blunt, and watch, but damn, do you two send out some extreme sexual vibes.” He laughs at your expression. You don’t look at Ace but you’re pretty sure he’s wearing a similar one. “Maybe work that out soon? It will become unbearable and one of you will explode.”

He looks purposefully at Ace, who gulps. 

“Now, I’ll really get out of your hair. For the price of a hotdog, please!” He smirks and you curve your lip upwards as well. He and Ace are quite similar, you can see why they get along. 

“Here, freeloader, beat it!” Ace removes one of the hotdogs from your hold and gives it to Deuce, who accepts it and then proceeds to take your hand in his again, ready to lay another kiss on the back of it, but Ace shoves him with his foot.

“I said beat it!”

He pretends to be hurt and leaves by simply opening the gate of the fence with a click and shaking his head at both of you with three tsks. You stare at Ace with a frown. “Did you know the gate was unlocked?”

“Maybe?” He shrugs and chuckles. “You can’t blame a guy for trying.”

Pacing forward with a fake pout upon your lips, you sit down at one of the swings. “Well you just lost yourself a hotdog.”

“Meh, I wasn’t even hungry.” He says but his stomach betrays him and you laugh.

“Take mine. I’ll buy another later, you’re probably on dinner break, right?”

He sits on the swing next to you and, after another bit of coaxing, takes the hotdog from your hand. “Yeah, I am. I need to get back in around fifteen minutes.”

You smile and start to swing back and forth, your hands gripping the chains of the swing. “Oh and you decided to spend that time with me? Should I be flattered?”

He stays silent for so long that you have to look at him twice because you think he might have choked on the bread. He just looks pensive and hasn’t even taken a bite of his meal. 

“It’s not supposed to be something to make you feel flattered. It’s not like you’re the chosen one, or whatever… I just like spending time with you.”

What did he mean by that? You’re the chosen one? You don’t get it.

“I don’t get it.” You say without slowing down your swinging. He remains quiet for a moment, his gaze fixed on the hotdog in his hands. 

“What I mean is…” he trails off, chasing the right words and you’re surprised. You didn’t take Ace as someone who could be at a loss for words. “I don’t have any ulterior motives when it comes to you. I just want to be with you. That’s it.”

He sounds so sincere that you use your feet to stop abruptly. What is he trying to say? That you’re somewhat special? Different from those other girls he spends time with? 

Then it hits you.

He wants to spend time with you as friends. That’s why you’re different. That’s why he doesn’t have ulterior motives. That’s why he keeps rejecting you. The kiss when you raced, the kiss at Luffy's party. It all makes sense. 

You take a deep breath and smile widely. “Yes, I love our friendship too, Ace. Thank you for spending time with me, as a friend. We’re good friends.”

Have you said the word friend enough? Or variations of it? Because by the defeated look on his face, you sure have. But why does he have a defeated look? Wasn’t that what he meant?

Then it hits you again. If you set the ‘friends’ bar, then the chase is over, and he lost, even if friends is all he ever wanted to be, right? That’s why he looks defeated. It has to be it.

Right?

Are you even making sense? It seems like your logic has some flaws, but you refuse to give them much thought. 

Sighing, he lets out a pained laugh. “Yes, we’re friends.” He says your name sternly and starts to eat his hotdog. The air becomes thicker and awkward and you don’t quite know how to make it light again, but Ace simplifies things for you by getting up abruptly, having finished his food in just two bites. 

His hand raises and he scratches the back of his head, trying to smile, but it never really reaches his freckles or his eyes. “Well, I’ve got to go back. Are you coming?”

“Yeah.” You nod and jump off the swing with a perfect landing. This time he opens up the gate of the fence and both of you leave. The silence is very uncomfortable and he whispers a short goodbye before heading back to his stand. 

You feel somewhat guilty for his mood, but you’re not sure you’ve done anything wrong. He’s the one with the commitment issues - you think. You’re just the one with the unmanageable obsession and trust issues. 

How is that supposed to even work?

A heavy sigh leaves your lips as you take a look around, exploring what you want to see next. You wanted to see the firemen’s calendar, but Ace didn’t invite you to go with him and you sense he might need some space. 

So you might as well hop onto the Ferris wheel to take in the view. After a surprisingly short amount of time in line, you get on and the view is amazing. The twinkling lights of the festival, the people wandering around, the excited kids and the smell of popcorn and candy floss. 

All of it brings a smile to your lips, even though your mood is still a bit sour from before. Yet the ride quickly comes to an end but not before bringing you some clarity of mind. You need to clear the air with Ace. You like being around him too much to let things remain awkward between you.

So you go in search of the fireman stand, hoping he’s not too mad at you.

However, you hear a rumbling noise and alarmed screams, and turn in time to see a collapsing stall near the vendors. There is a woman passing by that got trapped amongst the poles and the tarp and the rest of the stall seems about ready to collapse on top of her.

People are already gathering and trying to help, but you see a quick movement to your right and glimpse Ace running towards the action, a serious expression upon his face as his fireman training kicks in and he quickly frees the woman from the collapsing stall, earning a victorious cheer from the crowd and a smile from you.

Your heart flutters and you sigh. Ace really is something else.

“Are you alright?” He asks the woman and, even though the crowd disperses, your attention remains focused on him. The woman is very attractive. She has long, flowy blonde hair, a beautiful face and she’s clearly dressed to impress in a short, tight dress. 

Smiling at Ace and batting her eyelashes, she holds him in a tight hug. “Oh, I am! Thanks to you! I was so scared.” Her voice trembles and you don’t doubt one bit that she was scared. You were scared and you were a mere onlooker. Though her nails digging into Ace’s chest are a bit too much, you think. “You saved my life! How can I ever thank you?”

Her voice quickly turns from shaken to seductive and you raise an eyebrow. 

“I was just doing my job, m’am.” Ace chuckles and grins. That cute, cheeky grin that takes up his whole face and makes his freckles jump. Your stomach clenches and you bite the inside of your cheek. 

Ace lets go of the woman but she still lingers close, clearly interested. “Oh, none of this m’am business. You can call me by my name.” And then she leans in to whisper her name into his ear, her hand cradling his neck and he doesn't do anything to push her away. You scoff while turning around.

You just want to be friends. You don’t have to listen, or watch this. He can do whatever he wants. 

But as soon as you take another step forward, your attention still focused behind you, you bump into a stall, knocking over a display of jewellery and, clearly, announcing your position to the man you were attempting to leave behind. You apologise profusely, embarrassed, even though the older lady - it's Makino, one of your dad's friends! - tells you it's alright and not to worry. 

“Hey, you came back, I was afraid you left without saying goodbye. Need help?” Ace's voice reaches you from behind and you turn with a grimace, half-expecting him to be with the woman from before, but he's alone. 

Forcing a smile, you shake your head while your hands keep tidying up the display. “It's fine, I'm fine. Thanks. You can go back to your… uh… fan?” You shrug and smirk. 

“Don't be like that. I was just being polite, it's part of the job.” He makes his point by crossing his arms in front of his chest. 

“It's good to know that all firefighters let themselves be fondled by the women they save. Maybe I should get myself into some trouble just to earn the same benefits.” The last part comes out in an almost incomprehensible mumble but he still catches it. 

“Like you'd need to be in trouble to fondle me. Just say when. Right here? Right now?”

You bite your tongue to stifle a laugh because you were meant to be annoyed at him. But it's nice that he's actually joking, after the weird atmosphere left between the two of you on the swings. So you don't say anything else on the matter. More so because you spot a beautiful bracelet on the stand: it's orange and it has one feather hanging. It's a charm bracelet. And you're actually charmed. 

Ace notices the way you're enamoured by it and reaches for his wallet. “Hey, Makino, I'll take the bracelet for the pretty lady, please.” He grins at the older lady behind the counter and she chuckles at him with a glint in her eyes. 

“No, Ace, come on! Stop buying me things!” You blush because Makino starts to giggle at both of you. 

“Never.” He states and hands a bill to pay for the bracelet.”

“Thank you, Ace. You've got good taste.” She winks and turns her face to you, but then her grin turns mischievous. “But you know, those charms come as a set.” She grabs another bracelet, this one blue with two feathers. “Here, this one should be worn by you.”

Your blush deepens as Ace grins and takes the charm. “Really?”

“Oh, no, Ace, that's not necessary! We don't need to have matching anythings.” You turn to Makino and shake your head. “We're not together!”

She simply laughs as Ace ties the bracelet around his right wrist. 

“I don't care what you say. We're twinsies, now.”

You want to face-palm from embarrassment but end up laughing with him. You're struggling to get your bracelet on, but before you get the chance to ask Ace to help you, the attractive woman he rescued comes sauntering over to him. 

“Here you are, handsome. Let me pay you that drink now, as a thank you.” 

All these things happen at the same time and you barely register them: The woman snakes an arm around Ace's and pulls him, kissing him on the cheek affectionately, Makino frowns at Ace and the woman, the cord of your bracelet snaps from the added pressure, and you gasp with surprise. 

“Uh… I…”

Ace starts but you save him the embarrassment of having to make up some lie. “It's okay, Ace. I was just leaving anyway. Go have fun.”

Makino grumbles something beneath her breath - you’re pretty sure she’s calling the lady a lot of unspeakable things - as she snatches the bracelet from your hands and, with deft and nimble fingers, trades the broken cord in a heartbeat. 

“I can stay.” He mutters, but you see the woman's nails digging into his biceps as she leans her breasts towards his body and smirks at you, daring you, provoking you and, clearly stating that you know she’s better than you, prettier, more interesting. Your heart clenches and tightens. 

You'll only ever just be friends. Nothing more. He doesn't want to kiss you because you don't look like that. You're not that attractive. You made your ex cheat on you because you're not good enough. 

God, now is not the time to tear up. “No. I'm leaving.” You thank Makino politely for fixing your bracelet but you don't put it on. Instead, you turn away and will your feet to walk fast, one in front of the other, your fist clenched against the bracelet. 

“Wait!” He calls your name but you don't stop, you're pretty sure he saw the beginning of your tears and you know that if you turn now, they will leave the safety of your eyes and you’ll break.

You can't cry over him because you're nothing to him. 

One step in front of the other. 

“Wait!”

But you don't wait. You leave him to his new girl. Who's everything you will never be able to be for him. 

One step in front of the other. 

You didn't want to be just another one, anyway. So being nothing will have to suffice.

[yokohamapound]

Oh hi Mark! Can I request some hcs on Dazai, Fyodor, Ranpo, Akutagawa, Tachihara and Odasaku with female reader who is a model and one day when he comes to pick her up from a shoot, she comes up to him and says they're short a model to finish a shoot with and the clothes just so happen to be his size and please won't he model with her? Just for this shoot? :D

Always love a good The Room reference! And what a perfect request for such a cavalcade of beautiful men~

Characters: Dazai Osamu, Fyodor Dostoevsky, Edogawa Ranpo, Akutagawa Ryuunosuke, Tachihara Michizou, Oda Sakunosuke

Contents: no real warnings, just Dazai throwing his ass back

Dazai Osamu

Dazai has a tendency to come to your photoshoots whenever he has free time (or even when he doesn’t but he just wants to skive off of work). Not only are you there, usually dolled up and hanging around between outfit changes and lighting set-ups, but there’s also usually a buffet table full of food he can mooch off of. He still hasn’t shut up about the crab rolls from the first shoot he attended. 

Photographers, wardrobe assistants, and make-up artists are all familiar with him by now, and just put up with his nonsense in order to work with you. And he is capable of wrapping people around his little finger when it suits him to do so. He can turn the charm on and off like a light switch. 

He does have an annoying habit of standing behind the camera and pulling exaggerated faces at you while you’re trying to maintain a pose. Don’t worry, you’re too much of a professional to break. One day, probably when he’s loitering around the buffet table or pissing off the lighting techs by doing shadow puppets against the backdrop, the photographer makes a suggestion to you—since the male model hasn’t been able to attend, why don’t you put your boyfriend to some use? 

Dazai’s tall, slim, and very good looking, so they might as well get some use out of him if he’s going to be there, right? Lucky for you, it really doesn’t take much convincing. When you ask him, Dazai seizes both of your hands, his eyes sparkling.

“About time! I knew I’d be discovered one day!” 

Dazai divas it up through hair and make-up, telling the make-up artists not to make him look too pouty. By the time you actually get his ass into the clothes and in front of the camera, everyone's a little exasperated. You don’t have the heart to scold him, though—you know he’s only really doing it for your sake…and he really does rock the clothes. 

Photographer: “Dazai-san, you don’t need to arch your back quite so much.”

Fyodor Dostoevsky

I don’t imagine Fyodor can come to your shoots very often, but when he does, he always creates a stir. A tall, pale man with black hair, violet eyes, and that bone structure! He’s like a dream for the designers, and the make-up artists are itching to get at him just to enhance those features. There’s an aura surrounding him that makes them all keep a respectful distance, though. 

No one can quite figure out who he is. They speculate that he might be a European model. A musician, with those hands? Perhaps some kind of foreign celebrity none of them will dare admit to not knowing. You never elaborate and neither does he—the speculation amuses him. 

The way he watches you gives you delicious little goosebumps whenever you’re posing for the camera, and the photographer has to call for an assistant to come and blot you with warm towels to make them disappear. 

You’re never quite sure how Fyodor feels about your job, but he’s never objected. Part of you suspects he turns up now and then to make sure that everyone remembers who you belong to, and that it would be unwise indeed to upset you or take any liberties. Just to remind them that he exists and he’s watching. 

On one particular shoot, the wardrobe assistant and the director both approach you, looking a little sheepish. The male model has come down with the flu, they explain. Do you think your boyfriend would mind stepping in just this once? Otherwise they’ll have to wrap the shoot and reschedule, costing thousands…

You tell them you can’t make any guarantees, but you’ll ask him. Fyodor watches you with an amused expression as you approach him. One of his eyebrows creeps up when you haltingly explain what the photographer wants. You’re going to have to wheedle a little to get him to agree, because Fyodor doesn’t make a habit of stepping into the public eye. Then again, how funny if one of his enemies was to see him modelling on a billboard. It’s this, and his desire to indulge you, that finally makes him agree. 

“I suppose I can step in this once,” he says, putting a finger under your chin and lifting it so you’re looking him in the eyes. “But you’ll have to make it up to me, darling.”

The make-up artist is almost vibrating with nerves as she applies a few minor touch-ups to Fyodor’s face, not that he needs much, and the photographer phrases his requests very politely. No yelling, no orders, no “Yes, baby, give me more!” Although the thought of anyone saying that to Fyodor is enough to have you in hysterics. 

Fyodor’s naturally elegant, so he can pull off the poses, get the tilt of his head just right. He always makes sure that he’s touching you in some way—hand resting on your waist, your shoulder, fingers curled loosely through your hair. It’s like he’s claiming ownership of you in every photo. 

Style-wise, I think your best bet is either for a winter photoshoot, so he can keep his ushanka, or men’s formal wear. Fyodor in a suit? Yes, please. 

Edogawa Ranpo

At first Ranpo would come along to your photoshoots due to the prevalence of snacks on the buffet table, but as time went on he tended to get bored between all the time spent touching up your make-up, fussing with your clothes, or waiting for the lighting to be arranged. He loves you, but he gets bored easily and you’re too busy to pay him much attention. 

He’ll go off and find something else that interests him or wait for you at home, usually. He does still pop up now and then if your shooting location is near to where he’s investigating a murder or if he’s got lost and just used Find My Phone on your phone and followed it to your location. (Ranpo doesn’t do this to keep track of you—it’s literally so he has a way to find you if he gets lost. It’s not like you’re really able to hide anything from him anyway…)

It’s on one of these occasions that the male model has somehow been unable to show up for the shoot, so you’re forced to rope Ranpo in. 

He folds his arms, complete with a pout. “I don’t want to.”

“Please? I’ll bake you some macarons when we get home~”

You can see his resolve starting to weaken. Macarons are one thing, but homemade macarons, still warm from the oven? He starts to loosen his arms, opening his mouth, but you hit him with your ultimate move.

“I know you’ll be so much better at it than the guy they hired, anyway~”

Ranpo visibly wavers, then he sighs. “I guess. If you’re really that much in need of my expertise, I can help you out. I’m so charitable.” He points a finger at you. “Don’t think you don’t owe me those macarons, though.”

Suitably bribed and flattered, Ranpo loses his begrudging attitude and throws himself into it, letting the make-up artists primp and pamper him. Just picture him sitting there with his head tilted back, eyes closed, a satisfied little smile on his face. He’s so fucking cute.

Ranpo’s photographs well, posing happily with you through various couple-themed set-ups. Pretending to kick puddles in the rain while sharing an umbrella. Feeding each other bites of ice-cream from a sundae (although the photographer has to tell Ranpo to stop actually eating it). Sitting on a fake beach. 

Of course, the real kicker is when he opens his eyes and reveals that gorgeous shade of green. Your modelling agency is fighting to sign him up then and there, but he breezily turns them down, telling them he doesn’t have time to do this and be the World’s Greatest Detective. 

Akutagawa Ryuunosuke

Akutagawa doesn’t want to be there. Everything from his tense posture to his folded arms to his scowl make that abundantly clear. The only reason he is there is either because you asked him to be, or because he insisted on coming along to make sure that no one tried anything with you. He’s protective, but huffy about it. 

Naturally, this makes everyone on set a little nervous, even if they don’t recognise him as one of the most dangerous members of the Port Mafia. 

Despite how unnerving his presence is, more than a few of the make-up artists have fantasised about getting him in the chair and accentuating that face of his. His stark haircut, pale face, and sharp cheekbones make him look like he just stepped off the runway for an avante-garde designer. Like someone’s goth fantasy brought to life. 

When I tell you the amount of begging you’re going to have to do to get this man to take photographs with you…

“You must be joking if you think I’m going to make a fool of myself like that.”

He absolutely won’t do it if he thinks there is any chance of someone mocking him or laughing at him. It’ll take a lot of encouragement, and he’ll be militant about not taking his coat off, until you remind him that he’ll still be wearing clothes and able to use his Special Ability if there’s any kind of attack. 

You’ll have to do his make-up. No way in hell is he letting anyone else touch his face or his hair. 

Your best bet is if this is some kind of high-concept, gothic photoshoot. Lots of dead flowers and Victorian architecture. If it suits his aesthetic and his shirt has ruffles, you’ve got a much better chance of convincing him to go through with it. He’ll bitch about the antiques being fake, and he stands as woodenly as a mannequin, a scowl on his face, but that might actually work for this kind of shoot. He makes a great model for the clothes, austere and aloof. 

Basically, he’ll only do it if both of you look like you’re about to die of consumption and he gets to see you in something ruffled. 

Tachihara Michizou

I feel like Tachihara only came to your shoot in the first place because he’s a nosy little shit and wanted to see what all the fuss was about. And because he enjoys watching people fawn over his gorgeous partner. It strokes his ego, so what?

He likes to hang around and casually menace the make-up artists, or flick through the clothes and give his opinions on them loudly. 

“Ooh, bring this one home, babe~”

Despite this, he’s pretty popular. He’s a little rough around the edges, but he does have a slight charm to him, and his comments have made you laugh mid-photo more than a few times, much to the photographer’s chagrin. 

You didn’t realise how into it he was, however, until the day you ask him to step up and take the place of a model who couldn’t make it. They don’t often bring amateurs in, but Michizou’s cocky grin and delinquent good looks will work for this shoot. 

He gets pissy when the make-up artists make him remove the bandaid from his nose, but he settles down and goes strangely quiet while they’re dabbing stuff on his face. If you poke at him, he’ll grumble that he’s just making sure they don’t stick him in the eye with something, but you know it’s actually because it feels nice. 

“Hey, what’s the name of that crap you put in my hair? Looks good.” 

The clothes are fine as long as he’s not put in anything ridiculous. He can pull off a lot of different styles, but casual streetwear suits him best. He brings out all his punk boy poses: 

Kicking a foot back against the wall. 

Crouching down with his arms resting on his knees, hands loose.

Arms folded, slouching, giving a “what you looking at, hah!?” stare over his shoulder.

At the end, he wants to know if he can keep all the clothes. 

Oda Sakunosuke

Odasaku’s an easy going man. He was reluctant the first time you invited him along to a photoshoot, thinking he’d stand out like a sore thumb, but really no one has time to worry about him being there. He was able to blend into the background like a tall, handsome, stubbly shadow. 

He enjoys people watching, and a photoshoot is like watching an army of ants circle around its queen—you, in this case. People are fussing with your hair, your make-up, adjusting the fit of the clothes, the tiniest tilt of your head. He doesn’t know how you put up with so many people plucking at you, but he’s impressed by how professionally you handle it and accede to the photographer’s wishes. 

Sometimes they mistake him for a roadie (or the photoshoot equivalent) and he finds himself being roped into moving boxes of clothes or holding up one of those lighting umbrellas. You try to intervene where you can, but he always brushes it off and tells you he’s just content to get involved. 

He never expected to be so involved that he’d be in front of the camera, though. When the photographer beckons him over one day and asks him to take the place of the male model, he’s a little stumped. Not even his Special Ability could have foreseen this. 

“You wanna take photos of me?”

Oda’s pretty humble. It takes some convincing to get him to agree, and he twitches a bit as his hair is styled and wardrobe comes over to adjust the clothes he’s wearing. It’s easy to forget he’s still Port Mafia, and understandably paranoid about strangers touching him. 

Oda’s not really a natural behind the camera. Takes a while for him to shake off the stiffness and stop squinting at the bright lights, but the fact he’s doing this with his partner makes it a little easier. 

The photographer figures out he can get the most natural smile out of him by making sure he’s looking at you in every shot, rather than the camera. 

For some reason, I think he’d look really good in an Autumn/Fall photoshoot? Sweaters, boots, heavy coats, scarves, fake snow and falling leaves. That sort of thing. This man looks like he was built to wear plaid.

[rentsturner]

A Place To Hide - A.T.

Alex turner x fem!reader

warnings: smut, oral (f receiving), kissing, tiny bit of dirty talk, teasing, begging and orgasm denial (if you squint), fluff before and after, established relationship

a/n: for my bestie @ohladymoon I hope you enjoy this. its pretty short, but I needed something to get me out of my slump.

You slowly wake up to sunlight filtering through the blinds, casting a warm glow over your sleeping boyfriend, who’s softly snoring away next to you. The alarm clock next to you says 9:00 AM, a nice lie in for a Sunday morning. You think about your plans for the day before remembering that you and Alex have decided on a chilled day to spend time with each other, having not seen him much this week due to his long hours at the studio recording a new album. A warm feeling settles in your chest at the thought of relaxing with Alex all day, watching films, reading books together and probably ordering a takeaway in the evening. 

You yawn and stretch, trying taking care not to nudge Alex and wake him up, but you hear him mumble and groan, as if he can sense that you’ve awoken. 

You roll over to face him, watching as his eyelashes flutter, his squint as his eyes adjust to the light and he rubs one hand over his face, reaching up to scratch his forehead as he yawns loudly. His eyes focus on you and a tired smile spreads over his face. 

“Morning, love.”

“Morning, Al.” You smile at his voice, deep and husky, a little hoarse from all the singing he’s been doing at the studio recently. The bags under his eyes add to the picture, suggesting he may be working himself a little too hard. You make a mental note to ask him about it later, make sure he’s looking after himself. 

His arm loops around your waist, tugging on your hip to pull you closer into his warmth. You snuggle into his chest, breathing in his musky scent, but Alex interrupts you, tugging on your hair softly and tilting your head upwards to look at him. His face splits into a sleepy grin before he moves in and brushes his lips against yours. It’s slow and a little needy, making up for the lost time over the past week, savouring the first kiss of the day. His tongue swipes your bottom lip and you open your mouth for him, whining as his tongue pushes past yours. His nose is pushing into your cheek and his soft hair is tickling your forehead, but you wouldn’t want to be anywhere else. 

Alex’s grip tightens on your hip, fingers squeezing gently, before smoothing his hand over your ass cheeks, kneading the flesh slowly. 

You giggle at his neediness and murmur against his lips. “Someone’s eager.”

Alex whines, but doesn’t deny it. “I’ve barely seen you all week, darling. It’s been too long.”

You roll your eyes and laugh, Alex takes the opportunity to begin kissing down your neck.

“Al, you had me Monday night, Wednesday night, and Thursday. Twice on Thursday, actually, if I remember correctly.”

“Not. Enough.” Alex huffs in between kisses. You smirk. As much as you love to tease him, you’ve missed him too - the quickies late at night, before bed, aren’t enough for you either. Alex tried his best, but he’s been so tired from recording recently that two rounds was the maximum he could go before he was snoring into the mattress. You understand. But now that he’s taking his time with you, worshipping you and marking up the skin on your neck, it's easy for you to get excited. You thread your fingers into his hair, soft and fluffy from sleep, and you tug on it gently, knowing how much Alex loves having his hair played with. 

His kisses get more frantic and frequent as he moves from your neck, down your shoulder, kissing along your arm as you giggle at his actions. He takes your hand in his, maintaining your gaze with his own as he brings your knuckles to his lips and kisses them gently. 

His gaze flits over your face and you blush at the intensity of his stare as he whispers softly “You’re so beautiful. Did you know?”

“No, Al, it’s not like you tell me everyday.” you laugh again, acting playful and nonchalant but secretly a little moved by his earnest admission.

“Well, that’s my job as your boyfriend. To tell you that you’re the most beautiful girl in the world.”

You lean in to brush your lips against his again, humming your thanks. You pull back before he can deepen the kiss and he whines, deep in his chest.

“And you - you’re the most handsome man in the world.”

“Obviously.” Alex rolls his eyes jokingly and you scoff and slap his chest lightly.

“The cockiest man in the world too, evidently.”

“Don’t you know it…” 

Alex ducks his head down to continue his exploits on your neck, mouthing and kissing wetly at your skin, finding your sweet spot and nibbling on it, eliciting an unexpected moan from your throat. He takes your noises as a sign to continue as he manoeuvres himself so that he’s leaning over you, holding his weight up with his forearms on either side of your head. Slowly, he starts moving downwards, shuffling down your body, littering your breasts with open mouthed kisses through your thin sleep shirt. You moan as his hot mouth finds your peaked nipple, a rough palm rubbing the other one, but he moves on after a few moments, still moving south on his search for his goal. And you know exactly what his goal is. 

Finally, he settles himself between your legs. You kick the blankets away, wanting your view of your handsome boyfriend eating you out to be unobstructed. Goosebumps appear along your bare skin, partly from the chill of the air, partly from the anticipation of what’s about to happen.

Alex pushes your legs apart, hooking a finger in your panties to pull them off smoothly, but he doesn’t touch your dripping centre yet. He bites your inner thigh and you yelp, in surprise and excitement, and he chuckles, then licks and sucks over the mark, soothing the sting. He continues on the opposite thigh, biting, nipping, licking, sucking, building you up until you feel like you’re gonna drip all over the sheets. You need his mouth on your cunt. 

“Fuck…Al, don’t tease me.”

Alex just chuckles from his position between your legs, but he plants a final kiss on your inner thigh before pushing your legs apart even further. Your heart rate picks up, desperate to finally have his mouth where you want it. Alex’s thumbs reach to gently pull your lips apart, revealing how wet you've become over the last 15 minutes, your pink clit glistening like a jewel above your puffy hole. You hear him groan deeply as he takes you in, feel his hot breath fan out over your sensitive skin before finally, finally, he dives in. 

He licks one long stripe up your slit, gathering your juices on his tongue and moaning as he tastes you, then he presses his lips to your clit and suckles. After all the teasing, the feel of his hot mouth lapping and sucking at you is like a glass of cool water on a hot day and you groan embarrassingly loudly. Your hands grasp at his hair again, fingers entwining with his soft strands, tugging and pulling. Alex hums in response against your clit, the vibrations going straight to your core and you moan yet again. 

You grind your hips, moving slowly against Alex’s face, your clit rubbing against his nose while his tongue pushes easily into your hole. You peer down at Alex, gasping as you see his face contorted in pleasure, his eyes scrunched closed, his cheeks and chin glossy with your juices. You see his own hips grinding slowly against the mattress, chasing his own pleasure. It always amazes you how much eating you out turns him on, how many times he’s come in his pants like a 16 year old as his tongue laps away at you. He’s never ashamed though, often proud in fact. You’ll have to repay the favour later, most likely multiple times throughout the day.

You're jolted back to the present, a wave of adrenaline rolling through your blissful fog as Alex’s long finger pokes at your hole. He presses in just the tip, letting you feel him before pulling out again. He repeats the action, still suckling at your clit, never pushing in anymore than an inch, watching your cunt clench around nothing when he pulls back.

You tug on his hair more forcefully. “P-please, Al.”

Alex lifts his head up from your cunt momentarily, a lazy grin spreading over his face. Your juices glisten on his lips as he whispers “Please what, darling?”

You whine, too overwhelmed to think about stupid things like words, tugging harder on his hair.

“You know what I-- what I want.”

“Of course I do, I just like to hear you beg.” Alex laughs, pushing his finger in again just up to the tip, wiggling it a little to let you feel him, to tease you even more and you can’t cope anymore.

“Oh, fingers, Al, need your fingers, please, I-”

You groan loudly as he finally plunges his finger into you, up to the knuckle, moving it back and forth slowly, stroking your walls as he moves in and out. He laughs again at your reaction, then ducks his head back down to continue lapping at your clit, like a man starved. 

There's a sharp pinch and then an even deeper roll of pleasure as Alex pushes a second finger into your hole. He curls his digits, pushing and stroking against your walls and your eyes roll back, the feeling of him so deep inside you coupled with his mouth against your clit enough to bring you close to the edge already. 

“Al, I’m-”

“Not yet.” The words are murmured quietly but firmly against your skin, but you hear them just the same. You clench your fists, trying to hold back the wave of pleasure threatening to engulf you, trying to eke a few more moments of bliss before you cum. 

Alex has other ideas though. He scissors his fingers, spreading them as far as they’ll go before pulling his fingers out a little, watching your hole gape and contract around his digits. The stretch you feel is practically euphoric and you whine and pant, so close to the edge, so ready to fall. 

When Alex dips his head down one last time to lap at your open hole, you can’t hold back any longer. Your hips buck, a high pitched moan escaping from your lips, one hand yanking on Alex’s hair, pushing his head further into your cunt, the other hand grasping desperately at the bedsheets. The wave of pleasure rushes over you and your vision goes black for a split second, you feel a gush of wetness as you finally release. Alex eases you through your orgasm, fingers still stretching you, pumping in and out of your cunt gently, his tongue flicking at your clit. After a few moments, you tug on his hair, indicating to him that it's too much, too sensitive, too overwhelming, and he licks one last stripe up your cunt to clean you up before he finally pulls away. 

He sits back on his heels, taking you in with a lazy grin. You’re boneless, lying back against the pillows, covered in a sheen of sweat, chest heaving as you try to catch your breath. Alex smooths his hands over your shaking legs, squeezing the trembling muscles gently, soothing you as you come back to earth. 

“What a lovely breakfast that was.” Alex flops himself back onto the bed next to you, nuzzling into your chest and getting himself comfy.

“Wait, let me- let me help you.” You can feel his hard cock poking at your thigh, obviously having managed not to come in his pants this time. 

Alex just hums against your skin, rubbing your sides with his large palms, his eyes fluttering shut. “Later. Let me nap.”

“Al, we literally just woke up.”

“We’ve got all day, baby, ‘s no rush. Am tired.” 

He kisses your breasts tenderly, then rests his cheek against your chest - his favourite place to nap.

You huff. “Alright, just an hour though.”

Alex smiles and hums in agreement, and you smile too, allowing your eyes to close as you bask in the afterglow of your orgasm. You stroke Alex’s hair, holding his head close as the sound of your heartbeat lulls him to sleep. You aren’t far behind him, the warmth of your boyfriend draped over you and the comforting thought of the relaxing day ahead enough to send you to sleep in minutes.

Thanks for reading hope yous enjoyed tags: @martinipoliz @almluv @zayndrider @madnesstaking0ver@atticssmellgood@leafjoon @turnerside @turnertable @yourstartreatment

[juuuulez]

i sound rlly weird asking but can u make a part two of the jerk!ng off head cannons for carl 😇😇

literally of course my man ALWAYS deserves to feel good

this is short and sweet, also strayed away from headcanons and did a little bit of a fic….actually loved writing this

NSFW under the cut, all characters depicted are 18+, MDNI.

It was a hot summers day in Alexandria, resulting in a group of teenagers making their way down to a nearby lake, intending on cooling off and having some fun.

Usually, Carl considered himself more… mature than his peers. There was a war actively brewing, and that’s not to mention walkers, so he didn’t see the value in such a meaningless activity.

Yet, you’d convinced him to come.

“Please, Carl. It’ll be fun!” You’d pleaded, “What else were you gonna do all day? Read comics?”

At the time, he’d protested, made some excuse that he was helping his father. But he wasn’t, and you were right.

So here he was, sitting on one of the large rocks lining the lake, flannel still cast over his shoulders.

The few other teens, yourself included, were enjoying the cool reprieve from the heat. Splashing around, throwing handfuls of sand at each other.

Carl was trying his hardest not to look at you.

Now, he’d never actually seen.. so much of a woman before. Sans those lewd comics, but this was different.

Your bikini was tiny, spaghetti straps wrapping over your shoulders, little triangle cups covering a portion of your breasts. Though the bottoms didn’t match, they were equally small, riding up your ass cheeks and showing a sliver of your inner thighs.

“Carl! Come in!” You’re suddenly calling out to him, which immediately draws his gaze. There’s no avoiding it as you tread closer, propping your elbows up onto the rock that he’s sitting on.

It only squeezes your breasts together, presented nicely in the frame of your arms. Sitting there, waiting.

He forces himself to maintain eye contact, not wanting you to pick up on his obvious disarray. The flush of his cheeks, or the way he squirms a little under the attention. “No, I’m alright.” He excuses.

But you won’t accept this, your grin widening as you hoist yourself onto the rock, coming to sit next to him. “C’mon, you’ve gotta chill out a bit, sometime. Taking a quick dip in the lake isn’t gonna hurt anyone.”

As you speak, your wet skin brushes against his flannel, the contact only worsening the flood of emotions that Carl is experiencing. It’s too much, too quickly, the presence of a pretty, dripping wet, girl is too much to handle.

The sun shines down through the trees, reflecting off your water-coated skin and hair, making it shine. Little droplets slip down your curves, and his eyes fall to one in particular, travelling down the open valley of your breasts.

“I’m going to check the perimeter.” Carl quickly says, swiftly standing up and turning away from you, not wanting to spare another glance at your body. It’s too tempting. That, and a shameful blush makes it’s way to his cheeks, his own body reacting to the contact in a way he’d rather you not realise.

He trudges past the treeline, out into the expanse of forest that circles the lake. It’s not too far off from Alexandria, in fact, he can just see the walls from this distance.

Carl wants to stay, he really does. Anything to put that smile on your face, where you’d say his name in that happy tone, completely enamoured by the smallest thing.

But he’s got a problem to deal with.

He leans against a tree, the thin flannel acting as a barrier between his back and the bark. There’s an obvious tent in his swimmers, poorly hidden due to the loose material.

“Fuck..” Carl curses under his breath, a little annoyed that he even has to do this. It doesn’t feel leisurely, but a chore, an irritating burden that needs to be solved before he can go have fun with everybody else.

So he takes another look around, making sure the area is clear before snaking his hand underneath the waistband, letting his fist wrap around his half-hard cock. A few strokes brings it to its full length, already hot and throbbing, where he can pull it free.

This isn’t the time to draw it out, so Carl clamps one hand over his mouth, the other working feverently to jerk himself off, as quickly as possible.

Yet, he can’t help but fall into a pleasurable rhythm, eye falling closed as he savours the feeling. His mind wanders, curious as to what you’d think of him now, doing something so lewd with no privacy.

It causes embarrassment to well in his gut, but it only fuels his desire, squeezing his hand a little tighter around his length, thumb collecting the precum from the tip only to spread it back down.

Each time his mind lingers too long on you, in that tiny bikini, he can practically feel it oozing out of him. Desperation floods his veins, now more focused on cumming, a reality that isn’t far away now that his brain is filled with images of you, on your knees before him.

What would your mouth feel like? Your hands? Would you take it slow, drag it out, or were you more of a quickie person?

Eventually Carl’s mind lands on you with your mouth open, plump lips wrapped around the tip of his cock. He similarly stimulates the swollen head, groaning into the back of his hand as he finally shoots his load onto the forest floor.

The pleasure begins to subside, ebb away, but the embarrassment stays. Though he takes a moment to compose himself, try and regain his footing, when Carl finally comes back to the lake, it’s quite obvious the boy is in some state.

There’s tree bark in his hair.

You smile, finally coaxing Carl into the water. He still doesn’t look at you, all embarrassed and flushed. This time, you make a point to lean as close as possible, to stroke your hand up his arm, let your thighs touch under the water.

How long will he last this time?

[worseforwords]

The Last Wrapper

Leah Williamson x Reader

Chapter 2: Blankets & Bitterness

Link to Chapter 1

Leah looked up at you, her eyes red and puffy. “What are you doing here?” she slurred, wiping her nose with the back of her hand. You shook your head. “I could ask you the same thing,” you replied, trying to keep the annoyance out of your voice. No matter how much you hated her, you knew you couldn’t leave her there. “Come on, let’s get you out of here.” you said, holding out your hand. 

“Leave me alone! I don’t need your help, I’m fine.” she blurted out, removing your hand with a weakened push. “Leah,” you said with a stern tone and a matching look, “you know I hate this just as much as you do, but you have to let me help you. You’re not safe here and no one should see you like this.” She looked up at you with a dazed look you couldn’t quite place, before eventually reluctantly accepting the hand you once again held out.

You helped Leah to her feet, and she leaned heavily against you as you made your way out of the bathroom. The stranger from earlier was waiting outside, looking concerned. “Is she okay?” she asked you. You nodded, not wanting to go into any details. “Yeah, she’s just had a bit too much to drink. I’ll make sure she gets home safe. Thanks for letting me know.”

You ordered an Uber and turned to Leah, asking for her address. However, she was in no state to answer, mumbling incoherently and unable to focus. Everyone you knew who might know her address was probably asleep at this hour, so you had no other option than to take Leah back to your place. It wasn’t too far away and you knew that it was the safest option. 

You helped her into the car once it arrived and the Uber driver started the short journey. Leah immediately passed out in the seat next to you, her head lolling to the side, onto your shoulder. The smell of her hair and the soft snores in your ear made a chill crawl up your back, but still you couldn’t help but feel a bit sorry for her.

When you arrived at your apartment, you carried Leah inside and laid her down on the sofa. You went to the kitchen to get a glass of water, hoping that it would help to sober her up a little. When you returned to the living room, you saw that Leah had started to stir.

“Where am I?” she groaned, rubbing her forehead. You handed her the glass of water and she took a sip. “You’re at my place,” you told her. “Do you remember anything from tonight?” Leah shook her head. “Not really. I just remember feeling really upset and then everything’s a blur.” she still looked confused, frantically looking around trying to gather information about her situation from her surroundings. “Why am I here?”

You sighed, not sure what to do next. You didn’t want her to stay, but you couldn’t just leave her to her own devices either. You didn’t want to deal with her in the morning, especially if she was going to be hungover, but you knew that you had to do something.

“I’m sorry I hurt you,” Leah suddenly blurted out, making you turn your head and look at her confused. “Your knee I mean, I’m sorry I kicked it today.” she explained. “Sure.” You scoffed as you rolled your eyes. “I mean it. It was an accident, I swear.” 

“Look,” you said, sitting down next to her, “I don’t know what’s going on with you, but you need to get yourself together. You can’t get drunk in public like this. You are a professional footballer now, you have an image to maintain.” Leah looked at you, tears forming in her eyes. “I know,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “I’m sorry.” “Besides, it’s not safe for you out there on your own like this.” you continued, ignoring her apology and the current apologetic glare she was sending your way, probably because you actually said something considerably nice.

You stood up from the sofa again and walked over to the window, looking out into the darkness of the night. You knew you had to make a decision about what to do with Leah. On one hand, you wanted to just leave her there and let her deal with the consequences of her actions. On the other hand, you couldn’t bring yourself to abandon her in her time of need.

After a few minutes of silence, you turned back to Leah. “Look, you can stay here tonight,” you said, “but you need to promise me that you’ll start fixing whatever caused you to act like this tomorrow. This can’t happen again.” Leah nodded, eyes still filled with tears. “I promise.” she said, her voice hoarse.

You nodded, feeling like you made the right call, even though you had no idea if she’d remember any of it in the morning. At least she wasn’t going to be wandering the streets alone tonight. “Okay then,” you said, “let me get you something to sleep in.” You walked over to your bedroom and pulled a t-shirt and a pair of shorts out of the closet. “These should fit,” you said, handing them to her. “There’s an unused toothbrush in the bathroom cupboard if you want to brush your teeth too.”

Leah took the clothes from you and went to the bathroom to change. You took the opportunity to tidy up a little and collect some blankets and pillows for Leah to sleep on your couch.

When Leah emerged from the bathroom, she looked a little more composed. “Thanks,” she said, smiling weakly at you as she moved towards her previous spot on the sofa. “For everything.” You nodded, not sure what to say in response. The silence was awkward. Her mind was clearly occupied with something, but you didn’t want to push her to talk about anything she didn’t want to.

Instead, you sat down on the other end of the sofa and turned on the TV. You flipped through the channels until you found something mindless to watch, hoping that it would help both of you to relax, as you knew you had no chance at getting any sleep yet. 

After only about 5 minutes, you looked to your right to see Leah sound asleep. However, she lay in such an awkward position, her body twisted and contorted, that it seemed as if she had bent herself into a pretzel. You cursed under your breath as you got up and turned off the tv. You knew you couldn’t leave her like that so you reluctantly put your arms under her folded body and you gently laid her down on her side, putting a pillow under her head in the process.

You put a blanket over Leah and then you did wat might be the most immature thing you’ve ever done: you retreated to the bathroom to cleanse yourself of the Leah-ness that seemed to cling to you. As you washed your face and hands, you couldn’t help but shake your head at your own childishness, suddenly feeling the need to “wash off all the Leah” or something.

Eventually, you made your way to bed yourself, but your mind was still racing with thoughts and questions about the events of the night. After three hours of stirring, you gave up on the idea of sleep and got up to make yourself some tea. As you waited for the kettle to boil, you couldn’t help but think about Leah and what had caused her to act the way she did.

Just as you were about to pour the hot water over your teabag, you heard a noise coming from the living room. It was Leah, who had woken up and was now sitting on the couch, looking at you with bleary eyes. “You okay?” you asked, setting the kettle down and walking over to her.

She nodded, rubbing her eyes. “Yeah, I think so,” she said, her voice still a little foggy. “What time is it?” “Almost 4 AM,” you replied, glancing at the clock on the microwave. “Tea?” Leah nodded before letting out a groan. “I’m sorry,” she said, looking down at her lap. “I didn’t mean to keep you up all night.” “It’s fine,” you said, taking a seat next to her. “I couldn’t sleep anyway.”

Leah sighed and leaned back against the couch. “I just feel so stupid,” she said, her voice tinged with frustration. “I should know better than to let myself go like that.” You nodded sympathetically. “Yeah, it wasn’t the smartest move.” you said, trying to be supportive. Leah sighed again. “It’s just- there’s a lot going on right now,” she said, trailing off. You waited for her to continue, sensing that there was more she wanted to say.

“I- I lost someone close to me," she said, her voice catching. “And even though it’s been a long time since their gone and I thought I left it behind, I’ve recently come to realise that I am not over it. And it's been really hard to deal with. I thought I could handle it, but I guess I can’t.”

“I’m sorry to hear that Leah,” you said, “but it’s okay. Losing someone close to you isn’t something you can just get over, or leave behind, trust me.” She glared at you with a look you couldn’t quite place. It held a combination of pain, sadness but also sympathy. It was like she was looking for something in your eyes.

The two of you sat in silence for a few minutes, sipping your calming camomile tea and digesting the short conversation. Eventually, you stood up and stretched. “I should probably try to get some sleep now.” you said. “Right, yeah, me too.” she said blinking multiple times as she got up to put both your mugs in the sink. “Good night Leah.” “Good night.”

The next morning, after managing to get about four hours of sleep thanks to your camomile tea, you woke up to find an empty couch, except for a pile of neatly folded blankets and the shorts and shirt you’d given Leah the night before. As you went through the motions of getting dressed and doing your morning routine, there was a gnawing feeling in your stomach that you couldn’t quite put a finger on. The idea of her being in your house had been quite overwhelming, but now that she was gone, you couldn’t shake off the sadness that lingered. It confused you because over the past few years you had trained every fiber of your body to hate Leah, but something about last night’s conversation had left you feeling sympathetic towards her.

As you sat down to have breakfast, you found yourself conflicted about whether or not to reach out to her. On one hand, you didn’t want to have anything to do with her, but on the other hand, she had opened up about some personal issues and despite everything, you still wanted her to be okay.

You decided to give it some time and think it over before making any decisions. You went about your day, trying to push away any thoughts of Leah, but they kept creeping back into your mind and you kept checking your phone, secretly hoping she had reached out. Finally, realising you weren’t going to be able to put this aside, you made a decision. You picked up your phone and sent her a short message: “Hey, just wanted to check in and see how you’re doing.”

As you waited for a reply, you felt a sense of anxiety wash over you. What if she didn’t respond? What if she did, and you had to deal with her again? But before you could overthink it any further, your phone buzzed with a response from Leah. “Thanks for checking in, and thanks again for last night. I’m doing okay. How about you, did you end up getting any sleep?”

You sighed with relief, happy that she had responded. You sent a brief reply, telling her that you were fine and that you hoped she was taking good care of herself. As you were putting your phone away you noticed another incoming message from Leah: “Good, I’m glad. I’m really sorry I ruined your night, I won’t bother you again, I promise.”

Great, amazing. She was okay and she wouldn’t bother you again. Perfect. “This is good.” you said aloud to no one in particular, thinking saying it might make you believe it. But as the words left your lips, an uneasiness settled in your gut, conveying a very different message.

You couldn’t believe it. After years of holding grudges and wanting nothing to do with Leah, why did finding her a drunk, lonely mess suddenly make you want to see her again? Yesterday’s loss had left you feeling low, but this was a whole new level of frustration. You were pacing back and forth, trying to figure out why you were feeling this way. 

As you were about to resort to hitting walls again, you noticed the bruises from yesterday were still present on your fist, and you settled for a defeated sigh. This was a new kind of frustration. It consumed you, gnawing at your mind and heart, leaving you feeling lost and unsure. You had no idea what to do with yourself, and the confusion only grew stronger with each passing moment.

You despised yourself for it, yet it was like your fingers moved on their own accord, reaching for your phone once again to message Leah. You typed out several messages, before ultimately settling for a simple, friendly text: “It’s okay, really. Let me know if you need anything.”

A wave of anger surged through you as you hit send. Why did you feel obligated to help her? Wasn’t yesterday’s display of concern enough? You wanted to scream at yourself for your weakness, for your sudden inability to stay away from someone you loathed. But as much as your mind raged against you, your body seemed to relax, as if sending that message had eased some unknown tension within you. You were left feeling frustrated and confused, wondering why you couldn’t seem to stay true to your own feelings. You hated her, right?

The next few days went by in a blur of training and gym sessions, but despite being physically present, your mind was elsewhere. You couldn’t quite get Leah out of your head, and it was starting to affect your focus on the field. Millie noticed something was off and asked you about it during a break in practice.

At first, you tried to brush it off, telling her that everything was fine, but Millie persisted. She had been so nice to you so far, and you didn’t want to lie to her. However, you also didn’t want to put Leah in a bad light by telling her everything that had happened, which was a confusing sensation for you, as a week earlier, you would’ve probably jumped at the chance to put Leah in bad light.

In the end, you settled for a half-truth, telling Millie that you had a personal issue that was distracting you but that you were working on it. Millie nodded sympathetically, giving you a reassuring pat on the back. “Just remember, we’re all here for you.” she said before heading back onto the field.

For a few days, there was no reply from Leah, and you tried to convince yourself that you didn’t care. But deep down, you couldn’t help feeling anxious and worried about her, and about the message you had sent. You kept checking your phone, hoping for a response, until finally, a few days later, she messaged back: “Thanks, I appreciate it.”

You were surprised to feel a sense of relief wash over you. The two of you exchanged a few more brief messages, just checking in on each other, before the conversation came to a natural end.

You thought that would be it, but the days passed, you found yourself exchanging occasional messages with Leah. It felt strange to be communicating with her in such a formal and distant way, especially after all the resentment that had built up between you two over the years. And yet, there was something comforting about the exchange, like a small flicker of light in the darkness.

You were both polite and civil, asking each other about training and mutual friends, but avoiding any deep conversations. There were moments where you thought about bringing up the past, but you always held yourself back, afraid of what might happen. You couldn’t deny that it was frustrating, the way you tiptoed around each other, but at the same time, it felt like a relief not to have to deal with the tension and drama that had plagued your relationship in the past.

However, with each message you sent, you couldn’t help but feel that something had shifted between you and Leah. There was a new, unspoken understanding that had formed, one that made you feel uneasy and exposed. You tried to push it to the back of your mind and focus on your training, but the conflicting emotions inside you were becoming increasingly difficult to ignore.

During the following week, as you were about to leave the gym after practice, your phone buzzed. It was Leah. “Hey, can we talk?” was all the message said. You panicked at the thought of it, your mind racing with worst-case scenarios. But despite your reservations, you replied with a tentative “Yes.”

Chapter 3

[pikahlua]

Fine I’ll explain the joke

Send this post to anyone who needs it to understand why the Viz translation is actually really good.

I can’t believe this page is leading to the third time I’ve had to do this (first with the “Swiss cheese” thing and then with the “biggest grand slam/one closest to Izuku Midoriya” thing).

Let’s talk about the very intentionally bad slang and author’s footnotes for Camie in chapter 380.

Context: Camie is a gag character who speaks in gyaru slang. Her use of slang is so heavy that all the other characters often find her speech incomprehensible. The cringe slang is the gag. This gag is emphasized in chapter 380 by her speech being so incomprehensible that even the author writing her speech doesn’t quite understand her. He leaves notes in the margins explaining all her slang for the benefit of the audience, but with each note he gets progressively more confused about what she’s saying and ultimately gives up on the explanation. THAT’S THE JOKE.

For comparison purposes, here is the original Japanese scan and the Viz official translation. Note how both have footnotes in the margins.

Here is what she says in Japanese (katakana is represented as capital letters):

te yuu ka KAN’ICHI! ※1 ROOTO ※2 no RENMEN ※3 KOru ※4 toka chou SHAKOTAN ※5 da shi

If I were to translate this literally into English, first of all I wouldn’t be able to, because there aren’t literal translations of slang, but my best attempt would be:

I mean, close shave! ※1 A Rohto ※2 hottie ※3 passing away ※4 would be like a super shakotan ※5 or something

Note that I’ve got no good translation at all for “shakotan.” That’s because shakotan is a type of car that’s been modified to ride low to the ground. It’s from bousouzoku subculture and seems to be popular in the yankii subculture too. I’m not gonna act like I know what the hell I’m talking about with this slang. The best I had when I did my initial translation of the chapter was “low-rider,” but it’s really not the same thing at all; Shakotan has more to do with drag racing and such.

But even if I had a good translation for shakotan, the rest of the sentence is nigh incomprehensible given how much of it is slang. Here are the footnotes Horikoshi left translated into English:

※1 Abbreviation for “a hair’s breadth.” ※2 Rohto Pharmaceutical. Eye drops. Good for the eyes. It means “eye-pleasing.” ※3 A romantically desirable man ※4 Belated (deceased). It means “to pass away.” Probably. ※5 When a vehicle’s height is lowered. Dunno.

Yes, Horikoshi literally wrote “probably” and “dunno” in there. That’s the joke. The footnotes are part of the joke.

So I think (but have absolutely no confidence in saying) the message she’s trying to convey is that letting a sexy dude like Hawks die would be like taking a perfectly good car and cutting it down into a super super low car. Maybe. (I’m honestly just as confused as Horikoshi on this one.)

This means that in order to preserve and translate the joke into English, the translator had to find a balance between relevant English slang that is incomprehensible but also just comprehensible enough for the audience to get what’s going on--oh, and slang that also works with the joke continued in the original footnotes.

I feel really proud of my “close shave” translation for slang that comes from “a hair’s breadth,” but another translator could easily decide that “close shave” isn’t slangy enough or isn’t incomprehensible enough. Rohto is a hard one to translate by itself, but the renmen word (short for ren’ai ikemen) easily refers to a sexy man, so “hottie” is one of the better translation options by far (sorry, but “twink” doesn’t mean what some of y’all think it means--it’s a bad translation here). The slang for “passing away” is a difficult one and the one I was most interested in seeing how the translator would handle. We don’t have many words in English that are slang for dying but maintain a tone of respect like you’re sad or don’t want the person to die. In my opinion, “unalive” is a pretty good attempt.

But then the translator also needed some slang that he could maintain Horikoshi’s jokes for footnotes #4 and #5, namely his “probably” and “dunno.” There was no way shakotan would make the cut. The translator chose “fetch” and “no cap” as the solution. They’re cringey enough slang that walk the line between incomprehensible and just comprehensible enough AND allow for a literal description in the footnote to joke about how the writer just gave up on understanding. Maybe you think you could come up with better slang the translator could use, but remember one does have to consider the entire reading audience and what slang they’ll be able to understand. All in all, the translator did the best they could in these circumstances. Whether or not a joke like this would land very well in English versus in Japanese isn’t really the point, as the translator’s job is just to translate the joke that’s there. What’s funny in another culture isn’t always funny in your own.

That said, I love me some meta jokes, so I did enjoy this one.

[mywritingonlyfans]

Stitches. // Alex Turner X Reader.

prompt: alex getting some stitches by you (med) after a gig episode. (it's a first meeting short-fic)

words: 1,7K.

His expression was filled with tension, an awkward smile pleading the curly-haired man to rescue him from the situation. His long legs fidgeted uncontrollably, as if he were trying to dig a hole in the ground.

"Alexander?" you addressed him, seeking confirmation from the man beside him. They appeared slightly older than you, exuding a coolness that was hard to ignore. "Well, I suppose you're the one in need of stitches, right?" you smiled, trying to convey a sense of calmness through his concerned, chocolate-colored eyes.

Your voice carried a friendly tone as you held his chin gently in your hand, examining the dried blood on his brow. His face nuzzled into your palm, eliciting a sweet smile from you as your eyes met his. He resembled a golden, vulnerable puppy, scared like one during a New Year's fireworks display.

"Is this goin’ to ‘urt?" His eyebrows softened, and you had to suppress a cute sigh in his presence.

The man patted his shoulder, assuring him of his presence. The smile was no longer on his lips, but he remained adorable. Dressed in a blazer and a crisp white shirt, he was undoubtedly feeling hot inside, yet the adrenaline prevented him from realizing it. His face was perfectly sculpted, with a well-defined jawline, and you found yourself fixated on the small scar near his eye, becoming somewhat obsessed with it. They appeared casual yet sophisticated, a captivating sight to behold.

"Not much, it'll be quick!" you reassured him, wetting a piece of cotton for his wound.

"He's not exactly the brave type," the man commented. You chuckled, though Alex didn't seem too pleased about it.

"Yeah? I must admit I wouldn't want to be in your shoes right now, but I promise to make it as painless as possible."

"Thank you," he swallowed, growing increasingly tense.

His friend maintained a smile on his face, as if silently declaring his correctness. Judging by Alex’s expression, he was probably right.

You introduced yourself to him, and he appeared pleased by that, prompting himself for you to lift his face with your thumb. It seemed he was genuinely happy to know your name, although it could have just been your imagination playing tricks on you.

He was about to repeat your name, but you acted faster and pressed the cotton to his wound. He shivered, suppressing a groan. It was so adorable that you almost wished you hadn't interrupted him, as you longed to hear him say your name out loud. Even if only for a single time.

"I'm sorry," you wrinkled your nose. Patients in pain weren't your favorite thing, especially when their well-being rested in your hands. "I promise this is the worst part, you'll soon be numb and feel nothing."

"Yeah, Al. The doctor is pretty, they won't kill you if you don't ask," the man chimed in, causing Alex to blush and sending a delightful tingle through your body. It wasn't a vulgar remark.

"Uh, I'll ask you to close your eyes, I think it'll be better that way."

"Don't mind him, he's just trying to distract me."

"I see. Do you think it's working?" You continued the conversation. Theoretical classes had taught you that talking to patients could help them endure pain a bit better. Alex wasn't a child, but in that moment, he seemed just as nervous and restless.

"I think so, actually. Your presence helps. I thought I'd find someone older and grumpy." His brows twitched, and a tear trickled down his face. Why did it feel like the pain was affecting you too?

"Shhh, love. It's alright, we're almost done," you whispered, gently pressing your fingers against the sides of the wound to check if he felt anything. Fortunately, he didn't. From that point on, he would be fine.

"I wish I could say that your kindness and gentleness are calming me, but I'd be lying, although I truly appreciate it." He smiled sweetly, almost tempted to open his eyes but then deciding against it.

"Keep them closed, I like your long lashes." You felt a chill run down your spine after saying that, but it was so honest and spontaneous that you would have felt bad for not mentioning it. After all, you wouldn't see him again. "They look good on you," you added, placing your hand under his neck and twirling a lock of his hair around your fingers. Maybe you were overreacting, but you wanted to savor this moment and hold him a little longer. The man smiled back at you, having read you like a book. You couldn't help but feel a bit embarrassed, yet pleased.

"Aren't you too young for that? I'm not judging, just curious," the curly-haired man asked as soon as you looked at Alex. His cheeks were flushed, along with the tip of his nose. God, you wanted to kiss him. At least you wished you could do it once.

"It's okay," you avoided looking at his friend. "I'm in training. I've stitched people up before, but if it makes you feel better, I can get someone else to do it for your boy." Your voice revealed your nervousness. You hated to entertain the thought, as it was disrespectful, but if someone didn't want you to touch their body, you wouldn't be the one sewing them.

"No babe, I didn't mean it like that. Alex looks good with you. It was supposed to sound like a compliment. It looks like you've been doing it for years," he quickly clarified.

You let out the breath you were holding and refocused your attention on making Alex feel better. "Then, thank you," you glanced at him and could see that he never intended to belittle you.

"He's not mine, he's just in a band with me," he said, keeping his eyes closed and lightly touching your white coat. He squeezed the fabric slightly, his hand grazing the skin around your waist. "That's how it happened, by the way. It was crazy but kinda nice. How long will it take?" He swallowed dryly, making you chuckle as he held you a little tighter. You didn't think they were actually together, but you found it adorable that he thought so and took it lightheartedly. His urgency in making himself clear that they weren't together gave you hope, as if there was something potentially more to come.

"Just a few more," you muttered. "So, are you in a band? What do you play? And what exactly were you doing that led to this?"

His nose twitched into a smile, making you feel better, knowing you were managing to distract him. "I'm a singer and guitarist, and I got a little too excited with the microphone stand while I was singing. It's usual, but, huh, this time it didn't turn out so well as you can see," his friend babbled, looking at you and whispering, "He's a bastard." By his movement, you understood that he had kicked the object at some point. You nodded, playing along.

"I'll guess you guys are a rock band, huh? It doesn't seem like a very smart thing to do, but I think if I could, I would try too," you took a step back, analyzing your artwork on his pale skin.

"See, Matthew? It's a normal thing, you should try!" he spoke in a funny voice, sounding like an inside joke between them. Matthew rolled his eyes at him.

"Well, we're done," you held onto his shoulders, studying him. He smiled broadly, letting his chocolate-colored, lazy eyes meet yours. He looked even more attractive when you could see his light, relaxed smile. "You look good!"

"You look good too!" his attention remained on you, causing the entire room to go silent around you until Matthew coughed exaggeratedly.

Your cheeks flushed with warmth. Alex was something else. It had only been a few seconds since his hand was on your waist, and you already missed it.

"You could come to one of our gigs if you want," Matthew suggested.

"Yes, please. You'll love us!" Alex exclaimed, as if you had never stitched him up.

"Promise me that if I go, you won't scare me by trying to get hurt again?"

"I promise, no jumping around or kicking things when you're watchin’ me," he held up his hand, giving you his word.

"Then, fine. I'll keep that in mind. What's the name?"

"Arctic Monkeys," he got up, and your mind went dizzy with his height and essence. It certainly wasn't what you expected, but it wasn't a bad thing. He looked like a cute, not-much-tall, pudding mess. "I'm Alex. You can call me just Al, luv" he took your arm, placing a quick kiss on your head. You resisted the urge to hug his torso.

"The singer and guitarist, I'll remember that, you'll see," you were smiling like crazy.

"Just contact me, I'll be glad to see you again," he said happily, following Matthew, who was already by the door. "And you're really good at what you do, like this whole mini medical genius thing that you are, really good." You nodded, mumbling a simple 'thank you' while watching him walk awkwardly but cute to his friend. Your whole mood was radiant, and you felt like you could work another shift wearing that smile.

"Uh, excuse me," you were taken out of your reverie. You put your hand over your mouth so you wouldn't look so silly for smiling at nothing. "My bastard friend told you to contact him, but he forgot to exchange numbers with you." He added, waving a small paper in front of you. He was clearly enjoying the situation. How could you forget that you needed to have his number?

"Oh, yeah, thank you."

"And don't forget to call him. Don't make me come ‘ere with him again," he blinked as you nodded fiercely at his words. 

He wouldn't have to.

...

taglist: @ohladymoon @indierockgirrl @bloo-wisteria @bellaturner @cosmoschaotic @nikisfwn @andrews-lovr

[lethalchiralium]

Diamondback | Prologue

a/n: HEIBDEJFB i’m so excited for this one don’t even. I know it’s short, leave me alone 🥲

warnings: cussing, mentions of cheating/pregnancy (not reader), maskless!simon riley

summary: The heat was something else. With a heavy heart and nothing to lose, you’ve ditched your ex-fiancé to chase your childhood best friend across the country to a small town in a wildfire prone area of the United States - Pine, Arizona. It’s nestled in a valley and is where your best friend, Alex Keller, calls home. He’s following his passion, his dreams, and it soon enough, you’re following it too; but the flames are getting too close and soon you’ll be in the line of fire of your best friend’s superintendent, John Price, and his assistant, Simon Riley.

SERIES MASTERLIST | >> NEXT

Alex Keller was a man of his word. 

With his phone now slipped into his pocket, he moved with light steps from his locker and across the room to his Superintendent’s office. It was getting late, most of his fellow Hotshots had already gone home for the night. He was almost set out to leave too, having already put on his street shoes and his bomber jacket when you had called him. You’ve been his best friend since the first grade, essentially his second sister; he’d do anything to help you, so when you had called, his heart broke and anger flooded his body.

“Where are you gonna go? Your mom’s not the best choice-“

“Please tell me I can crash with you.”

“What?”

“Please. I’ll even work in your little firefighter station too.”

“You can’t just join a Hotshot crew, Y/N-“

“I know as much about fire and firefighting as you do, maybe even more.”

“That doesn’t mean you have the physical capabilities for it! It’s grueling, it’s exhausting-“

“Oh, I know you are not trying to mansplain your job to me.”

“What? No! No, it’s just-“

“A little hiking and extra upper arm workout is nothing. Put in a good word, would you?”

“I mean, I can- But be for real, you can’t uproot your life! You love being a fire watch.”

“Yeah, and I loved Justin. Shit can change, Alex.”

Alex knocked on the door, hearing faint voices of approval granting him entrance. He opened the door, revealing the warm light that had been on for a few hours. At the desk sat his Superintendent, John Price - a man with expertly groomed facial hair and the drive of a wildfire. He was physically and mentally maintained; he was everything a Superintendent should be. Across from him sat Alex’s Assistant Superintendent, Simon Riley - a man with the sense for fire science and for weather. The more physically maintained of anyone in the crew, he was the best at keeping the 141 Hotshots on their toes. The two of them worked incredible as a team and were the reason why the Pine Fire Department in Arizona was allowed their own Hotshot crew - Alex respected them.

Both looked to Alex, equally surprised he was still in the firehouse.

“What do you need, Keller?” Simon was the first to speak, Alex took a breath.

“Look, I know you guys are still looking for a new Hotshot, I may have a possible candidate.” He placed his hands on his hips, watching as Simon looked to Price. 

Price’s eyebrows furrowed. “Go on.”

Shit, how do I tell them that she’s just leaving her job ‘cause of that douchebag? “Uh, so she actually does- did, did fire watch in Yellowstone, she was a Hotshot for like… a year before? Anyway, she’s uh, she’s coming to live with me and wanted to know if she could interview.”

Price looked to Simon, who looked back to him. With a knowing glance shared between them, Price looked to Alex.

“She do drugs?”

Alex shook his head.

“Convicted of a crime?”

“No sir.”

Price’s next question was as blunt as it could’ve been. “Did she kill somebody?”

Alex blinked for a moment, stuttering, “Well-Well no! I mean she might, she has a good reason right now.”

Simon snickered, “Doesn’t everybody?”

Price glared at his Assistant Superintendent before he looked back to Alex. “When’s she gonna be here? ‘Cause we might be mobilizing soon.”

Alex looked at his watch. “She’s on a plane now.”

His Superintendent looked pleased before looking at Simon, then to his own watch.

“Have her be here by 9 tomorrow morning.” The man’s blue eyes were sharp as they looked back up to Alex. “If she washes out, it’s your ass on the line.”

“Yes sir.” 

The Hotshot still stood in the office, the Superintendent looked to his Assistant, who spoke. “Why are you still here, Keller?”

Alex cleared his throat. “As a good employee, I’m saying that she would be a great hotshot. As her friend…”

Both Price and Simon’s eyebrows raised. 

“She’s a bit… intense.”

“You son of a bitch!”

“Y/N, I swear! I don’t know a Natalie!”

A vase shattered against the wall next to your fiancé’s face, he shouted in fear - but you wanted him to feel your fucking rage. 

“You are a fuckin’ liar!”

A mug nearly hit him in the face, only to explode into a million pieces next to him. “Stop!”

You weren’t done. No, you were far from done. With a quick hand, you grabbed your former favorite framed photo of your engagement - a time where you were truly happy. It was a stark contrast to the scene now; you had made your way through the kitchen into the living room, throwing things to keep your fiancé, Justin, far away from you. “You got her-“ You chucked the picture frame at him, it barreled against the wall and shattered on impact. “fucking pregnant! You got a girl pregnant!”

“I didn’t!” He tried to take a stop forward but your hand was on another picture frame, ready to throw it, so he paused as he held his hands out. “It’s not fucking mine! I don’t know her!”

Another picture frame was thrown at him, he moved out of the way as you made your way to the front door. Your hand fished into your jacket pocket as you threw your backpack over your shoulder, throwing the small keyring at Justin. He took two steps closer, but you ripped open the front door.

“Where the fuck are you even gonna go?!” He shouted, face red with anger. You gave him a nasty look.

“Somewhere you won’t fuckin’ find me, ‘cause we are over. We will stay over, so if you harass me,” You snarled at him, taking a step backwards and out of the house. “So help me God, you’ll be meetin’ Him faster than you can say sorry.”

And you slammed the door behind yourself, hands shaking and tears threatening to fall. You had no one here in Montana, no one where you could hide and you sure as Hell weren't going to have your mother say "I told you so". With a shaking hand, you dug your phone out of your pocket and dialed the one person you always knew you could count on.

With two rings, he picked up and tears pricked your eyes. "Alex."

Taglist: @all-good-things-have-an-ending @warners-wife @random0lover

Copyright © 2023 lethalchiralium. All rights reserved.

[ts4ritsa]

Hello

I really liked the fluff alphabet for Mukuro, this time I’d like to request the smut one, please

₊˚ପ⊹ smut alphabet ;

ft. mukuro ikusaba from danganronpa * ˚ ✦

tags / cw: smut, gn!reader

a: aftercare

mukuro would want both sides to handle aftercare. she wants to be close to you, so you know she’s okay and so she knows that you’re okay. her touch is attentive and precise. not the most affectionate verbally, but she’s better at showing you her thoughts her feelings with her actions, perhaps with gentle caresses of your muscles or just a snack

b: body part

kissing your neck is her go-to for when things get hot. at first they’re small, light kisses, but they gradually get more intense and she ends up leaving a few marks on you before you know it. she loves the way you fall to temptation when you feel her shaky breath against your neck while her body is deliciously wrapped around yours.

her favorite part of her is her hands - she loves tracing every inch of you, whether it be caressing your chest and kneading your muscles or making you feel good with her fingers

c: cum

mukuro’s cum is smooth and creamy, with a slight thickness that makes it perfect to swallow. her cum would taste quite tangy, and she’d secretly love seeing it all over your face if you were to go down on her. she also thinks its tantalizing whenever you make her have a taste of herself after fucking her good with your fingers

d: dirty secret

the thought of being completely at your mercy crosses her mind often. like entirely at your mercy, having her be completely, utterly yours. she’s too shy to be overly vocal when you both are actually having sex, so she fantasizes in her own time about what it’d be like to fully let loose and go all out with you. she wants so badly to tell you how good you make her feel, how dirty she can get, and how she wouldn’t mind being used at your disposal. but she can’t bring herself to tell

e: experience

definitely a virgin before she met you. but she wasn’t clueless about sex, since a few friends back in the military mentioned quite a bit about it — also probably heard a lot about it from junko, she seems like the type to share many stories about her sex life to mukuro because she knows that unlike her, her poor sister has almost no game

but it’s alright, mukuro is a fast-learner. it didn’t take her long to adapt to your preferences, like what turns you on and what pleases you best. she is good at reading your body language and can tell when you want her to continue what she’s doing or do something different

f: favorite position

she’s not experienced so she has little knowledge on all of the positions that are out there, so she’d likely just enjoy something common as doggy or cowgirl. she has a lot to learn, I fear…

g: goofy

mukuro is definitely not playful during intimacy, nothing short from serious. her partner would have to be the one to show her how to ease up and be silly. even then she might not be though. so if anyone’s gonna be funny during it, it’s most definitely you.

h: hair

adequately groomed. she unknowingly found herself maintaining it more often and carefully with you around. but she feels better like that anyway, more comfortable. yes, the carpet matches the drapes

i: intimacy

it’s clear to see the passion mukuro has during sex. she wants you bad, in more ways than one — mukuro’s all about your pleasure and stuff, so in terms of romantic aspects, she’d be surprised if you were willing to be more romantic. well, she’ll do whatever you want cause that’s how much she cares. and honestly, that just might get her even more needy.

j: jack off

mukuro does not have a lot of free time let alone chances to touch herself. if she did, she’d rather do the actual thing with you anyway.

maybe she would try to before she got with you, but she’s so self-restrained, she probably brushed off her need to be satiated often

k: kink

definitely into bdsm, but here are some other stuff

breath play (both)

edging (receiving)

impact play (mostly receiving)

l: location

a private room, namely your bedroom. not really anything else, but it’s not like she cares that much. it has to be (for the most part) a private area though

m: motivation

your close presence. just knowing that you’re behind her, you could brush up against her at any moment — bonus points if you’re together in a secluded area that may or may not have people lurking around

n: no

sorry but mukuro would hate the idea of cuckolding or threesomes. like genuinely she doesn’t even let people get that close so she would not like sharing moments of intimacy with people other than you

o: oral

mukuro would hands-down be skilled at this stuff. she’s quick to learn, plus she just has to know what pleases you, she needs to make you feel good. sometimes she’s content with just doing this for you

in terms of receiving, she would be reserved and feel shy about it, because it’s another level of vulnerability to her. I mean, she still would not mind it cause it does feel very nice. however she’d rather be the one to give it to you

p: pace

honestly mukuro probably likes it intense and she might even be impatient. still very sensual, but you know — once she has it, she just doesn’t want to stop. a quick, strong, pace, driven by her need to feel her partner in a deep and intimate way

q: quickies

content with quickies. it’s not that she prefers them, but if its what has to be done, then that’s fine with her. I mean, she is piled with so many duties, of course she needs the relief that quickies can bring — plus, it’s still full of intense passion and desire, so, who is she to complain?

r: risk

mukuro would be willing to take risk of being caught in the act. solely for the thrill. she would never be reckless about it though, she’d just hate if people she doesn’t know that well saw her in such an intimate moment with you! if you wanted to do anything risky though, she’s okay with whatever as long as it doesn’t cross her boundaries, which she will absolutely let you know about

s: stamina

we can all collectively agree that mukuro has impressive stamina. she’s literally the ultimate soldier… she could probably go for 3 or 4 rounds, no problem at all. hours and hours can go by and she can still be feeling the high that you bring her to

t: toys

sure, but you would have to bring them into play and teach her the mechanics. except it has to be simple and can’t be the only thing that touches her, because in the end it’s not the toy that she wants pleasure from, it’s you.

u: unfair

mukuro doesn’t tease, not really, or at the very least not intentionally. she might make gestures that may be interpreted as flirtatious but she’s not doing it on purpose — she could just brush up against you to feel the warmth of your body, give you thorough massages, and run her hands through your hair

buut, it’s real easy to get her wet with just a bit of tease!

v: volume

mukuro is completely able to control her volume and keep it low and quiet when needed (she doesn’t like being too loud anyway), and even if it’s so other people won’t hear and so she can uphold her professionalism, it’s just so cute to hear and watch. it’s not that she struggles with it either, but something about it is just so erotic — muffled sounds of pleasure mixed in with the way her body begs for more, and her face? don’t tell her about it though, maybe that will cause her to slip up!

w: wild card

mukuro begs. she begs hard. she can’t help holding in all the pleasure she’s feeling, okay? sometimes she’ll speak in desperate little whispers, her voice low and raspy as she begs for more, as she begs you to touch her more, to take her even further. a side of her that only comes out during intimate moments like these, really.

x: x-ray

slender, yet toned, athletic muscles. still, it feels pretty soft. like said before, adequately groomed. she has B cups, from what I remember. areolas are probably a brownish-pink. not really much to say

y: yearning

her sex drive is pretty normal, maybe a bit more than that. she enjoys feeling the connection of your bodies constantly, it’s just a human need that needs to be satisfied. if you have a high drive, perfect!

z: zzz

mukuro wouldn’t fall asleep easily, she can go on about her day or stay up with you as long as you want, but when she does fall asleep, she falls into a deep sleep…

© ts4ritsa

a/n: i got pretty lazy with this pretty fast Sorry hope u like it tho!

[officialfics]

Hello ! Can you please do Gavi / Pedri smut (whoever you want), where the reader is trying to help him forget the pain from his injury?

hope you like it:)) Warnings: pure smut! ⚠️

•••

You eyes lingered with shock as you stared at the TV. Almost crying, on the verge of tears actually.

This could be insanely painful for the player. He was suddenly on the ground, with pain. Although he tried to play it cool and continue playing. The pain just couldn’t be ignored, or the injury could become worse. 

Your boyfriend Pedri had kissed you goodbye before leaving the house for a football match. This was normal and a routine for the two of you. You had made him swear to you that he would be careful. Many of his teammates had gone out with different injuries and you didn’t want him to risk that, you loved him too much. 

Yet he broke the promise.

Forward to now with him laying on the grass leaning back on his hand as the medics arrived to the his help. Gavi by his side patting his head for reassurance. You couldn’t help, but be mad at him. He promised you after all. You knew he would be home shortly after, so you waited for him on the kitchen counter with your phone in your hands as you stared at the at the door and back at your phone to check the time. 

You heard keys opening the door shortly after. He looked at you with eyes seeking forgiveness ness. Yet you couldn’t stay mad at him, how could anyone. You ran up to him you eyes brimming with tears. As you took him into an embrace. he held you closer and tighter planting a kiss on you forehead. -I’m sorry- he pleads. -I know, I love you- you replied and you meant it you did love him, so much it hurt. 

-you need to rest, let’s go upstairs- you took his hand in yours. Leading him to your bedroom. He plopped on the bed, pulling you down with him and cuddling with you. Your head on his chest. You wanted to help him relax, so you innocently started caressing his thigh. -tell me, what can I do to make it better Pedro?- you asked looking up at him. He had a grin on his face looking down at you with his brown eyes. He took your hand and put in where he wanted it, his crotch. His hand on top of yours moving it over his clothed erection. 

You got the hint and started kissing him down to his abs. Your hands playing with the waist band of his sweats. You went under the covers still maintaining eye contact. You pulled his boxers down along with his pants and started to wrap your hands around his hard cock. It was already leaking precum, when you put it in you mouth. Moving your head up and down his hands were in you hair as you increased the speed gradually. He was whimpering at you actions. His eyes fixated on you with his mouth open from the pleasure. Looking down and admiring the sight. You could feel him starting to buck his hips when you stopped. - Pedri stop, you’ll hurt yourself- you said looking up with watery eyes. -then get on top, hermosa- he dared. 

And so you did. you pulled your shorts off along with you soaked panties. You put a hand on his shoulder and the other was on his cock trying to line it at you entrance. You sunk down on him slowly. Both of you gasping from the feeling of him inside of you. Faces inches apart, you could feel his breath fanning on your as you started to ride him. Carful not to put any weight on his thigh. 

He put his hands on your sides caressing your body. While his mouth was on you nipple, stimulating you even more. Your body was pressed close against his, your hands in his hair pulling on it, and he groaned in response. As you started to increase you speed. The sound of skin slapping was echoing through the room. Both of you were close. Only chasing after each others high. 

-are you close?-he questioned leaving open mouthed kisses on you jaw. His breath was heavy and so was yours. He felt so good inside of you.

-yeah- you whined in response mouth falling open, the pleasure was overwhelming.

-yeah?, me too- he said. Only now capturing your lips in a hungry kiss. As you both came at the same time. you kissed him back, both hands on his jaw. As you continued to ride him. He was overstimulated. Leaning his head back. His hair glued to his forehead from the sweat. he looked so hot and overwhelmed. 

He moaned as you were riding the orgasm out of your bodies. Getting up from him and to his side. 

You looked at him with fucked out eyes. -I love you- you we being honest you loves him to death. - love you more- he responded kissing you passionately. 

You got up and grabbed a damp cloth cleaning both his and your thighs from the semen. 

He pulled you body into his, putting the blanket of your naked bodies and falling into a deep sleep.

A/N: please tell me your thoughts on this🫶

[thevindicativevordan]

Thoughts on Superman Earth One by JMS?

Reading it again transported me back to the Great Recession Era. Fitting that Earth One was envisioned as "Ultimate DC" because it is as much a product of the 00s - albeit the Great Recession era - as Ultimate Marvel was a product of 9/11.

What if Superman was Spider-Man is a pretty obvious direction to go when you've tapped the guy who just got done writing Amazing Spider-Man (and controversial second half aside I still love the JMS run) to come kick off a new Elseworld version of Superman. What fascinates me about this take on the character is that JMS, knowingly or not, applied the original Stan Lee/Steve Dikto approach to Spider-Man onto Superman. Unlike the modern approach where, black suit aside, Peter basically transforms into a secular saint post-Uncle Ben, 616 Peter remained an asshole. His evolution into the iconic Spidey we know and love was the product of years of character development. He did not suddenly transform overnight. Here we get a Superman who is the same way. First time we see him use his powers is to do this:

I have to admit I smirked when I saw that. Not because it's cool or badass or whatever, but frankly because it's the kind of edginess you plain don't see in superhero comics these days. Left me feeling almost downright nostalgic for the edge of yesteryear. Superman wearing Alex Mercer's fit is such a tryhard design choice. Sets the tone for what kind of Superman we're getting here perfectly too. No rescues or acts of heroism for this bad boy, instead we get Clark frying all the hair off a would-be mugger. Second volume has Superman fantasize about massacring an army because he couldn’t stop seething over a dictator who evicted him from a war torn country. Third volume has him chew out the UN for standing back and letting Zod try to kill him. Wrath is what this guy has in spades, to the point it seems to be his defining trait.

Rereading Earth One I was blown away by how large it's shadow looms over the DCEU. Even the coloring, subdued as it is, evokes Snyder's films before they had been finished. Metropolis isn't a gleaming City of Tomorrow, it's a recession ruin that evokes the worst parts of Detroit. No one is living there except the people with nowhere else to go, and while it's not actually explored at all, the idea of Superman being drawn to a city of outcasts works for me just as much as him unconsciously seeking out the one place on Earth that's closest to Krypton.

Ironic how much Snyder took from JMS, Waid, and Johns while managing to alienate all three. Obvious examples are Zod serving the same basic function in MoS that Tyrell does here, down to the hijacking of all Earth broadcasts to demand Superman turn himself over, or how a Kryptonian ship serves as Superman's equivalent to the Fortress. But then there's other little details like the memory of Jonathan Kent urging his son to "fly" playing over a triumphant moment for Superman, as seen in ZSJL. Makes sense because reading Earth One, the Clark depicted here is a far more believable result of the teachings of the DCEU Kents.

He doesn't want to be a hero, he wants to take care of his mom and himself (there's the early Spider-Man DNA). Altruism doesn't come naturally to Clark. And you know what? This is actually a great premise for an Elseworld Superman story! A Superman who is forced into the role, who spends the first couple minutes of an alien invasion trying to stop it while maintaining his secret identity, who has enough of a moral core to realize what he needs to do, but is scared to death of actually doing it? Elseworlds were created for a premise like that, something you could never do with the mainline guy. Where it falls short however, and the sin it shares with it's cinematic offspring, is that neither JMS nor Snyder realized how their Supermen came off.

After Superman deposes a dictator via arming a rebellion in the second volume, we're treated to a radio broadcast that proclaims a new democratic government has formed. Played totally straight as an unambiguous good deed too, at least within the second volume. For a book written long after the failures of regime change in Iraq and Afghanistan were obvious to all, and while the Syrian Civil War was raging, it comes across as totally naïve and tone-deaf. No one buys that it would be that easy. Now it does end up backfiring on Superman in the third volume, but not because JMS acknowledges the likely reality of Superman's actions where the nation would descend into total chaos, but because the rest of the world fears he'll do the same to them someday. For a series that is trying to be a grounded take on Superman if he were real, the portrayal of Superman meddling in global affairs feels downright fantastical.

Shame because there are great character beats where JMS emphasizes Clark's loneliness that are overshadowed by the poor writing overall.

Good stuff! JMS understands that isolation and feeling like an outsider are key components that make Superman who he is. Throughout all three books there's a plotline of Clark having trouble connecting with anyone, which he finally overcomes first by joining the Daily Planet after being inspired by Lois and Jimmy helping him in the fight against Tyrell, and then when Lisa saves him against Zod and the two begin to date. Despite my knocking the trilogy as a whole, that was something I enjoyed seeing play out.

With all the Spider-Man influence in play here, I believe JMS’ biggest mistake was not centering this Superman’s mission around guilt. Clark was selfish and didn’t want to be a hero, he didn’t immediately leap to protect people when Tyrell attacked for fear of being outed, and innocents died because of that decision. Making Superman be Clark’s realization that he let his father down and he has to live up to his father’s beliefs in humanity’s goodness by serving as an example, that would be a great “realistic” way to explain why Clark is Superman while sticking to the Everyman+ foundation. Peter Parker is Spider-Man because he let his uncle die when he could’ve prevented it by stepping forward to stop a thief. Clark Kent is Superman because he let people die when he could have stepped forward to stop Tyrell from massacring people around the globe to force him out of hiding. It’s taking Spidey’s origin and expanding it to the greatest possible scale via a global threat.

Biggest complaint I have is that this iteration of Superman feels unfinished. Earth One Batman and Wonder Woman, whatever your opinions on them, at least feel that they've reached their natural endgames. Batman builds a family to replace the one he lost and will fight crime forever. Wonder Woman destroys the patriarchy and builds a new feminist utopia. But this version of Superman? Everyone was scared of him because he showed a willingness to intervene where he pleased, and while he promised to not repeat his dictator deposing at the end of the third volume, I don't believe this Superman would stick to that promise.

A natural endgame for this Superman would be to go full Miracleman. Use his powers and his Kryptonian ship (which can apparently manufacture materials for him and even convert matter) to transform Earth into a paradise, marry Lisa, turn Lois against him, and end his days asking himself if it was worth it. He fulfilled Pa's dream of using his gifts for the better, and accomplished it through science rather than through tyranny like Jor-El, but Superman can't help wondering if he proved all the naysayers right. Especially since the person he asked to play conscience for him, Lois, doesn't think he did the right thing. Earth One Superman started his journey asking himself if his father's dream for him was one he actually wanted to pursue, you bring it full circle by having him end where he began by asking if fulfilling that dream was the right decision.

Now as for the rest of the characters?

The Supporting Cast

Daily Planet Crew - They're fine. None of them can be called great or memorable but they're recognizable as variations of the Lois, Perry, and Jimmy we all know. Only major difference is that I don't buy this version of Clark and Lois ever getting together romantically. They're rivals who respect each other but not "soulmates" (much as I hate that term). No chemistry between the two of them here (another commonality with the DCEU), and I'm actually glad this series ended without the two ever becoming a couple.

Lisa Lasalle - Never seen anyone touch on her that much, guess I'll be the first to say that pairing Clark with gritty and realistic Mary Jane Watson was actually sweet. A redhead who is the "girl next door" in Clark's Metropolis apartment, wants to be a model but has to hook on the side, is the first one outside his family to discover his secret identity, and has an upbeat party girl personality before revealing a deeper side later on? Go ahead and try to argue that isn't a darker and edgier take on MJ. Far as civilian love interests for Superman go, she's the only one I've ever liked enough to want as endgame for Clark other than Lois. Seeing Clark bring her into his world and take her to meet his Ma was a genuinely touching moment. Funny that adaptions of MJ tend to make her more like Lois, while here we get a Superman who dates someone closer to 616 MJ.

The Villains

Tyrell - Other than looking like a Hickman reject he's as generic as they come. He shows up, threatens the world, pushes Clark to become Superman, dies, and that's that. Not sure why JMS even went with this guy over using a traditional member of the Rogues Gallery. I do dig his techno-angelic aesthetic, too bad it's wasted on such a paper-thin character.

Parasite - Shockingly great take. His backstory as a hitman is whatever, but once he becomes Parasite he's exactly what I want Parasite to be. Loves being able to kill people, after draining Superman and finally being able to think straight, he feels no shame, guilt, or horror over the people he's killed and the monster he's become. Instead he fantasizes about finding a unique way to kill every single person on the planet, that's the kind of sociopathic energy I like to see. Also shares the delightful trait of zero accountability with his MAWS counterpart, blaming Superman for his sister's death despite it being his own fault.

Zod - Bland as his knockoff predecessor Tyrell. Don't even know why he's made into an El here, nothing interesting is done with it. I've always been a fan of Zod trying to recruit/win over Superman to his side, and at first he feints at doing that. After showing initial promise he firmly grasps the idiot ball for the rest of the book, having Superman at his mercy several times but insisting on making Clark "kneel", rather than simply finishing him off. Despite taking clear design influence from the MoS movie, this is a straightforward "modernization" of the Stamp Zod. Other than wanting Superman dead he seems to have no other ambitions. It's not even clear why he bothers with the pretense at first, when he has superior training and should be easily able to kill Superman in combat.

Lex² - Uhhh they sure existed didn't they? Weird how both JMS and Johns pulled the "instead of the person you think will become the villain, it's their opposite gender counterpart” (wife for Lex, sister for Two-Face). I guess if there were plans for a volume 4 we would've seen "Alexandra" use the kryptonite against Superman, maybe via creating Metallo? Could've been interesting with Alex talking about how she hates Superman for taking away her husband who was the one person she considered an intellectual peer, that would've been prime setup for this Superman to show he was also as smart as she was (since this Clark is explicitly a genius). Since that didn't happen they're merely a curiosity.

Final thoughts: JMS' best Superman work remains his Becoming Superman autobiography.

No clue if the events he depicts are accurate or exaggerated, but if it's fiction then it's the best Superman story that shows how he can inspire real people that I've read. Really hard hitting stuff in here, particularly for anyone who has grown up in abusive homes and had to rely on fiction as an escape. If you want to check out JMS' Superman work, I honestly recommend this over anything else.

[catierambles]

Alternate Instincts Ch.5

Pairing: The Rogue’s Gallery (Geralt, Syverson, Mike, August Walker, Walter Marshall) x Stephanie Daniels (OFC)

WC 787 (sorry for shortness)

Warnings: Uhhhhh *vague I dunno sounds*

The house was quiet and dark, everyone having gone to bed. Stephanie was laying on the couch, politely declining the offers the others made for her to take their bed while they slept on the floor. Jordan wasn’t going to kick the door down of a cabin filled with Alpha wolves (and one Beta, as Mike had let her know), so she was good where she was. She looked up from her phone briefly as a figure moved past the couch into the kitchen. She heard the fridge open then close and they came back through, stopping behind the couch.

“What?” She asked, looking up briefly again at August standing there, a bottle of water in his hand. “Being kinda creepy right now, my guy.”

“You need to leave.”

“Tried that.” She said, resuming her doomscrolling. “Sy is kind of adamant that I not leave, as I’m his, Geralt’s, and apparently Mike’s Mate. They would rather I not die a horrible death, and I’m not too keen on the idea either, actually.”

“All three of them?”

“That’s what they told me.” She said and there was a pause.

“Sure got them pussy whipped, don’t you.” He said and she looked up at him slowly.

“Fuckin’ pardon?” She asked, “I actually haven’t had sex with any of them. So, you know--” She flipped him off with her free hand. “Fuck you.”

“Classy.”

“I’m just matching your energy, Mr. Tall, Dark, and Asshole.” She said and while he didn’t say anything, he didn’t leave either, and the weight of his eyes was starting to make the skin between her shoulders itch. Hauling herself off the couch, she put her phone in the pocket of the flannel sleep pants Mike loaned her. Sy and Walter had gotten her things from the campsite, Jordan’s were already gone, but it was colder than had been forecasted so the shorts she had packed weren’t going to cut it.

“Where are you going?”

“You care now?” She asked, and went to the front door, flipping back the locks and heading outside. The night air was cool, filling her lungs as she breathed in deep. She needed to call her boss, let her know what was going on. Heather was a wolf, too, and it made sense now why Jordan always avoided meeting her. She probably would have known right away that he was a Feral and contacted the Pack Council.

A deep growling filtered through the night air and she looked over, seeing the massive black wolf walk slowly out of the shadows from the back of the house. Glacial blue eyes glowed at her through the darkness, lips curling back away from sharp canines.

Don’t move. Don’t run. Run and you’re prey. Keep looking at them, maintain eye contact.

It kept advancing on her and she wanted to look around for a stick, or something, but that would require her looking away. It stopped in front of her, ears pinned back, still growling. A self-superior look passed through those eyes. Wait.

“No.” She said, holding his nose and the growling stopped, ears perking up in surprise. “Really? This is how you try to throw your dick around? Fuck off.” She pushed his muzzle away and he pressed in closer to her, sniffing around her, making her lean back a little. “August…” He shifted back, the sight of his limbs contorting and body reforming making her stomach turn a little. “And you’re naked.” The plain, somewhat boring, shirts he wore hid how absolutely massive he was in musculature, his shoulders broad, his chest and stomach that was covered in a layer of dark hair defined but not overly so, making him look strong, not dehydrated. Only Geralt was bigger, and not by much. She didn’t let her eyes go any further south than his belly button before she turned them back up at him, the look in his eyes making her swallow heavily.

“Motherfucker.” He hauled her against him and almost off her feet with an arm around her waist, weaving his fingers in her hair, his lips crashing down on hers hard. The cut on her lip from earlier reopened making her wince, but he didn’t seem to notice. His mustache rasped over her upper lip, the force of his kiss making her toes curl and she found herself responding to him as the image of his wolf flashed over her mind, the phantom feeling of fur sliding over her skin making her shiver. “Goddamnit.” He growled as he broke the kiss. “You’re not leaving.”

“But you--”

“You’re not going anywhere until that Feral is in the ground.”

“August,” Stephanie said, her hands curling around his biceps. “Am I--”

“You’re my fucking Mate.”