#third ending would not have as high of a rating in my head at all if they didnt bother with that shit

[cowboy-robooty]

MANHWA WHY ARE YOU ALLERGIC TO LETTING THE YAOI BOYS HAVE A SEASON TO BE ESTABLISHED AND EXPLORE THEIR RELATIONSHIP TOGETHER. WHY DOES EVERYTHING HAVE TO END ONCE THEYRE TOGETHER OR THEY HAVE TO KEEP GOING BACK N FORTH SO THE MANHWA CAN CONTINUE. JUST FUCKING GIVE ME THAT SLICE OF LIFE SHIT YOU HAVE GOOD CHARACTERS YOU CAN WORK WITH THEM WHEN THEYRE ESTABLISHED I KNOW YOU CAN DO IT

[sunshinescribes]

Sweat for Me

Pairing: Trafalgar Law x Fem!Reader

Rating: EXPLICIT (18+)

Summary: You think this might be your favorite thing in the entire world. Law beneath you, whining and whimpering through his third orgasm. (A/N: I was going to post this for kinktober but fuck it, needed to get this out of my system)

Warnings: SMUT, Overstimulation, Multiple Orgasms (mentioned), Praise Kink, Submissive Law, Law is kind of a brat (which is canon to meeee), Begging, Creampie

You think this might be your favorite thing in the entire world.

Law beneath you, whining and whimpering through his third orgasm.

You watch intently, rocking your hips slowly, continuing to ride him despite the way his whole body twitches as he comes down from his high. Law is so pretty—so hauntingly beautiful like this, tan skin flushed, lips parted, and dark lashes caressing his cheeks as he battles to keep his eyes open—this is beyond compare.

Usually he’s the one in control, caging you in with his lithe body as he fucks you into the mattress with that smug smile playing at his lips. His goatee brushes against your skin while he whispers pure filth into your ear. Fuuuck, sweet girl, you’re squeezing me so tight. Want me to go deeper? Hmm? You think you can take it all?

You love those moments, but this is so much sweeter. You work the tension of a particularly harrowing day out of him, allow him to lounge while you do the work, give him anything—everything he needs—maybe even more, but he deserves it. Your captain, who plots and worries—rarely ever thinking about himself.

"Too much—fuck, sweetheart, I—" Law chokes on a soft whine when your needy cunt squeezes him. He’s barely comprehendible, his mind stuck in a pleasant haze where the art of language eludes him. You feel your lips curl into a prideful smile, knowing that you’ve reduced this brilliant man into a babbling mess.

"I’m takin’ care of you, Captain," you whisper softly, dipping down to gently kiss the corner of his mouth. Law turns his head, tries to capture your plush lips, but you pull away before he can. He’s too spent—too fucking boneless—to chase you.

Law actually pouts. You don’t know whether to blame it on the sex-induced delirium or if he’s genuinely disappointed to be denied a kiss, and it takes everything in you not to laugh at how damn cute he is, though you’re certain doing so would only earn you a fiercer pout, maybe even censure.

"Just one more handsome," you sigh, tracing the curve of his sharp jaw, brushing your fingertips against his soft sideburns and stubble. "You can do that for me, can’t you?"

Law trembles under your touch—leans into it while his tired eyes gaze up at you. He swallows thickly before finally answering with a weak nod, dark, damp tresses nearly falling over his eyes.   

"Y-yea."

God, you want to burn the image of him like this in your mind forever. Recall it every moment of every waking day until you turn to dust.

You smile down at him and begin to move your hips once more. Law jolts as soon as you do and grits his teeth to stop from crying out. You feel his tortured dick pulse inside of you, so needy and spent and ready to pour everything he has to give into you again.

You grind down on him in slow, tantalizing circles—more taunting than pleasing—and you know you’ll be repaid in kind soon. Law will work you just as hard, make you come twice as much the next time he has you bent over his desk or trapped between his body and the cold metal walls of the Polar Tang.

You don’t mean to be cruel, but the low groans and soft curses that pass his lips are so delicious. A part of you never wants this to end—wants to have him trapped inside you forever while you coax another sweet release out of him. And another. And another.

Law places a trembling hand on your hip as you continue to rock shallowly. "Fuu—FUCK, baby, p-please—"

Neither of you are certain of what he’s asking for, but when he bucks his hips to push himself just a little deeper inside of your soaking heat, you decide to be merciful.

You lift slightly, just enough to see the base of his glazed dick, before slamming back down. A desperate cry rips from his throat as you ride him. It hurts—hurts so good he can’t bite back the strings of curses that pass his lips, or the shameless whimpers that spur you on, make your movements rushed and sloppy, even as your legs begin to burn again.

"T-that’s it…" You place your hands on either side of his thighs, taking Law deeper—making him hit that sweet, spongey spot inside of you. You feel the heat in your core building, and you know he’s close—ready to burst inside of you one last time.

"You ready?"

Law nods and mumbles something you can’t make out over the squelch of your hungry cunt, swallowing him over and over and over again. You think of the mess you two are making—the evidence of your desires staining the sheets. You wonder if Law will use his devil fruit powers to clean them, switching out Shachi or Penguin’s laundry with two simple words and the flourish of his hand, much to the disdain of your fellow crewmates.

You’re ripped from your ruminations as his slender fingers dig deeper into the flesh of your hips, nearly bruising. He weakly thrusts up into your heat, chasing his release.

"You—hngg—s-said this was your pussy, right?" Your voice is airy as you rub your delicate nub, nearly there. "Then come in it."

Law swears he sees fucking spots in the corners of his vision, but he isn’t in the state of mind to be even a little concerned. He chokes out your names, practically folds into himself while he comes, long and agonizingly hard. It’s a beautiful sight, watching him gasp and blink through his orgasm until your sopping pussy is filled to the brim.

You follow after him, your walls fucking seize him, and a wave of aftershock hits Law violently, making him clench his jaw so hard it hurts. Tender praise falls from your lips—shiiit Law, you came so much, did s-so good. You lean forward, crying into his tattooed chest as ecstasy rips through you, making your ears ring and your heart beat madly in your chest.

You sigh contentedly when it passes, shaking slightly against Law’s powerful body.  

He cracks open a tired eye as you lift your head slowly. You kiss his jaw and mutter more praise against his sweaty skin.

You know you’re pushing your luck with the favor you’re about to ask.

"What is it?"

You don’t know whether you’re incredibly easy to read or if Law is just that perceptive. Fatigue causes his voice to come out deeper. If you weren’t running on the final reserves of your energy, you might have attempted another round.

"Can you do…the thing?" you ask sweetly, lifting your hand and outstretching your fingers in explanation. "Gotta get cleaned up."

You look up at Law with pleading eyes, attempting to look as cute and innocent as Bepo, though you’re almost certain you’re too disheveled and fucked out to even come close.

He sighs, lifting his tattooed hand. "This is the last time…"

You smile, mumbling your thanks.

“Room. Shambles.”

[chimielie]

what it is

summary: Oikawa x Reader. he makes it out of the friendzone (with some help)

word count: 1.3k

cw: nothing, oikawa in glasses

a/n: i wrote this in under an hour while heavily caffeinated?;!;!4& brain melting

“You’re late,” you say with a grin. Oikawa Tooru pouts at you, his team jacket folded over his arms. He’s already changed out of uniform, you notice; must have exchanged it for a white t-shirt and slacks in the locker room.

“I was swarmed,” he claims as the two of you start to walk together. You roll your eyes and don’t even bother making a jab about his popularity with the girls (and people of all genders, really). At this point, you’ve accepted that deranged fans come with the territory of being friends with the volleyball team captain.

You met Oikawa on the first day of your first year at Aoba Johsai and had been friends ever since. Even though you had no interest in the sport at first, his love for volleyball was infectious. He had even roped you into being the team’s manager. You still weren’t sure how he had pulled that off, but you didn’t mind too much—you’d grown to love the team and the sport too, in your own way.

Despite your closeness, you’d never really understood why he had a fan club, especially as a teenage school athlete. You expected his popularity to grow when (not if) he went professional, but the idea of swooning over some guy you had pre-calculus classes with was totally foreign to you. It was a running joke among your friends that you were immune to Oikawa’s looks and charming magnetism (and, honestly, to all four of the team’s upperclassmen. You could acknowledge how objectively attractive they all were even though none of them seemed to fit your niche).

Sometimes, you caught Oikawa making strange expressions while your friends teased you about not liking him. It felt like you were the only one who noticed these kinds of things, sometimes. You really liked being able to read him so easily: both of you had saved each other under the contact name “Platonic Soulmate” in your phones.

You chalked up the weird faces to your friend’s first-rate ego, and even though you knew that the notion of one person not being desperately in love with him wouldn’t scratch the surface of his self-esteem, you always found yourself taking his hand surreptitiously or leaning your head on his shoulder when you did see him looking mopey. He always perked up, after that, and all would be sunshine again.

Today, everyone else had bailed on you when you suggested a joint ice-cream-and-study-date before next week’s exams. Iwaizumi had claimed that Oikawa was too loud and always distracted him, so he couldn’t seriously try to study together. Matsukawa had to babysit and refused to bring the brats, as he affectionately called his siblings, to get sweets. Hanamaki had just quirked his eyebrows at you and said, “I don’t feel like third wheeling. Thanks, but no thanks.”

You hadn’t really understood what he meant, but you hadn’t questioned it.

Oikawa had almost begged off to do some solo practice, too, but you’d made a fuss about nearing the end of your high school experience and worrying that you would fall out of touch when volleyball became his whole life (even moreso than it was now!), and he’d caved with an overdramatic sigh and a soft look that told you he wasn’t all that mad about your guilt-tripping.

You’re broken from your thoughts when you reach the ice-cream shop, Oikawa jabbering in your ear about some drama you can’t keep up with.

“And then she told me—ah, I can’t read the menu. You know, they were late refilling my contact prescription this month, so I’ve been carrying around my glasses, I hate it. So unflattering.”

You worry your lip as you stare at the flavor chart, barely listening to him talk.

“I’m sure it’s,” you start, turning to him as he slides the case out of his pocket and puts the frames on his face in a smooth motion. “Um.”

The glasses are not unflattering, you think dumbly, staring at him, your sentence hanging unfinished. The glasses perch on his nose perfectly, making you appreciate, for the first time, the shape of his nose and his cheekbones. Had they always been that sharp? And since when had his eyes been so pretty, reflecting the sunlight in so many shades, framed with long eyelashes that would have made you jealous if you weren’t so—

You reach out and lift the glasses off his face slowly, hoping that the old, familiar features that you’d never felt anything but friendship-friendly feelings towards would return. You can still see it, though: the divot of his Cupid’s bow is appealing, now, his smooth skin glowing to you, his surprised expression fucking adorable. You drop the frames back onto his nose.

Very abruptly, whatever immunity you once had to Oikawa’s looks is demolished in one fell swoop.

“I have to go have a midlife crisis,” you say decisively, and march out of the shop.

“Hey! What—where are you going? You’re not even middle-aged?” Oikawa calls after you, and you try steadfastly to ignore him, but every sense seems to have been awakened to your friend. Your face flushes, and you start walking faster, nearing the pace of a jog even though your limbs are stiff.

You finally pull over in a quieter, slightly more secluded spot between two buildings. You lean against the wall, closing your eyes, trying to remind yourself to take deep breaths.

“Are you okay?” Oikawa says, and you curse his long, athlete legs for having followed you so swiftly. “What’s wrong?”

You open your eyes. He’s still wearing the fucking glasses. Rest in peace, you think to yourself, surely my heart is going to give up soon, at the rate it’s going. Your lips part, but you can’t seem to get the words out. His worried gaze studies you until he finds something—exactly whatever you didn’t want him to see. A slow smile unfurls over his face, and you narrow your eyes. Ugh, how dare his smugness be attractive too, now?

“I should wear the glasses more often, huh?” He says, and you shake your head no frantically.

“Please don’t,” you say. “It’s, like, it doesn’t even matter anymore, anyway, I can’t unsee it now.”

“Unsee what?” He cocks his head, and he’s getting closer, and there’s nowhere to back away from him because you’re up against a wall—

“You’re hot!” You wail. “I saw it and I’m never gonna stop thinking it now, it doesn’t even matter what you wear, I’m doomed! This is the worst thing ever, ‘Kawa, how’m I supposed to go on… I can’t be your friend and a part of your fan club. I don’t think I can even be a part of your fan club ‘cause I don’t just think you’re hot, I think I have a crush on you—oh, my God, I have a c—”

Your increasingly frantic rambling is cut off by Oikawa sealing his lips to yours. The kiss is quick and sweet, and when he pulls away he still looks so, so handsome, and so concerned.

“Please breathe,” he says, and you nod, gaping at him in shock. “I like you too, okay? Please stop having a crisis.

“Okay,” you exhale, bracing your hands on his shoulders. “Okay. I’m still freaking out, though. I think the only way to stop it is to keep kissing me.”

Oikawa heaves a big, overdramatic sigh, and leans in, his glasses bumping your face; giving in to you, just like he always does.

[joelscruff]

this one thing you did (joel miller x f!reader) 18+

this is totally self indulgent smut based on a night out i had. i don't usually put songs into my fic but this song was playing on said night out and how could i not include it?? anyway, enjoy 🎉 and here's my kofi if you'd like to leave a tip 💕 summary: dancing with a stranger at your favorite club leads to something filthy. (early 2000s!joel, no outbreak, no use of y/n) rating: 18+ explicit (mdni) warnings: grinding, unprotected p in v sex with a stranger (don't do this), creampie, comeplay, dirty talk, bathroom sex word count: 3.5k

The booming bass and flashing lights are their own kind of high, regardless of how many shots you've already taken tonight. The club is your playground, bodies swaying back and forth, bare skin reflecting sweat and glitter as you playfully grind against a nameless and faceless man on the dancefloor, hips rotating to the beat of the music as he grips your hips tightly from behind. This is your favorite place.

You spot your friend over at the bar, still chatting up her date enthusiastically; she's barely danced tonight, too distracted by her handsome new friend she met last weekend. You figured this would happen; third wheeling has become a skill in and of itself for you after being single for so long, but you don't mind. She seems happy, he seems sweet, it's all good. Besides, you have other plans.

The song is winding down and you turn around to finally match a face to the hands on your body; he's cute, albeit a bit young, blonde hair and blue eyed with a goatee he should probably reconsider. He's hot though, and he smells good. The alcohol still buzzing in your body, you reach up to wrap your arms around his neck, smirking playfully.

"You got plans after this?" you ask over the pumping bass, flipping your damp hair out of your face and feeling a cascade of glitter zip past your ear.

"Kinda," he replies back just as loudly, hands traveling down to your ass, "I'm at a bachelor party, we're going to another club after this," he squeezes you through your dress and smirks, "You wanna come?"

You bite your lip and your eyes dart back to your friend at the bar, still chatting it up with her new man. You've met him, got a good vibe, but you still feel uncomfortable leaving her here, even if she'd probably tell you to go on ahead. You turn back to the blonde and shake your head.

"Can't leave my friend," you shout, "Sorry, maybe next time!"

He makes a face, frustration suddenly flooding his expression, "But there won't be a next time!"

"Why?"

"It's my bachelor party," he replies, like this should have been obvious to you, "I get married tomorrow!" He squeezes your ass tighter and leans down to speak directly in your ear, "Be my last, come on."

You pull back from him immediately, yanking yourself out of his grip with disgust, "CREEP!" you yell loudly, pointing to him as people begin to turn to look at the two of you. The song has ended, a few seconds of silence granting you the attention you desire, "GET OUT, CREEP!"

"Creep!" you hear another girl call near you, "Leave!"

"CREEP," someone else calls, and soon most of the people in your general vicinity are shouting at the man to leave; he backs away, looking at your angrily as he turns around and lurches toward the front of the club to find his friends. You smile after him. That's how it's done.

The next song has already started and you feel your face light up when you recognize 1 Thing by Amerie blasting through the club speakers, the unmistakable sound of percussion reverberating in your bones as you look frantically around the crowded floor for someone else to dance with.

"That was ballsy," you hear a voice behind you, deep and southern, and you look down with surprise to see a large hand pressed firmly against your belly through your tight dress, "Wanna dance?"

"You're not married or getting married, are you?" you call back, twisting your face a bit to catch the slightest glimpse of brown hair and a beard; hot.

"Single as they come," he replies, and that's all you need.

You grind back on him immediately, loving how his grip around your middle tightens as he pushes his groin against your ass. Your dress certainly doesn't leave much to the imagination, ridiculously short and covered in silver glitter; you can feel the swell of him through his jeans and you smirk as you lean back against him and start to sway your hips to the beat.

His hands are a godsend; he knows exactly how to touch you, hands moving from your midsection to squeeze your hips, thumbing the shape of your thong beneath your dress. It's not visible but it's like he knows it's there, caressing the V of your hips and grinding himself into you a bit firmer. You feel your brows furrow, a bit taken aback by this level of intimacy; you're so used to club guys who just take what they need, view you as more of a warm body than anything else. Which is fine, it's not like you view them any different.

But the way this man dances with you is entirely new. He pulls you in closer as the song progresses, noses your hair and helps you sway back and forth. He smells good, even better than the blonde guy, a more mature and masculine scent that's musked and piney. He's big and tall too, you can tell how much larger he is than you when you lean back further and press your entire body against him, feel the broad expanse of his chest against your back.

"Fuck," you mutter under your breath, knowing he can't hear you, "That's good."

It feels almost impossible for him to hold you any closer but he somehow does, tightening his grip around you in his arms, one of the hands on your hips trailing upwards to press flat against the space between your breasts where you're bare. You look down, eyes hazy, and see the large shape of his hand firm on your chest, fingers splayed out and lightly brushing the sides of your breasts, only held up by some tape you'd applied before leaving the house.

"Fuck," you repeat, but you can't hear it, biting down on your lip in a pleasured pout and grinding back into the man even more, feeling yourself begin to throb under your dress. Almost like he can sense where you're aching, he moves his other hand down from your hip to grip your thigh, thumb tracing the innermost part gently. You shiver in his grasp.

You bring your gaze back over to the bar and are surprised to see your friend looking over at you, a wide grin plastered on her face. She mouths something and you squint to see her, making a confused face.

"He's fucking hot," she mouths again, throwing you a thumbs up, "Good job."

You feel yourself grin back at her, "Is he?" you mouth back.

She nods quickly and mouths, "He's perfect!"

You feel a flutter of pride and contentedness rise in your chest at her blessing. It's rare that either of you ever call a guy perfect, but you'd seen the hint of brown hair and the beard and hoped he was your type. You like big, tall men. Strong, ones who can take care of you, lift you up if necessary, take control. Brunettes with beards have always been your favorite. Obviously she can see that he's completely your type.

The song is winding down but you're desperate to stay as close to this man as possible, pressing back against him and closing your eyes. You feel his breath at your ear, both hands returning to their familiar spots on your hips, fingertips lightly touching your bare thighs. You suddenly want him to lift up the dress and start fucking you right there on the dancefloor; you're down bad.

You lean your head upwards a bit, trying to speak loud enough so he can hear you, but also not so loud that people in the vicinity can hear as you say, "Wanna fuck me?"

You feel him smirk against your skin, "Lead the way."

Still not turning to look at him you reach down and take his hand, the final notes of the song ringing out in the club as you lead him to the women's bathroom. You've had sex in here before, many times, so you know how to give yourself the privacy you need for the short period of time you need it.

You drag him inside the bathroom and finally turn around to look at him, grinning again when you get a good look. Oh, your friend was so right. He's perfect; tall and broad, scruffy and unkempt in the sexiest way possible. He's got brown eyes, dark and seductive, and a playful smirk that's already driving you wild. Before you put your hands on him you quickly reach down under one the sinks and grab the edge of a ridiculously heavy box with god knows what inside; no one questions the box.

"Help me put this in front of the door." you say, and he doesn't need telling twice, immediately reaching down to pull it out. You know from experience that this box is heavy, which is the whole point people leave it here to begin with. However, he seems to move it with ease, biceps flexing under his black t-shirt as he places it in front of the bathroom door.

As soon as it's in place you grab his forearm and pull him toward you, worrying your lip between your teeth as you both move toward the sinks with what's probably a pathetically debauched expression on your face.

He grins and carefully picks you up and places you on one of the counters like you weigh nothing, leaning down to plant wet kisses along your neck as he pushes your thighs apart and stands between them. Your dress is so tight that he has to roll it up a bit, leaving you sitting bare-assed on the countertop; you're definitely gonna need a shower later.

"You do this a lot?" he asks you, that southern drawl back in full force and making you pulse even more in your panties, "Seems like you know what you're doin'."

You nod unabashedly, "It's not my first rodeo."

He laughs at that, deep and rough, then brings his hands down to grip your thighs tightly beneath his wide palms, "Let's make it a memorable one, then."

You lean forward to capture his lips in a hot kiss, wet and sloppy. He tastes like whisky and you're sure you probably taste like vodka, the strong flavors mixing together as he pushes his tongue inside your mouth and inches his fingers upwards to grip your thong. He tugs it down easily and keeps kissing you hard, licking inside your mouth and humming at the taste. You hear the unmistakable jangle of his belt buckle as he pulls it free, making you open your eyes and pull back from the kiss to watch with hooded eyes as he pulls out his dick.

"Knew you were big," you say with a smirk, batting your eyelashes at him, "Could feel it on the dancefloor."

He chuckles and pulls your dress up even more, leaning back to look down and assess where you're bare. He reaches down and thumbs your wet cunt, smirking when a moan immediately falls from your mouth.

"And I knew you were dripping," he replies roughly, "Could feel it on your thighs."

Fuck. You let out another moan when he quickly shoves two fingers inside without any warning; you take him easily, pussy sucking his fingers in with an obscene squelch that makes both of you groan. He pulls his fingers out and drags them along the length of his cock, mixing your juices with the precum leaking from his weeping tip.

"How long we got? Since you're the expert." He doesn't say it in a way that's shameful or disgusted; if anything he seems more turned on by the fact that this isn't new for you, shuffling forward to bump the fat head of his cock against your opening.

"Maybe five minutes," you reply quickly, gaze jumping to the closed door, "Before someone starts knocking."

You realize then that he's not wearing a condom and that neither of you have even suggested the prospect of being safe. You know for a fact there's some in that box; whether staff or people coming in and out are responsible for that, you're not sure. Regardless, you only briefly consider asking him to put one on before deciding it doesn't matter - you're drunk and horny and you want to feel him raw.

You can practically hear your friend calling you an idiot already.

You hitch your arms up around his neck and hear yourself emit a guttural moan as he pushes his cock inside you. He goes a bit slow at first, just to get you adjusted to his size, but then he's filling you completely to the hilt and you have to hold on tightly to him so you don't topple off the counter. He's so large, practically in your stomach as he starts to steadily thrust in and out, holding you close.

"Oh fuck," you whimper into his shoulder, hands scrambling for purchase against his back, "Shit."

"Yeah, that's it," he murmurs in your ear, low and seductive, "Take it."

You take it, that's for sure. It's not like you have any other choice. You're glad he can't see your face because you're sure it's twisted into a ridiculous expression, mouth agape and eyes crossing slightly as he fucks you deep. You've taken big dicks before but never from somebody who actually knew how to use it, how to drag it back and forth at the perfect speed, be sure to prod that special spot deep inside you. Your friend was right, he's perfect.

The bass of the music continues to boom outside the bathroom, muffled and echoey; you don't recognize the song but that's the last thing on your mind as this gorgeous man fucks you into a state of pure nirvana. You whimper pathetically in his ear, feeling your back bump the bathroom mirror every time he thrusts, one hand coming up to get lost in his hair.

"Fuck, you take it good," he mutters, slamming his hips back and forth and tightening his grip around your body, "Perfect pussy. You fuckin' love gettin' filled up, don't you?"

You nod into his shoulder and whimper again when he starts fucking you even faster, body practically vibrating on the counter. You pull back to look at him and find your head bobbing wildly back and forth like you're a ragdoll, completely at his mercy. You lock eyes with him and moan when you see his blissed out expression, the glitter from your face now clinging to his sweaty skin.

"Oh fuck, what a face," he groans, "You're cross-eyed, baby. I'm fuckin' you stupid, huh?"

You nod frantically again, "I-" you try to speak, voice shaky and weak as he relentlessly pounds into you without stopping, "I'm-"

He nods along with you, "I know, baby, I know," he murmurs, "Don't talk, just take that cock."

You grip him tightly again and bury your face in his shoulder. It's perfect timing because you almost feel yourself start to cry out when he starts rubbing your clit, bringing you to your release. Your legs wrap around his waist and you practically scream into his shoulder, your whole body shaking and vibrating as your orgasm takes over.

"That's it," he hisses through his teeth, clearly close to his own release, "That's it, come all over my cock."

Your pussy tightens and pulses around his thick length as you come, clit throbbing beneath the man's steady touch. You whine into his shirt as he fucks you faster, impossibly harder, the wide head of his cock repeatedly pushing against your favorite spot. It's too much and you have to bite down on the fabric to stop yourself from sobbing.

He doesn't ask where you want his come; he knows.

He fucks you once, twice, three times more before stilling inside of you and letting out a deep and rough groan, pulling back to watch your expression as he fills you up. Your jaw drops, legs shaking around his waist as you feel his thick spurts of release paint your insides. You both stare into each other's eyes with mirrored looks of pleasure, eyes hooded and dark.

"I'm clean," he says, voice breaking slightly, "Probably shoulda told you that before we started."

"It's okay," you whimper, still focused on the feeling of his cock, the way it pushes his come further inside, "I wanted it."

"Yeah, you did," he murmurs, eyes scanning your face, "You wanted it bad, didn't you?"

You nod and he leans in to kiss you. It's sweeter this time, not as hurried or sloppy, and you moan faintly against his lips when he carefully slides his dick out of you.

"Want me to clean you up?" he asks, and you shake your head.

"No," you whisper, "Wanna feel it dripping when I dance."

He groans and reaches down to pull your thong back up your legs. You shimmy off the counter, legs like jelly as you shakily stand and pull them up all the way.

"That'll keep it in there," he murmurs, pulling your dress down and patting your pussy gently through the material, "For a little while."

A loud knock at the door and the sound of a girl yelling "I have to pee!" notifies the both of you that your time is up. You watch as the man stuffs his softening cock back inside his pants and starts to do up his belt quickly, still eyeing you. He wastes no time in kissing you one last time, holding you close and trailing his fingers up and down your back.

"I gotta head home," he murmurs against your lips after a few seconds, "But thank you for this, I needed it."

You giggle and pull back to take one last look at his face, aware of the girl outside the door still steadily knocking and begging to be let in, "We should do it again."

"I'll hold you to that."

You both pull away from each other and he reaches down to move the box away from the door. Immediately a girl and a few of her friends rush inside, barely batting an eye when they see a man in the women's bathroom; this isn't an uncommon occurrence here. You leave the bathroom with him and walk with him to the exit, making sure to check the bar for your friend. She's still sitting there, lost in her own world. You smile.

"Are you sure you have to go home?" you ask once you're both outside the club, alone together on the sidewalk; the question is probably a little pathetic but you don't care.

He smiles softly, "I do, I'm sorry. I have to be somewhere early tomorrow and if I take you home..." he trails off, eyes scanning up and down your body, "Well, let's just say neither of us will be getting any sleep."

You shiver, more from his words than the cold air, but he still reaches forward to rub your bare shoulders gently, giving you some heat. It's a small and quiet gesture, but it makes your heart flutter.

"Can I get your number?" you ask, suddenly a bit shy despite the fact that you can feel his come beginning to leak out of you. He nods with a smile and you pull your phone out of the top of your dress to hand it over to him.

He takes it from you, looking down and pressing a few buttons to program his number into your contacts, then hands it back to you. You suddenly feel a strange tickle between your legs and your brow furrows.

"Shit," you mutter, realizing what it is.

"What?"

You look down at yourself and see a thick drip of his come inching down your inner thigh. He follows your gaze and makes a strange noise in his throat, taking a few steps forward and watching with dark eyes as it slowly dribbles down your leg.

"You're on the pill, right?" he murmurs.

"Yes," you whisper, still watching his release drip from you.

He pulls you into his arms one more time and kisses you long and deep, slipping his hand under your dress to gently ease some of his come back inside you. You whimper against his mouth as his thick thumb slips inside your hole and carefully pushes his release as deep as he can.

When he pulls back he tilts your chin up and smiles softly at you, eyes still full of desire as you keen beneath his touch.

"Now go dance with all that still inside," he murmurs, "I know you want to."

You're back inside the club a few moments later, skin tingling with the rush of what's happened in the last twenty minutes. You take out your phone quickly to make sure his number is definitely there, that he did it right. You feel your face warm when you see the new name listed in your contacts:

Joel.

You slip your phone back inside your dress and head for the dance floor, pushing past the gyrating bodies and the couples making out, the dudes looking for whichever girl will grind on them. Just one more song, you think to yourself. The bass booms, the lights flash, and you dance with abandon.

This is your favorite place.

[rizzanon]

childhood friend! Shinichiro Sano

part 1 (here) | part 2

childhood friend! Shinichiro whom you meet for the first time when you were both 8 years old at the playground, wondering why he was standing ontop of the jungle gym, looking at the distance

"Why are you standing up there?"

" 'cuz the view is nice!"

"....Weirdo.."

"H-Hey!"

childhood friend! Shinichiro whom you meet again a few weeks later at his grandfather's dojo where your parents signed you up for some taekwondo classes for self defense

"What are you doing here, weirdo?"

"Hey! I'm no weirdo! And this is my grandfather's place okay? I'm allowed to be here anytime I want!"

"Woahh, your grandfather's the teacher? That's cool!"

"I know right?!"

childhood friend! Shinichiro whom you become friends with over the next few days, watching him miserably fail to show off execute the moves his grandfather taught him to you

"HAHAHAH! You suck at this, y'know."

"Shut up! You don't have to tell me something I already know."

"At this rate, I can beat you easily in a spar..!"

"In your dreams!"

childhood friend! Shinichiro who introduces you to his only other friend, Takeomi, and the two of you hit it off very well (much to Shinichiro's dismay)

"I didn't think Shin had other friends."

T- "Neither did I, I thought he made you up."

"H-Hey! What's with this mockery!!?"

childhood friend! Shinichiro who ends up going to the same middle school and high school as you much to his delight

"You better stop slacking and start putting in effort in your studies Shin!"

"What are you, my mother?"

-smacks his head-

"Ouch! Okay, okay! I get it!"

childhood friend! Shinichiro who hates the fact that his siblings (Manjiro and Emma) love you as much as he does

"Seriously?? I can't believe you all are ganging up on me like this...!—Fake sobs—My very own siblings..."

"It's your fault that I'm just better, heheh."

E- "Yeah! She's way kinder to us that you are, Shin!"

"What?? But I'm always nice to you both too!"

M- "Plus, she always buys us our favourite snacks too!!"

"Bribery at it's finest... I can't believe this.."

childhood friend! Shinichiro who always goes to you to get treated whenever he's injured after fighting with other people

"Let me guess, you got into another fight again?"

"Ding ding ding! You guessed correct! Too bad there's no prize."

"Ha. Ha. Very funny Shin. Why don't you go and see an actual doctor to get your injuries treated?"

"Why would I do that when I have you who'll fix me up every time?"

childhood friend! Shinichiro who always goes to your class during lunch break to find you whenever he forgets to bring his own bento (was it on purpose? you don't know), knowing that you always make extra for him just in case

"Well, well, well, look who decides to forget to bring his bento for the third time this week?"

"Heheh, about that..."

"Don't worry, I made extra food for you."

"Aww, so you do care about me."

"Don't push it, Shin."

childhood friend! Shinichiro who worries that his rising reputation as a delinquent might bring down your reputation as well

"Are you sure you still want to be friends with me? I get it if you don't want to-"

"I already told you, I don't care what people think about me. What matters is what you think of me. That's all."

"...."

"Besides, who else will treat your wounds other than me, hm?"

childhood friend! Shinichiro who begs asks you to ride with him on his bike, promising you that he would keep you safe

"You want me to what??!"

"Come on...! Ride with me just this once! I promise you won't fall off."

"If I die, the blame's on you."

"Wha- You won't die! And I'll make sure nothing happens to you."

childhood friend! Shinichiro who introduces you to his other two friends in Black Dragons, Wakasa and Benkei, hoping you'd feel more reassured about him leading a gang and being a delinquent after meeting his closest friends

B- "Woah, didn't know you had a girl, Shin. Who's she?"

"What?"

W- "Let's be real, Shin can't flirt for his life."

"Hey! That's rude! I so have game."

"Game of a rock, you mean."

"Oi!"

childhood friend! Shinichiro who finds solace in you after every time he gets rejected by a girl he asks out much to your dismay (this was the 20th time)

"I don't get it. What am I doing wrong??!"

"It's simple. You're the problem."

"Rude... but seriously, why won't any girl date me? I'm certainly not that bad of a boyfriend if they gave me a chance...!"

"Well firstly, do you even have any interest in any of those girls you asked out? How do you even move on so easily?!?"

"If you put it like that... no, not really. I just want to date someone for the highschool experience y'know..!"

-smacks his head-

"Ouch!"

"No wonder no girl ever takes your confession seriously. Plus, your hair is so gelled up, no girl's gonna like that... Once a weirdo, always a weirdo."

childhood friend! Shinichiro who listens to your advice, and stops using gel as often as he used to on his hair, sometimes leaving his hair down to find out what you'd say about it

"You didn't put gel on your hair today?"

"Nope, I was kind of in a rush today, haha.."

"Well... you look... better like this, if I'm being honest."

"R-Really??"

"Yeah, keep this up and someday, a girl might accept your confession."

childhood friend! Shinichiro who tells you about the rumors he's been hearing around the school, about how many of the students thought you and him were dating and how he wasn't so opposed to the idea of that

"Wait, seriously?? People think we're dating?!?"

"My reaction exactly. I can't believe they think we're dating!"

"Not that I would mind that though..."

"Hm? What did you say?"

"??! You're hearing things, Shin. I didn't say anything at all..."

Part 2

m.list

[slutforleeminho]

I have a Suggestion • Han Jisung

Jisung has a suggestion as to how to help you with your insanely high sex drive

You would never consider yourself a slut, but the constant ache in your lower region made it difficult to keep your pants on. You discovered this in high school when you’d come home and make a b line straight to your nightstand where you kept your vibrator and some lube just in case. But you never needed it, your panties were always soaked at the end of the day. The littlest things would get your heart rate up and body burning with need, like that one time freshman year when a very handsome boy had to squeeze between you and someone else, placing his hands on your hips and slipping through the small space, rubbing his entire front against your back and his lower half against your ass. You had to run to the bathroom the relieve the pressure that was building up. And that very same boy is now someone you would trust with your life.

Han Jisung.

He was your best friend and also the only person who knows about your problem. Well it wasn’t a problem at first but it turned into one when you started to go out every Friday and Saturday night with intentions to get railed by complete strangers. And jisung didn’t like that at all. “Are you trying to get aids?” He’d asked you after the third weekend of you going out and not coming home till the morning. And then he started staying over at your place on the weekends just to hold you hostage so you could go out and fall into temptation. But little did he know he wasn’t making it any easier on you, especially when he walked around your apartment in nothing but a towel hanging lowly on his hips, showing off his toned stomach and a prominent v line disappearing underneath the material. And a toothbrush hanging out of his mouth, while he walked to the room to grab something out of his bag. He always slept in your bed with you, “to make sure you don’t run off in the middle of the night” he explained while settling under the blankets and letting out a satisfied hum. You didn’t mind sharing a bed with him at all, but it made it difficult on the nights you so desperately needed to touch yourself. And you won’t even lie, sometimes…. you did, with your best friend less than a foot away from you. And you could’ve swore that those nights your orgasms were so much more intense. But you couldn’t figure out why.

It was currently Saturday night and jisung was in the kitchen making you both dinner. It was a sweet gesture but it made your whole body heat up from the sight of him. You finally decided to stop ogling him and walk into the kitchen, and throw your top half over the kitchen island and groan as loud groan of frustration. “Can I pleeeeease just go out tonight? I’ll only be gone for a couple hours.” You smile up at him, giving him your best puppy dog eyes, hoping the cuteness would seduce him into letting you leave, your underwear is probably already ruined so you need to get out of here before you do something you’ll regret. “No” is all he says, continuing on the food. “You let you head fall onto the counter, with a loud thump and a whine coming from your mouth. “This is so annoying” you started flopping around like a fish, your whole body convulsing. “You aren’t my dad y’kow” your voice somewhat muffled by your hair thrown all over your face. “I might as well be, now get up before you get your hair in the food. Why are you whining anyways?” He asked as you straightened you body and fixed your hair.

“It’s uh… kinda tmi” You avoided eye contact by looking at you hands.

“Well go ahead. I already know all your dirty secrets anyway” Did he know you masterbate with him right next to you while you look at his beautiful face as a visual? Probably not.

You took a deep breath and said it before you could think too much about it and chicken out. “I already got off this morning and I still feel like I’m gonna explode. So please let me go out.” Your voice was high pitched. “I have a better idea” You waited for him to continue, open to anything at this point. “ let’s watch porn together, and you can touch yourself if you want too. But I don’t want you out there sleeping around with other guys.” You were stunned for a moment but then imagining the outcome of this. “I don’t know. I get really….. weird when I’m in the mood.” You said recalling the other times you’ve almost gone crazy chasing after your high. “I don’t think straight and I take things too far.”

“I’m okay with whatever you choose as long as you stay.” You could already feel list clouding you senses and you don’t think you couldn’t go without some kind of release tonight. You finally agreed after some time and jisung reassuring you that nothing would change between the both of you and that this was just him helping you out as a friend. He placed his laptop on the coffee table in the living room and pulled up the website “he often uses” he had said. You both sat in the floor in front of it, your backs pressed against the sofa. “What do like to watch?” He turned his head to look at you, while you were staring at the choices on the computer screen, all of the were just regular maleXfemale in missionary. You looked back at jisung almost embarrassed to tell him what you always watch but you do anyways.

“Lesbian” Your voice lower than a whisper. Jisungs eyes got bigger and his dick twitched in his pants. If he wasn’t hard earlier (which he was, seeing you get all needy and beg to let you go out and get dicked down) he was now. He nodded and clicked on the search bar to type it out, and letting you pick which video. You clicked on a video by you favorite creators. A sweet couple, both beautiful, and one of them had the sweetest moans. The video is mostly forplay, one of the girls sucking on her tits and groping her ass and eventually rubbing her middle finger up and down her cunt, making her whimper and grind against her hand. You glanced over at jisung, his arms were crossed and his legs were spread, giving you the perfect view of his hard on. His eyebrows were scrunched together in concentration and his lip tucked between is teeth. He was breathing heavily and you could tell he was just as horny as you were now. “I’ll be right back” you said, abruptly standing up and heading to you room. You returned with a blanket and jisung thought nothing of it, you were probably just cold. But as time went on he noticed a little bit of movement under the blanket right in between your thighs. He was so focused on the slight movements he didn’t notice you were staring at him, not halting your movements even a little. When he did look up and meet your gaze he almost came in his pants. You looked so fucked out already, your lips parted and eyebrows scrunched a little from the pleasure, but what really had him going was the way you were looking at him while you did it. I. Fact your hand sped up once you made eye contact and you looked him up and down. “Touch yourself” you finally said. “I don’t have a blanket” he smirked looking down at your covering. You flung it from off your body and threw it at him. “Here you can have mine” you retorted. His jaw almost hit the floor when his eyes scanned over your body. Your short you were wearing earlier we’re now around your ankles along with your underwear. But what shocked him the most is that the movement under that blanket wasn’t just your hand rubbing your cunt, it was a pink dildo. So that must’ve been why you went to your room.

Even with Jisungs eyes on you, you didn’t stop your movements, still plunging the toy in and out of your dripping cunt. He sat there for a moment, surprised by your boldness. “Jisung” he pulled his eyes away from your body to look at your face. “That looks painful” your eyes trailed down his own body. His eyes followed to where yours were looking, and landed on his crotch, where his jeans have gotten significantly tighter. “Ji please” your voice was airy. You rarely called him that unless you were really desperate and trying to convince him of something. He finally gave in and placed his hand over his bulge and started palming himself through his pants. Letting out a sigh of relief, you were right, it was getting painful. But that only lasted a few minutes before you wanted more. “Take off your pants” It went on like that until his pants and underwear were discarded and joined the pile of your own clothes. He was lazily stroking his cock while staring at the screen. While you were staring and him. His toned thighs, the way his hand wrapped around his length, the precum beading at the tip before he swiped his thumb over it to use as lubricant. It was making your insides flutter. Soon he was aggressively pulling at his cock, trying to relieve the building pressure growing in his lower abdomen. You were fucking yourself at the same pace, attempting to match his movements. You were both getting so close but you just couldn’t seem to fully get there. “Ji…. “ he snapped his head in your direction to see what you needed, only find you with your head thrown back over the couch cushion with your eyes screwed shut and you face contorted in pleasure.

Were you…… moaning his name?

Your eyes slowly opened and your head tilted to look at him one last time before you exploded. “Fuck Ji” you let out a drawn out moan and you whole body convulsed and twitched as the wave of pleasure crashed over you. Jisung couldn’t help but watch as you reached your end, squeezing himself a little harder while thrusting up into his hand while spurts of cum painted his hand and thighs. His hand slowed as he came down from his high even though he was still hard. But you didn’t stop, you kept going even after your orgasm. You arched your back from the overstimulation but kept going while letting out small whimpers. “Not enough” you said quietly, still out of breath. “What do you mean?” Jisung asked, clearly confused. “It’s not enough Ji I need……” your wrist finally slowed and you pulled the toy out of you and set it to the side. You sat up straight and looked into his eyes. “I need you to fuck me Jisung” his eyes widen and his lips parted like he wanted to respond but he couldn’t. “Please” you begged.

He wasn’t about to miss possibly his only chance to be with you.

“I thought you’d never ask” he shot up from his spot on the floor and hovered over you, placing his lips to your neck and his hands on your covered breasts. You moaned as he sucked on the most sensitive spots on your neck and collar bone. He raised your shirt up until it was over your head and thrown across the room. Once you were completely exposed to him he dove into your chest, sucking and licking at your nipple and then moving to give the same attention to the other one. Your fingers were tangled in his hair, gently pulling and urging him to continue. He trailed down your abdomen and lest soft kisses on your inner thighs. After some encouraging from your whines and whimpering he finally licked a long stripe up your center before diving in and sucking on your clit.

“Shit Ji” your back arched and your eyes rolled to the back of your head. His tongue worked wonders on you, pushing in and out of your entrance and nudging you closer to the edge once more. He pushed two fingers inside of you and curled them while roughly sucking on your clit. Your fingers pulled harshly at his hair making him moan. The vibrations shot through your body and your legs began to shake and your body convulsed as your second orgasm hit you hard. Your thighs wrapped around his head and his tongue slowed as you came down from your high.

Before he could even say a word you were pulling him up to you and begging for more. “I need you inside me” you wrapped your legs around his torso and pulled his shirt off of him. “You weren’t kidding when you said you don’t think straight” he smirked down at you. “Do you wanna stop?” You raised your eyebrows at him, daring him to say yes. “No” is all he said. “Good, cause I might cry if we do.” He was about to say something smart but you cut him off by kissing him. Aggressive. Aggressive was the only word to describe it. All teeth and tongue, moaning into each other’s mouth. Desperate to feel something, anything, you placed you hand around his throbbing cock and aligned it with you core, squeezing it slightly. You ground your hips upwards and his tip pressed against your entrance but didn’t quite enter. You were the first one to break the kiss. “Please just put it in Ji” you felt like you would explode if you didn’t release soon. “You’ve tortured me enough tonight”

“Oh not nearly enough” he was smiling ear to ear which worried you.

“Save it for another time”

“There’ll be another time?”

“If you don’t want me going out then yes” apparently that was all it took for him to finally push in, filling you up perfectly. The stretch was amazing, he may not be the biggest guy you’ve been with but he was at least in the top five.

His thrust started out slow but soon sped up, per your request. He was hitting every spot just right, making your toes curl. You ran your hand down his abdomen, he didn’t have abs but he was toned, and the firmness was making you clench around him. With every thrust you could see his muscles clench and unclench, you could hear his heavy breathing and quiet moans. You could see a thin layer of sweat building on his skin, the way his hair was sticking to his forehead and his lips were parted. His eyes were screwed shut, probably trying his hardest not to cum to soon. You never looked so closely at the people you slept with, but now you were taking in every detail of him, drinking in the way he moans your name and holds you so tight. It was so intimate and was going to have you coming for the third time very soon. “Oh my gosh” was all you could get out before you wrapped your arms around his neck and pulling him closer to you, and moaning his name as your walls clamped around him making it hard for him to move. But the tightness made his hips stutter and suddenly he was spilling his seed into you without a warning.

He collapsed on top of you, unable to move as he came back to earth. Your fingers played with his sweaty hair while you both just layer in your living room floor completely naked. “That was the best idea you’ve ever had” you stared at the ceiling until he lifted his head to look at you. “Are you satisfied now?” He asked jokingly. “I could go another round” you answered not so jokingly.

PLEASE READ

First i would like to say THANK YOUUU SO MUCH FOR 200 FOLLOWERS!!!!!!! This is so exciting! And I would also like to apologize for not being active. After the passing of Astro member Moonbin and some personal things happened, I felt like I needed a break from everything. And after this incident I created a twitter and instagram account dedicated to saying kind things about skz. I know people say we can’t help them but I’m sure as hell going to try. They’ll probably never see it and that’s fine but I just want them to know how loved they are. Please I beg you go follow it so it can grow and reach more stays and possibly skz, it’s stayville143 and you can dm that account of something you would like to say about them and I’ll surely post it. I’m so sorry for the long message but I’m tired of seeing these idols lose their lives to hate. And I don’t think I could take it if something happened to any of straykids.

Taglist: @yumiblogs

[urhoneycombwitch]

On dad!Steve !! I would love if you could write something about him coming to terms with becoming a dad/pregnancy and labour/just first time dad!Steve in general makes me melt (especially if he's a girl dad 😔)

kay I’ll speak on it bc I have thoughts for SURE

cw: dad!steve, pregnant!R, light emetephobia ment, childbirth desc (no smut but my page is +18 only)

canon-wise, I feel like Steve’s only gotten smarter. obviously he’s still got a goofy himbo side. but he’s getting cleaner with fighting. sharper with his observations. lighter on his feet that’s only come with lots of protective practice.

but the part of him that really cares goes into overdrive after s4, in the canon I’m building in my head 😇 I think he might get a little obsessive about safety for awhile, in the wake of their heroic, underground-world-defeating victory. that kicks into high gear when he finds out you’re pregnant.

(see more of my to-be-named world building here)

for the first few months of your pregnancy he’s never been more grateful to be working in the same building as you. he takes every opportunity to to visit you at your library posting, between teaching his classes (under the pretense of grading papers. Professor Harrington can generally be found at a one-elbow lean on your front desk any time he isn’t in his office.)

he just loves you so much and wants to make sure you’re doing okay. he brings you ginger soda, the fancy brand you like- kept stocked in the staff fridge when your stomach is roiling with nausea, passed with an apologetic kiss to the back of your hand. 

bleeding heart Steve feels so bad he can’t take all the pain away, does his best to alleviate your new and growing discomforts. rubs your shoulders and puffy ankles down with lotion each night. gives up coffee in the mornings (even tho he used to RUN on caffeine) so you can kiss him without aversion 💖. he’s with you for every shaky night-sweat throw up session on the bathroom floor, kneeling to hold you hair back from getting sick in it. warm palm on your lower back in assurance and comfort. 

he calls it at 6 months. begs and cajoles and patiently argues (sweetheart, you’re wakin’ up so early with work. you should really rest, anyways- find a nice horizontal hobby to keep you off your feet. treat it like vacation 🫶) which turn into not so patient arguments (practically in your third trimester, goddammit, you want me to go crazy with worry? gonna have premature greys at this rate. let me keep you safe, angel, please. for my sake.) until finally you agree to take the damn maternity leave early.

and u know Steve’s reading all the books. how to be a good first-time dad. 101 lessons for the new parent. mother’s health and wellness magazines. childbirthing books. by the end of your third trimester, he’s gained enough knowledge to be an honorary midwife. could deliver the baby himself, if the situation really called for it. better to be prepared 🫡

and that spring , you’re both lounging on the couch. there’s a sunny spot under the big window, and you’re warming like cats, you feet propped in Steve’s lap. moon of a stomach peeking out from underneath a stolen one of Steve’s soft tees. his eyes are fixed on his library book on gentle parenting until you take a sharp inhale.

there’s a spasming band just under your navel that you press your hands into, and Steve pauses in rubbing absentminded at your ankle. looks up at you in concern and then at his watch and says “whoa, that’s like, 4 contractions in the last 5 minutes. are these for real or what?”

and you’re like “uhmmmm. don’t b mad but my water kind of broke this afternoon.”

and Steve looks at you with this very poorly concealed bewilderment that’s quickly morphing into shock and so you start talking before he can like “no no it’s chill. it’s cool!! 😎 doesn’t even hurt that bad and I knew you’d be home at 4 anyways….”

and you quiet when Steve rips his glasses off and pinches his nose between two fingers and says in a Very strangled voice “yeah. okay. well it’s 5 PM traffic right now which means rush hour which means we need to go to plan C right off the bat…”

and you watch this man unravel in the most efficient way possible. tugging at the roots of his hair until it stands overly-tall but managing to pack all your bags in the car in under 3 minutes. a record. and he gets to the hospital using all the mapped-out backroads so you’re there in a tight 15.

but as it turns out, a speedy arrival to the L&D ward of Hawkins Memorial wasn’t even necessary, because you spend the next 21 hours in the most intense, soul-crushing pain Steve’s ever seen you go thru in his life and it almost breaks him. for real. 

he’s so soft for you and no amount of reading about other people giving birth could have prepared him for the heartache and helplessness of seeing you ride the wave of a contraction. or go thru the brutal process of getting an epidural, your hands digging into his forearms hard enough to leave bruises as you leaned on him thru it all. 

and Steve did not know he could fall more in love w you but he does, the second you become a parent alongside him, wet and wriggling baby girl placed on your chest. spend two nights in the hospital healing up and fumbling through feedings and giggling over your new tiny daughter. counting her fingers and toes every time you unwrap her. cooing over those big brown eyes that look just like Steve’s.

and with his first baby, Steve is overprotective to the max. only Robin can babysit at first, and that’s only after she’s checked off a rigorous amount of reading material from Steve’s comprehensive required book list. he’s fussy about her routine (truly puts so much of the postnatal stress in himself so you can focus on bonding w/ your babe and resting), is fiercely protective over u and the new baby, like mama bear to the maxxx.

he’s actually GREAT at multitasking and the all consuming constant buzz of listening for certain types of crying and feedings and baby hand-offs thru the night really solidify the fact that he can do this. he’s already a million times better than his own parents at it, a fact of which you constantly remind and encourage him with. 

and I’ve said it before but I’ll say it again, best thing to ever happen to Steve Harrington is having a second kid bc it chills him way the hell out. for reasons chalked up simply to It's the way the world works, Steve falls into a natural rhythm w your second kid. finds his stride as they say. he’s just as excited and caretaking and protective during your second pregnancy as with your first, but this time without all of the panic and wire-thin nerves. coasts thru calmly.

perhaps a touch too calm, because when you go into labor with your second kid, it’s the middle of a snowstorm in Hawkins, and since u and Steve went thru such a long hard birth with your eldest, you both take your sweet time getting ready to go. saying goodbye to your 3 year-old while aunt Robin comes to stay. even stopping for a snack on the way to the hospital because last time they didn’t let you eat and you were fucking ravenous the whole time.

but then Steve has to drive so slow and safe bc of the snowy roads and you’re still a good 20 mins out when things progress so rapidly and so unlike the first time around; Steve is so level-headed and  lets you crush all the bones in his right hand while he drives with his left, coaching you through breathing exercises, trying to keep calm but oh shit, you’re making the same sounds you made three years ago when you brought your first baby into the world, all low groans and gritted teeth and Steve’s pleading with you to hold on, just a few more minutes as he coasts into the emergency bay of L&D. doesn’t give a fuck about parking in a tow zone, they can take the damn car, Steve’s already launching himself out of the drivers seat to scoop you up and hike it indoors. 

in the nick of time. 10 minutes and a few pushes later and your second baby is there, all scrunched and tiny, so much smaller than her sister, got the slope of your nose and Steve’s pretty cupids bow. she arrived so fast it feels like a joke, you and Steve cuddling a bit cramped (the way you all like it) in the hospital bed, laughing a little, marveling at the fact that you’re a family of four now, how different it’s all been the second time around. how neither of you realized how much your hearts could expand to engulf your two kids with so much love, it feels like you’re both bursting at the seams 💖

[mayakern]

upcoming store stuff & why we're doing a super sale

omg hiiii it's devin again, and this time i'm bringing store news

the short version: we're moving ourselves back to minnesota, and we're moving order fulfillment to a fulfillment center

wow, that's big news! maya and i are so so so excited to be closer to our minnesota friends (and also my family lol). i'm hoping to be back in northeast minneapolis, but let's be real we're probably gonna get priced out and into the suburbs

in addition to that, due to a variety of reasons i'll explain in more detail below, we're transitioning from in-house fulfillment to working with a fulfillment center (or 3pl, short for third-party logistics). we're at an awkward size that makes staffing difficult and have had issues with extended processing time. the 3pl should be set up by september, and we're working on the back end to have fulfillment centers in australia, canada, the UK, and eventually the EU. if tax authorities work with us we should have all that ready by december 2024!

to prepare for that we're doing a super sale. ash told me not to call it liquidation but she said that like 30 seconds after i hit send on the marketing email, sorry about that. items that we don't want to pay to move to the 3pl are discounted by 25-70%, with some of them priced at cost. under no circumstances will anything ever be 70% off again

if you're nosy you can read the q&a i made up in my head while eating pigs in a blanket:

how are the labor protections at the 3pl?

pretty good! we were shocked to find anything even halfway decent in the US; we went looking for a fulfillment center in the EU to handle all international fulfillment, and the one we found just so happened to have bought a US location two years ago.

they're located in ohio, pay $19/hr, and provide health insurance and 401k matching. that seemed too good to be true so we dug through employee reviews on places like glassdoor, and while there were some bad reviews those were all dated prior to when the facility was purchased by this new company. they also have a very low turnover rate which is a HUGE green flag

why are you transferring to a 3pl?

the serious

sometimes we have a high volume of sales, and it makes sense to have two full-time employees plus a part timer! but usually we have a low-to-medium volume of sales. we can float by on that, but it gets risky, and the economy is in a bad enough state that we're concerned about the longevity

related, the 2023 holiday sale showed us some major flaws in our fulfillment process. if the same issues were to happen this year the business probably wouldn't survive

we're moving cross-country in early 2025 and would've had to close this location anyway

the dumb:

i'm sick of dealing with commercial landlords and if i have one more wall leak i'm going to throw it into the river brick by brick

what about your staff?

unfortunately we will have to say goodbye to our office staff. they have been given 3.5 months notice and no-questions-asked PTO for interviews with a small severance

why are you moving back to minnesota?

troy was always meant to be a temporary move. initially the plan was to move to vermont or massachusetts, but after being out here for 7 years we just kinda want to go home. the weather in troy is perfect for us, we love the mountains, and we have some great friends here, but for some goddamn reason we want our eyelashes to freeze together.

will you be returning to midwest cons?

if we return to cons at all it will be with ariel and/or ash running the booth, maya will not be involved. this would likely be in california and/or in the northeast US.

my friends are begging me to go to CONvergence as an attendee so ig you might see me there? maya has pledged death before crowded venues tho

will you do any local events in minnesota?

we might do sample sales. honestly idk what we're gonna do with the samples we have in troy, most of them are terrible. do you want samples of the strangest low rise bell bottom pants ever created? please take them from me. my bush hangs out

also my kid brother has gotten really into library events and if he asks nice enough we might do some of those

is there anything else?

i mean probably, but i started this last week and i haven't had any other ideas on what to include

[94blazed]

OBSESSION

PART 1

WC : 8.3K

Genre: smut. fluff. crack. angst.

Rating: M (minors dni)

Warnings: depression. alcohol; consumption. no smut in this part!

Summary: Seven wednesday jungkook. You and Jungkook have been delusional about each other your whole lives, but when Jungkook is off the market, you start to wonder if it was all just one-sided. After the break-up with sohee, you became friends with benefits right after a simple hookup, but when he receives a text from his ex..

a/n: this is a two part series! i couldn’t stop expanding the story :,) - no hate to sohee this is fiction!

TAGLIST : sign up here

⋆

⋆

⋆

You and Jungkook have known each other since the 3rd grade, basically throughout your entire lives, and have always had a connection towards each other. Ever since you were kids, there was always something there, a spark, but no match to ignite it. So it was more of an under the table type of thing, but everyone knew it was obvious.

At age 20, I was enrolled in Seoul University along with Jungkook and the rest of the boys. It was the summer of 2020 and we had gathered around the campfire on the beach, cooking s'mores, admiring the sunset, and playing a few rounds of volleyball while enjoying a few cans of Truly. Everyone was present except for Jungkook, who was the last to arrive with a hinted surprise he had mentioned in the gc. As the drinks flowed, I began to suspect that his surprise was just another bottle of alcohol. However, I'm growing a high confidence from these drinks, I start to prepare myself for this moment mentally and physically. To confess my feelings to him.

Light beams hit our faces as Jungkook finally arrived, and I couldn't contain my excitement. Everyone started dashing towards him, with me being the last to arrive. "Guys, I'd like to introduce you to Sohee, my girlfriend," Jungkook announced. Everyone greeted her as they should, and as a friend, I knew I should do the same. However, my heart sank deeper and deeper as I came into contact with her. It registered that she was now Jungkook's girlfriend and that everything that we had between us was probably one-sided and never meant anything, but I couldn't help but wonder why he never mentioned her before..

⋆ TIME SKIP ( 2 years later / december ‘22 )

After Sohee and Jungkook got together, they would always show up together at the hangouts. Even with the rest of the boys being there, I still felt like a third wheel. "jk's kinda a jerk for leading you on just for him to bring a girl out of nowhere," your best friend Jimin whispers. "Yeah," you sigh. You're honestly happy for them, but to be honest, you're a little jealous.

When we hung out with the boys, we would often sneak off to talk and maybe share a kiss or two, but it never progressed into anything further..

Just talking to him as if we were together made me feel like the world was on pause. Looking up from the ground, I saw them cuddling on the couch, his hands on her waist and hers resting on his chest, their eye contact never breaking. It stung a little, but as a friend, I knew I had to be supportive and had to accept the fact that it was over. "Hey, I'm gonna head out. I'm getting tired," I said. "y/n, stay a little longer. It's barely 11," yoongi replied, glancing at the couple. They didn't even acknowledge your presence. "No, it's okay. I have work in the morning anyway," I said, hearing a collective of "aww's" Jimin spoke up, "I'll walk her down. I'll be right back."

"I'm sorry, y/n," Jimin says, turning around to face you. You furrow your eyebrows in confusion. "Jimin, it's not your fault." "I know, but I really thought you two would've ended up together." he pauses. "You know, I've always seen you two sneak off, so I thought you two would have confessed to each other during that time. I would even distract the guys so they wouldn't notice." you smile. "I thought so too, but trust me, chim, I'm happy for them." Jimin throws you a squinted look, making you laugh, as you reach your car, as you say your goodbyes. Jimin embraces you and whispers, "Don't think about it too much. I don't like seeing you like this." grinning, you hug him back tightly, "I won't. Thank you, chim." After letting go, you waved goodbye and made your way home.

⋆ february ‘23

A week after that hangout, Jungkook stopped coming to the hangouts along with Sohee. He slowly stopped responding to the group chat and stopped posting on all his socials. You started thinking that he was just too busy being lovey-dovey with his girlfriend, but your assumption was wrong.

You attempted to contact him multiple times but went straight to voicemail. Frustrated enough you grabbed your keys, hopped in your car, and made your way to his place. Upon arriving, you knocked on his door. only to find that the lights were off, but it was only 9pm? he never goes to bed this early. Banging harder the door finally opened to a messy-haired Jungkook. "What do you wan- y/n?" He was surprised to see you at his doorstep. "What are you doing here?" "I'm here to see what's going on. You don't come to the hangouts, nor do you text or call us?" "I'm sorry." "Yeah, sorry. I love to hear it." "You think this was my choice?" Now you were confused. "What do you mean?" "Sohee. She didn't want me to be around you guys, especially you." You were taken aback a little. "Wait, me?" " I told her about us. She never did things like you did, and comparing you to her must've gotten under her skin." you didn't know Sohee would feel this threatened by you. "Wait, where is she now?" "We broke up a while ago. she took everything of mine, even my phone." You felt bad, really bad, and it kind of pissed you off. "Okay, um, can I come in?" He finally raised his gaze to meet yours, now seeing his face, you noticed how pale he got along with dark circles under his eyes. Which caused you to be concerned for his health. "Have you eaten yet?" "No, the last time was two days ago." Your heart sank, but you couldn't just stand there. "Okay, um, I'll order takeout right now, but let's wash you up first." Grabbing his hand, he followed you like a lost puppy. Looking around, you saw clothes everywhere, smashed dishes on the floor, and cabinet doors flung open. And pretty sure she did take everything.

After finding the bathroom, closing the lid to the toilet you assisted him to sit down. Turning to the tub, you plugged up the drain and turned on the warm water from the faucet. "Okay, can you undress for me and hop in once you're done?, I'll be right back." closing the door, you heard shuffling on the other side, which was a good sign. After placing an order, you helped clean up the mess that was made around the place. placing clothes in the hamper, making the bed, sweeping the glassware off the floor, and putting the dirty clothes in the washer. When completing, you went to check up on jungkook. Knocking on the door, you heard a quiet "come in." Opening the door, you saw him immersed in a bath of bubbles, which you did not recall adding, indicating that he had done so himself.

Sitting on the rim of the bathtub, you stare at his face, head tilted back, eyes shut, messy hair, and that cute little mole beneath his lip that you love so much. You didn't even notice a smile had crept onto your face until he opened his eyes, "What are you smiling about?" realizing that you were caught, you averted your gaze and responded, "Nothing, I just thought the bubbles were cool." There was a long moment of silence before you offered, "Let me wash your hair." dampening his hair a bit, you pumped a few globs of shampoo onto your palm and proceeded to massage it into his hair.

Jungkook let out a sigh of relief, "feels so good," causing your cheeks to tint a light shade of red. After rinsing it off, you continued with the conditioner, and so on. You stepped out for a little while so he could wash himself up. While waiting outside, you heard your name being called. "yeah?" "um, do you think you can wash my back?" burning up, you cooled yourself down a little before entering. returning to the rim of the tub, you took the sponge and gently applied it to his back.

While scrubbing, he spoke, "thank you, and I truly mean it. thank you." pausing, you resumed scrubbing. "That's what friends are for, Jungkook." he fully turned around this time, making eye contact with you. "No, I actually mean it y/n. thank you. To be quite honest, you were the last person I thought I would see." "Kook, after everything, I still care about you. Yeah, what happened between us was nothing, just a little fling. You didn't hurt me like you think you did. I completely understand." ( yeah right ). "Honestly though, I mean it. I owe you. a big one" You both held contact in silence, the world pausing yet again; both flicking your eyes at each other's lips, making sure the other wouldn't notice. "Can I kiss you?" you were taken by surprise, but after all this time, you couldn't miss this opportunity. Smiling, you leaned in closer, hand dipping to the bottom of the tub for support, eyes never breaking contact. You were an inch away before you answered, "yes."

Jungkook finally breaks a smile as he takes his damp thumb, tilting your chin to adjust to his angle. You deepen the kiss, not holding back as you slip your tongue through his parted lips, which he gladly accepts. Playing with his lip ring earns you a small bite to your tongue, making you want to play with his tongue instead.

You guys lasted a while in the bathroom, having an intense make-out session, but like before, it didn't lead up into anything. After helping him out of the tub, providing him with a towel. You left him to get dressed while you unclogged the drain, allowing the water to flow along with the rest of the bubbles down the drain.

After eating the takeout you ordered, you guys watched movies together on the sofa, but it was 2 in the morning, and you couldn't stay here all night, so you had to say your goodbyes. Looking over, you noticed that jungkook had fallen asleep. Cracking a smile, you get up and plant a kiss on the top of his head, but as you reach for your keys, he grasps your wrist. "stay, just for tonight." Breaking into a smile, you agreed. and let me just say, it wasn't the only night.

⋆ TIME SKIP / april ‘23

Ever since that night, you two have been fwb. slowly but surely, you started bringing him back into the group. He seems more lively now than he was when you first found him.

Like today, you both came back from the group to hang out, to spend time, just the two of you. ordered pizza, watched movies, and just enjoying each other's presence.

until now, jungkook received a notification.

- unknown: Do you like her?

- JK: who is this?

- unknown: Sohee.

- sohee: Y/N, do you like her?

- JK: why are you asking me this?

- sohee: because I still want us.

to be continued…

a/n: i hope you enjoyed part 1 even though it’s on a cliffhanger 😭 but i’ll be posting part 2 this week !

taglist : @jjklves @ane102 @moonbinniehappy @caro134340lina @bbtsficrecs @ahsluv @tatamicc @heartjiminie @ta3bae @ahsluva @starbrightday

[sotwk]

The Best Gift (Legolas x unnamed OC)

Summary: Legolas wishes a "dear friend" a Joyous Begetting Day--but anonymously.

Dedication: For my dearest @quickslvxrr, who has been such a constant and patient supporter. I'm so sorry it took forever to grant such a simple fic request from you. I hope this brings you some joy during rather difficult times. <3

Word count: 1.3k

Rating: General Audience

Content: Fluff, comedy, romance, shy young Legolas, secret pining, brotherly banter, OC Son of Thranduil (Prince Gelir) 

Warnings: None

To Read on AO3: LINK

The Best Gift

Third Age 556 June 26th

The Woodland Realm

“What in Araw’s name are you doing?”

Legolas gave a muffled cry and stumbled back a couple of steps, but caught his balance before he could crash into the shrubbery outside the small kitchen window. 

“Get down!” he hissed at his brother Gelir, grabbing the older ellon’s sleeve and yanking him down to the dirt beside him.

His heart racing like frightened deer’s, Legolas listened carefully for changes in the movement within her cottage, any sign that she might have overheard his dolt of a brother’s voice and sought to investigate. Mercifully, the melody of her sweet humming continued to float uninterrupted from the open window. 

“Oh, are you the only one permitted to wish our dear friend a Joyous Begetting?” Gelir smirked and punched him on the shoulder. “If I too had a gift I wished to present to her for the occasion, would you pound me?”

“No!” Legolas blurted out quickly; too quickly. “Wait--have you brought a gift for her?”

“I have not, because I had assumed your answer to that question would be yes. And as little as I fear your wee hits, honeg, I do not particularly enjoy being on the receiving end of them.” 

Gelir shoved the younger prince aside, leapt lightly to his feet, and crept over to peer above the windowsill. Legolas held his breath, despite knowing Gelir would never be seen or heard by any elf, man, or beast if he did not wish for them to. The worrisome issue was the great pleasure his brother seemed to derive from embarrassing him at every open opportunity--something one might assume a grown elf would grow weary of after two and half centuries, but it had yet to happen. 

Thankfully, after an agonizing few seconds, Gelir dropped back down to their hiding spot. “I see you opted for the purple night lilies.” He cocked an eyebrow at Legolas. "I seem to recall Ammë setting certain conditions on the use of the rarest blooms from her garden."

"You recall correctly," said Legolas tersely. All four of his elder brothers were frustratingly knowledgeable of the details of his personal business--a result of the powerful bonds that linked them. But Gelir was easily bored, and the only one to actually stick his nose in for active meddling. "She did not set a time by which I am required to make myself known."

"And is Ammë also aware you have spent--on my guess--at least the last two hours sitting outside this unwitting maid’s window hoping that she would come to some sort of epiphany?”

Legolas thought about the smile that lit up her face so beautifully his entire chest ached, and the way it had stayed on her face the entire time he waited there, content to just observe the joy he had caused. 

“I believe she knows. Or is close to discerning it.” 

“You are right. She must realize eventually that a plant so rare and valuable could only come from a high lord or prince.” Gelir snapped his fingers. “Perhaps I should walk in there and take the credit and her fair heart to boot!”

Legolas jerked his head suddenly. “You wouldn’t!”

“You are right. I would not; that would be wrong.” Gelir leaned in closer, his expression suddenly stern. “But it is just as egregious to carry on as long as you have, making veiled overtures to this lady rather than mustering the courage to speak the truth of your feelings plainly to her face.”

“The pursuit of someone’s affections must be like hunting. When you hunt an animal, you go with the focused intent of finishing the job as quickly as possible. You do not toy with the creature to scare or confuse it and cause it needless pain.” 

Gelir clamped a hand on his younger brother’s shoulder. “I may not know what it is like to lose my heart in this manner, little brother. But I know it is unfitting that I show greater respect to animals I stalk than you do to someone you profess to love.” 

The sudden outpouring of wisdom from his wise-cracking brother rendered Legolas speechless.  But something on his face must have quelled Gelir’s baser instincts to tease and mock him. 

“Explain your struggle. Where does all your hesitation lie?”

“I…she…” His brother seemed so genuine this time in his desire to help, that the words broke through Legolas’s reluctance to expose his vulnerabilities. “What if she does not feel the same way I do? What if she will not have me?”

“She does and she will.”

“How do you know for certain?”

“Because I have two eyes and I use them,” Gelir said flatly, his patience already worn thin. “Unlike the both of you, evidently, who cannot gaze directly at each other's faces long enough to notice how nauseatingly smitten you are with one another.”

Legolas’s hands curled into tight fists. Against his better instincts, he wanted to believe it. What maiden could refuse a son of the Elvenking if he offered her his heart?

Well, she could, in all likelihood. For what was his title against true beauty and grace such as hers? Why should he be her first choice when she could have anyone in the entirety of Eryn Galen?

“Bah! Enough of this tragic nonsense.” Gelir’s hand around his arm easily tugged the dazed Legolas to his feet.  “I will not let you waste any more time squatting here like a toad. And even toads have the sense to croak and announce their intentions.”

Gelir hooked his arm around his brother’s hunched shoulders and gave him a firm shake. “Perhaps a few bottles from Ada’s cellars might rally those nerves, eh? Come. With any luck,  you can make another go of it before the day’s end.”

As they trudged around the hedges to start the trek back up to the King’s palace, Legolas wrestled with the sense of failure at his retreat. Why could he not be more like his brothers, if not like their father? Afraid of nothing, brimming with confidence to speak their mind to anybody. What was stopping him?

Nobody. Nobody but himself. 

Legolas froze in place so suddenly that Gelir nearly lost his balance. “What--?”

The younger prince turned to squarely face the pathwalk leading back to the cottage, glaring at the bright green door with the intensity of one about to leap across an impossible distance over a deadly chasm. 

“Yessss. Go on!” He distantly heard Gelir hoot as he began his determined stride up the path. 

But then he heard something else. Footsteps. A doorknob turning. 

The color drained from Legolas’s face and his legs turned to lead. He twisted about to scurry away and out of sight, but a pair of powerful hands suddenly seized the back of his tunic, lifting him so that his boot soles left the ground. 

A hard, rough toss pitched the helpless elf to the cottage just as the door swung open. He flailed his arms out to regain his balance and avoid face-planting on the stoop, but not quickly enough to avoid bumping against the maiden that had stepped out of her home. 

“H-Hello.” He gulped down the panic that rose up his chest, as the nearness of her, such as he had never experienced before, enfolded him. Her scent, her warmth, her…touch? Legolas realized that she had raised her hands and planted them firmly against his chest, likely to help break his ungraceful fall. 

“I… uh, I came to wish you… that is…I-I just wanted to say…” Valar, did Gelir’s shove knock his tongue loose from his mouth?!  

“I wished so badly for it to be you!" she suddenly blurted out, and stuck forward her chin in her willful defiance of protocol.

“R-really?” Unexpected joy and relief burst out of Legolas’s chest like a flock of sparrows exploding from a bush.

The sweetest blush rosied her cheeks, but she still had not moved her hands from the front of his tunic, he noticed. “The flowers are the most beautiful present I have ever received, but knowing that what I had hoped for is true, that they came from you… that is really the best gift.”

“I do not believe there is anyone gladder about your begetting than I,” the elf prince avowed.

And as her whole face lit up brighter than Gil-Estel, as she slid her arm through his and guided him into the cottage, Legolas felt the nudge of a distinct sound inside his head: the chuckle of an older brother whom he had just given yet another anecdote to refer to the next time he wanted to crow over being “always right”. 

Elves HC Tag List: @a-world-of-whimsy-5 @achromaticerebus @aduialel @asianbutnotjapanese @auttumnsayshi @blueberryrock @conversacomsmaug @elan-ho-detto-elan-15 @entishramblings @fizzyxcustard @freshalmondpandadonut @friendofthefellowshipsnerdblog @glassgulls @heilith @heranintomyknife23times @ladyweaslette @laneynoir @lathalea @lemonivall @LiliDurin @quickslvxrr @ratsys @scyllas-revenge @stormchaser819 @talkdifferently6 @tamryniel @tamurilofrivendell

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[galamalion]

┈ ✧.* 𝓇𝑜𝓂𝒶𝓃𝒸𝑒 𝒾𝓃 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓇𝑒𝒹 𝓁𝒾𝓃𝑒

┈ ✧.* summary﹕after a group breakfast, you attend your totally boring not-at-all-cool college classes and end your night on a particularly high note.

╰┈➤ .𖥔 ݁ ˖ pairing﹕one piece x fem!reader

┈ ✧.* chapters﹕[i] [ii] [iii] [iv]

╰┈➤ .𖥔 ݁ ˖ w/c﹕3.6k

┈ ✧.* chapter iv﹕breakfast, books, and bedtimes

“Wakey-wakey, sleepyhead…” a feminine voice whispered from above.

You twitched at the sudden interruption to your sleep, blinking your eyes open once, then twice, and then snapping them fully shut before tucking under your blankets and turning the other direction.

“No…” you groaned, pressing your face into the pillow. “Five more minutes…”

“This isn’t a TV show, get up!” a different voice barked, yanking your blankets off.

Jumping up, sleep still plaguing your body, you lunged towards the blanket-thief, attempting to take your blanket back from their thieving hands.

“Give it back,” you whined, unable to pull it away from her.

“Nope! It’s time for class, no more sleeping!” she cooed.

You sat back in your bed, watching the figure as you slowly began to focus on objects, realizing it was Nami you were fighting.

“God damnit, Nami!” you hissed, stretching your tired body.

“I’m sorry,” Vivi pleaded, looking incredibly guilty. “Nami told me that we could wake you up, I didn’t know you would be so…unreceptive to the idea.”

“It’s fine, Vivi. I guess it’s good that I’m awake now. Do we have plans or something this morning?” you said, sluggishly getting out of bed and walking to your closet.

“Just breakfast,” Nami replied, sitting down on Vivi’s bed.

“With the boys?”

“With the boys,” she said, checking her phone. “They should be there already, want us to wait?”

“Nah.” You grabbed your shower-bag, towel, and fresh pair of clothes. “I’ll shower and be down in a little bit.”

“You sure?” Vivi asked, watching you walk into the small bathroom.

“Yeah, go ahead,” you called from inside, “I’m not leaving this room till I’m clean, you get me?”

“For sure,” you heard Nami sigh in understanding, “well, we’ll see you in a bit, ‘kay?”

“Got it!” You heard the door open and then shut, proceeding to then turn on the shower and hop in.

Once you finished and dried off, you changed into your clean clothes. After carefully brushing your wet hair, you quickly washed your face and headed out towards the dining hall. On your way there you checked your phone for the time, noticing a couple different texts from about half an hour ago.

| Straw Hat: Want brekfast with us? | Straw Hat: Hello | Straw Hat: Hello | Straw Hat: Hello | Straw Hat: Hello | Straw Hat: Hello

Oh, shit. Maybe this is why Vivi and Nami woke you up. You continued scrolling through your phone, seeing another text.

| Zoro: hey i took luffys phone away | Zoro: idk if youre awake so ill text nami  | Zoro: see you soon | Zoro: maybe Read 9:31 AM | You: yea shit my bad i was asleep | You: be up there soon!! | You: tell luffy that i’m nervous he’ll think i’m dead lol Read 9:32 AM | Zoro: lol

It took another minute of walking before you reached the dining hall, climbing the small flight of stairs to reach the top. Your appearance was immediately noted by your table of friends as you spotted Luffy waving excitedly at your entrance. Before he could scream your name—or whatever he planned on yelling—his mouth was quickly covered by Usopp who was then assisted by Sanji in dragging him back down to his chair.

You quickly grabbed a tray of food and made your way over to the table, sitting next to Vivi.

“Good morning, Sleeping Beauty!” Sanji cooed, giving you a teasing finger wave.

“She’s not a fairy tale character, you half-rate cook,” Zoro scoffed.

“The hell’s that supposed to mean, huh?” Sanji hissed, easily enraged by the words of his nemesis. “You tellin’ me she doesn’t look like a princess? What kind of gentlemen do you think you are?”

“I didn’t say she was ugly, I just think she’s not defined by the time she wakes up,” Zoro retorted, finishing his third bowl of rice.

“It’s alright, Zoro,” you reassured, “I mean, doesn’t every girl dream of being a princess? It’s kind of nice to hear it, I guess.”

“Not me!” Nami cheerily answered, peeling away at an orange. “I wanted to be rich, like that Rumplestiltskin guy!”

Sanji swooned, “I’ll be your Rumplestiltskin, my orange blossom!”

“I said I wanna be him, not owe anyone favors,” she scoffed. “But if you’re offering to spin straw into gold for me, go ahead!”

You listened into their three-way conversation for a little longer before turning to Vivi in hopes of a less fiery conversation.

“So, Vi, what classes have you got today?” you asked politely.

Vivi looked excited as she began her explanation, “Well, I have a civics class in about an hour, and then I’ll have a philosophy class after that, and then an economy class…I think that wraps up my day!”

“Wow, pretty wide area of studies,” you remarked. “You’re a political science major, right?”

“Yep!” Vivi clasped her hands together. “It’s good to have an open mind in this field, so I’m trying to gain more perspectives while studying here, so I think these kinds of classes suit me best.”

“Luffy could take a page out of your book,” you sighed.

“What? I don’t need any books! I already have mine!” Luffy hollered from across the table, mouth stuffed with meat. It was a miracle you could even tell what he was saying.

“Nothing, Luffy!” you called back, hoping the food flying from Luffy’s mouth wouldn’t land on anyone nearby.

Vivi politely cleared her throat, “What kind of classes do you have today?”

“Ugh,” you groaned, slouching in your seat.

“Well, that doesn’t appear to be a good sign,” Vivi observed.

“I just don’t want to go to chemistry,” you made a quick vomiting gesture. “I have two psychology classes after that, but I’d rather go to those first and chemistry last, ya feel me?”

Vivi nodded astutely, “Yes, but if you have chemistry now, then you can end your day off on a high note!”

“Always seeing the glass half-full, huh?” you asked, smiling at her enthusiasm.

“I certainly try to. I think it helps me view the world more brightly.”

“Not a bad reason to,” you sighed.

The eight of you ate breakfast together, constantly switching conversations as you all learned new bits and pieces from one another. Sanji was studying culinary arts, Usopp was studying engineering, Vivi had a personal butler back home, and Zoro grew up in a dojo. All in all, your friends' lives were far more interesting than your own. Growing up in a well-maintained orphanage didn’t do much for character growth, after all.

“Well,” you stood up, “my class is starting soon, so I should head out now,”

“Ah, leaving so soon, just like last time!” Sanji cried. “I’ll miss you, my sweet princess!”

“Have fun,” Zoro murmured, drinking from a flask of booze.

“Where the hell’d you get that?!” Usopp gaped.

You decided to make your exit before the situation got out of hand.

“I hate chemistry,” you groaned, trekking over to the science building.

It wasn’t that chemistry was particularly hard, but it was a lot of work. Concepts could be explained, equations could be understood, and values could be memorized. But it was just so damn boring at times. Sitting still during lecture was insufferable, but you could keep up for a little bit, at least until the next new thing was introduced. Then you’d be lost. But that’s what office hours and tutors were for, you supposed.

You climbed the stairs up to your class, dreading the pit of boredom that awaited you within. Reaching the classroom, you carefully turned the handle and stepped inside. Immediately upon entering, you immediately noticed a familiar face.

Sitting at a lone table off to the side was your lab assistant, Law, if you remembered correctly. Was he really assisting two chemistry classes? What kind of psychotic lunatic would subject themselves to that kind of pain?

His mental state wasn’t something you particularly cared about, especially considering your somewhat embarrassing encounter with him. You decided to just claim a seat and ignore him until further notice, most likely until you needed help with something.

The class itself was cut and dry; Avogrado’s number is important and we’re all made of molecules. Once the lesson was over and the hour was up, you began to pack up your things, particularly slower than your fellow students, who were racing to exit the building.

Once you had your laptop (and pens, pencils, notebook, and calculator) all stored within your bag, you stood from your chair to leave.

“Last one to leave again, huh?” Law’s voice rang out as he stood from his table.

You took a deep breath in, “I guess so, yeah. Last one to wake up, last one to leave.”

“Bad habits can be hard to break,” he advised, walking to the door.

“And that’s why we have alarm clocks,” you muttered, following behind him.

Law snickered at your comment, “That’s what I thought when I was a freshman. They’re pretty effective until you pull three all-nighters in a row.”

“Well, I guess I won’t be pulling any all-nighters, then,” you asserted. “I’ll just have to study before I have a test.”

“Keep telling yourself that,” he smirked, turning into a different hallway than you, leaving you behind.

“Maybe I will,” you murmured to yourself, walking out of the building.

You strolled through campus, intent on heading back to your dorm and studying a little, maybe getting lunch with Vi and Nami later.

“____!” a voice shrilled from across your path.

Turning to your left, you saw Usopp and Zoro making their way towards you, the former waving.

“Hey, ____,” Usopp began, “me and Zoro were gonna go to the library and study, wanna come?” 

You thought for a moment, “Yeah sure, sounds like fun. I’ve got some work I need to finish up on.”

“Sweet!” Usopp cheered, charging towards the direction of the library. “Follow me, Usoppites!”

You and Zoro gave each other a knowing before the latter shrugged his shoulders, stomping after the young man.

The three of you gathered together at a table, pulling up chairs and setting your notebooks and laptops up on top.

“So,” you began, opening up your computer, “anyone have exciting stories from their first week?”

“It’s only Tuesday,” Zoro groaned, rubbing his forehead and leaning back in his chair.

You rolled your eyes, “That doesn’t mean cool stuff can’t have happened, mossy .”

“Only annoying if it’s from Sanji,” he scoffed, crossing his arms with a tiny smirk on his face. What, was it the curly eyebrows that ruined the name for him?

“I have a story, kind of,” Usopp interjected sheepishly. “It’s about a guy in one of my engineering classes…”

“Well, spit it out,” Zoro grunted.

“Look who’s interested now,” you teased, poking him in the shoulder.

“Never said I wasn’t,” he fired back.

Usopp cleared his throat, “Well, there’s a huge guy in my mechanical engineering class, and I mean massive guy. Everything about him his huge—shoulders, thighs, calves, neck,”

“Dick?” Zoro chuckled, earning a playful shove from you.

“I can only assume so,” Usopp answered honestly. “But anyways, I don’t know why he’s in the class, he’s a junior .”

‘I know a thing or two about juniors,’ you thought to yourself, flipping through your notebook.

“I’ve heard some rumors from other students. A few say that the school’s making him retake the class because he beat up the teacher, but I’ve also heard that he beat up his entire class,” Usopp whispered, looking around as if the student would appear behind him. “But most importantly, people have said that he’s a G-A-N-G leader!”

You and Zoro shared a brief look before turning to Usopp.

“I know that Grand Line isn’t exactly known for its prim and properness, Usopp,” you reasoned, “however, if this guy really beat the shit out of his teacher or class or whatever he did, the school would probably expel him, not make him retake the class.”

“____ has a point,” Zoro yawned, “but there’s probably a reason he has those rumors around him. I’d keep an eye out.”

“No problemo!” Usopp straightened his papers, “I’m keeping a close eye on him, just in case he tries something dastardly. I won’t end up like my predecessors!”

All you could do was hesitantly accept Usopp’s resolution, slightly fearing for his safety if he were to be caught.

“Am I really the only one with a problem student in my classes?” Usopp grumbled, “I thought bad boys would be more widespread at Grand Line…”

“Well, I don’t have a problem student per se,” you lightly coughed, “but I have an assistant in two of my classes, and I think he’s gonna be a pain in my ass.”

Zoro quirked an eyebrow, “You think he’s gonna fail you or somethin’?”

“Well, no,” you admitted, “I just think he’s gonna be a pain in my ass.”

“Repeating what you said doesn’t make your meaning any clearer…” Usopp pointed out, chewing on the back of his pencil.

“Ok, well, it doesn’t matter,” you sighed, glaring down at your papers.

“I have a class with Luffy,” Zoro said coolly.

“What makes you think he counts as a bad boy?!” you and Usopp snarled.

After your little discussion, the three of you began working separately on your assignments. You focused on studying in advance of your next chemistry class, hoping to prove Law wrong in his assumptions. By keeping ahead of your work, you could easily sleep in far longer than intended. At least until you had a morning class. But you could worry about that next semester, or whenever the universe decided to sprinkle a little misfortune in your idealistic college experience. Damned universe.

The silence persisted for an hour, only interrupted by an occasional cough or hurried knee-bouncing beneath the table. Your phone was the first real disturbance, buzzing on the table and causing a light shiver to course through it. You hurriedly removed it and checked to see what caused the notification, spotting a text from Nami.

| Nami: hiiiiiiiii Read 6:53 PM | You: hey namiiiiiiiiiiiii | Nami: hey | Nami: so vi was wondering if u wanted to have a slumber party? | Nami: idk if u have anything going on rn but that’s on the table if u wanna join! | You: omg i’d love to | You: need me to bring anything up to the dorm? | Nami: no lol | Nami: vi already brought everything and is currently decorating the room | Nami: Attachment (1) Image

You looked at Nami’s picture, seeing a selfie of her sitting in the middle of a small tile floor, a sink and shower in the background.

| You: why are you in the bathroom? | Nami: i’ve been exiled while vi sets everything up | Nami: i’ll see if she can guide me out into the hallway so i can wait with u | You: ok i’ll be over soon | Nami: ♡

“Alright guys,” you breathed, standing up and gathering your things. “I have been cordially invited to attend a slumber party and must take my leave.”

“Will you be okay walking back alone?” Usopp asked.

You swung your bag over your shoulder, “Don’t worry, I’ll call you guys if I need anything.”

“Stay safe,” Zoro muttered, hunched over a stack of papers.

“Yeah, good luck with all that,” you laughed quietly, leaving the library.

“Nami?” you called out, stepping into the hallway of your dorm floor.

“Right here!” Nami’s voice echoed back, spotting you and offering a small wave.

She was sitting up against the wall right next to your dorm room’s door and wearing her pajamas, peeling a small tangerine with her left hand and scrolling on her phone with her right.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” she groaned, pointing to a pile of tangerine peels, “I’ve been bored out of my mind waiting for Vi to finish setting up.”

“I assume a picturesque site awaits us behind the door,” you joked, sliding down beside her.

“Ugh, you and your big fancy-pants lingo,” she pouted, popping a tangerine slice into her mouth.

“What, is picturesque too big a word for your shiny golden brain?” you teased. “I’ll rephrase—It’s gonna be real purty in that room! How’d I do?”

Nami jabbed you with her elbow, earning a yelp from you.

“I’ll have you know, Little Miss Knows-a-Lot, that I won my elementary school’s spelling bee when I was—”

Before Nami could finish her retort, the door beside her flew open, revealing a very chipper Vivi dressed in her matching silk pajamas, holding another matching pair and a blindfold.

“Oh, good afternoon, ____! Thank you very much for agreeing to attend my slumber party. I have prepared a pair of pajamas for you to wear, but you’ll have to put on this blindfold to go get changed, I do not want my surprise ruined!”

You nodded, giving Nami a salute before allowing Vivi to lead you blindfolded into the bathroom to get changed. And, after changing, you patiently waited for Vivi to give you the go ahead to leave.

“You done yet, Vi?” you tapped on the bathroom door while reading the labels on everyone's skin care products.

“Almost, I promise!” she hollered back, “I just need to put on the finishing touches to make sure nothing falls down!”

“Falls down?” Nami shouted through the door. “Just what are you doing to our room?”

“Nothing permanent!” Vivi sang, clearly rushing back and forth in the room judging by her voice.

“I’ve had to start reading the backs of shampoo bottles now, Vi! If I run out of labels to read I think I’ll die,” you pleaded.

“Hey, be careful touching my stuff! Break it and you pay for it!” Nami barked, knocking viciously on her door.

“How am I gonna break a shampoo bottle?” you scoffed, placing it back down and reciprocating her violent knocks.

Just as you were about to send another knock Nami’s way, the bathroom door flew open, causing you to stumble forward and onto the floor.

“Oops! I’m so sorry!” Vivi cried, helping you up and opening the door to the dorm.

“Well, let’s see this awesome slumber party room…” Nami started, the words quickly dying on her tongue as she took in the room.

Beautiful was too dull a word to describe how absolutely stunning the room was. The blankets had been rearranged to form a tent structure between the two beds, using a tall stick that had come from who knows where with a base that allowed it to remain firmly planted without fear of toppling over. Little fairy lights decorated the ceiling of the fort, both large and tiny pillows decorated the sides of the fort, and soft, fluffy blankets were scattered about for snuggling purposes. Snacks were stacked within the fort along the bed frames, easily within reach of anyone who wanted anything, bowls sitting underneath a bed. On the other side of the fort was Vivi’s laptop with about fifteen tabs of different streaming services open for your viewing pleasure during this slumber party. 

Nami gaped at the sight, “Vi, it’s…” 

“...Picturesque?” you breathed, staring in amazement.

“Welcome!” Vivi clasped her hands in excitement before spreading them out, “to my very first slumber party!”

tag list: @sylum , @dimplewonie

[scuttlingcrab]

"The doublet is a magical item, so it can fit and mould to Raphael’s body no matter his form or temper." Now I'm just picturing Raphael transforming in anger while wearing the doublet and his rage is momentarily stopped when he realizes that it transformed with him and wasn't even singed.

Like, I could be incredibly angry with someone, but if I suddenly realized that my dress had pockets in it I know darn well that I'd need to at least stop and take a moment to marvel at that discovery before even thinking about continuing on with my anger. 😅

I was literally working on something similar when you sent your message! I've attached the ask below I was initially responding to. Thank you for your message anon and hope you enjoy! x

"Also, the idea of Raphael showing off his new clothes is just- It just tickles me! I can see him preening and flaunting like a peacock because of Tav's gift. I'd honestly read a sequel piece about that, if you want to write it. I've kinda already fallen in love with the whole idea of a luxury magic tailor Tav that the initial prompt fill and response has created as well as that Tav's potential dynamic with Raphael (and other characters *looking at Gale and his sewing needle quip*) and would absolutely be down to read more of that from you! 👀"

Summary: Raphael is caught off guard by his recent gift from Tav, so he decides to pay his little mouse a visit.

Notes: Read A Perfect Fit, which inspired this continuation.

Link to my other work in the Devil's Archive.

Dressed to Kill 

Raphael stomped through the halls of the House of Hope, shedding his mortal skin. The doublet didn’t set fire when Raphael transformed, instead, it morphed with his growing size. The silk fabric soothed his ridged body, feeling like a warm embrace. Raphael suppressed a scream. Wretched mortal! The debtors scurried out of his path like rats, seeking the shadows for an ounce of solace from the blistering rage. 

He passed an open window and jolted to a halt. The blood-red light of Avernus caught the designs of his doublet, causing it to glimmer like diamonds. During his shift, the colour of his clothing changed. It now had a dark golden shimmer, the infernal embroidery a deep blue. He extended his arm, admiring the sleeve as he twisted it only slightly, and watched as the adornment reflected tiny devilish patterns onto the marble floors. The decorations moved, as if dancing. Another interesting, subtle detail.

Staring at these animations, Raphael’s breath calmed, his mind cleared. He stood taller, his head never held so high. Abruptly he spotted one of the debtors staring at him from his peripheral and lowered his hand, slowly turning to face them. Fire burned in Raphael’s eyes as he hissed, barring his sharp teeth. The debtor screeched before scurrying off to continue their meaningless eternal task. 

“If I catch just one more incompetent lackey idling about, I will impale your sorry souls on trees and leave you to rot. You are all interchangeable. Do not forget that.”

Raphael watched as the last debtor fled from his sight. He will not be caught off guard again. No. In fact… he will pay that creature a visit. 

–

Raphael materialised at the creature's camp in a swirl of flames and sparks, returning to his mortal disguise. 

The camp was quiet at this hour, the creatures asleep, separated into their individual makeshift tents. And what a ghastly camp it was, third-rate, at best. Miscellaneous equipment littered every corner, books lay discarded, shoddy clothes hung drying on trees, and the animals… When did these mortals domesticate owlbears? Savages.  

He slowly approached Tav’s tent, nestled towards the lake's shoreline. He parted the flap with an index finger and peeked inside. The creature was fast asleep, sharing her tent with that monstrosity Karlach. 

He watched them sleeping, so defenceless. He perked up at the thought. If he was so inclined, he could have easily ended their lives, consumed their souls before the tadpoles defiled them; all it would take is a snap of his fingers…

“Rise and shine, little mouse.” Raphael purred. 

Tav sprang up from her bed roll, clumsily readying a dagger from her sleeve. She held it out towards Raphael, one eye still closed, as she fought off the interrupted slumber. 

Karlach simply turned over in her bedding, yawning and stretching like a cat. She slowly opened her eyes, sitting upright when she spotted Raphael standing at the entrance.

He smirked in response, placing a hand on his hip.

“What the hell is this creep doing here?”

“Good evening to you too, Karlach. I am simply checking in on my prospective clients.”

Raphael bowed deeply, making sure to be as flamboyant as possible in his gesture.

“In the middle of the bloody night? Fuck off, devil.” 

Raphael slowly straightened himself, adjusting his sleeves. He aimed his cuffs towards the campfire, taking care to make sure the lighting was just right to highlight the devilish decorations. 

“Tut, tut, Karlach, language. If I wanted to hear such hideous sounds I’d speak with a lemure.”

Karlach leapt to her feet, the rickety infernal engine in her chest glowing brighter as she stared daggers at him.

“Karlach, please…” 

Tav raised a hand at Karlach, putting away her weapon. She rubbed away the rest of the sleep and focused on Raphael. Her face instantly lit up when she caught sight of his doublet. 

“You’re… wearing it?” Tav whispered. She brought her hands to her mouth, attempting to hide her flushed cheeks. 

“But of course! How could I resist such a delicious gift? It’s not often a devil like myself comes across a mortal with such curious tastes. Your attention to detail is…”

Raphael dramatically clasped his hands together, as if in a prayer. Yes, indeed. Thank the Gods up above for damning these poor creatures and sending them straight into his claws. 

“Superb!” 

“Hells, what have you done?” Karlach groaned, rolling her eyes. “I told you it was a bad idea.”

Tav gave Karlach a sidelong glance, narrowing her eyes. Raphael’s smile grew, devouring the creature’s disapproval and embarrassment. Almost as scrumptious as a soul.

“You are quite the seamstress. What else have you been creating on your adventures, hmm? I wonder, what would be the price for another item such as this? Perhaps we can come to some sort of agreement?” 

Tav’s mouth hung open at his words.

“I-I-uh, didn’t think that far ahead. Let me sleep on it.”

“Don’t keep me waiting, little mouse. You had my curiosity, but now… you have my full attention.”

Raphael raised his arms out wide, like a peacock strutting their finest feathers. He laughed as he surrounded himself in infernal flames. He had truly stumbled upon his greatest prize, his secret weapon to uniting the Nine Hells. Raphael would reach his target soon, that was for certain, but oh, oh yes... he would look hellishly chic in his pursuits. He would turn heads, devils and mortals alike.

[hungermakesmonsters]

Love, Sick Love

Sneak Peek

Plot summary : Working at one of the shadier bars in Brooklyn, you have one rule; don’t mess around with the patrons. Most of them are criminals, dangerous. None more so than Billy Russo, but Billy believes that rules are made to be broken. Especially your rule. One lapse in judgement is all it takes for Billy to decide that you’re his, and he’s never been the sort of man to take rejection well.

Pairing : Billy Russo x Reader

Story Rating : R 

Warnings : [This is a fic for 18+ only, minors DNI] This whole story will deal with dark and smutty themes, including but not limited to stalking.

A/N : It felt weird not to post something on a Friday, so here is the first 1000 words of my next Billy fic. At the end I've put a more exhaustive explanation of the themes and potentially triggering content that might come up during the course of the story so if you're not sure if this fic is for you, I recommend checking that out. Anyway, I'm super excited for this one and I hope to have the first chapter up on the 6th of September. (I'm also testing the tag list with this post, if you want to be added let me know!) .

Sneak Peek

“So, how was your date?”

You were barely through the door when the question was mercilessly thrown your way, the few patrons drinking the afternoon away in Sam’s lifting their heads to glance your way before quickly losing interest. Thankfully, they didn’t care how your date had gone the night before nearly as much as your co-worked Jenna did.

Sam’s wasn’t exactly the sort of place where people cared to get to know each other. The bar had a reputation, the kind of reputation that regularly had cops posted outside the door, waiting to scoop up patrons at closing time, though they rarely dared set foot through the door. And that was why it suited you just fine. Aside from the occasional drunk thinking he might be lucky enough to get in your pants, people didn’t care who you were or where you were from, a courtesy you were more than happy to return.

So, while there was a snicker or two around the bar, no one but Jenna was interested in your love life.

Or, lack thereof. 

You shrugged off your jacket as you made your way around the bar, hanging it along with your purse in the small staff room before heading out to start your shift.

“So, it didn’t go well then,” Jenna stated, eyeing you up and down as you stepped out of the back.

“Hi Jenna.” You said in an overly forced, perky tone, clearly avoiding the question. “How are you, Jenna?”  

“Wow that bad?”

You’d often thought to yourself that Jenna would be better suited working for the FBI instead of tending bar; she knew how to get people to talk and she had a dogged tenacity when it came to things she wanted to know. But, fortunately for the criminal element, Jenna was only interested in gossip, bitching, and information that could be used to her advantage. She was your closest friend and a constant pain in your ass for all of the above reasons.

“Is it that obvious?” You finally relented, giving her a slither of what she craved.

The look she fixed you with was more than enough to answer the question.

“You’re wearing your fuck-me boots and that’s never a good sign,” she said with a knowing grin, obviously impressed with herself. “Wasn’t it the third date? Don’t tell me he left you high and dry...”

All it took was a slight look of disappointment on your face for less than a second for her to have the whole story.

“Oh - oh, okay,” she said and for a single, solitary second, you hoped that she’d drop it. But, of course, she didn’t. “So, how bad are we talking?”

“It wasn’t bad,” you answered, turning away from her, acting like you were checking stock, “just... disappointing.”

“He didn’t make you come?” She asked, loud enough that anyone close enough could hear. Fortunately you weren’t easily embarrassed. “I thought you said he was a doctor? Isn't he supposed to have a good grasp of… anatomy?”

Your eyes rolled as you threw her a glance over your shoulder.

“He’s a physiotherapist, not a gynaecologist.”

Not that that distinction made it any better. Disappointing sex was disappointing sex at the end of the day.

“Are you gonna see him again?” Jenna asked, biting back a laugh.

“And waste another evening on unappealing sex? No thanks. I think I’m just gonna swear off men,” you sighed dramatically, barely holding back a smirk.

“Or,” Jenna started, really drawing out that one little syllable, “maybe you need to stop only going for the safe guys and expecting Captain America to give you what you need.”

Your cheeks heated a fraction as you burst into laughter. It was a good thing that no one who could overhear understood that Captain America was what Jenna liked to call the dildo she’d bought you as a prank secret Santa gift last Christmas on account of it being a red, white and blue, unlicensed Captain America sex toy that claimed on the box to be an exact replica of Steve Roger’s dick.

It had become a private joke between the pair of you, though you’d never dare admit to her just how much mileage you’d actually gotten from the toy.

“Seriously, you need to lower your standards and find a guy who’s willing to just fuck your brains out,” Jenna continued, still utterly oblivious (or perhaps just indifferent) to the half dozen men trying to enjoy their drinks within earshot. “We could go to that biker bar just off the highway again and -”

“Aren’t we barred?” You asked. “Or, more to the point, aren’t you barred?”

“That’s what makes it more fun.”

Again, you rolled your eyes and, finally, you had a look around the bar. It was still quiet, but it wouldn’t stay that way for long. As soon as it started getting dark out, the place would be packed, wall to wall.

That was when you noticed him, sat at the end of the bar, slightly hunched over and with no drink in front of him. You looked to Jenna and gave a nod in his direction, and she shrugged in response, leaving you to deal with him. If he’d overheard any of your conversation with Jenna, he didn’t seem interested. For a moment, you hung back, not wanting to interrupt whatever was going on in his head but, finally, you forced your customer service smile to lips and made your approach.

“Hey, what can I get you?” You asked.

When he looked up your heart stuttered. His face was littered with scars, but they weren’t the cause of the violent pounding in your chest, in fact, after first glance you barely noticed them. No, it was his dark eyes and the way he looked at you, the way he looked through you. For a few seconds you dared to believe you might drown in his gaze (and that maybe you’d enjoy it).

Content and general warnings going for this whole fic : while I’m going to put appropriate TWs at the start of any chapter that require them as usual, I wanted to give a general overview of what this fic might contain so people can make an informed decision whether or not to engage with this fic. If you are uncomfortable with any of the following, please consider not reading. Ultimately this is a Dark Romance and will contain themes like stalking and intimidation. At no point will it contain non-con perpetrated by Billy on the reader character, however there will be moments of unwanted kissing and physical contact, but it won’t get any worse than that. There will be explicit smut (we’re talking rough and dirty) and Billy’s actions/behaviour at times will be pretty gross. And there will be non-graphic discussions/allusions to non-con and murder, with regards to character’s pasts (i.e. Billy’s assault by Arthur) later on in the story. 

At its heart this is going to be a dark and toxic romance and it should go without saying that I don’t condone this sort of behaviour in real life. If you do not enjoy or feel you will be triggered by the aforementioned themes, please give this fic a miss.

(I'm just testing the tag list, but if you want adding/removing let me know!)

Tag List : @xxxsweetcarolinexxx @sweetserendipity65 @dreadfulxives18 @snowkestrel @ladyblacky

@readingabouthim @cheshirecat484 @broadwaybabe18 @oliviaewl

[steddieasitgoes]

@steddiemas Day 22 Prompt: Santa Shenanigans

Tags: Established Relationships, Recreational Drug Use, Banter, Humor

wc: 1628 | Rating: T

Read on ao3 | ao3 collection

Steve and Eddie are in the midst of a never-ending card game of War when the stairs leading up to Eddie’s front door creak letting them know Jonathan’s arrived. He called half an hour ago, wondering if Eddie was free for a hang out with him and Mary Jane.

It’s not uncommon for the two of them to shoot the shit while getting high, but usually, Steve’s not there. It’s not that he and Jonathan aren’t cool with each other — they are! Eddie and Jonathan usually hang out when Steve’s scheduled for work, is all.

As Eddie struggles to get himself off the floor, grumbling and swearing the entire time, Steve focuses his attention on cleaning up the cards. There’s no point in littering the table with more shit when they’re about to get high. Besides, he was getting tired of the game anyway.

“Thanks again for letting me come over on short notice,” Jonathan says, voice slightly muffled meaning he hasn’t stepped inside yet.

“Anytime, man,” Eddie says. “My humble abode is your humble abode.”

“Oh,” Jonathan pauses, locking eyes with Steve. “Hi, Steve. Didn’t know you’d be here.”

He catches the way Jonathan's brows pinch in frustration. Judging by the grimace that follows it has nothing to do with Steve’s presence and everything to do with Jonathan’s less-than-stellar greeting. The Steve of the past would have called him out on it, but the Steve of today could not care less and offers him a genuine finger wiggle wave in return.

“Sorry, Byers. You’re going to have to share the grass with a third tonight,” Steve teases as he pulls himself up onto the couch from the floor.

“I would share with just about anyone at this point if it gets me out of the house.”

Eddie winces, shaking his head. “Trouble at the homestead?” he asks, voice louder than usual as he tracks down the hallway toward his bedroom. Steve doesn’t have to ask to know he’s getting his stash.

“Not really,” Jonathan says as he collapses onto the corner couch cushion across from Steve. He runs a hand over his face before speaking again. “El just learned about Santa so we’re in full Santa Claus mode now. I’ve never seen Hop so stressed in his life.”

“Isn’t she too old to believe in Santa?”

“She’s only 14!” Eddie shouts louder than necessary as he hustles back into the room.

“Exactly! That’s like ancient by Santa standards, isn’t it?”

“It’s not!” Eddie defends. “It’s a perfectly respectable age to still believe in Santa.”

Well, that’s different, Steve thinks, as he and Jonathan exchange a confused glance, shoulder shrugging and everything. He watches for a moment as Eddie’s tactful fingers line and roll the first joint of the afternoon. It’s almost enough to distract him from the recent Santa development. Almost.

“I don’t know, Eds. I think I stopped believing when I was like 7? Maybe, 8?”

“Yeah, same. S’kinda hard to believe in the big man when you’re helping your mom wrap presents for your brother because dad’s on a binger somewhere.”

“You guys were robbed of the magic,” Eddie says, exhaling a cloud of smoke before passing the joint to Jonathan.

“Alright then,” Steve says. “When did you stop believing?”

“I mean…” Eddie trails off, eyes focused on the uneven paint job on the roof of the living room. From this angle, it’s hard to see the blush creeping across his face, but Steve knows it's there judging by the way he’s fidgeting with a lock of his hair.

“Hold on,” Steve says, inhaling his first hit of the night before letting it out quicker than he should. “You still believe in Santa?”

Plucking the joint from his hand, Eddie shrugs.

“Eddie!”

He has to be fucking with him. Sure, Eddie earned the nickname The Freak for a reason back in high school, but that had more to do with his general attitude and appearance, right? There’s no way he would have proclaimed his belief in Santa Claus to a cafeteria full of judgmental peers, would he?

Leaning around Eddie, he glances at Jonathan who looks equally as perplexed.

Shit.

“What?” Eddie shouts, exhaling the smoke directly into Steve’s face. “We can’t know for sure he’s not real! Next, you’re going to tell me dragons and mermaids don’t exist.”

“Oh my god,” Steve mumbles. “Tell me you’re saying this because you’re high right now.”

Jonathan snorts from his side of the couch. “Steve, he has the highest tolerance I’ve ever seen. Well, next to Argyle.”

“Maybe this batch is laced with something stronger?”

“Nope,” Eddie says, popping the p. “Got it fresh from Rick yesterday. Just good old-fashioned Indiana Marijuana. If ‘m being straight with you Steve, ‘m a little hurt you don’t believe me.”

If he were a cartoon character, Steve’s pretty sure his eyes would be jumping out of his head right now. He’s only had one hit himself, but he already feels too high for this conversation. Or maybe he’s not high enough. Just in case, he snatches the joint from Jonathan’s hand and takes a better pull this time.

“Have you ever seen Santa?” He studies Eddie’s face after he asks the question. Desperately searching for the usual tells that give away that Eddie’s fucking with him. He can’t find any — not even the slightest quirk of his lip.

Christ.

“Seeing isn’t believing, Steve,” Eddie says, matter-of-factly.

“Yeah it is!” he argues back.

“Have you seen a million dollars?”

Steve blinks. “Well, no.”

“Then how do you know it even exists?” Eddie taunts, eyes glazed in mirth (and probably the drugs).

“That’s not the same thing! Like at all!” Steve says, throwing his hands up in the air in frustration. “Jonathan help me out here!”

“Sorry, Steve. You’re on your own with this one. I’ve got enough Santa problems of my own,” he says, snatching the joint from Eddie’s lips.

“No you don’t, man,” Eddie says. “The big man always comes to aid those who truly believe. He still leaves me gifts.”

Steve’s not sure if he wants to laugh or cry, so he settles on an unattractive snort instead. One that has his own face flushing at the godawful sound.

“Eddie, come on,” he pleads. “Those are probably from Wayne.”

“Uh, no, Stevie. Wayne only gets me gifts I actually need. And he always wraps them in the Hawkins Post. Santa brings me what I want and it’s always on really pretty paper that the elves must design.”

At a total loss for words, he jumps at the feeling of Jonathan tapping his shoulder. When he turns Jonathan is looking at him with a look of unfortunate understanding. “I think he really believes,” he whispers, patting Steve on the shoulder. “He sounds just like El.”

Jesus Christ.

🎅🏼 🎅🏼 🎅🏼 🎅🏼 🎅🏼 🎅🏼 🎅🏼 🎅🏼 🎅🏼 🎅🏼 🎅🏼 🎅🏼 🎅🏼 🎅🏼 🎅🏼 🎅🏼 🎅🏼 🎅🏼 🎅🏼 🎅🏼 🎅🏼

After Jonathan and Eddie share two more joints (Steve ever the lightweight taps out at the one), he’s tasked with calling Nancy to come pick Jon up. Once he’s gone, he focuses his attention on his sleeping and drooling boyfriend.

It’s not too hard since Eddie’s a heavy sleeper, but it’s still a workout. He manages to get him situated on the couch in a better position. Props his head up on his favorite pillow from his room (he doesn’t need to hear him bitch and moan about his neck all week) and throws the worn, knit blanket they keep on the couch over his body.

Once Eddie’s in a comfortable position, Steve wedges himself onto the couch beside his legs. As the sun starts to cast the living room in warm tones, Steve feels his own eyes getting heavier and heavier. Maybe a little nap wouldn’t hurt him — especially not after the whirlwind information he’s learned about his boyfriend tonight.

🎅🏼 🎅🏼 🎅🏼 🎅🏼 🎅🏼 🎅🏼 🎅🏼 🎅🏼 🎅🏼 🎅🏼 🎅🏼 🎅🏼 🎅🏼 🎅🏼 🎅🏼 🎅🏼 🎅🏼 🎅🏼 🎅🏼 🎅🏼 🎅🏼

He wakes with a start to the sound of Wayne’s heavy boots and his keys hitting the ceramic dish Eddie made in middle school that Wayne cherishes. Peaking an eye open, he spots Eddie still snoozing on the couch.

Well, Steve thinks, now is the time if he’s going to confront the only other person in Eddie’s life who must know about his misguided beliefs. 

He stretches, letting a yawn help him deepen it until he rights himself and gets onto his feet. Padding into the kitchen, he finds Wayne with his back turned. A pot of water slowly grows to a boil on the Stove as he gathers ingredients from the fridge.

“Hey, Wayne,” Steve says.

A man of few words, Wayne grunts signaling for Steve to continue talking without even glancing over his shoulder in his direction.

“I don’t really know how to ask this. But, uh, does Eddie still believe in Santa?”

Steve watches as Wayne shoves whatever he is holding back into the fridge, slamming it shut with so much force the cereal boxes on top topple over. Eddie’s prized Honeycombs scatter across the linoleum, but Wayne doesn’t pay them any mind as he crosses the small kitchen and slams his hands down on the counter.

One stern glare is all it takes for Steve’s fight-or-flight response to kick in. His keys are right there in the ceramic dish. If he just reaches his hands, he can grab them and flee before whatever Wayne is going to do to him happens.

“Now, you listen here, boy,” Wayne says in that low tone of his before Steve can make his escape. “You better not ruin the Christmas magic for my son, you understand?”

“Yes, sir,” Steve says, voice shaking.

“Good. Now then,” Wayne says, turning his back to Steve. “Mind helpin’ me clean this mess up? Santa may be real, but that damn Cleaning Fairy he used’a believe in s’not.”

🎅🏼 🎅🏼 🎅🏼 🎅🏼 🎅🏼 🎅🏼 🎅🏼 🎅🏼 🎅🏼 🎅🏼 🎅🏼 🎅🏼 🎅🏼 🎅🏼 🎅🏼 🎅🏼 🎅🏼 🎅🏼 🎅🏼 🎅🏼 🎅🏼

The way I see it either Eddie and Wayne are playing an elaborate joke on Steve or Eddie does believe and when they eventually move in with each other, Steve keeps the charade up and plays Santa for Eddie.

[xelasrecords]

The Oasis Is Beautiful From Up Close

Han Jumin x Reader x Kim Jihyun

NSFW

Jumin, you, and Jihyun are having an intimate photography session and fooling around because you and your lovers are no longer at death's door.

A vee polyamory in which you're romantic with Jumin and Jihyun while their relationship is platonic.

Words: 2.9k

Masterlist Read on AO3

"Hold it—yes, right there. You're lovely, my dearest," Jihyun said in a half crouch.

Your sharp gaze held the camera steady as shutter sounds filled his cluttered bedroom. He didn't set up any professional lighting and relied on the late afternoon sun to accentuate your profile. After doing a lot of shoots together, you both preferred this session to be more personal and intimate without the high-end magazine polish.

This started because you had been teasing him more than usual, after all. From not wearing a bra to flouncing about his home in a scanty dress the whole day, Jihyun's hands had been all over you until he collected himself enough to commence this photoshoot.

Jumin had also been the one to suggest you not to wear anything underneath.

They both liked what they saw and you liked being watched with unrestrained desire.

Jumin was now looming behind his best friend, clinging so close that Jihyun had to shift him bodily away. It didn't matter though. He would just glue himself back to Jihyun's side. He needed to learn everything there was to know about modelling photography or he would be cursed in not being able to capture his beloved's beauty.

He had repeated this more times than you could be bothered to count.

When Jihyun accidentally knocked his elbow into Jumin for the third time, you decided to put an end to Jihyun's suffering. Jumin's ribs would live to see another day, but you weren't sure if you would at the rate this photoshoot was going. "Jumin, do you want to take a picture of my corpse?"

Jumin gave you an incredulous look. "Why would I ever dream of doing that?"

"That would happen if you don't let Jihyun take good pictures of me. I'm rotting here. Rotting."

His brows furrowed and he lifted your arms and twisted your head side to side. "No, you're not. You're perfectly alive. And beautiful."

"Jumin, could you please move aside? You're covering her whole body." Jihyun's voice wafted from behind.

Jumin uttered an apology and swiftly assumed his original position beside Jihyun. He studied Jihyun's laid-back stance, the camera's distance from his body, and the firmness of his grip, and mimicked him with stiff precision. "So that is how you take a good shot," he murmured.

You rolled your eyes and laughed. It was impossible to be annoyed at him when his curiosity about mundane things kicked in. You struck another pose, looking over your shoulder with your back turned to them. You tried to compose yourself, but the sight of Jumin suspended in a robotic half-crouch was so absurd that you had to cover your smile with your arm.

"Jihyun isn't crouching anymore, you know."

Jumin's hands didn't fall away from his phantom camera, fingers crooked to form a perfect rectangle. "But he was when he took the previous shot."

In a minuscule gesture at Jihyun, you motioned your head towards Jumin.

A childlike grin bloomed across Jihyun's face. He directed his camera on Jumin's trembling body and clicked the shutter button.

Jumin blinked at him. "Isn't she the muse of the day?" he asked, still retaining the same posture.

"You're much more entertaining to shoot than me," you chirped.

Jihyun let out an airy chuckle. "I'm giving her a break. Perhaps you want to take the spotlight while she's resting?"

"She's supposed to be the model of the day."

You looked pointedly at his bent legs then glanced at Jihyun, who only shook his head in resignation. You pressed your mouth before laughter escaped you and posed again. Jumin's eyes flitted back and forth, trying to comprehend what had passed between you and Jihyun.

You shrugged and blew a kiss at him, mouthing I love you, and Jihyun captured your gesture. When he approached you to take a close-up shot of your face, Jumin inched closer as well. He was so desperate to take a peek at the viewfinder that he butted heads with Jihyun.

Jihyun yelped and rubbed at his temple. "Sometimes it feels as if I have adopted a koala who can't let go of me," he said, albeit with a smile.

"You feed him with too much patience."

"Would you two stop bad-mouthing my effort in taking focused shots of you? This is unacceptable. What have I done to withstand this slander? You should be more understanding of my love." Jumin huffed out his suit jacket and crossed his arms with a dramatic flair. "And I would make an adorable koala."

You placed Jumin's hand on your waist and he drew you in by habit. "Our next photoshoot can be of you in a koala costume." You tickled his chin.

"We have been very understanding of you, my friend." Jihyun clapped a hand on his shoulder. "No professional photographer or model would want their session to be obstructed."

"And yet here you are, still alive and breathing in this room." You winked. "Aren't we generous?"

Jumin scoffed. "Do you suppose I should be alive and breathing somewhere else?"

You planted a kiss on his lips. "We want you here."

Not a moment later, you felt his fingers weaving into your hair, tugging at it with pleasurable force. You pushed your body up against him when you heard zooming and clicking sounds from Jihyun. Jumin ran his thumb across your shoulder and slowly dragged the strap of your silk dress down, humming in affirmation. You gasped as he trailed kisses down your neck and sucked at the skin on your collarbone.

In the haze of it, you blindly grabbed at Jihyun's shirt. He complied without resistance and positioned himself behind you. You slumped against him, indulging in the warmth of their bodies enveloping you. You could feel them everywhere; Jihyun was tucking your hair aside to kiss a sensitive spot behind your ear, while Jumin's hand had crawled up your inner thigh and was sliding his fingers into you.

You reached up for Jihyun, and his lips were on yours in an instant. It was a soft nip in the beginning, searching for your permission, and you gladly let him in. He deepened the kiss and your hips bucked against Jumin's fingers, earning a chuckle from him.

With his other hand, Jumin took the camera from Jihyun, freeing him to use both hands to roam across your breasts. Then slowly, Jumin pulled out his fingers and brushed them against your swollen lips. You sucked on them without a word, keeping your gaze on him the whole time while you swirled your tongue around his fingers. You knew he liked seeing you like this, knew what he was imagining you doing instead.

You wanted to turn around to face Jihyun, but Jumin stopped you. "Don't move. I want to immortalise you in this state. The lust in your expression is terribly tempting." He smiled at you and stepped back. "Jihyun, wrap one arm around her and cradle her face with your free hand. Show her off to me."

"He is strangely good at directing," you murmured into Jihyun's ear.

"It's hardly strange when a huge part of his job is telling people what to do." Jihyun obeyed Jumin's directions and pulled you closer. His touch was exhilarating, and the thrill rose exponentially when you noticed Jumin's satisfaction.

"Fortunately for the two of you, you get off on being told what to do," said Jumin who had an acute sense of hearing when it concerned Jihyun's and your opinions.

You smirked. He did always know you well.

Jihyun kissed your temple. You leaned your head against his chest and his hand snaked up your neck and rested on your jaw. You parted your lips, sucking in a breath, and pushed out your chest until your rumpled dress almost exposed your body.

"You can take a photo now," said Jihyun.

Jumin bent forward at a lower angle than was probably necessary, and clicked the shutter button with a palpable jolt that reverberated throughout his limbs. You raised your eyebrows and Jihyun tilted his head in question.

Then, Jumin had the audacity to look shocked at the brief preview on the camera screen.

Disbelief passed across his features as he fell back onto the bed.

You suppressed your smile and sat beside him with Jihyun in tow. The said bed was really a mattress strewn across the hardwood floor with swathes of blankets thrown atop it. Jumin had not given up on coaxing Jihyun to buy a proper bedframe, but you had.

Whatever floated his boat into dreamland.

"Let me see," you said.

Jumin scrunched his nose and zoomed into the picture. "Your nose and lips are clear. Not so much of your eyes, or even your hair. But Jihyun is a blur."

"Fitting." You looked deep in thought. "You know how hard it is to comprehend his essence as a whole."

"My essence?" Jihyun's response came out bewildered.

Jumin folded the heap of blankets so Jihyun wasn't constantly shifting in place, but Jihyun just draped it back around Jumin. Knowing that his body ran colder than the rest of you, you were touched that Jihyun was thoughtful to this degree. He had always been. It was one of the many qualities you liked from him.

"Please don't theorise. This isn't an art piece up for discussion," said Jumin.

"I'm simply giving you a leeway to rationalise your mistake," you said, sitting sideways in Jihyun's lap. He was still looking at you quizzically, but he placed his hand on the top of your thigh and squeezed it.

It sent a buzz of current throughout your skin and you shivered.

"I will do better." Jumin sighed. "Someday I will master Jihyun's photography skills and finally deserve your compliments."

You ran your hand through his tousled black hair. "You take good enough pictures."

"I'm aware that I have not been able to capture all your facial features in one shot."

"My nose was quite pretty in the one you took yesterday."

"That was the only visible thing in the photo."

"You have humbled him." Jihyun chuckled. "He was never this receptive of his photography flaws. I had given up and chosen to keep the blurred Elizabeth the Third pictures to myself. It's the intention that matters, after all."

"Intention must translate into execution," Jumin insisted. "It's imperative that I practice as much as I can."

"Today's picture is already an improvement." You climbed out of Jihyun's lap and lay on the bed. "Come, I've missed you two." You patted the space on your sides.

Jihyun flung himself on the mattress with a soft thud, arms out wide, and your body bounced on impact. You laughed and wormed into his embrace. The golden rays from outside the window fell on just the right places: his lush turquoise hair, the delicate arch of his nose, and his pale, pale skin so thin that you could easily discern the blue veins running below.

You had to convince yourself that he was healthy. He was all right. All of you were finally happy.

His blood was no longer shed on skirmish grounds. He could finally exist without having to fight for his right to be. Jumin did not have to uphold Jihyun's reason to live anymore, because he had found many reasons to.

Or maybe there were only two. But that was enough.

He gleamed now, instead of being swallowed by the light. He was wholly, completely Jihyun.

Jumin knelt on the mattress and looked down at you with tenderness so sincere that your heart clenched. "How long I have waited for this moment," he said, his slender fingers lightly dancing along your cheek.

"It has been months, but I still can't believe our dream could be a reality." You kissed the inside of his wrist, letting your lips linger on the small of his skin where his pulse beat. "It had seemed like a foolish delusion then, but now I get to relax with you without anything weighing my mind. Sometimes I'm afraid I'm missing something crucial and hell will be unleashed upon us again before we're ready."

"You can believe it now. Both of you have fought so hard," said Jihyun. "We're safe, and no one is in danger. Especially not me," he added, and winced. "I know I have been the source of all your headaches."

"No use dwelling on something we have forgiven you for." Jumin seized Jihyun's wrist. "But I would prefer it if you don't attempt another martyrdom. No more in-fighting. No more battling against rogue ministers and cult leaders. Not if I can help it." Seeing Jihyun about to protest, he cut in. "You have used up your apologies for this month. Don't you dare try."

Jihyun obediently shut his mouth.

All of you had lost too much to go through another wave of apocalypse. RFA almost disbanded and you carried the guilt everywhere for not being able to keep them together. C&R nearly went down, crushed under the weight of false accusations, dragging Jumin with it. Jihyun would never redeem himself back in Rika's eyes, but she came out alive and was in a hospital far away. Lost affection was better than a life lost.

Every day, the three of you help each other to live. One day, then another, then another. Nightmares still came, but at least they didn't come true anymore.

You hoped they wouldn't.

The security that came with freedom was hard-won. You didn't intend to lose it again.

On that note, having security also meant you were free to throw bizarre questions out there.

"I have a riddle," you blurted.

Synchronised groans came from both of them.

"It seems we're about to be tortured," Jumin said.

"Perhaps she will have mercy on us this time," suggested Jihyun.

Putting on the most earnest expression you could muster, you turned to Jihyun. "Who would you choose if you could only save one of us?"

Jihyun's eyes grew wide and Jumin exclaimed, "Why would you do that to him?"

You shrugged. "Too simple? I'll add more details to the scene."

"You possess a hidden sadistic desire," said Jumin.

Jihyun laughed. "All right, let's hear it out."

"Jumin drives us into a lake and the car is rapidly sinking, but you only have the strength to save one of us. Who would you choose?"

Jumin sat up straight and pointed at her accusingly. "That is a mockery of my driving skill," he said. "Though I admit I'm also curious to hear Jihyun's answer."

Both of you faced Jihyun with glimmering, hopeful eyes.

"I'd rather go with you both," he finally said. "I don't want to live a life without you."

That was a sly tactic to divert the talk to a solemn reflection. You wouldn't have it. He had to give a satisfying response or you would grill him until night arrived.

"But by doing so, you would lose our single chance to live."

"Save her." Jumin—that bastard—took pity on him instead of taking your side. "That would be the right course to take if I was the cause of our fictional death. One must keep a clear head when danger is imminent. Be logical."

You glared at him and whispered to Jihyun on a decibel where it shouldn't be called a whisper, "He's calling you stupid. Just sacrifice him."

"But he's right," Jihyun said. "I tend to use my heart over my head when someone needs me."

"This is why you're easy to tease." You sighed. "So, who's your heart calling for?"

"We all know he loves you, as do I. We would work together to save you," Jumin said, and Jihyun nodded with much eagerness.

You sputtered and scrambled out of Jihyun's arm. Curse their unwavering connection from being intricately intertwined since they were young. Served you right for loving two best friends who had been more than willing to present themselves as the sacrificial lamb to save your life.

"I get no say about my life or death?"

"You already handed over your choice to Jihyun. Now we will do as we see fit." Jumin was suspiciously smug when he declared it.

You swatted his shoulder without exerting any real strength. "You always find a way to cheat the system."

"It's not cheating if you never explicitly stated the rules and presented them with numerous loopholes."

You threw your hand against your forehead in the style of a faint-hearted Victorian lady receiving the most grievous news and tossed yourself back on the bed. "I have lost interest in this game."

"Some ideas are most poisonous to their creators." Jihyun chuckled, and put your hand away.

Unlike with Jumin, you found it harder to shoot antagonistic glares at Jihyun. Unlike Jumin, it was not in his nature to prod at you and challenge you into debates for mental stimulation. Unlike Jumin, he relented without much fight so it would only make you feel worse for teasing him too much.

Bickering with Jumin was a recreational activity, but it would be akin to kicking a wounded puppy if you did it to Jihyun.

"I hate it when you two join forces. I can never win against you," you grumbled.

Laughing, Jihyun kissed you and laced his fingers with yours. You held it against your stomach, deep gratitude washing over your heart. Jumin tipped up your chin, brushing flyaway strands from your face and smiled down at you.

Their touches, their gazes, they all confessed the same thing—something that existed between the three of you like it was the fundamental truth of the universe. A baby fresh out of the womb didn't need to be taught to breathe and cry. You didn't need to ask what it was. You didn't even hesitate.

Finally, you thought. No more wondering if tomorrow would come. You were loved and were fortunate enough to live out this life with them.

There would always be more days.

-

Footnotes:

-The second half of this fic is inspired by the exchange between grieving Jihyun and MC from All That Is Lost that didn't make the cut:

"I doubt he could do it if he were told to choose to save only one of us."

"Dear Lord, Jihyun." She laughed with tears in her eyes. "Let's not put him through more suffering."

I took out the grief and repurposed it into something lighter. You're welcome.

-This is my first romcom of the year and my first romantic smut ever!! I thought depression had stolen my motivation to write happy things, but turns out, I can still claw my way back here. It had been a healing process to write this. For the first time since I started here 2 years ago, I didn't worry about whether it's good enough. I just put myself in their headspace and found my joy in writing again.

-Every time I write a bubbly romance I imagine snatching these characters away from the torment of their routes and plopping them into a utopia where nothing bad can touch them.

Header Corner:

Since this fic has both mature themes and playful conversations, I thought a mixed media style would be perfect to convey these elements. Then, I used velvet purple tones with a pop of yellow and comic speech bubbles to further strengthen the concept.

A quick process overlook!

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[cuoredimuschio]

rated: T | wc: 6,014 | ch 1 of 3 | steddie | post-canon | read on ao3!

summary:

The thing they don't tell you about saving the world is that it doesn't always come with a happy ending. Sometimes you walk out of Hell, an ugly victory chipped on your shoulder, only to realize a piece of Hell hitched a ride home with you, stowed away inside of you. Sometimes as everyone around you is slowly working their way back toward 'normal', your life enters a tailspinning nosedive. Sometimes it's not the rabies you should have been worried about. In the spring of '86, Steve learns that lesson the hard way but finds solace in the last place—or rather, person—he expected.

thrilled to finally be posting my @steddiesummerexchange fic for ithinkicouldloveher, damnation and other bloodborne misfortunes! aka the one with vampire!steve 🧛‍♂️

snippet below the cut!

Steve first notices it two days after they emerge from Hell for what he can only pray is truly the last time.

A milky haze hangs over the sky as they pile up donations in his trunk and haul them out to the makeshift relief center that’s sprouted in the Hawkins High gymnasium. Not a single break in the clouds, but the light hits his eyes like an icepick. A migraine on the rise, he assumes, and slips on his sunglasses.

An itch latches onto his hands the second he steps out of the car, and it leaps onto his forearms when he pushes his sleeves up and gets to work. Maybe not a migraine, then. But it’s small enough, in the grand scheme of terrible things happening around him, to be easily dismissed, easily ignored.

So that’s what he does, dismisses and ignores.

For as long as he can.

His mother calls on the third day, when the phone lines go back up. They’ll book the first flight and come straight home, she tells him. Because a birthday, a holiday, a big game are fine to miss in the name of business, but to leave your son alone in the wake of an earthquake would appear far too callous and cruel. He gives her the excuse she’s fishing for, slips it right onto her hook, right on cue, and breathes a sigh of relief when she eagerly reels it in.

He can’t sleep that night. But that’s hardly a surprise. The blissful, blunt club of physical exhaustion has lifted from his beaten body, satisfied with its work on his mind and his muscles. And with the game over, the security already funneling out through the tunnels, his thoughts are free to storm the field and wreak their favorite havoc. He gives up after an hour—once he grows sick of tossing and turning, turning and tossing—and sludges down to the kitchen, heeding the bead of hunger that’s embedded beneath his ribs. Under the incessant buzz of the fluorescents, he makes himself a sandwich, washes it down with a glass of water, starts another, and another after that, and carries them out to the couch.

The blue light of the TV sears against the dark collected over the living room.

Sleep never comes.

The bead of hunger only grows.

The morning stretches up from the horizon, lugging a dose of fog and reality with it. He unpeels himself from the dent lodged in the cushions, but his head doesn’t come with him. Untethered from reason and ration, he works his way around the house, closing the blinds and drawing the curtains, reinstalling the night bit by bit before it can fully escape. It’d never occurred to him before now how stupidly, uselessly big their house is: far too many rooms with far too many windows.

But once he has them all sealed up tight, he collapses back into the enticing divot still carved in the over-plush cushions. Every synapse in his brain knows that he ought to make the small effort to drag himself upstairs, to his waiting bed. Every fiber in his body knows he’ll regret it for days if he allows himself this one indulgence of laziness. But exhaustion has come home to roost again, coiled on his shoulders, and its stuffy weight bears him down, down, down into the pillows.

Sleep finally follows, quick and merciful as a bat to the back of the head.