#wheezes thanks for being so patient

[spinfins]

Assan does not like sitting still, you guys.

He remembers being very still in his egg for a very, very long time. He was very patient.

But now he’s out. And he doesn’t need anymore practice being patient, thank you very much.

“Davrin, he needs to learn some control,” says Manfred’s dad. He is one of Assan’s favorites. He plays with bones, and Manfred, and sometimes he smells like gingerwort truffles, or the dead things Assan likes to roll in.

“I found feathers in my alembic this morning,” he says, and Assan chirps proudly. He left them as a gift. How clever of Manfred’s dad to notice. He tries to perch on top of Manfred’s dad to show his appreciation. Manfred’s dad is very tall, and therefore ideal for perching upon. For some reason this is not appreciated. And Assan subsides. Really, he is already so patient.

He is also pretty.

He knows this because everyone tells him so.

“You’re so soft!” says the one who smells like trees and explosions as her fingers sink blissfully into Assan’s feathers. “I wonder how fast you’d be with more wings?” Assan liks her ideas. She is very exciting.

“Who’s a clever, pretty, lovely boy?” coos the one who is always surrounded by wisps. Assan chirps an answer, because it is him. And he is a clever boy. The wisps are fun to chase, and sometimes she steals him food from the den where Spite lives.

“Awwwwww,” says the small one that smells like earth and all the breath whooshes out of her tiny body as Assan curls on top of her. He tries to make himself as small as possible so as not to squish her. “You’re cute widdle face!” She wheezes, and squishes his face. Oh. She likes squishing. Very well. Assan will squish her more often.

“Hi Assan!” says the Leader. Assan knows they are the Leader, because Assan’s dad listens to them. So Assan must listen to them as well.

And they give very good hugs.

But the one Assan respects most is the dragon. No one else seems to realize they are a dragon. That’s silly. Assan knew from the moment he smelled their breath and heard the rumble in their chest. The sound of it stirs ancient, forgotten instincts deep in Assan’s gut. They even have the horns of a dragon.

Sometimes Assan will peek very cautiously around the corner of their den.

The horned head turns.

“Hey,” the dragon rumbles in greeting, and Assan is quick to scramble away and out of sight, thrilled with his own boldness.

All is well. Assan is a patient, pretty, clever, brave griffon.

And the dragon has not eaten him yet.

[tojisun]

I’m soooooo obsessed with your poolverine! Especially where Logan is fucking reader while Wade watches!

But what if Wade gets so desperate that he cums untouched just humping his rosey leaking cock into the air as he watches Logan fill you round after round

teehee thank you!! and this is so delish oh my goood <33 // cw: SMUT; afab!reader; poly with set power dynamics (dom logan, sub reader n sub wade); voyeurism; praise kink // divider by @/plutism

it’s—

it’s heinous, really, how wolve-fuckin’-rine could just go for hours fucking you, breeding you, while leaving wade leaking like a motherfucker. tearing up too, sure, but he’s still got his mask on so they can all pretend that he isn’t truly crying.

(he’s actually weeping but, well, semantics.)

it started the way it always does.

“stay there, bub,” logan sniped, his grin just a bite too mean, but wade didn’t even fight back because the three of you are used to this back-and-forth; of logan taking you like even after all these years, he still had to stake his claim, while wade was made to wait.

after all, this game is one of a hunt; it starts with wade waiting, raptly watching the way logan devours you, before being allowed the scraps—licking logan’s cum off your cunt, wade’s tongue pushing you to another shaking orgasm.

a hyena that is allowed to feast after the lion had its fill.

but it was different today—logan was more mean. he was more impatient to wade.

logan kept going; fucking his thick fingers in your cunt, crooning how he was doing this for your own good.

“shh, yer not ready for pups yet, darl,” he hummed, a heavy hand pressing down on your stomach to stop your thrashing; holding you down to force his thick fingers in, and scooping out his cum amidst the squelches of your cunt.

you keened, fisting the sheets as tears leaked out of your eyes, wetting your already-damp cheeks.

“s’too much!” you cried, unable to stop your hiccupping. “l’gan, please!”

but logan just nuzzled his maw on the inside of your thighs, puffing out breathy chuckles.

wade was straining then, his grip breaking the wooden arm rests. he ignored the splinters digging into his flesh, unable to do anything that wasn’t watching.

waiting.

he was slowly realizing that he would not have his turn today.

logan has you in a mating press now.

you’ve yelled so many times, warning logan—warning them—that you’re cumming but there was no gushing squirt nor trickling cum, and the two of them realize with hitched breaths that logan’s finally fucked you into dry orgasming.

it was a delicious sight, one that pushed wade to finally free his cock from inside his suit.

logan had shot him a gleeful look, his ravenous eyes tracking down the mess that wade has become—heaving chest, leaking cock, mask finally damp with his tears.

(you’ve glanced at your lover too, devouring how he looks, ever so patiently waiting even when he’s been denied for hours now.

wade always chirps. he’s always filled the silence with his chatter, but he’s been so, so quiet today. like he’s at a loss for words, unable to sound any more that isn’t ragged wheezes. like by staying quiet, he’s able to force himself to not jump you or to not touch his own cock.

fuck, what a good boy wade is.)

“almost, bub,” logan murmurs to wade, humping his cock in you like he’s affirming his own words. the action forces another choked moan out of you, and wade’s cock jumps, pre- dripping down his length.

logan tracks it throughout.

“yeah?” wade finally rasps out, his voice sounding so utterly broken. “y’fuckin’ swear?”

logan rolls his eyes at his words before huffing a fond laugh.

“swear on it,” logan replies, licking at his salty lips.

he pauses, turning his attention back to you. he ruts his cock in, nudging at the pudgy walls of your pussy with a pleasured hiss.

(you’re an unbelievable marvel, peanut. all soft and sweet.

all so delicious.)

amidst your high-pitched squeals, logan shoots wade another glance. he looks even more hungry now, and wade doesn’t get to ask his stuttered ‘what?’ when logan croons, “‘fore that, won’t y’cum for me, pool?”

wade’s body jumps to obey the order, only—

“but no touchin’ yerself.”

the whine wade lets out is so pathetic and broken, but it only makes logan smile wider, like he knows wade would be a good mutt and follow his command—

jesus. thinking about logan praising him just made him ultra-horny.

wade shuffles on his spot without a word, legs parting even wider to make it easier for himself. he’s so busy squirming at the feeling of the cool air wrapping around his cock that he’s missed you and logan changing positions on the bed—you’re riding logan now, your back to his chest, with logan’s chin hooked on your shoulder as the two of you watch wade.

wade curses underneath his breath when he finally looks up, and it tickles a giggle from you. it quickly peters into a high keen when logan fucks you up the length of his cock before dropping you down, using gravity to sit you snug and stuffed full.

fuck.

wade’s bitten moans spill into the hot space between the three of you, and he wonders: between you and wade, who is logan’s prize?

whose keening desperation is logan watching?

wade humps at nothing, unable to stop himself anymore. he times it with logan’s manhandling of your body—thrusting up when logan grasps at the back of your thighs to lift you up from his cock; then pressing back down on the couch when logan drops you back to engulf the entirety of his length.

wade’s not even embarrassed to admit that it doesn’t even take a while before his whole body is locking, pleasure and desperation mixing like a vice to grip at his body.

his orgasm builds—

“cum f’me, wade,” logan sings, sounding so utterly soft like he’s not in control of both you and wade’s pleasures, but wade has always been logan’s good boy. always been desperate for logan. always—

his orgasm rips him apart—that is the only way wade can explain it.

it wracks his body with unimaginable tremors, like wade’s body is undergoing its own earthquake. he nearly blacks out at the pleasure, and it should be embarrassing—it will be, later when logan’s cock is in his throat and your strap is fucking wade’s hold, and the two of you are murmuring how wade is your precious and desperate little cum slut—but right now, he basks in the pleasure and the pride shining in logan’s eyes.

jesus fuck. that was good.

biting a rock bcuz this one rlly had me sweating like mmmmy god

im so sorry if this is bad 😣 wrote this while walkin’ around the mall so it might be choppy n clipped in some parts GAH

wade gets a turn (somewhat)

[lostintheuniverseslies]

Part 1 is here

The oil and grease on Tommy’s hands make him feel accomplished as he wipes them off with an old rag. He was long overdue for an oil change and finally got around to it, only to realize that his funnel and oil pan were missing.

Technically, not missing if he let someone borrow them and that someone never returned them. Not that he’d be calling to ask for them back. No way in hell. He has a feeling Eddie wouldn’t be too happy to hear from him.

So while he was out buying oil, he added a new funnel and oil pan to his cart. Changing the oil shouldn’t have taken long—he could do it with his eyes closed—but he took his time, dragging out the process.

Because if he didn’t, he’d have too much free time.

Too much time for his thoughts to wander.

Too much time for memories to creep in of bright, beautiful eyes, a sweet, sincere smile, and a birthmark Tommy loved to kiss.

Too much time to remember the choice he made.

The choice he hated but knew he couldn’t—shouldn’t—take back.

With a sigh, Tommy tosses the rag into the corner of the garage and picks up his phone.

Five missed notifications. It’s nothing unusual but then he sees a single missed call from Evan thirty-five minutes ago and a voicemail.

Tommy stares at the screen, his stomach flipping.

What could Evan possibly have to say?

It’s been two months, almost three, since the breakup. For weeks, Tommy had thought—hoped—Evan would call. If he had, Tommy would’ve folded so damn fast he’d have told his future self good luck with the inevitable heartbreak.

But the call never came. And Tommy had to remind himself why he left. Evan deserved to learn who he was without being shackled to him.

Hell, maybe he’d already found someone new. Someone who knew the gift that Evan Buckley was. Who could love him with every morsel of their being because he deserves nothing less.

Tommy swallows hard, his grip tightening around the phone, and sinks down into the folding chair near the door.

Maybe this voicemail is a thank you. Maybe Evan is saying he found the one and wanted to thank Tommy for not letting him be stuck in a relationship he was no longer happy in.

Whatever it says, Tommy knew he wouldn’t be able to move on without hearing it, no matter how much it may hurt.

The voicemail is one minute and thirty seconds long.

It’s not a long time but it also feels like an eternity. There’s so much that could have been said in that timeframe.

Against his better judgement, he hits play and lifts the phone to his ear.

At first, there’s just silence.

Then, the soft patter of rain. The distant hum of a voice—frantic, urgent, but too garbled to make out. A sound that might be a wheeze.

His brows knit together. Maybe Evan forgot to turn off his phone while on shift. A butt dial. Maybe Tommy just got his hopes up for nothing.

But then—

“Tommy.”

The air is sucked from Tommy’s lungs.

A sharp chill rushes over his body, the kind that makes his scalp prickle, his arms break out in goosebumps.

His stomach drops.

Because Evan’s voice doesn’t sound right. It’s raspy, weak, broken, and there’s something else. A whistling in his breath. A struggle.

Something is wrong.

So, so wrong.

“Don’t shut them out, okay?”

No. No, no, no.

His gut twists violently, a nauseating weight settling in his chest. He knows this voice. Not just Evan’s—but this voice.

He’s heard it too many times in the back of an ambulance. The sound of someone slipping away.

How many times has he transported a patient just like this? Breath shallow, voice unsteady, fighting through the pain just to say goodbye.

How many times has he heard someone’s last words?

Tommy knew it. He knew it in his bones.

Evan Buckley is dying.

And Tommy is just sitting in his garage, helpless.

“You’re allowed to let them be there for you. Please—please let them be there for you.”

Tommy swallows hard, but it doesn’t stop the sting in his eyes.

God.

He doesn’t want to listen. Doesn’t want to hear it. Wants to skip to the end and see if Evan is okay.

But he can’t.

He can’t move.

He is glued to his seat, stuck in the worst moment of his life, listening to every agonizing, stuttering breath of the man he loves with his entire being.

“I love you.”

Tommy’s vision blurs. The first tear slips free before he can stop it.

“I hope you know that. I love you more than I’ve ever loved anyone.”

His chest aches like his ribs are caving in.

Evan doesn’t sound like himself. His breath shakes, his words so soft, so unsteady. It’s taking everything in him just to speak.

And yet, he chose to call Tommy.

Not Maddie. Not Bobby. Not Eddie.

Tommy.

Tommy, who left him.

Tommy, who doesn’t deserve this.

The voicemail keeps playing, but his ears are ringing.

“You deserve to be loved.”

Evan’s voice cracks. Tommy’s world does too.

“I really hope you find the person you’re meant to spend your life with. No matter what you think, I’m grateful. So grateful. That you were my first, and my last.”

Tommy rubs harshly at his face, swiping at his cheeks like that will somehow stop the flood of tears.

If he could go back in time, he would shake himself.

Don’t walk out.

Don’t break his heart.

Don’t break your own.

Because a world without Evan Buckley… God, it hurts too much to even imagine.

The line grows quiet.

Rain. Voices in the distance.

Tommy strains to listen, searching for any sign that someone is helping him. That he’s not alone.

But all he hears is Evan’s breathing. Weak, wheezing, slowing.

Slowing.

And then…

Silence.

The voicemail cuts off.

Tommy stares at his phone. Stares at Evan’s name, at the stupid little heart emoji next to it.

He put it there because he felt like a teenager again, falling in love for the first time.

Now, he’s staring at it like it’s a gravestone.

His hand shakes violently as he wipes at his face.

He needs to know.

Needs to know if Evan was alone when it happened.

Needs to know if anyone found him.

Needs to know he wasn’t alone and scared.

Tommy fumbles to his contacts, barely seeing the screen through the blur of tears. His hands are unsteady as he calls Howie.

It barely rings before it picks up.

“Howie—Evan—” He tries to breathe, but it comes out shaky, strangled, barely a whisper.

“Hey, Tommy.” Howie’s voice is soft, careful but not broken. He sounds worried, not grieving.

And that’s when something shifts.

Tommy stills.

Howie is worried, but he isn’t grieving.

Why isn’t he grieving?

“Maddie and I just got to the hospital. He’s in surgery now.”

Surgery.

Tommy goes rigid.

Surgery?

The word rings in his skull. He blinks, but it doesn’t register.

“What?” He’s too afraid to hope.

“You’re calling about Buck, right? How did you find out so quickly anyway?”

His grip on the phone tightens. He can’t let himself believe it.

Not yet.

“What do you mean he’s in surgery?”

“He’s in surgery,” Howie says, slower this time, like Tommy’s the one not thinking straight.

Surgery.

Not dead.

His chest constricts painfully.

“He’s alive?” Tommy whispers.

Howie exhales. Soft. Almost confused.

“Yeah—wait, did someone tell you he was dead?”

Tommy squeezes his eyes shut. He can’t hold it in anymore. His voice breaks.

“No. He called me. He left a voicemail. He—I could hear him slipping away. I-I thought he died.”

The last word is barely more than a sob. Tommy presses his fingers against his eyes, hating himself for how raw he sounds. But Howie doesn’t judge.

“No, hey, Tommy,” Howie says, voice dropping into something gentler. “He’s alive. It’s bad, but he’s alive.”

Tommy lets out a breath so shaky it hurts.

He’s alive.

Evan is alive.

And suddenly, the only thing that matters is getting to him.

“I’ll send you the hospital info and floor,” Howie continues. “He’ll want you here. We all want you here.”

Before Tommy can answer, Howie hangs up.

A second later, a text pops up with the address.

Tommy stares at it, hands still trembling. He wants to drive. Wants to be there now. But his mind is racing too fast, his body shaking too much.

So he orders an Uber.

And for the first time since pressing play on that voicemail, he breathes.

Should I write more?

Part three!

[revelboo]

Pardon me, how's sunstorm and his reader doing?

Reader is realizing how terrible a mistake they made.

Rainmakers, Lambo Twins, TFP Shockwave, and TFO Bumblebee are on my list today. Along with whatever else I can get updated today

Love Me Dead Pt 2

Sunstorm x Reader

• Such a lovely gift from Primus for being so worthy a disciple. The connection sparking through him, jumpstarting his self repair systems online when they’d failed him already. Tangling himself more firmly in you as you struggle to escape him, he’s fascinated with the feel of your mind in his. Your alien thoughts and emotions filling in the gaps in himself. Making him realize there are gaps to begin with. Things missing and feeling those broken connections leaves him oddly unsettled. Trying to understand.

• Gasping, you throw yourself backwards, feeling the connection stretch and finally snap as your back hits the ground. Your heart hammering as for a moment you can’t breathe, shaking so hard your teeth are chattering. And those dim optics are flaring gold fire as a massive hand reaches. Screaming and digging your heels in to shove yourself back, you roll and try to scramble to your feet. But those big servos are closing on you and your breath wheezes out of you again when you’re picked up in too tight a grip.

• Vocalizer crackling, he lifts your squirming form closer. Fascinated with you as you shove at his servos, gasping and crying out. Because you’ve given him another chance to fulfill his mission, given him hope. Servos shakily relaxing some, you suck in deep breaths and slump against him. Wides eyes staring up at him as he tucks you against the mesh of his neck. Trying to speak and only achieving another broken, static-laden moan. Patience. He’s already healing thanks to the boost you’ve given him. Just needs to be patient.

• Pinned against his warmth, you keep struggling to wiggle free. And the big monster is making a low, cracking rumbling sort of noise as a big servo roughly strokes over your head. Realizing you’re still alive, that while it’s holding you a bit too tight, you can breathe now at least. It’s not hurting you. What had that been? You’d gotten flashes of memories and alien thoughts that were definitely not yours. His. You’d been drowning in him. Sunstorm, the name you shouldn’t know drifting up through your mind. An uncomfortable sense of familiarity lifting through you.

• Servo sliding until he finds the soothing beat of your heart, he tries make sense of what he’d felt from you. The intimacy of being so wrapped in another spark. Soul? That’s your word, isn’t it? Bits of you fitting like puzzle pieces in the gaps in his processor. Why are there gaps? Exhausted, he keeps sliding his servo against you, feeling strangely whole with your warmth against him. Certain that you’d been given to him so he can continue on. Find and root out the evil, the corruption and wickedness. A little, blazing sword in his darkest hour of failure.

Previous

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[frenchkisstheabyss]

♡ ｔｏ ｌｏｖｅ ａ ｂｏｙ ♡

♡ Pairing: boyfriend!joshua hong x chubby!fem!reader, best friend!hoshi, best friend!dk

♡ Genre: fluff/angst/smut

♡ Summary: Over the past year of being with your boyfriend you've grown close with his dearest friends. Something that he's always seemed happy about. That is until one night when he wakes up to find you hanging with two of his best friends when you should be lying in bed next to him. Joshua can't really be jealous over something so small, so absolutely innocent...right?

♡ Word Count: 3.2k-ish

♡ Warnings: jealousy/relationship insecurities, penetrative sex, fingering, overstimulation, creampie, a lil nipple play, possessiveness, pet names (baby), light dom/sub/switch dynamics if you squint, some thigh/ass slapping, fluffy love, & that's it, babes.

♡ A/N: This one is a request I got a little bit ago and I'm so happy to have finally finished it. I don't tend to get SVT x chubby reader fic requests so it was really nice to get one. Thank you to the sweetie of an anon who sent this in and was so patient with me getting this out. I hope you enjoy this my beautiful carat babes 💜

“DK, would you sit still? You’re gonna mess me up” you giggle, doing your best to apply false lashes to DK without poking one of his eyes out.

Seated on the edge of his bed, DK continues to do the exact opposite of what you’re begging him not to. “I am sitting still” he insists, flinching any time the lash even comes close to his eyelid. 

Over your shoulder a half awake Hoshi has a hand clasped over his mouth to quiet the laughter that has him turning red. Finally you get the lashes on, despite DK’s squirming, and you step back to admire your work.

DK bats his lashes, feeling prettier than any runway model, “Am I gorgeous or what?”

Hoshi collapses into laughter, his head falling on your shoulder as he wheezes, “This was the best idea ever. You look insane.”

“You shut up!” DK scolds, reaching for a pillow to no doubt knock the life out of Hoshi with. 

You stop him just in time, grabbing the pillow and holding it tight to you like a prized plushie. “Ignore him” you say, delicate fingers tilting his cheek, “I happen to think you look beautiful.” And you aren’t lying to him. You hate to toot your own horn but you’re pretty good with a brush and the makeup you’ve done on him suits him well. Subtle lipstick, flawless wingtip liner, and the slightest bit of blush to brighten up his face. 

Proud as you may be of the outcome, none of this was your idea to begin with. This all started when you found yourself tossing and turning at 2 in the morning. You’d tried every trick in the book to fall asleep but your restless mind wouldn’t let you. Not wanting to interrupt the boyfriend snoozing peacefully beside you, you wandered out into the kitchen in search of snacks. 

You navigated the halls quietly, not wanting to wake the rest of the house, only to stumble upon DK and Hoshi already in the kitchen. It turns out you weren’t the only one struggling to get to sleep tonight. Figuring there was no use climbing back in bed to suffer alone, the three of you made your way back to DK’s room, snacks in hand, and decided to play a late night game of Truth or Dare. And for poor DK this is how things ended up. Well, maybe not so poor DK. He seems to be as amused with it as you and Hoshi are. When people talk about “core memories” that’ll stick with you forever this will definitely be one for you. 

It was intimidating when you and Joshua first started dating. Naturally you want your boyfriend’s best friends to like you but “best friends” usually consists of 5 people at best. Not 12 unhinged men with a lifelong bond that makes them protect each other more like brothers than friends. You still remember the first time that you met them. Every week the boys gather at their favorite restaurant for dinner to catch up on things. It’s usually reserved strictly for them but Joshua decided to invite you this time around, insisting that the guys would love you. You spent every day leading up to that dinner worried out of your mind. Standing here now with DK and Hoshi you can’t imagine how you were ever nervous about meeting them. They’re so sweet. So harmless. 

“What are you doing?” Joshua asks, drawing your attention to the doorway where he stands, arms folded across his chest. Joshua’s always so soft spoken, it’s one of the many things you find so charming about him. Not once in your relationship have you heard him raise his voice so the added bass in his question makes you short circuit. 

“I…I couldn’t sleep” you stutter, smiling nervously, “So we were playing Truth or Dare and…”

DK smiles at Joshua, trying to maintain the upbeat mood, “I chose ‘dare’.”

Joshua responds with a frown, charging over and snatching you away from Hoshi. “You’re a little too close don’t you think?”

“We were just hanging out,” Hoshi says, his joy deflated by his best friend’s anger. It’s an anger he isn’t used to. An anger none of you are used to. The only person who seems to know where it’s coming from is Joshua and even he’s a bit thrown off by how strongly he feels. 

“Right, well, she’s done hanging out now” Joshua says, turning to DK, “And I’d appreciate you not having my girlfriend in your bedroom in the middle of the night anymore.”

“Shua!” you gasp at the insinuation of his words but there’s no time for you to protest, he’s already locking his fingers with yours, dragging you out into the hallway. 

The short trip back to his bedroom is plagued by a tense silence that only breaks when you’re behind closed doors. “Don’t do that again” Joshua forbids, his back resting against the door. 

“Don’t do what? You heard Hoshi. We were just hanging out."

“Well I don’t want you hanging out with them. Every time I turn around you’re with Vernon or Seungcheol or Hoshi. I can’t even sleep without one of them stealing…” Joshua pauses, choking on that last word. Stealing. He doesn’t mean that. Actually, he does. He only wishes that he didn’t.

“Tell me you don’t seriously think I’d cheat on you, Shua” you laugh as if it’s the silliest thing in the world because it is. You await his answer, anything to tell you that he’s joking, but you’re left with a silence that cements for you that he isn’t. “You know what, if that’s how you feel then maybe I should go.”

Too angry to even look at him, you grab your backpack from a nearby chair and begin to gather your things. It’s the middle of the night and he’s the one who drove you here but you’d rather walk home than sit around and be accused of something like this. You’d think that after a year of being together, after all you’ve gone through, he’d know how much you loved him. But clearly you thought wrong and the truth of that hurts.

Joshua can see it painted all over you and hurting you is the last thing he ever wants to do. “Please, just stop for a minute” he begs, taking your phone from your hand the second you pick it up. 

You snatch it back, ready to get out of here before someone else wakes up and he accuses you of trying to sleep with them too. “I don’t wanna hear anything else you have to say.” 

You maneuver around him to grab your hoodie from the bed when he swoops in behind you, locking his arms around your waist. He flops down on the edge of the bed, his feet firmly planted on the ground, refusing to let you go. You fight to twist your body free, fueling yourself with every bit of anger you feel towards him right now, but it isn’t enough. 

“Let me go” you demand but it only makes him hold you tighter.  

“Only if you let me say something. One thing and then I’ll let you go” he promises, “I’ll even let you take my car.”

It’s your instinct to be petty. Why should you let him get a word in when he’s said enough already? But that walk home is pretty long and you don’t really feel like hopping in a stranger's Uber this late at night.

“Fine” you huff, “Say what you have to say and then give me the keys.” 

“Look, I know you’d never cheat on me, it’s just…”

“Just what?”

“I’m jealous!” he admits, feeling equal parts embarrassed and relieved at his confession. “Minghao’s all zen and chill, Woozi’s this super cool producer, DK’s funny as fuck, Mingyu’s buff, and Vernon’s got that whole mysterious thing going on. Everyone has this thing to impress you with and what do I have? I’m afraid that the more time you spend with them the less I’ll be able to keep up. I don’t want you to get bored with me.”

You want to stay mad at him, you deserve to be for the way he acted, but it breaks your heart to know he feels this way. You can’t help but soften at the sadness in those brown eyes usually alight with so much happiness. Letting your backpack fall to the floor, you’re able to turn just enough to face him. You place a hand on each of his cheeks, trying not to lose it at the cute pouty face he’s making.

“I adore you but you’re being insane right now. I could never get bored with you, Shua. I don’t give a shit about how buff or funny or mysterious some other guy is. None of them are you and you are the only man I want in this whole world. Can you trust that?”

Joshua’s almost ashamed at how easily his insecurities are soothed by your words. For weeks he’s been holding onto these feelings, wishing he knew how to make them go away, and all along what he needed was your validation—to simply hear you swear to him that he’s enough.

“I can if you can forgive me for being an asshole” he says, easing his grip on you, now at least somewhat confident that you won’t run away. 

“Mmm, I don’t know” you sigh, chewing at your lower lip in contemplation, “I feel like I wasn’t mad at you long enough.” 

Joshua laughs, kissing you under your chin so lightly that it tickles, “Fine, stay mad at me a little longer then. I’ll just be here trying to make it up to you. Tell me when you’re done, okay?”

Parting his lips, he drags them down the softness of your chin, trailing sweet, open mouthed kisses down your neck. He rests his palms at the center of your back, smoothing them down and around to rest at your plush hips. He massages them, rocking you in his lap just enough to grind up against you. The barrier of his sweatpants and your shorts do little to stop the friction from sending a tingling sensation to your core.

You swallow hard, feeling your body flush with heat. You try your hardest to resist him, to pretend that some part of you is still upset, but how can you possibly hold that look of annoyance when he’s pushing your t-shirt up, his fingertips gently tracing the contours of your curves. “For the record, I am sorry” he says, tugging your shirt up over your head.

By the time the fabric comes to rest on the floor his lips are already skimming your breasts, his tongue teasing your sensitive buds through the lace of your bra. A hand ventures behind your back and the clasp of your bra snaps free, the straps dropping from your shoulders. You let out a gasp bordering on a moan and his lips curve into a smile at the sound of it. He’s enjoying this just as much as you are. Maybe even a little more.

Tossing your bra aside, he captures one of your pillowy breasts in his mouth, suckling at the bud as his tongue makes perfect figure eights around it. The pleasure it sends rushing through you has you tangling your fingers in the soft strands of his dark brown hair, your body arching with every flick of his tongue.

Slipping an arm around your waist and tucking a hand behind the band of your shorts, he lifts you up, laying you back on the bed. The second your head hits the pillow you’re biting your lip to choke back moans at his fingers dragging through your slick folds to stimulate your clit. He dips between your legs, using his free hand to tear your panties and shorts off at once. His fingers skate down to your dripping entrance, hovering there a moment to let him admire how wet you are.

Joshua goes all starry eyed at the arousal that leaks from you when his fingers sink into your core. And those sounds you make, those sugary little whimpers, have his cock straining against his sweatpants. “Fuck, you’re so beautiful,” he groans, his gaze dancing back up to take in those gorgeous faces you make, “And you’re all mine, aren’t you?” 

He curls his fingers against the spongy texture of your walls, rotating his wrist at in a motion so heavenly you’re on the verge of drooling. You’re too lost in ecstacy—too busy riding his fingers to speak a word. Joshua grips your belly, pinning you down to the bed, his fingers pounding mercilessly into your needy core.

“I want you to answer me, baby, so everyone can hear you. You’re mine, aren’t you? Hmm?”

“Yes, I’m…I’m yours” you stutter, grabbing for his wrist. The feeling’s too intense, you can hardly keep still. Your heart’s racing in your chest. You want more but you fear you’ll lose your mind if it goes on like this. He’s working your sweet spot like only he knows how and you can already feel yourself coming undone. 

Joshua climbs on top of you, kissing his way up your belly, between your breasts, all the while fucking his fingers into you without missing a beat. His lips ghost yours, parting them to taste the moans that spill out. “Louder” he whispers and adds another finger, making you feel so much fuller than before. 

“I’m yours, Shua! All yours! Nobody else’s! N…nobody’s” you cry out, your moans as melodic as his favorite song.

“That’s my girl. Always so good for me” he coos, stealing your breath with a kiss laced with enough passion that you’d swear you were floating. 

If your lips were free, if your tongue weren’t fiercely tangled with his, you might spill a few broken moans out to let him know how close you are but Joshua doesn’t need your words, your body speaks for itself. The trembling of your jaw. The arching of your back. The way your walls are fluttering around his fingers, clenching tighter each time.

Reaching his thumb up, he presses it to your clit, rubbing it faster and faster until your screams fill his cheeks and your juices gush around his fingers. “Shua, mmm, oh god” you gasp, your fingers knotted in the fabric of his shirt. “I need you.” Tearing his shirt off, you summon what minimal strength you have in your weakening limbs to force him onto his back. You crawl on top of him, straddling his lap, and the room begins to spin. Maybe you made that move a little sooner than you should’ve. 

Joshua giggles at the slight sway in your movements before you collapse onto his chest, looking up at him with glossy eyes. He cups your cheek, brushing away the hair sticking to your flush cheeks. “How’d I get a girl who’s this cute all the time?”

You place your palms flat on his chest, pushing yourself back up just enough to hover over him. “Because you’re this cute all the time” you say, smiling down at the handsome man beneath you, “It’s like we were, I don’t know, made for each other or something.”

Joshua pulls his pants down, careful not to disturb your position. He likes you right where you are. His cock springs free, rubbing against your still sensitive pussy as it comes to rest between your legs, the tip of his cock wet with arousal. “Made for each other” he muses, lifting you up and slowly lowering you down onto his cock, teasing himself with the warmth of your core. “I like that.”

“Me, aah, too” you moan, your nails pressing into the bare skin of his chest enough to leave tiny indents behind.

The fullness from his fingers was one thing but it’s nothing compared to the fullness you experience when his cock’s deep inside of you, stretching you deliciously from all angles. You meant what you said when you called him insane. How could a man who looks this hot with a cock this nice ever think you’d look at someone else for a second? 

Sitting back you rotate your hips in a circular motion, alternating side to side, and your walls are just clinging to his cock as it pulses against them. You run your fingers down Joshua’s stomach, feeling the muscles tense beneath your touch. He tries to keep his eyes open because he wants to watch you—needs to see you riding his cock, your body jiggling with every movement—but his lids are growing heavy already. The pleasure hits him, wave after unforgiving wave, and all he can do is take it. 

Leaning forward, you take him by the chin, tempting him with a kiss that you ultimately deprive him of. “Now you say it” you whisper, rolling your hips to make him whimper the way he did you. You pick up speed and his eyes nearly roll back in his head. 

“Say what? Fuck, I’ll say anything you want me to say” he moans, his palms crashing into your thighs with a snap that makes them vibrate around him. 

“Say that you’re mine, all mine, so that everyone can hear.” 

The light in his eyes darkens at your request and he throws his arms around you, positioning himself at just the right angle to thrust into you. This was supposed to be your power position but he has you held tightly again, fucking into you so that you bounce up and down in his lap, the swollen head of his cock leaking deep inside of you.

“I’m yours,” he says loudly, fearlessly, “I’m yours, this cock is yours, so take me. Take it.” 

Every thrust echoes through your body. You can feel it in the tips of your fingers and your toes, taste it on the back of your tongue. It’s like heaven. Your hips are still working, eager to swallow every inch of his length, desperate to match the intensity of every thrust. The friction between you bumps your clit and the overstimulation has your body humming. You’re struggling to keep it together, fighting back the high that so badly wants to overtake you.

Joshua steals the kiss that you denied him, grabbing the soft flesh of your ass. “No holding back. Cum with me, baby.” 

As if on command, because that’s exactly what it is, you surrender, letting your high crash into you for a second time. It’s even more devastating this time around with his cock swelling inside of you, filling your walls to the brim with warm, thick ropes of cum. You’re both completely out of it, your limbs turning to jello, but you’re too greedy to stop until your bodies give out, absolutely forcing you to.

Breathless, Joshua pets your back, leaning down to plant a kiss on your forehead. You look up at him with the brightest eyes, like he’s the very center of your universe, like there’s no one else in the world who can come close, and his heart skips a beat. You do soothe his insecurities. He does need your validation and that’s okay because he knows he’ll have it always and forever. 

[twistedlovelines]

anon: No. 10 with Azul for the smut prompt list :3

thank you for sending in a request, nonnie <3

10) finding their partner’s sex toy/toys and making them play with it in front of them from this smut prompt list (requests still open so long as you read my rules beforehand!)

18+, Gn! Dom! Reader, sub! Azul, toys

“It squirts?”

Turning the periwinkle toy around, you pump the syringe connected to it, a pathetic puff of air wheezing out in response. 

“I clean it every time I use it,” Azul snips, crossing his legs. The fierce blush on his face negates any hostility, though, and you can’t help but smirk at his reaction. “I would never doubt it,” you reply smoothly, sauntering over to the edge of the bed next to him. Two fingers dip under his chin, tilting his face upwards,“But that isn’t what I asked, was it, Darling?” 

His breath hitches at that, fingers twisting into the silk of his pajama pants. Looking you directly in the eyes has a shiver running up his spine and he reflexively squeezes his eyes shut. They crack open the barest fraction a second later as you stroke an encouraging thumb over his cheek, ever so patient. 

“No,” he whimpers, unable to help himself from leaning into your touch.

His eyes flutter open, shining blue eyes meeting yours for a moment before darting to the dildo held in your other hand, your fingers firmly wrapped around silicone. A smile tugs at your lips. Azul’s never been good at being subtle with his desires like this. 

“Do you want me to use it on you, Azul? To cum in your ass? To claim you?” Your hand moves to skim over his skin, settling on the back of his neck as you kiss along his jaw. 

Teeth meet flesh— such soft, pale flesh trembling underneath you— to bite. 

He jolts with a sharp moan, hips jerking into the air. His cock is embarrassingly hard, straining against the surface of his underwear. It’s gonna stain his pajamas, he thinks through a foggy haze of pleasure, grinding upwards in a weak attempt to chase the faintest trace of friction. The soothing licks you lave over the bite mark only register in his mind once your tongue has left his skin.

You laugh, then, a puff of warm air against his neck as you set the dildo down on the bed. With a sympathetic hum, you gently lay Azul on his back, stroking the bulge of his cock with a single finger. His thighs press together, a silent plea for you to move.

You stop.

“Hm? Did you need something, Azul?”

Azul can’t help but whine as you tug his pants off to settle over his knees, only brushing up against his skin to snap the band of his boxers against his hip. It’s unfair what you’re doing to him, really. His legs kick out in an attempt to shimmy off the rest of his pants, only for you to catch both of his calves in your hands instead. 

“Come on now, that’s hardly a proper answer,” you tease, your lips ghosting over the delicate skin of his ankle. He kicks out reflexively but your grip on him is firm. Azul huffs in frustration and turns his face away, but his cock betrays his arousal, precum steadily beading at the tip.  

“...You know what I want,” he mumbles. “Do I?”

You rest his legs over your shoulders as you leisurely settle down; cum-like lube in one hand, dildo in the other. He feels your arms encircling his legs to hold him steady, but other than that, you’re wholly focused on filling the toy, and Azul can’t help but feel a swell of envy rise in his chest as he watches you work with precision. The dildo overfills ever so slightly and Azul moans when he sees the “cum” dribble out. 

“I want you to let me taste,” Azul finally wrenches out, his face flushed. 

He’s nearly incoherent at this point, his body covered in a pretty sheen of sweat. His legs flex around your neck, but you only coo at that, reaching down to cup his cheek in your hand. 

“There you go,” the tip of your thumb presses against his bottom lip. Your other hand moves to raise the dildo to his parted mouth, a drop of the dildo’s cum falling onto his tongue. 

“Now suck.”

a/n: reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated <3 i hope you enjoy, nonnie!

[oldwritingm]

I'm so sorry for not posting for so long!! Thank you all for being so patient! Requests are still closed right now, but I'm dropping this because I felt bad about leaving you lovelies for so long :(

Ninjago - How The Ninjas (+ Pixal) Would Welcome You Back (after not seeing you for a while)

Kai

His face lights up the minute he sees you

He opens his arms and charges at you, scooping you off your feet and twirling around

He's smiling hugely the entire time, and as he slows the spinning he starts to laugh

Dropping you down so he can hug you normally, he buries his head in your shirt

His laughing slows, and for a moment you swear you can feel your shirt getting a little wet

Then he pulls away, still smiling, and of course:

SMOOCH TIME

He smushes your cheeks while he kisses you, holding your face firmly against his

The kiss lasts a long time O-O

And when that one stops, he peppers you with a thousand more on your cheeks, forehead, eyelids, hands, etc.....

Once the urge to kiss you has been satisfied, he finally says something

"I missed you so much."

And you can't help but giggle:

"I could tell. I missed you, too."

Cole

Calls your name LOUDLY when he spots you

He's waving frantically until your eyes meet, and then he bursts into a huge grin

He says your name again more warmly when you're closer, still smiling

Then he pulls you into a crushing bear hug, lifting you onto the tips of your toes

He sways back and forth a little, humming calmly

Bro does not realize he's crushing you

It's only when you cough or wheeze or smth that he finally drops you, apologizing with concern

You reassure him that you're fine ofc

Then he goes back to smiling at you, but this time his face lights up as if he's remembered something

His hand disappears into his pocket, and when it comes back out he's got a gift for you!!

It's always a cute little mini statue :]

"Cole!! It's so cute!"

"Just like someone I know. Someone I missed a lot."

(you gather a collection of these over time btw)

Jay

RUNS to you like a toddler running to its mother

Arms out, screaming your name, eyes huge, the whole shabang

The hug he gives you is tight, but it barely lasts a second

He pulls away to look at you, and you see tears brimming his eyes

Then he hugs you again, rinse and repeat several times before he finally says something

He's smiling now, and he swipes the tears out of his eyes

"Aw, you don't even know how happy I am to see you again."

He cups your face, just feeling your skin and looking at you as if for the first time

(he's still smiling ofc, but if you look closely his lips are trembling)

You see tears coming into his eyes again, but before they fall he pulls you into another hug

You rub his back, feeling a couple tears dribble onto your shoulder

"Jay... I missed you."

The hug tightens when you say that, and it doesn't end for a long time :)

Zane

He waves animatedly when he sees you

He doesn't say anything, but when you're within talking distance he calls your name lovingly

His arms open to give you a very soft (and unfortunately short) hug

Then he takes your hands, rubbing your knuckles slowly as he gazes at you

He just stares for a long time, hypnotized by your eyes

If you speak he just hums

Then he pulls you closer, gently wrapping his arms around you once more

His fingers curl around your shirt as if he's trying to keep you from separating again

You chuckle softly:

"Zane, I'm not going anywhere."

"I know... I know."

He def holds your hand for the rest of the day though <3

Lloyd

You hear him before you see him

He's calling your name loudly, and when you spot each other you run into each other's arms

You hug each other tight for a moment, both humming from squeezing and being squeezed

Then you pull away, giggling at each other

Lloyd opens his mouth to say something, but shuts it with a grin that's shy now

"I planned out what I wanted to say to you... but I forgot."

You both laugh again, settling on a hug to say what words couldn't

Pressed against your shoulder, he murmurs that he missed you a lot

His hands wander up to your head, and he runs his hands through your hair (or against your scalp if you have rlly short/no hair :3)

He will MELT if you do the same btw

You guys just hug for an eternity

You only stop to prevent yourselves from falling asleep standing up

Nya

Much like her brother, Nya is definitely going to pick you up when she sees you again

Strong arm woman <3

She holds you high in the air, her arms pressing your knees against her torso

She looks up at you with the most loving gaze, her lips curved into a soft smile

After a while he drops you down, but not all the way to the ground

Your feet are still dangling, but your faces are closer now

She sighs, finally putting you back on your feet

Planting a kiss on your cheek, and then the other one, she skips the mushy words

Instead she asks you how you've been :)

She's been dying to talk to you again; she wants to hear every little detail!!

And ofc she'll return the favor with her own stories

Late night talking w Nya... AAH <3

Pixal

She's the calmest of the bunch when it comes to reuniting

She'll smile when she sees you ofc, but she won't act all excited or anything when you approach

She will greet you very warmly though, dw

"Y/n! It's been so long! You look... well."

You can tell she means way more than "well," but she was obviously too awkward to say it

(This is also when she'll point out the smallest of differences in your appearance,, like "your hair is longer/shorter now")

She'll accept any warmth you return gladly, no matter how mushy you wanna get

Actually she appreciates if you can be more affectionate than she was

It shows her that you're happy to see her again :)

She'll want to spend at least the rest of the day with you, even if she's just standing silently in the background while you do your thing

More (much more) if circumstances permit ;3

AAAHHH TYSM FOR YOUR PATIENCE!! I'm glad to be back, and I hope I can post more!! Thank you so much for reading, I love you all! Take care my duckies <3

Also... probably gonna make this a series for my other fandoms I write for if you guys want!

(divider by saradika)

[jd-loves-fiction]

Do you think you could write a piece where Rook is comforting his S/O about the future? Please and thank you

🌑oh boy haven't written him... Ever I think let's see how I do :)

[18:49] Rook is a hunter who uses his skills on people and animals alike, so really, it’d be silly to think he wouldn't notice your upset state – especially with you being the one he takes the most joy in observing. 

“Chérie?” Rook’s head pokes around the corner, staring down at the bench where you sit, gazing out the window in a place nobody visits, “everything alright?”

He knows the answer already, sharp as he is – if he thought you truly just needed space, he’d give it to you, but to his astute mind it’s clear you shouldn't be alone right now.

You swallow thickly around the lump in your throat, “Yeah… Yeah, everything’s fine.” it doesn't take a huntsman to see through such an unconvincing lie. You’d stepped away from the more crowded areas of NRC the moment your breath started quickening, hoping that some time alone would help ease your mind. You thought wrong – the empty silence around you only served to make your thoughts even louder.

“Now, now, chérie. We both know that’s not true.” Rook chides gently, moving to take a seat beside you. You turn your head away so he won't see the tears building at your waterline, but he’s quick to lightly grasp your chin to turn your gaze onto his. “Can you tell me what has you feeling this way?”

“It’s just–” you gesture vaguely, “everything? I don't know,” a shaky sigh wheezes past your lips against your will, trembling with the effort of keeping the floodgates closed. It’s as if his mere presence is enough to turn you into a crying mess, perhaps because that is exactly what you need but won't allow yourself to do.

“Surely it mustn’t be everything…” he gently suggests, laying your head against his broad chest and petting it fondly, “Is it me?”

“No…”

“Is it any class in particular?”

“Not exactly… no.”

“Then, it can't be everything. If you could be more specific, I’d be able to help you, my dear.” He drips honey over your ears with his words, patient and loving as he always is, calming you down enough to gather your thoughts.

“It’s just… the future? What comes next? I just… I don't know what comes next and it worries me…” You admit sheepishly, wondering if that made any sense but Rook is quick to reassure you, humming patiently in understanding. Something in your heart makes you think that he might’ve already known that – very little gets past him, after all.

“It’s totally normal to worry about the future. Even I get a little stressed thinking about it sometimes; what I’ll do after NRC… what a strange thought.” He muses to himself thoughtfully, looking on at the campus gardens as you flounder once more to express yourself.

“I-I know it’s not special but it just– it’s been getting to me, for some reason.” You murmur – perhaps you shouldn't have told him… will he think less of you now, for letting the worries he so easily brushes aside take you over?

“Well, I suppose it’s good that you won't be going through it alone.” He replies as if stating the obvious, as if you stepping beyond the present and into the future alone was never even an option in his mind – to him, you were always meant to go forward together.

“Yeah, I suppose it is.”

It's easy to accept his words now that the panic of the moment is gone, breaths even and heart rate stable. It brings you all the comfort you need, to know that he will always be here just as he has been in the past.

[kairiscorner]

my sickness is brain rotting about him 🧋

(reblogs are greatly appreciated, it helps get my content out there! if you guys like what you see, please reblog it too <:D)

let him take care of you. – miguel o'hara x sick!reader

"don't even think about it." his low, stern voice rumbled from the depths of his throat and was all that you could hear amidst your sniffling from your congested airways. your teary eyes from your cold was blurring your vision, and your weakly turned around to face his stoic expression–with his eyebrows furrowed up at you as he placed his hands on his hips in his usual commanding demeanor. you groaned as you tried to tell him you were fine, you could go on the mission you were originally assigned as usual–a little cold wouldn't bring you down; but your incessant coughing, sniffling, and dazed, fatigue expression caused him to think otherwise.

he sighed as he grabbed your wrist gently and tugged you to follow him into the infirmary, with you reluctantly joining him as you wobbled alongside his confident strides. he took you into the cold infirmary and sat you down by the patient's bed. you shivered and sneezed upon entering, causing miguel to murmur that he told you, you weren't as robust as you believed you were in this condition. he requested lyla to do a full-body scan on you, to check on your condition and what was wrong with your body right then and there. lyla had reported back to miguel that you had a common cold, and the only remedy being a nice warm meal and a lot of rests and liquids.

miguel nodded as he dismissed lyla and went over to the nearest cabinet and got you a fuzzy blanket. you insisted, with a nasally voice, to miguel that you were just alright–you just needed to shake this cold off by kicking some bad guys' asses... but miguel didn't buy it when he heard you sneezing and wheezing as you spoke. he unfolded the blanket wordlessly as you tried explaining to him that you were just setback a little–you could totally kick ass, just... maybe give yourself a few minutes. miguel shook his head as he lay the blanket on you, not bothering to lay you down before he placed the blanket on top of you.

"enough with your hardheadedness, c'mon, get your ass better soon or i'm kicking your ass for those anomalies." miguel scolded you as you huffed, pulling the blanket off your face and lying down grudgingly. miguel pulled out a cold smock and a mercury thermometer, inspecting it up close and asking himself in a mutter how this thing was supposed to work. you coughed out a guide for him, but he decided to make his job easier and just have lyla monitor you. you had expected him to leave you alone in the infirmary to rest so he could also get some of his own work done, but miguel merely sat on a chair by the end of your bed and worked on the monitors from his watch with a stoic face.

you raised an eyebrow at him as he merely kept working. "what... are you up to?" you asked him weakly as he peered at you from the corner of his eye. "monitoring you to ensure you don't do anything stupid." he said in a low mutter as he kept working. you smiled meekly and coughed a bit as your cold persisted. miguel had gotten up from the chair and went over to get you a paper cup and filled it with warm water and handed you a lozenge from the drawer. "lyla said you'd need them, so... here." he said awkwardly as he handed them to you. you thanked him, with miguel nodding his 'you're welcome' back at you as he sat himself down on the chair again and kept monitoring the multiverse as usual.

a few hours passed and you eventually fell asleep with miguel watching over the multiverse and you all the while. lyla popped in and asked miguel if he could take a small break to get you some food, with him telling lyla that if you weren't whining for food, you probably didn't need it. lyla sighed, "wow, you're a pretty bad caretaker, mig." she said as miguel side-eyed her and gave in. "fine, but keep an eye on them for me, sound an alarm if they do anything close to escaping this room." "you make them sound like a criminal." lyla joked as miguel rolled his eyes and exited the infirmary, on his way to cook you up some fresh food.

he came back with a bowl of some hot soup, which lyla recommended for a cold remedy, and as he was heading back into the room, miguel took note of how peaceful you appeared while sleeping. he set the food down on the table near your bed and heard your breathing get laborious, must've been your body's response to fighting off your illness. miguel would've usually asked lyla to give him a report on your current temperature, but right now, he wanted to know for himself how bad your fever was getting. call it out of character for him, but he did truly care for you deep down... he can only show this side of himself while you're not looking, though; so he leaned over and pressed the back of his palm to your forehead, feeling your warmth all over his hand.

"poor thing." he murmured as he gently placed a new cold smock back on to your forehead and noticing your eyelids gently fluttering open. he pulled away from you not long after and opened the lights. "about time you woke up, eat up now." he said with a softer voice than earlier, handing you the hot bowl of soup he cooked up for you. you wheezed out your thanks to him as he muttered a 'you're... welcome' this time instead of just nodding. watching you eat the soup he made, seeing you look more rejuvenated and healthy kind of made his heart feel... lighter somehow. miguel never told you he cooked that for you, instead, he took your compliments about his dish and told you he'd thank the chef for you; he'd be damned if anyone else in the spider society discovered he cooked for you while sick, that would be a secret he'd take to the grave.

"hey, miggy..." you whispered to him as you grinned as wide as you could, amidst your heated, sick expression. he leaned closer to you and raised an eyebrow. "what, do you need any water?" he asked you, but you shook your head. "thank you... for, everything, really." you said with a slightly embarrassed face that mimicked his own. miguel felt himself get feverish and heated, he had never received a compliment that sincere; well, actually, he had hardly received compliments nowadays. he didn't know what to say to really relay how he felt, he couldn't even tell what feelings he was experiencing right then and there, they were a flurry of feelings that he experienced hammering in his chest all at once. he nodded again and said in a much louder voice as he looked away from you, "right, right, um... you're welcome." he tried his hardest not to sound flustered nor taken aback by your sweet words of gratitude, but your slight giggling made his facade crumble bit by bit.

"anyway... get better soon, or i'm replacing you." he threatened you with no commitment whatsoever in it, with you chuckling now at it. "really? then who're you gonna take care of while they're sick...?" "i don't ask to be anyone's caretaker when they're sick." "because you don't ask, you wanna take care of me, isn't that right, miggy?" you asked him with a flustered grin as miguel went back to monitoring the multiverse again, facing away from you. "just... go back to sleep, you'll need all the rest you can get, go on now." he said as you smiled wider and nodded, falling your head back on the pillow and relaxing yourself to head to sleep. miguel, meanwhile was restless; hearing you thank him and get through to his tough exterior with your gratitude and astuteness... it did a number on him, it affected him in more ways than you could ever imagine.

he looked away from his monitors for a second and peered over at your sleeping self, turned on your side again—and for the first time in a long while... felt the corners of his lips stretch into a small grin and his heart lightening up just a tad bit. who knew he could be a better caretaker than he thought? certainly not him, but even though he wasn't the most well-versed at this whole care-taking thing—but you give him a whole new confidence to work with; it might not be the brightest confidence, but it's certainly something that compels him to keep doing this, to keep putting out effort to care for and help someone get nursed back to health, and it's exclusively for you.

tags !! @miguelswifey04 @binibinileonara @luvstarrstruck @melovetitties @arachnoia @ophanimgold @popeheywardssecretgf @meeom @simsrandomstuff @hisachuu @wreakingmarveloushavok

[inrockstarfashion]

Reader is dating Max Verstappen, she let’s slip a Dutch swear word making him (maybe other drivers) break down laughing

I’m Australian with Dutch/Greek roots, so I know swear words in both and have let them slip out 😅🙃 verdomde hel (fucking hell)

I loved this prompt! I relate to this so much, I spent three years in Germany when I was extremely young and I definitely use sheise (shit) at least once a day.

I’m so sorry this is so late. University has been absolutely insane. It’s shorter than I wanted it but it’s been sitting in my drafts for far too long.

The weekend went amazing. Obviously in your biased opinion, being that your very own Max Verstappen got P1 (again). Tonight you were celebrating with Max along with several other drivers and the other wags at a club, getting drunk and letting loose after the intense race weekend.

You sat at a table in the back corner of the club with Max, Lando, and Daniel

“I’m going to grab another drink. Do you want anything?” You asked Max, pinching his sleeve towards you.

Max nodded, “Gin tonic, please.” You nodded your head once and let go of his sleeve, placing your hand on his shoulder for leverage and standing up from the table. You made your way through the crowd of people, finally making it to the bar.

“Gin and tonic and a Negroni, please.” You spoke to the bartender. He turned and began mixing the drinks. You waited patiently and soon the bartender placed both glasses in front of you. You thanked him before picking up the glasses and cautiously made your way back to your table.

Successfully making it back, you passed the gin and tonic over to Max. “Thank you, liefje.” Max said, taking the glass from you. You set your drink on the table and sat back down beside him. Max moved his arm to rest behind your head, you listened in on the conversation currently happening between the three men, trying to catch up on what you’d missed. You picked up your glass, pinching the small, black straw and taking a sip of the smooth red liquid. You decided to get more comfortable and cross your legs but not before smacking your knee on the underside of the table, rattling everything sitting on top, and nearly choking on the Negroni. Pain blossomed through your knee at the impact.

“Verdomde hel.” You muttered, setting your glass down as you were rubbing your knee with your palm. Max immediately went into hysterics. Doubled over, howling with laughter. It scared me at first, Max does often laugh this loud (or hard). You watched him in confusion as you rubbed the top of your knee, trying to wipe away the throbbing sensation.

“Breathe, love.” You reminded him as he continued to wheeze into his hands which were currently covering his face. Tears were streaming down in cheeks as the other drivers at the table squealed and chuckled alongside Max.

“That was the funniest thing I’ve ever heard you say!” Max said, his voice still very shrill. He gathered himself and ran his fingers under his glassy eyes, wiping away the tears. “When did you learn Dutch like that?” He asked, turning to look at you and clearing his throat.

“Oh, uh, I don’t know. My parents spoke little phrases here and there. Guess I picked it up from them.” You shrugged, looking at Max and his rosy cheeks.

Max pursed his lips and nodded his head. He wrapped his arm around your shoulders and pulled you closer to him, giving you a quick kiss to your temple. “You should start talking like that more often.” He said, completely serious with a smile on his face. You threw your head back and laughed.

Ciao!

[jayinserenity]

So, I did it again and got caught up thinking about some Wyrmclan cats, today's subject being Daisypaw who I have Feelings about and grieving is complicated when you're in his position so @wyrm-clangen pls feel free to let me know if I've totally missed the mark or anything but... yeah. I wrote another drabble.

“C’mooon Daisypaw, I haven’t gotten you sick? Why can’t I go see them???” Daisypaw rolled his eyes above the mask, careful not to let Ivyshine see as he sifted through the herbs in the carrier Ferretlily had given him to bring to the quarantine tunnels. Sparrowlight was wheezing a little as he laughed, and Daisypaw saw Wingpaw, settling into her nest carefully, smile a little at her uncle’s antics. 

“You haven’t gotten me sick because Ferret and I cleanse thoroughly every time we leave this den and we’re both relatively healthy. Raggedspeckle just gave birth and the kits were just born so they can’t fight off illness nearly as well.” He responded, refusing to play in to the older tom’s nonsense, but regretted his shortness a little as he heard Ivyshine flop back into his nest and saw the sickly warrior droop in genuine sadness. “Turtlefreckle will be watching over her, and Icyclaw has been sleeping outside the nursery every night. You focus on getting healthy so you can get back sooner.” Daisypaw sighed as he turned back, nudging the slender black warrior with the hard surface of his mask. He turned away again when Ivyshine’s wet eyes looked up at him, seeming like he was ramping up for another round of dramatics. 

“Don’t worry so much, Ivy, my littermates are watching out for her too!” Wingpaw mewed, her voice was hoarse from her coughing and while she was obviously trying to use her usual energetic nature to reassure, Daisypaw could tell the younger cat was exhausted. He made sure she took the lungwort and feverfew, hoping dosing her more heavily would help her fight off the yellowcough that had managed to sneak up on them. Thank Starclan none of her littermates or denmates had become ill as well. Between her and Sparrowlight, Ivyshine had been mollified, and Daisypaw gave the patients a final check before gathering up their supplies and slipping from the quarantine tunnel. 

He hadn’t been joking about the cleansing, Daisypaw entered the tunnel to the cold underground river with only a little dread. The water was frigid, and clung to his pelt worse than the sap that had gotten stuck in his fur when Rookrise took him to gather pine needles.

Daisypaw carefully ignored the pang of pain that thinking about Mom brought. She’d been looking for more feverfew with Rattail and Willowdew one day and then… none of them had come back. It had been the kits all over again, search parties scoured the territory for them, but no one knew where they’d gone. Daisy had been trying not to think too hard about it, Ferret had told him it wasn’t his fault they weren’t found. That him being on the search patrols probably wouldn’t have changed anything. 

It was easier said than believed. 

Daisypaw shook the water from his pelt, taking off his new clean mask and rinsing the inside before leaving it to dry next to Ferretlily’s own, and padded tiredly back up the tunnel towards the main cavern. The faint light from outside filtering down reassured him he hadn’t lost the entire day in the quarantine tunnel so he set off through the varying burrows searching for his mentor. 

Most of the apprentices were out training, he knew, the mentors had decided to keep everyone as busy as possible. Something about idle paws, Daisypaw didn’t really pay attention. The only one that really mattered was Bluepaw, to be honest. Turtlefreckle had been keeping Bluepaw extra busy, now that his own litter were apprentices, and Daisypaw knew his brother’s mentor was trying to keep his own mind off of the yellowcough outbreak as much as Bluepaw’s. He only saw the new apprentice, Goldpaw or whatever his name was, hanging out with Sunpaw and Midnightpaw. The two younger apprentices had been on dawn patrol that morning, so Daisypaw supposed it made sense that the three were here, talking about something or another over a rabbit and a shrew. Sunpaw gave him a small smile and waved his tail, but Daisypaw… well he couldn’t really bring himself to care as he passed the other young cats. He saw the brown apprentice’s tail flop back down from his periphery before he was into another set of tunnels, following the freshest hint of Ferretlily’s scent under everyone else’s. 

“... can’t keep pushing them this hard. The fact Wingpaw got sick so suddenly makes me wonder if she was too run down to fight the illness off.” He heard his mentor’s voice from the leader’s den, and settled himself to sit outside politely. “I know leaf bare has been harsh, but we can’t afford more of the healthier young cats getting sick.”

“You’re right. I’ll talk with the mentors later, see if we can set a better schedule.” Fiercechasm’s voice then. “Give them some rest time.”

“Thank you. I’ll try and do the same with Daisypaw, I’m worried he’ll run himself ragged.” Daisypaw frowned, flicking an ear in annoyance. Ferret was always fussing. “He’s not taking the time to process anything… sometimes I wish I had an excuse to send him out with the other apprentices, but with Rookrise gone I can’t spare him.” Daisypaw felt that annoyance fade a little at the guilt and tiredness if Ferretlily’s voice. He knew, objectively, he should be sadder than he was. Mom being missing. Mama and Panther dying last moon. But he just… didn’t. 

“Has he talked to Zuva?” Fiercechasm was asking, and that bit of annoyance was back. He didn’t need a mediator, besides, what was Zuva going to do? Bring his moms and sister back? This wasn’t something the old molly could fix like a spat over the last bass on the fresh kill pile. 

“No, and he gets irritated every time I ask.”

“Same with Bluepaw, Turtlefreckle has been trying, but now that Wingpaw is sick… I don’t want them to isolate more.” Daisypaw scoffed. Then realized both voices from the leader’s den had gone quiet. 

“... Daisy, I know you’re out there. Come on, we need to talk.” He sighed, but got to his paws and padded in to the den. Fiercechasm was looking a little uncomfortable, sitting to one side, but Ferret just looked tired. “Eavesdropping?”

“Was looking for you, figured I’d wait till you were done, didn’t really care about the conversation at first.” He muttered as he sat opposite her. Ferretlily didn’t hold the same intimidation factor his mother had, Hornetrise could make a rogue back down with a single look purely based on size alone, but he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t a little uncomfortable under Ferretlily’s assessing eye. She always seemed to see right through him. 

“... you know that’s part of why I’m worried, right?” Daisypaw nodded, feeling his ears droop a little without his permission. “I’m not mad at you, Daisy, but this not caring and only being around Bluepaw or me, it’s not healthy.” Daisypaw frowned. What did Ferretlily know? Did she lose both her parents and her only sister over the course of two moons? Daisypaw’s irritation sparked into anger.

“Who says it’s not? You? Fiercechasm? Zuva?” His tone wasn’t kind, and he saw the way Fiercechasm startled.

“Yes, yes, and yes. Daisypaw you aren’t the first cat to lose ones important to them.” Ferretlily started, her own irritation seeping in to his voice, and Daisypaw pinned his ears. 

“So they get to say how I should handle it?”

“No, but you can’t just pretend the rest of the clan doesn’t exist-”

“Are you giving Midnightpaw the same lecture? He’s only really hanging out with Sunpaw and the Heartclan reject-”

“Daisypaw!”

“Enough.” Fiercechasm didn’t snap, didn’t shout, but her voice cut through their argument just the same and Daisypaw felt a little shame at the disappointment in the deputy’s eyes. “Ferretlily, maybe you should go get some air.” The senior healer frowned at the younger cat, but nodded and left nonetheless, leaving Daisypaw with the silent deputy across the leader’s den from him.

“... I’m not going to go play moss ball with the kits and pretend everything is ok.” He muttered after a moment, scowling down and to the side to avoid looking at her.

“I know.”

“And I’m not gonna go cry and pretend it will make it better.”

“Because it won’t.” Daisypaw startled, then, looking up at Fiercechasm and seeing her expression soften. “Pretending everything is ok and wallowing in sadness won’t make it better. But neither will pretending you’re a loner in a camp full of clanmates who love you.” The two of them sat quietly for a bit, only the faint sounds of one of the patrols coming back breaking the heavy silence, before Daisypaw finally heaved a sigh and let his hackles drop.

“I don’t want it to hurt like that again.” He mewed, and it felt a little better to say it, and even better when Fiercechasm nodded in agreement. 

“I know. But holding everyone a taillength away won’t make it hurt any less when you lose one of them. I tried that, and it still hurt just as bad.” Daisypaw watched the deputy as she seemed to stare at something he couldn’t see, and wondered which of their lost clanmates she was remembering. 

“When Plum died, I shut down, didn’t want to be around anyone. Some days I could barely look at Sparrow and Swift knowing that they were all that was left of her, other days I clung to them like they were my last link to life… then Duskpaw was struck on the Thunderpath. And even though I thought I’d given up on opening my heart to the rest of the clan, losing her was like prodding an open wound. Watching Rattail and his kits mourn, then watching them do it all over again when we lost Seed to the twolegs the next moon? I realized that hiding away and pretending I didn’t care wasn’t protecting my heart. It was just hurting the ones I cared about.” Fiercechasm looked back at him, and Daisypaw was surprised to see her smile, even if it was tinged with sadness. “I know how tempting it is to hide away and pretend you don’t care. But there are cats who care about you. I know Swish has been worried, he can take Bluepaw on patrol when Turtle lets him, but you’re hidden away in the quarantine tunnel… Maybe start there?” Daisypaw felt another wave of guilt. He knew their older brother had been hurt too, but he’d assumed since Swishbeam was with Eddymist he wouldn’t care. Knowing that Swish had been trying… a little bit of warmth seeped back into his chest at that. 

“... Thanks Fierce. And sorry for yelling.”

“If you need to yell and be mad, that’s ok Daisypaw, but know that your clanmates are here for you. If you want to be mad or get out of the burrows for a bit to do something that isn’t looking for herbs, just ask.” Daisypaw nodded and gave a weak smile as he slunk out of the den, noting Riftstar standing further from the den in a way that told him the leader had heard, but wanted to give them privacy. He turned a little to give Daisypaw that gentle smile he always did before heading in to talk to Fiercechasm.

“Daisypaw?” He startled a little, looking up at Sunpaw as he approached. Midnightpaw and Goldenpaw were still near the apprentice’s den, but the quiet brown apprentice was looking at him in worry. “I know it’s kind of silly to ask if you’re ok, because I know I’m still not okay about Mom, Heron and Burdock, but… do you want to come sit with us? Goldenpaw was telling us some Heartclan stories, and you always told really good stories when you would watch me in the quarantine tunnel.” Daisypaw blinked, a little surprised, looked between Sunpaw and the other two apprentices watching them before that bit of warmth he’d felt talking to Fiercechasm came back. He didn’t fight the little smile that came to him as he nodded, seeing Sunpaw’s expression light up before they went to join the other two apprentices. He told himself he’d swap stories until Bluepaw got home. But by the time his brother joined them, not only was he in the midst of telling the younger apprentices about the time Ferretlily had started an argument with Agavepelt of Nightingaleclan in the middle of a Gathering that had led to a three-clan screeching match and ended the Gathering early. 

“Good to see you out of the tunnels, Daisy.” Bluepaw mewed, tucking up next to him and giving his own tired smile. Bluepaw didn’t sleep well these days, dreams filling with howls and snarls where Daisypaw’s were haunted by coughing and gasping, but with the rest of the apprentices settling around them, Daisypaw wondered if maybe, just maybe, they’d be okay. It wasn’t okay now, but it might be, someday. 

[sassycheesecake]

A/N: I have been really into dark romance and shit, ever since I got that TikTok recommendation. I hereby present yakuza!Shinsuke Kita x Reader. Part 1/2

‘Shit. Shit. Shit! I am late!’, you curse yourself as you almost bolt out of the train, as soon as it stops and its doors open.

You accidentally ran into a lot of people, shouting quick apologies over your shoulder, still running to your workplace.

Thank the heavens for your stamina.

Finally arriving at the Tokyo Ambulance Rescue Station, you quickly run inside and each of your coworkers stops what they are doing to look at you.

Huffing and almost wheezing like you’re having an asthma attack, you step inside and head to the female locker room without looking at any of your coworkers.

Already feeling disgusted by your sweaty state, you change into your paramedic uniform nonetheless. 

Now in fresh clothes, you trot your way to one of the ambulance vehicles, seeing your friend Makima checking the equipment in the backpacks and making sure everything is filled up. 

Gulping in nervousness, you approach slowly.

“Glad you decided to show up. Almost done.” Makima tells you in a deadly calm voice. Makima is one of those people who despise being late, whether it's herself or someone she is waiting on. She is only a few years older than you but still your superior. Great, this is just your first month after graduating but you were so tired last night that you forgot to put on your damn alarm for the next morning. 

Not that this is an excuse, but your showing up is all that matters right?

With shaking footsteps, you make your way into the vehicle and start apologizing in a rant.

“Makima I am so so sorry, I promise it will never happen again!”, you frantically explain yourself, still out of breath.

The long-haired redhead briefly looks at you before bursting out laughing and you don’t know if this makes you feel better or worse. 

Giggling, she closes up the i.v. medication backpack and storages it back underneath the cabinet of the bandages. 

“(Y/N) don’t worry about it really, shit happens to all of us. No one is perfect and everyone here at the station was late once. Even me.” Makima explains and you can feel yourself being able to breathe easier already.

Just when you were about to reply to her, your beeper went off with a loud annoying peeping voice.

You run to the rack, where your black jacket with your name and the words T.A.R.S. are stitched into, and hop into the passenger seat of the vehicle.

Reading the screen at the front, you groan at the message that the fire station has sent you.

‘PATIENT PROB OD, TROUBLE BREATHING, UNCONSCIOUS, UNRESPONSIVE ‘

It’s probably the troublesome homeless teenager Denji again. You have met Denji twice now. Once beaten up badly and lying knocked out cold in an alley where he was found by a couple of passengers. The other time you found him almost bleeding to death due to a deep stab wound in his thigh, which he explained he simply got mugged. 

Nonetheless, you press the buttons for the siren and the blue lights, while Makima steps on the gas to rush to the scene. 

The rush and adrenaline are running through your system, making your heart bounce in excitement. Saving lives in acute situations is your thing! It’s a working environment that always comes with new foreign things and patients. Each day is different, which is exactly what your brain needs. Even if you have to drive through the massive city of Tokyo, the different kinds of people and the stories you get to tell your parents sometimes, are worth their shocking and even disgusting expressions sometimes. 

Once you were called to a restaurant, in which a patient had an allergic reaction and went into a nonlethal anaphylactic shock. 

The patient told you that his date was so horrible, that he purposely ate onions, even though he is allergic to them. 

All just to get away from her.

Shaking your head, the logic of men never ceases to amaze you. 

Arriving at the scene, you see two people leaning over a young guy that is laying on the sidewalk. He is already turned to his side, making sure in case he needs to throw up, he doesn’t choke on his vomit. Mentally thanking these people for performing the stable lateral position on the unconscious boy.

You grab the mobile vital monitor and the backpack that includes material for giving an I.V. including meds and an infusion. 

Before Makima grabs the breathing and the medical suction pump, she turns off the siren but leaves the blue lights on. Pressing the lock on the car keys, the ambulance is securely locked. Unfortunately, people tend to break into ambulance vehicles and proceed to steal the medications.

Both women are rushing to the patient, quickly going through the ABCDE approach, and they manage to load him onto the stretcher after making sure he didn’t overdose. His heart is beating abnormally fast, his blood pressure is at 75/40 and when you shine a small flashlight to take a look at his eyes, his pupils are dilated.

There’s no doubt about it, that Denji got his hands on cocaine.

After giving him Adrenaline and Naloxone, his condition stabilises and Denji begins to stir.

Blinking his eyes open, a bright light immediately greets him and Denji swears he died. 

He feels incredibly nauseous and his head is spinning like he just went on countless rides on a spinning wheel. 

You hover over Denji’s pale figure, a vomiting bag already in your right hand. 

“Denji? Can you hear me?” You ask him in a concerned voice.

When Denji was about to answer, he rapidly sits up and snatches the bag out of your hand, and hurls right into it.

Rubbing his back in a comforting manner, you sit beside him on the stretcher.

Makima is giving a quick report to their station boss, before joining you in the vehicle.

The sight of Denji vomiting disgusts Makima, deciding to wait outside because she can’t stand the smell or sight of someone throwing up.

“Denji, I think we should really take you to the hospital, you’re only 16 years old, where did you even get this stuff?” You ask him in a worried voice.

“It’s none of your business, let me out! I need to go!” Denji snaps at you, beginning to stand up. 

You know you shouldn’t fight someone who just woke up from a drug rush, so you let him stand up.

Standing on wobbly legs, he places his hand against the vehicle wall to stabilize his balance.  

Breathing heavily out of his mouth, he was about to open the vehicle door when Makima already beat him to it.

Surprised that he is up, she moves to the side to let him step out of the vehicle.

Denji almost falls flat on his face and his pale face makes you even more worried about him. 

“Denji, are you sure you’re okay? Do you want us to call anyone?” 

“Stop acting like you fucking care about me. I am just a street rat. I don’t need your pity! Just leave me the fuck alone!” He angrily spits at you, like a moody teenager that got his phone taken away. 

Makima and you are watching him walk away, still unbalanced but both of you leave him be.

“You’re welcome by the way for not letting you die today!” Makima yells after him. Denji shows his middle finger up in response and continues to stomp away.

Sighing in defeat, Makima and you get back into the vehicle and you are making your way back to the station.

Giving the report that the patient refused to cooperate and come with you, you drive back.

The clock strikes 22:00 and Makima and you are finally free to change after the night shift has arrived. 

Farewelling Makima goodbye, you begin to walk to the train station.

Having your headphones in your ear, you scroll through your Spotify playlist and choose ‘Glitter and Gold’. 

You had a really busy day and barely had a chance to go to the bathroom. 

Entering the women’s restroom, you look up from your phone, and the sight before you freezes immediately.

Right in front of you stands a very tall guy with sandy-blonde hair, he has to be at least 6’1 and he is holding a lot of tissues against his arm, blood soaking each tissue.

The stranger holds a painful expression while putting pressure on his arm.

His muscled body is leaning against the sink, the blood on his upper arm dripping down right into it. 

Brown eyes rapidly look in your direction, his face shining with curiosity.

Chuckling nervously, he starts talking with his deep voice.

“Don’t scream, don't call for anyone. Just got a little scratch on my arm.” 

Blinking a few times at his wound, you slowly step towards him.

Your approach is making him tense, his non-injured arm moving to his side, where he holds a dagger in case you want to attack him.

“Your wound looks pretty bad. Don’t worry I am a paramedic, I can take care of that if you want to.”

The blonde-haired giant looks at you for a few seconds, making sure you’re not lying. 

After a few moments of tense silence, he nods unsurely.

Breathing out slowly, you awkwardly glance at the door and at him a few times. 

“Uhm. Just follow me then, I need to take a proper look at it. I have my materials at home so come home with me so I can patch you up properly.” You explain to him.

His eyes watch you carefully, hesitantly he nods and puts his maroon jacket back on.

“Do you have a belt or something on you?” You ask him as you both exit the public restroom. 

The tall stranger nods and takes off his belt to hand it to you.

Grasping the belt you begin to tie it around his arm, so the wound hopefully stops the bleeding until you both arrive at your place. 

Wincing at the tightness, he thanks you quietly.

As you both begin to enter the train, which is thankfully empty around this time on a weekday, you ask him what happened to his arm.

“Not that's yer business anyway, so I’d rather not say.” He avoids your curious look. 

“But that wound is pretty deep! You need to go to the hospital and get that stitched up probably.” You try to reason with him.

“I am serious. Drop it.” He snaps at you with an angry frown.

Accepting his request, you decide to drop it. 

With nervous hands, you glance down at the metro floor and wait in silence to arrive at your destination. 

Ten uncomfortable minutes later, you both arrive at the subway station that is close to your apartment.

Unlocking the door with your key, you enter inside and wait for him.

The blonde hesitates for a few seconds, glancing down the hallway nervously before deciding that you’re not a threat, and enters as well.

Gently closing the door, you urge him to follow you into your bathroom where your medical kit lies underneath the sink.

You direct him to sit on the edge of the bathtub and he complies without question.

“I need to see your wound properly in order to clean it up.” You tell him while putting on medical gloves and setting the necessary materials like the stitching materials, disinfectant wipes, and fluid, and scissors. 

He winces while rolling up his sleeve to present you with his injury. 

You start by taking a wet washcloth and gently dabbing it around the area, quietly apologizing whenever he hisses and flinches away from the touch.

As you are now able to see the injury better, you see that it’s actually a bullet wound, hence the bleeding was so heavy.

Shocked that he has this kind of injury, you remember that he doesn’t want to talk about how he got it. 

“Lift your arm please, I need to know if the bullet is still in the muscle tissue.“

He gives you an incredulous look since lifting his arm would only worsen his pain. Nonetheless, he complies.

Quickly looking around his arm you don’t see an exit wound, closing your eyes in pity for the stranger, you know what you are going to say next, definitely won’t be easy.

“Let me guess. That thing is still in there.” He looks to the ceiling of your bathroom with a tight smile.

“U-Uhm yes. I told you to go to a hospital. It needs to be surgically removed. I really recommend it Mr….”, you drift off as you don’t recall knowing his name.

He looks at you and realizes he’s never introduced himself to you properly. 

“Name’s Atsumu Miya, ya can call me Atsumu.” 

Later on, Atsumu enters the familiar door of the headquarters of the ‘Fox Den’ and lets out a heavy sigh.

The pent-up frustration from the fight with Karasuno, the pain, and the treatment that he had to bite through with you is making his body insanely tired from exhaustion. 

Nonetheless, he needs to give a report to his boss, the leader of the Inarizaki gang of Hyogo. 

Atsumu walks down the hallway that has multiple doors connected to it and since it’s awfully quiet, Atsumu guesses that most members are either asleep or away on missions.

Entering the lift at the end of the hallway, he presses the ‘5’ button for the conference rooms and where also the office of his boss. 

Swinging back and forth on his heels, Atsumu waits until the elevator stops and continues his path to the room of the leader of Inarizaki.

Once he arrives at his destination, he knocks first, before entering.

“Hey Kita, 'm back from the mission." The blonde says when he steps into the office.

A man who has silver hair with black tips in it, is sitting at the desk and he briefly looks up from his laptop with a stoic face, before looking down again, continuing to type something down. 

Ignoring the warm greeting of his boss, Atsumu plops down on one of the chairs in front of the desk and puts his arms behind his head to stretch.

Unfortunately, he completely forgot about the injury on his arm, immediately putting the injured arm down again with a winced hiss. 

The head of the gang looks at his trusted friend before a slight frown of concern decorates his face. 

“What happened?“ he asks in a calm voice.

“Oh, you know the usual. Just some fuckers from Karasuno in our territory and one of them fucking shot me.“ Atsumu explains while gently rubbing over his arm, feeling the wrapped bandage from you underneath his jacket. 

His frown deepens at the mention of their rival gang, the Karasuno crows, but listens quietly. 

“Do you need medical attention? Do you want me to send Ginjima or Riseki up?“ He continues to question him.

“Nah, I am good Kita. Got stitched up by this cute girl that I met while I was bleedin‘ out like a pig in a women’s restroom by the train station.“ Atsumu pulls his sleeve to reveal the bandage.

Kita glances at the bandage on his friend‘s arm, a mix between concern and anger but also suspicion haunts his face. 

He slowly gets up from his chair and rounds his table with slow steps, making his way toward the older twin.

The injured man looks at him with curious eyes while raising his eyebrow in confusion.

The silver-haired man stares at one of his most trusted right-hand man with a neutral expression and puts his arms behind his back.

“Tell me more about this mysterious medic girl.“ He demands.

Atsumu grins mischievously at his boss and begins to tell him about his fight to the encounter of meeting you. 

Yawning, you stretched out your exhausted limbs and climbed into your comforting blue soft blankets. The feeling of your head hitting the cushy pillow makes you sigh in bliss. It was a long day, first the rowdy patients, then getting vomited on by a drunk homeless person that almost overdosed, and then there was the injured blonde-haired stranger you met tonight. You’re not going to lie, it was a whole mountain of stupid to just invite a stranger over to your apartment. Anxiously, you remember, that he mentioned he didn’t want to go to the hospital to get patched up because he needs to stay anonymous. 

The only question is…

Why does he need to do that?

Your thoughts are interrupted when your phone vibrates with a message. You curiously pick it up to see what the notification is. 

Eyes widening in shock and also a concern, you glance at your screen.

Unknown number

‘Thank you for taking care of my friend. I would like to repay you some time for your kind service’

[fatasticfeedernurse]

Patients-1

These are the gals that are going to be taken care of by the lovely dragon nurses~

Pile of blubber Catra from "She-Ra". A temperamental meat head who is was a great lider fgor her faction. Currently resides on intensive care as she is too stubborn to follow her dietary plan. "I-Im ...*hfffbUAARRP*... ...*sploosh*... ...*hnnghh*... ...*sputter*... goin' ...*wheeze*... ...*glug*... ...*nff*... ...*slosh*... toh ...*uhhnngh*... ...*slurp*... ...*smush*... d-deehshtroohy ...*urrRPPphh*... ...*chomp*... ...*urrrPPhhh*... yoouu~pruurRPP ~h ...*grrrrRRPPp*... ...*gulp*... ...*ouurRRPp*.. ...*snarf*... fohr ...*urrrRRPPP*... ...*smush*... ...*nff*... t-thiish!"

Uraraka From MHA. This fatty can some times waddle around the facility if she manages to not throw up by using her quirk in herself (Spoilers, she will not manage it). Usually wandering around just to "prove" that she isnt such a lost cause.

Himiko Toga from MHA Different from Ochako, this girl doesnt give a crap about being any kind of normal. More than not this sadistic individual likes to punish her boy on your behalf. Quirky!

Tsuyu Asui and Mina Ashido from MHA

Im not entirely sure how this two are still alive. Must be thanks to all the care our beautiful nurses perform each day!

Priyanka Maheswaran from steven universe Stubborn doctor who thinks she knows whats best. And given what she has been doing to herself...We just let her be.

Elma from Dragon Maid.

Unable to control herself, she takes the rol of another patient as she got to obese to continue on her rol as a nurse.

Kobayashi from Dragon Maid The prized posesion of the two dragon nurses. The most morbidly obese woman under her care. Her days are counted, and so are the calories she eats~

"P-Pl~hrrpPPPHH ~eeaahsheeh ...*HRRPPphh*... ...*squidge*... ...*frrt*... ...*ouurRRPp*.. ...*frPPp*... ii ...*blurRRPPhh*... ...*schlop*... ...*SplrrpffTTbt*... ... ...*plblblb*... caant'sh ...*hahhh*... ...*slurp*... ...*PFFFPTTT*... ...*puff*... ...*smush*... ...*FlrtpffblTT*... a-anymore"

[monarchthefirst]

Whump: Needle Trauma/New Caretaker

Whumpee’s stoic gaze was unsettling, to say the least. 

Doc gave them a reassuring smile as they lay on the table, but it was not enough to break the cold silence. Whumpee watched Doc’s every move with hawklike focus, their thin lips pressed together in firm calculation. Doc had never felt this judged since med school. 

One of the nurses was pulling on blue latex gloves to begin the examination and Doc was sure he caught a shiver from Whumpee at the sight of them. He had had patients who were triggered by blue latex gloves. The mere smell had sent a few trauma victims into a wild spin. Was this going to be another one of those moments? Caretaker should have warned him.

To his relief, Whumpee just shut their eyes tightly as the hated gloves touched their skin. A glance at their vital signs told him their heart rate had quickened slightly. But the disturbed staring had stopped, thank goodness. Doc carefully kept his hands below Whumpee’s range of sight as he explored their rib cage, which was covered with violent bruises of all sizes. “Sorry, sorry!” He exclaimed as Whumpee caught their breath suddenly. “Think we have a fracture here. Might hurt just a little, Whumpee. I’ll try to be careful, okay?”  

More cold staring. Doc sighed and got back to work. 

Minutes into the examination, Doc knew they couldn’t go far without causing Whumpee even more suffering. Their whole body, painfully exposed in the bright light of the surgery, was torn and abused beyond belief. It was almost hard to connect the white, impassive face with the mutilated torso and limbs. Whumpee seemed too far gone to care about what had happened to them. 

The nurse had caught on to Doc’s thought process and had reached for a syringe, her eyes questioning. Doc looked Whumpee over and nodded slightly. Probably more merciful to just put Whumpee out for a few hours while they tried to patch them up. 

The nurse pulled the cover off of the syringe and filled it. She set the bottle down and approached the table with an alcohol swab, preparing to sedate Whumpee. 

Whumpee had been watching Doc’s every move, mistrust growing in their empty eyes. Now, they happened to glance in the nurse’s direction in time to catch sight of the syringe in her hand. 

Without warning, Whumpee’s left arm flashed out and slammed into the nurse, sending the syringe flying across the room. In a flash, they were up in a sitting position, gasping hoarsely in pain and terror, their limbs shaking. Doc rushed forward to push them back down but they were ready, warding him off while sliding one leg off the table. 

“Call Caretaker!” Doc ordered the nurse, grabbing hold of Whumpee and desperately trying to keep them on the table. Whumpee fought silently, with no other sound but their sobbing gasps for breath. 

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

Caretaker wrung their hands in the waiting room, pacing back and forth under the TV. Was Whumpee alright? Why were they taking so long? Yeah, they had never gotten a proper please or thank-you from them. Pretty much zero conversation on about anything, Whumpee seeming to hold to a strong-silent-type mindset. More a don’t-make-me-talk-about-it mindset, Caretaker knew. There was a ton of recent violence that they did not speak of, and that was what had Caretaker so worried.

So when their phone buzzed in their pocket, Caretaker pulled it out and immediately started for the hall. “Yeah, I’m coming. Which room?” They said quickly. Oof, this was not going to be pretty. 

And it wasn’t. The surgery was chaos. Whumpee was somewhere in the heart of a crowd of personnel, being pinned to the operating table. Caretaker couldn’t see them, but they could hear the asthmatic wheezing of their breath and it sent pangs of compassion through their soul. Whumpee was fighting hard, despite their injuries, and Doc was trying to calm them, without much success.

“Here, let me sneak in,” Caretaker pushed against the wall of people. “Yeah, I’m Caretaker. Got a call you needed me.”

“Oh thank God you’re here!” Doc breathed a gasp of relief. “I can’t get through to them. Not sure what exactly tripped their switch.”

Caretaker pushed the nurses aside and grabbed Whumpee’s flailing arms in an iron embrace. “Calm down, Whumpee!” They said loudly, firmly. “It’s me, Caretaker. You’re safe! Stop fighting.”

Whumpee sobbed once and continued to squirm, but not so strongly as before. Apparently Caretaker’s voice had worn them down. Caretaker held them close, bending low over the table, sending meaningful glances to the nurses to back away. As Whumpee choked and gasped, trying to catch their breath, Caretaker smoothed their hair and whispered to them comfortingly. “It’s gonna be ok. I won’t leave you. These guys are trying to help you. It’s alright.”

Whumpee shook their head violently. “No! I saw him, Caretaker. Whumper…he had his favorite needle—” 

“Hush! Hush, Whumper’s not here, I swear.” Caretaker’s heart felt like it would tear in two. “If he was I would have taken him down with my bare hands. No one’s gonna hurt you, I promise.”

Whumpee was crying now, their pale face blotched and twisted with pitiful terror. But they held on tight to Caretaker when Doc approached carefully with the sedative once more. Instinctively, they turned their head to see what he was doing, but Caretaker stopped them and held them tighter. “No, don’t look at it, Whumpee. Just look at me. You're gonna be okay, you hear me?”

Whumpee sobbed with fear. “Please don’t let him touch me, Caretaker,” they begged, burying their head into Caretaker’s chest. Caretaker held them tight while Doc cleaned the injection site with an alcohol swab. Whumpee tensed and whimpered as the needle went in. Caretaker nuzzled their hair gently. “It’s gonna be alright. Great job. You’re doing so awesome,” they said.

As the sedative took effect, Caretaker continued to hold Whumpee close, listening as their breathing gradually calmed down and their trembling stopped. Whumpee’s hands were twisted desperately in their shirt to keep them from letting go. “What’re they going to do to me?” Whumpee murmured timidly, watching the nurses with furtive glances. Caretaker hushed them. 

“They’re just going to make sure you’re all ready to come back home, buddy,” they assured them. “Just fall asleep and when you wake up it’ll all be okay.”

“Home…?” Whumpee muttered drowsily. “You mean I….”

“Yeah, you’re gonna live with me, bud.” Caretaker gave them a comforting smile. “I’m going to be your Caretaker from now on.”  

[nocturnal-phantoms-fandoms]

best Christmas gift

first @wolfstarmicrofic prompt 5. Whisper, prompt 27. Gift. 556 words.

A soft whisper in the dark: “Merry Christmas, love.”

“Mhm,” replies Remus groggily. “Merry Christmas.”

“Wanted to be the first one today,” Sirius says and kisses his forehead.

“Congratulations, then.” Remus tries to hide his smile and pretend to be annoyed, but Sirius sees right through him – he chuckles, his eyes sparkling with mirth. 

Sirius knows him so well; that Remus doesn't believe in one-day-Christmas – that he thinks he should be allowed to wish everyone Merry Christmas for the whole week. Or two. 

And he is willing to indulge Remus and pretend like he has to beat anyone up to be the first one that day. As if there was a competition going on. 

God, Remus loves him so much. 

“Alright, get up, sleepyhead.” Sirius kisses him again. “Presents are waiting.” 

They are spending the holidays with the Potters, again; for the past two years Remus and his parents have been invited as well, despite not being part of the family – but only technically, according to Mrs Potter. 

Remus pulls on a jumper his mum gifted him last year; Sirius is already wearing a matching one when he comes back from the bathroom. 

They’re about to leave the room when Sirius gently grabs his arm. 

“I also wanted to be the first one to give you your gift. Before anyone else,” he says softly, his expression open and hopeful. Vulnerable and almost nervous.  

Remus bites his lip trying to contain his smile. “That's not fair.” 

“Who says I'm playing fair?” The mirth in his sparkling eyes is back. 

He hands him a small red box with a bow.

“Thanks,” he says, still smiling, as he starts unwrapping the gift. “You know you could have just put it under the tree and waited patiently?”

“Yes, I’m well known for my unwavering patience.” 

Remus lifts the lid only to find a smaller box inside. He looks up at a grinning Sirius.

“Very funny. Clever, even,” he comments, not unkindly.

Remus unwraps another layer of ribbons and paper – and another – and finally fishes out an even smaller box, black this time. 

There is a ring nested inside. 

Remus looks up; Sirius is down on one knee in front of him. 

“Oh my God,” he gasps.

“Yeah,” Sirius takes in a shaky breath, smiling nervously. “Remus. Moony, I-”

Remus feels choked up. He is sure there are tears streaming down his face. 

Next thing he knows he’s wrapped around Sirius, like a koala, who is still kneeling on the floor. 

“Oh my God,” Remus whispers into his shoulder. “I love you so much.” 

“Remus-”, Sirius wheezes faintly. 

“I love you, I love you, I love you!”

“You didn't even let me ask the question,” Sirius laughs incredulously. “I had a whole speech prepared. I rehearsed it!”

He pulls back, wiping at his eyes. They had talked about it. More than once, actually. Remus knew it was coming, and Sirius still managed to surprise him; catch him completely off guard. 

“I love you so much.”

Sirius smiles at him, open and honest. His bright grey eyes are filled with fondness, tenderness and affection. One of his hands comes up to gently caress his cheek. Remus doesn’t remember how to breathe. 

“Remus?” he whispers. 

“Yeah?”

“Marry–”

Remus bites his lip. He can’t help himself. “Merry Christmas?” 

Sirius laughs. And then whispers: “Marry me?”

[stephsageek]

New One-shot Alert

My Five X Lila Strip poker one-shot is finally done!

A Preview:

Five expelled his drink, coughing into his fist afterward.

Lila’s eyes widened as she leaned over, patting him on the back a few times as he gasped and sputtered. “I-I’m sorry—” he wheezed. “I-I thought you said ‘strip’—”

“Oh, no. You heard right,” she reassured calmly.

“What the fu-How can-Are you—?!” Five rapidly protested, suddenly squeezing his eyes shut, his expression annoyed and aggrieved in equal turns. “What am I saying? Of course, you’re insane—”

“Oi! You said I get to pick—!”

“Yes, Lila. I did,” Five admitted, his voice strained as he tried to be patient. “But why would you—?!”

“What? Afraid of losing your precious Puritanical sense of propriety because you’re shite at cards—”

“Two things, senior psychopath. One, I am most certainly not ‘shite’ at cards. You must not have read my file too closely while you were at the Commission, because if you had you would know the identity of the only known person to have bested James Hickok in a game of cards—”

“Wild Bill?!” Lila gasped as Five kept talking.

“—Two, you are my brother’s wife—not to mention my best friend!” Five hissed as if worried someone might hear him.

“Aw, old man, I’m touched—!” Lila fawned, only to be cut off.

“Don’t change the subject! Playing strip poker is practically cheating!” he snapped.

Lila rolled her eyes. “Puh-lease! One, there is no way you are telling me you beat Wild Bill and even think for a second, that we’re not going to play! Two, playing strip poker is most certainly not cheating—”

“How the hell do you figure—?!”

“It’s not like we’d even be touching—”

“We’d be naked—!”

“You might be, loser—”

“Regardless of who might be naked in this scenario, Lila, the point still stands that it is obviously —”

“Have you forgotten that you’ve already seen me starkers as it is?” Lila smirked, folding her arms. “Or am I the only one that remembers?”

Lila watched as a vein began to throb at Five’s temple as he gritted out, “You were trying to kill me; forgive me for being a little preoccupied.”

“Not at all! You honestly ought to thank me for even giving you another chance at eyeing the goods!”

Lila watched in amusement as Five gnashed his teeth in frustration, his face growing red. She was unsure if it was from anger or embarrassment.

“We’re both adults, old man; playing a friendly game! Nothing untoward. You Americans are always so touchy about nudity. There are plenty of cultures where family members see each other naked all the time—!”

“Lila, it’s not because we’re—"

“Besides, the human form is natural; not necessarily only sexual,” Lila reasoned, knowing Five well enough to know that an appeal to his sense of logic would be difficult for him to argue against. Although she could think of one other appeal he’d struggle to overcome: an appeal to his sense of pride.

“You’re just afraid I’ll show you up,” Lila grinned.

She liked the way his eyes blazed when he was truly beginning to lose his patience. The way he clenched his jaw, making a muscle jump in his cheek.

“Or worse, that you might like what you see~” Lila whispered, teasing.

Five’s face went scarlet.

Lila felt her heartbeat quicken.

Lila loved ruffling his feathers, flirting and teasing; taunting and baiting; and disturbing his carefully constructed world.

She loved it from the moment they met, and it had only grown over the years.

She remembered when they'd first been enemies, the way his anger and pain had felt like a balm to her soul.

When his bitterness had tasted so very sweet.

Even now, with his brother—her husband—no one else had ever given her this feeling. That spike of adrenaline and dopamine that rushed through her veins like a drug. That thrill that made her heart race.

Her life felt drab, stifling, and joyless sometimes; like she was dragging her feet through a gray, lackluster existence.

And then Five would come along, brightening her life and splashing her universe in technicolor. If she was Dorthy, he was her Oz and she never wanted to go back to Kansas.