#at the correct angle and size

[magnetictapedatastorage]

pursuit, ms paint 2023, mouse

[dandelion-roots]

[ID: a digital drawing of riz gukgak from fantasy high. in the front is a relatively small drawing of riz juggling books that are falling out of his hand and a phonecall, and he has a huge backpack on. he looks a bit overwhelmed, hair flying in all directions, and has a nervous smile on. in the background is a large shadow of riz, only one glowing eye and a shining gun visible. the background is red, giving an eerie feel. End ID]

Kill your best friend

Cheat your way to your rogue teacher

Announce your presidential campaign

Don't let them know how angry you are

LEARN TO RECOGNIZE A MONSTER

[e-adlirez]

Chinese/Lunar New Year

So uh for the past few days I’d been contemplating a Chinese New Year piece for this year in particular because uh it’s the Year of the Dragon and that plus dragon dance so perfect a combination it makes, but uh… admittedly I bit more than I could chew so uh :’D

I wasn’t able to make a full artwork in time, but I do have my cleaned up sketch to show for the holiday, so without further ado, happy Chinese/Lunar New Year Stilton fandom <3

It’s very not complete and the dragon’s details aren’t even drawn in but I hope ya’ll like it anyway

I am planning on finishing this tho so stay tuned for that :3

[chlorinecake]

A SUCKER FOR THE TASTE ✦— 𝐋.𝐇𝐒

▹ PAIRING — experienced husband heeseung x virgin f. reader

▹ GENRE — smut, fluff, newlyweds au

▹ SYNOPSIS — As teens, you were the uncanny duo that fell in love at first sight. Some odd years later, and you’re now a newlywed couple, spending your first night together in a fit of nerves as you navigate sex and other new feelings…

▹ WARNINGS — KINKTOBER SPECIAL, basically just pussy drunk!husband!heeseung making you squirt for hours on the night of your honeymoon, marriage themes (duh), mentions of food, dom and sub dynamics, kissing with tongue, overstimulation kink (reader cums multiple times), oral sex (f. receiving), fingering, petnames (baby, angel, pretty, sweetie), that’s all

▹ WORD COUNT: 3.3k — DAY 1

YOU AND HEESEUNG were like Romeo and Juliet; two people from totally different walks of life, and honestly, no one ever would’ve guessed you two’d end up falling for each other.

Sometimes, it’s hard to tell any time had passed between the first moment you met Heeseung with a hickey on his neck in the lunch hall to now as you sit before him on a king sized bed, ring fingers clad with beautiful bands to match as you stared into each others eyes, speaking a love song of unspoken words.

“You’re fine with waiting til marriage?” You remember asking him a few weeks after you first started dating as teens, “you won’t think I’m a prude for wanting to keep things traditional?…”

“Of course not, sweetie,” you remember him answering while cupping your face in his hands, “a girl like you is worth the wait—” He whispered in between kissing your lips, “—and so much more…”

Since that moment, you and Heeseung have stuck to your guns, not even so much as showering together to keep your purity intact until the right moment…

… That fateful day when you’d say “I do” and he the same, right before venturing off into the sunset on angel’s wings to explore another country together.

Another life, might I add, as a married couple on your extravagant honeymoon…

Everything was so magical in your head, too… but regardless of that, Heeseung was too big of a fucking dork to let himself be romantic for once.

Just an hour ago, he had told the hotel receptionist “you too” after she congratulated you both on getting married—

“Grrrrrrrrr,” he pouted, scrunching his nose at you.

“Did you just… growl at me!?”

“Yes, and I’ll do it again if you keep resisting,” Heeseung threatened playfully, pointing an accusing finger at your frame now.

Sighing, you raised your hands beside your head as a sign of compliance, parting your lips slightly as you held your head back for him.

“Alright, don't move this time, alright? We can do this!” He ordered more passionately this time, cradling a single grape between his fingers before angling his wrist backwards and launching it towards your mouth.

“Oh my gosh, I finally caught it!” You shouted with excitement, words coming out a bit slurred as you bit down into the sweet fruit, “Tastes like victory,” you continued, making Heeseung grace you with his thundering ovation.

“Brava!” He began to cheer, but the rest of his sentence was interrupted by his own burp, which only elicited a fit of embarrassed giggles from the both of you…

Two empty glasses of wine sat on the hotel nightstand beside the bed you were currently sat on, and if it wasn't obvious enough, y'all were already starting to experience the giddy effects of the alcohol dancing in your systems.

“So,” you smiled, a laugh still present in your throat as you fed him a white grape from the bowl between you two, “we're the couple that eats pie in place of dinner now?”

“Sure... but not just any pie,” Heeseung corrected, leaning closer to your ear as he whispered, “blueeeberry pieeee.”

You're not sure if it was the wine or the honeymoon high, but you can't help yourself from laughing out loud at Heeseung's behavior in this moment—

“You’re a legend for always vibing with my horrible sense of humor, y’know that?” Your husband remarked while tilting his head at you endearingly.

“Your humor is definitely one-of-a-kind, but I wouldn't want you to change a thing about it,” you returned tenderly, right before feeding him a fork-full of blueberry pie from the dish between you two, feeling your heart swell as he smiled into the bite.

The kind of smile you’d have a hard time getting out of your mind later—

“Thanks, babe,” he said, a bit of dark blue jam resting in the corner of his mouth now as his eyes sparkled with what you could bet was pure flattery.

You always liked it whenever you managed to get Heeseung all flustered before you, considering how he was usually the one to make you a blushing mess with only his words.

“You've uh...” you stammer slightly, “you've got a little something on your lip there...”

“Really?”

“Yea, just... let me get it for you real quick,” you continue, licking the pad of your thumb before leaning forward to dab at the jam on his mouth.

That's when you noticed his lips curving into a subtle smirk as he whispered in a low voice, “You got it, baby?”

“Y-yea,” you stuttered again, feeling your face heat up at his words, and if you didn't look so hot to him right now, he would've pinched your cheeks—

“Whoops,” Heeseung gasped facetiously, pouting at the streak of blueberry jam he very intentionally just smeared on your lower lip, “must be the wine making me so clumsy today...”

Your eye almost twitched at the sight of him licking his finger clean, a rush of nerves swarming in your stomach now

“I-it's okay, Heeseung,” you said while lifting your thumb to your mouth, “I've got it...”

“No you don't,” he chuckled at your shy demeanor, right before closing the space between you two, taking your face in his hand and kissing you.

And yes, you saw this coming, but it took you a few seconds to fully close your eyes, letting them flutter shut as you both sighed at the taste of each other, almost as if the contact relaxed you…

The kiss was slow at first, with you and him simply breathing against each other’s mouths as his velvety lips moved against yours.

But that pace didn't last long once Heeseung broke from the kiss to move the bowl of grapes and pie out of the way, a few of the glossy green ovals hitting the ground with light thuds as his right hand found the small of your back, pulling you even closer to him.

The kiss grew more intense from there as both your heads were tilting into each other, wet smacks filling the room now as his tongue prodded against yours with every passing second.

“God, you taste so sweet,” Heeseung groaned, desperately clinging to your waist which only made you moan in response.

You and Heeseung had made out countless times in the past, but you could tell something was different this time... you never felt this worked up with him before, and you knew it wasn’t just gonna end with a kiss—

“Can’t wait to taste other parts of you, too, baby…” he hummed, kissing along your neck while pinning your delicate wrists above your head.

And that’s when you felt it…

The twitch between your legs and the heat rushing throughout your entire body…

You were wearing a plaid pajama skirt and white top that matched Heeseung’s plaid sweatpants and long sleeved shirt, as you simply expected to only eat some dessert, discuss the rest of your honeymoon plans, and head straight to sleep right after.

Now though, you knew you wouldn't be able to get much rest with your emotions like this… at least not comfortably, that is…

You’re between his lap at first until he guides you onto your back, kissing down your neck, between your breasts, and down your stomach as he lifts your top, stopping at the waist band of your skirt given the way your body tensed up suddenly.

“Is everything alright?” He asked softly, glancing back up at you with a swollen look to his pouty lips, given all the kissing they had just done.

You knew what was happening right now..

Heeseung was doing exactly what you had asked him to do, and as much as your body craved it, your mind kept fighting it for some reason…

FLASHBACK —

“Just… don’t make it too… formal, okay?”

“Formal?” Heeseung repeated with a slight chuckle as you sat beside each other on the plane that morning.

“Well, yea… I just don’t want to make a big deal out of it—”

“But it is a big deal, baby,” he cut you off by placing his hand over yours. “We’ve been waiting a long time for this, y’know?… Not just to have sex but—” he leaned closer to you as he whispered this in your ear, “—to make each other feel good… in all kinds of ways…”

His breath tickled your ear in that moment… similarly to how his lips were tickling you now as you laid before him on the mattress, his head hovering over the space between your thighs.

“We don’t have to go any further until you’re ready, love—”

“I’m ready, Heeseung,” you said while nodding, but he waited to continue, knowing in his heart that there was still something you needed to get off your chest.

He backed away, pulling your shirt back over your stomach and sitting on the bed normally now.

“Heeseung,” you said again, drawing his sparkly doe eyes back to you.

“I’m listening, love,” is all he replied with, offering you a warm smile, “what’s on your mind?”

What’s in the way? You internally asked yourself right after, knowing deep down that you had no reason to feel so nervous with him right now…

Heeseung had never alienated you because of your inexperience with sex before, and was always very understanding of your moral and sexual boundaries.

But now, things were different; you were a married couple, and one of the many perks of that was being able to explore each others body in a comfortable way…

Turns out though, it was all just your own insecurities clouding your judgment, and you hated that you couldn’t shake the nerves bubbling in your stomach…

“It’s just that,” you started nervously, fidgeting with your manicured nails, “I… I’ve never done anything like this before.”

“Yeah, I know,” your husband nodded sarcastically, trying his best to resist the urge to kiss you again—

“And…well, you have a lot more experience than me with this kind of thing,” you continued, lowering your head.

“So what?”

“What if I don’t meet your expectations?…”

“Expectations? What do you mean, ____?”

“Well, you’ve been with a lot of other girls and what if I’m not as good as them? What if you don’t like sex with me?…”

Heeseung’s heart would’ve otherwise dropped at your words, but instead, he smiled softly, taking your chin in his hand and lifting your head towards him. “You’re nothing like those girls I was with in the past, ____, and that’s my favorite part about you,”

You looked into his eyes as he continued, “I’ll be happy with whatever happens tonight. You wanna know why? Because I did it with you, and I love you with my everything, princess…”

“I love you too, Heeseung,” you replied meekly, flashing him a soft smile as he kissed your cheek.

“No expectations tonight, then… okay, baby? I just wanna please you,” he whispered, slowly guiding your body back down against the mattress with a secure hand. “I wanna make you feel so good,” he continued, placing another kiss to the center of your lips. 

Heeseung started by letting his plush lips wander all over your body again, lifting your shirt up once more to leave open-mouthed kisses all over your stomach.

“You're so beautiful,” he murmured with warm breath against your skin, caressing your inner thighs with his hands until you naturally craned them open, inviting him to your pulsing core.

Your breath hitched once you felt his nose burry between your clothed folds, but your little sounds only excited him even further, and he wasted no time in removing your panties completely now.

“Heeseung,” you whined, watching him through half-lidded eyes as he spat on your cunt, toying with the moisture there using his middle and index finger.

“Just relax for me, angel,” your husband cooed with a soothing tone, and you're not sure if it was the alcohol or the petname he just called you in his bedroom voice, but your head was starting to feel very dizzy.

And if you weren't so horny, you would've felt bashful in front of him like this... half-naked, and trembling when he's hardly even touched you yet.

The coldness of his wedding band against the warm flesh of your thigh sent shivers down your spine, and he wasted no time in inviting his fingers into your sopping hole, one at a time until your walls practically sucked him in.

He then started to leave kitten licks against your sensitive bud, complimenting the pace by pumping his wrist towards your pelvis with his digits still exploring the gummy walls of your cunt.

Admittedly, you had tried fingering yourself in the past, but it never felt as good as the way Heeseung worked wonders inside you right now, but you still needed something...

Something to hold onto… something to grab, and Heeseung could immediately tell once your nails started weakly nipping at the bed sheets, your pussy throbbing more and more—

“Hee,” you moaned, feeling his fingers curl deeper and deeper inside your tight cunt, “need to touch you so bad...”

“Yea? Wanna hold my hand, pretty?”

All you can manage to do is nod desperately, making him chuckle slightly at your neediness.

“If you hold my hands, I need you to promise to keep your legs open for me on your own... can you do that for me, love?”

“Y-yes,” you stammered, and with that, Heeseung got to work on licking your slick from his fingers before finding your hands in his.

But your core was already missing the stimulation, making your hips rise up and down as if thin air would provide enough friction to ease your craving.

And that's when he licked his first stripe up the center of your pussy, and you're sure your eyes rolled to the back of your head at the sensation.

It didn't take long for the pleasure to escalate from there, either.

His lips wrapped around your clit and sucked you in like a starved out man. His tongue was applying pressure in all the best ways before sinking into your hole, filling you up just enough to have you arching your back on the bed.

You felt your first orgasm wash over you, but you knew your husband had no intention of stopping so soon.

You were mewling beneath him at the overstimulation, thankful that he at least slowed down the pace of his tongue, even though he was still very earnestly slurping at your juices…

“Could eat this pussy for hours, princess… you’re just too delicious…” he groaned, and you felt the bed shaking from the way he was rutting his crotch against the mattress, furrowing his eyebrows as his kept eating you out.

“Come on baby, let me hear you,” Heeseung practically begged, his tone sounding so hoarse, so drunk as the vibrations from his voice only tantalized you even further, “tell me how good it feels...”

“F-feels s-so fucking good, baby,” you moaned, words coming out in fragments given how cloudy your brain was becoming, and you're pretty sure you had your second or third orgasm shortly after as your hands squeezed his, so tightly that his knuckles turned white.

His tongue was licking between your folds so well, the textured muscle making your skin tingle all over but in the best way imaginable.

Heeseung didn't plan on any of this to happening, which is why it felt so good in the first place. It was natural, raw, and so so messy…

Your own cum was dripping all over his chin and lips, and he was loving every single second of it.

He was obsessed with it. The way your clit throbbed against his lips, the way you squirted your juices all over his face, the way your thighs squirmed while struggling to stay open, and your angelically desperate cries of pleasure as he drew out orgasm after orgasm after orgasm.

He wished he could watch your face contort with need as he fucked you with his face and tongue, but he couldn't look back up at you no matter how hard he tried… He had to keep his face buried between you…

Your strength eventually gave out and your grip released his hands that soon found one of your tits, gripping the mound of flesh in a way that only drew you even further over the edge.

Your hips had even developed a mind of their own, humping against his face like a bunny in heat as he whispered filthy nothings against your cunt, as well as sweet somethings that you'd hear for the next hour or two that Heesueng spent with his pointy nose brushing against your clit.

“You're so fucking wet for me, angel...”

“Love it when you come all over my face.”

“Pull my hair, baby... harder than that...”

“So so beautiful, and just for me.”

“Keep those pretty thighs open just like that, baby…”

“You taste so fucking divine...”

“Please don't tell me to stop... just one more, baby... I know you've got it in you...”

He found just as much enjoyment being between your thighs as you did in having him there, making you cream on his tongue again and again until you finally hiccuped the words, “N-no more, Hee... p-please, I can't t-take anymore...”

But your begging only made Heeseung even greedier, letting his fingers find your clit where he applied enough pressure and stimulation to break that last orgasm out of you, leaving you a shaking mess as he kissed you down, harder than a bullet in his own pants from getting to see you like this so many times and for so long in just one evening.

A series of shaky whimpers filled the room now as your husband crawled back over you, kissing you with his swollen lips while caressing the side of your fucked-out face. “You did so good for me, baby... especially on your first night...”

“Th-thank you,” you said with a weak chuckle, still feeling your orgasms fresh in your hips and thighs as he kept soothing you with his touch, your breath shaky in your chest after hours of coming undone with him…

That's when he moved over to lay beside you, and your eyes almost immediately caught sight of the thick bulge resting behind his pants, and you couldn't help but feel a little bad now given how he didn’t get much action the whole time.

“Do you want me to...” you started timidly, moving your hand to touch him up til he stopped you.

“Not tonight... we can have fun with that tomorrow,” Heeseung smiled, making you giggle again as he changed his position to make the bulge less noticeable, “for now though, let's focus on getting you cleaned up... sound good?”

“Better than good,” you replied tenderly, kissing him on the cheek before he got up from the bed and headed toward the hotel bathroom where he planned to run you a nice warm bath.

“Wait!” Your husband called out suddenly, just as he caught you trying to get out of the bed on your own.

Running over, a confused look remained on your face as he picked you up from the mattress bridal style, carrying you to the bathroom.

“I didn't forget how to walk, Heeseung,” you giggled, keeping your hands secure at his shoulder as he cradled you into the tub.

“I know,” he laughed, helping you get your top off and over your head as the water ran in the background, “I just didn't want my precious wife accidentally stepping on any of those grapes I dropped earlier...”

It went without saying that Heeseung had always been a loser, but he was your loser, and that fact alone was the bandaid that covered up every preconceived notion of him you ever created in the back of your mind…

You didn’t see him the way other people saw him… as the former man whore, troublemaker, or hopeless goof from high school, ‘destined’ to never change…

You saw him as the adorable nerd who accepted you for the things you saw as flaws… as the guy who still wore character themed PJ’s every once in a while that you now get to call “Hubby,” “lovey,” and “mine…”

⋆♱✮ Huge thanks to everyone who read this little fic of mine, which actually concludes DAY 1 of my Kinktober Event !! If you're interested in reading more works like this, feel free to check out my main enhypen masterlist or my kinktober masterlist by clicking one of these links !!

⋆♱✮ PERMANANT TAGLIST:

@squoxle, @nishiimuranights, @ashgonedash

@yourmomscuntis2tighy, @wonbinisbabygurl

@watamotee33, @addictedtohobi, @ot7sevenlvr

⋆♱✮ KINKTOBER TAGLIST:

@pasteltheghost16 @fawnpeaks @melonvrs

@mheretoreadff @skzfelixlove @inishij

@yaorzu-blog @andromedawillburyyou @ramyeonzprincess

@zaihypen @simjaeyunns @gardenwonnies @hynier

@idontknowhowtomakeusernames @enhymeowz @minhosimthings

[lexiputellas]

Secondhand Lies from the broken vows series

Alexia was already leaning against her car when you pulled into the lot, parked just behind hers. She looked up from her phone the moment your headlights dimmed, slipping it into her back pocket like she hadn’t just been checking to see if you’d show. You stepped out, tugging your sleeves down. The air still held some late afternoon warmth.

“Hey,” she said, voice soft. “Thanks for coming.”

You nodded. No smile, no hug. She didn’t try, which helped.

The bike shop was brighter than it had any right to be—sunlight poured through the high windows, catching on rows of glossy pastel bikes and glitter-dusted helmets. It smelled like rubber, fresh plastic, and something faintly metallic. The guy working the floor had a lazy ponytail and a grin like this was the best part of his day.

“She’s eight,” Alexia told him as he approached. “Been asking for gears for months.”

You stayed back, trailing your fingers along a row of kid-sized helmets, one shaped like a unicorn. It had a chipped horn. Nora would’ve loved it.

“Do you remember when she tried riding in the hallway?” Alexia called over her shoulder. “Slammed into the cabinet and screamed like we’d broken her.”

You smiled a little. Couldn’t help it. “She still says the cabinet jumped at her.”

Alexia grinned—one of those easy, unguarded ones she used to give you on soft days. “That bruise looked exactly like a doorframe.”

Ponytail Guy returned with a few options, rambling about frame weight and handlebar grips. Alexia crouched beside each one like she was choosing a spaceship. You watched from a few steps back, arms crossed, nostalgia pressing into your chest in that cold, deceptive way it does—familiar but never gentle.

“This one’s good, no?” she asked, brushing her hand over a mint green model. “Not too heavy. Pretty color.”

You tilted your head. “It’s cute.”

“She’s going to lose her mind,” Alexia murmured. “She’ll love it.”

They brought the bike out to the lot. It didn’t fit in her trunk, of course, but she tried anyway—muttering in Spanish as she twisted the frame, then sighing in loud, dramatic frustration.

“I’ll take it in mine,” you said, already unlocking your car.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah. We can hide it in the garage until Saturday.”

She looked at you like she wanted to say something else. But all she said was, “Vale.”

The next stop wasn’t far. You parked nearby and walked the rest of the way—past a few boutiques and a small dress shop where Alexia paused in front of the window.

“You’d look good in that one,” she said, voice low, unreadable.

You didn’t answer.

Nora’s favorite art store sat nestled between a wine shop and a bakery. Inside, it smelled like wood shavings and pigment. You moved through the aisles with quiet precision. The birthday list was specific—metallic watercolor pens, oil pastels, proper sketch paper. She was eight, but she’d long outgrown the kiddie sets.

You didn’t speak much. Just corrected Alexia gently when she reached for the wrong markers. She paid. You took the bag.

Outside, the city had slipped into that soft, dusky calm—storefronts glowing amber, people moving slow, the hush of evening setting in. You stood at the curb, bag in hand, your body already angling toward your car.

Alexia didn’t follow.

“You know that restaurant you liked,” she said casually, like it wasn’t planned. “The one with the blue awning? It’s just around the corner.”

You turned toward her, slow. She met your gaze steadily.

“We could go,” she said. “If you’re hungry. I know I am.”

You hesitated. The pause hung between you—cool, uncertain.

“I don’t know, Alexia…”

“It’s just dinner.” Her tone was even. “Nothing more.”

You hated that she still knew how to say things like that—calm, clean, deliberate. Like she wasn’t asking for something. Like she didn’t care if you said yes.

She stepped closer, but not too close. “One hour. You’ll be home before Dolores even thinks about calling.”

Your mouth twitched. Not quite a smile. But something in your chest shifted.

“Fine,” you said, like it cost you.

She didn’t gloat. Just nodded, a flicker of something soft at the corner of her mouth. She turned, expecting you to follow.

And somehow, you did.

The restaurant was, warm the night lights spilled from the windows. Inside, small round tables flickered with candles. Alexia held the door open. She didn’t touch your back, didn’t lean in. But her presence was close—constant, magnetic, annoyingly familiar.

It smelled like garlic and wine and butter. Jazz played low over hidden speakers. The hostess led you to a small corner table, just secluded enough to feel like a memory.

You slid into your seat. She sat across from you, coat draped behind her, sleeves pushed to her elbows like she belonged here.

Like this wasn’t strange.

“It’s weird being back,” she said, glancing around. “Do you remember that night after Madrid? When we ordered every dessert?”

“I remember you flirting with the waiter for free champagne.”

Alexia laughed, easy and warm. “He was into me.”

“He was not.”

“I tipped him like he was.”

You huffed, against your will. She smiled at the sound, then picked up her menu.

You ordered quickly—pasta, something safe. She chose seafood. No questions. No push to get wine. That quiet restraint hit harder than it should’ve.

For a while, neither of you said much.

Then, gently: “So… how are you? Really?”

You stared at her “I don’t know what answer you’re hoping for.”

“The real one.”

You exhaled. “I’m figuring things out.”

She nodded, waiting.

“It’s not easy,” you said. “Being around you. Not knowing if this—any of this—means anything. Or if it’s just another memory we’re pretending still fits.”

Her face shifted, faint and brief. “I know I fucked up.”

“You say that. But I don’t think you understand what it did to me.”

“I’m trying,” she said. “Maybe not perfectly. But I am.”

“I need more than that,” you said, voice quiet. “I need to believe you actually respect me. Respect what we had.”

Her hand inched forward on the table—closer, but not touching. She didn’t reach for you. Didn’t promise anything. Just watched you like she wanted to, but wasn’t sure if she had the right.

The food came. You ate in silence.

It wasn’t until your second glass of water that you noticed the waitress. She set it down without looking at either of you. Her shoulders stiff. Her mouth tight. She didn’t meet your eyes.

Alexia stared straight ahead.

You didn’t understand the tension in your chest until later, when you excused yourself and walked to the bathroom. Just to fix your makeup. Just to breathe.

You didn’t hear the door open behind you until it shut again.

The waitress stood by the sink. She checked the stalls, then paused.

“I’m sorry,” she said, quiet. “I don’t mean to make this worse.”

You turned. “What?”

”She’s your girlfriend?”

You blinked. “Wife.”

Her face changed. “Oh. I didn’t know.”

You waited. A slow, cold ache began in your stomach.

“I wasn’t going to say anything,” she said quickly. “But then I saw you. And… you deserve to know.”

“Know what?”

“I hooked up with her. A few weeks ago. She didn’t mention you. She didn’t mention anyone.”

You stopped breathing.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I just… couldn’t pretend.”

You didn’t answer. Just left.

Alexia stood the second she saw your face.

“Are you okay?”

“I don’t feel well.”

“Wait—do you want me to—”

“No.”

She stepped back. “Can I call you later?”

You didn’t answer.

Outside, the air had turned sharp. Your fingers trembled as you unlocked the car. You sat in the driver’s seat, staring at the wheel, until the tears came—sharp, bitter, unstoppable.

Because it wasn’t fair.

You should’ve known better.

But knowing didn’t make it hurt less.

[shawtuzi]

Heyy so I miss basketball!player x chubby!reader😚

ykw me too girl let’s get into it

cw include: unprotected sex, reverse cowgirl, mating press, creampie, multiple orgasms, some fluff, not proofread

“nope.”

“but babyyy—”

“i said no eren, you need to save all your stamina for tomorrow,” your fingers ran softly through his hair as you spoke, hoping that it would make him a little tired. his head was resting on your tummy, and although almost half of his body was hanging off the bed he couldn’t have been more content—well lemme not say that bc there is something that could lift his spirits a little more.

eren nuzzled his face into the pudge of your stomach, his thick brows furrowing is sadness. ugh you smelled so yummy, like peaches and honey. he could’ve just ate you up right there. he lifted his head and you couldn’t help but laugh at the pout on his face. “but babyyy you know we’ll win, we’ve been on a crazy winning streak this season thanks to yours truly.”

“so has the other team you’re going up against tomorrow. you need to be focused, plus i don’t wanna hear any shit from coach or your teammates if the game doesn’t turn out in our favor,” it was your turn to pout now because you’ve definitely received some nasty looks and remarks in the past from said individuals.

eren scoffed and shook his head, “well what those dickheads don’t know is the only reason i play so well is because you’re there to watch me. the other times we lost guess who didn’t happen to be in the crowd?” eren cocked his head, his lips lifting into a smirk.

“me?”

“yes, you. those three games we lost you just so happened to not be there, but anytime you’re there we always win. you’re our good luck charm—my good luck charm.” you couldn’t help but smile and hide your face in his pillow. he always had you internally blushing, your cheeks feeling as though someone had placed coals on them.

you felt eren shift and suddenly he was towering over you, the fallen strands from his disheveled bun tickling your face. “lemme at least get a taste, don’t think i forgot you just got waxed the other day,” he nudged his nose against yours, his lips just millimeters away from yours.

mannnn. fuck it.

“actually i have a better idea, renny.”

sometime later . . .

‘this is so much fucking better’ eren thought to himself as he laid a harsh smack to your ass, his teeth clamping onto his bottom lip as he watched it ripple. he couldn’t help but do it again. and again. and again.

“faster, baby, c’mon i know you can do better than that,” eren grabbed the fat of your ass and helped you fuck back into him faster. a pretty, translucent sheen of your essence coated his dick so nicely it had his mouth watering. reverse cowgirl was eren’s second favorite position—i think we can all assume what the first one is. backshots.

your pussy looked so pretty from this angle, and if he felt like it he could lift you with ease and sit you right on his tongue. eren bench pressed and did leg lifts with weights almost three times your size, so maneuvering you into any position he wanted was nothing but a thing.

“i-i’m trying but—”

“don’t tell me you’re already fucked out,” and when you looked at him over your shoulder his suspicions were correct. he couldn’t help but laugh at the tears in your eyes and the pout on your lips. “looks like you needed this more than me hm? c’mere let me help you out,” you were more than happy to oblige and changed your position so your back was against eren’s chest.

the new angle had you seeing stars, his fat tip now pressing snuggly against that spongy spot that had your toes curling. he rested his chin on your shoulder, nudging your jaw with his nose, “you comfortable pretty girl?”

you weakly nodded, your breath hitching when his hand wrapped around your throat. eren planted his feet into the bed and began a steady rhythm. his free hand snaked between your thick thighs, his rough digits now rubbing tight, little circles on your clit.

“t-too deep,” you squealed, weakly wrapping your hand around his wrist. even though eren has fucked you in every position humanly possible, you’ll still never quite get over just how big he really is. that shit had a curve in it too so he was real in your guts. “no it ain’t, you can take it mama,” his jaw clenched when he felt your nails dig into his wrists—lucky for you he loved the pain!

eren pressed a kiss to the shell of your ear, “greedy fuckin’ pussy.” his words had you whining in embarrassment because he was right :(( each time he pushed back in a very loud, obnoxious squelch followed. huh, looks like you really did need this. so bad that you were actually begging eren to finish inside you.

eren hated when you begged for it like that. it brought out a side of him that was very hard to keep under control—especially when you asked oh so sweetly for it. with a huff eren pulled out, very much to your dismay.

“if you’re gonna let me nut in her m’gonna do it the right way,” he pressed a kiss to your shoulder before swiftly lifting you off him. before you knew it your ears were to your shoulders and eren’s forehead was pressed against yours.

“mm, we should do whatever that position was again sometime . . . all i could smell n’ feel was you, it was nice. hey, look at me,” his nose nudged against yours lovingly, his smile mirroring your own. “ugh you randomly get so sappy outta nowhere. its too much,” your giggle was turned into a moan when you felt his tip prod at your dripping entrance.

your fingers tugged at the elastic in his hair until a curtain of eren’s hair fell around you both. “i love you.” eren didn’t even process the words that left his mouth until he heard you gasp. well . . . it’s too late now!

“i’m not gonna take it back cuz i mean it,” and with that eren pushed inside you in one, swift thrust. you felt like the air had been knocked out of lungs as you tried to adjust to his size. his hips circled and that’s what had your thighs shaking, your pussy convulsing around him as your orgasm hit you in harsh waves.

“i lo-ve you t-too ren,” a tear slipped from your eye and eren kissed it away tenderly. eren pulled out until only the tip was in before slamming back inside, your breasts bouncing with every thrust. “shittt say it again baby, say it one more time,” eren couldn’t help the symphony of moans that flew past his lips, he was entirely too far gone.

you whimpered out ‘i love you’ again and again until you physically couldn’t speak. each time you said it eren went harder, deeper.

“m’gonna win that game tomorrow, n’ every other game after that. then i’m goin’ pro—shit, and i’m gonna buy us a big ass house and knock you up till we got a little league of our own. don’t that sound good mama?” eren panted out, his hand moving from the back of your knee to push on the lower part of your tummy.

all you could do was chant out yes! yes! yes! because yes, you really did what that! you wanted to see eren go pro and live his dream, and you couldn’t be happier or hornier that you were apart of that dream.

“you’re gonna make me cum mama, gonna make me nut all in this pretty pussy. you want that baby? want me to fill this pussy up hm?”

“please!” your hands slapped against eren’s shoulders as your second orgasm of the night hit you like a semi. eren roughly fucked you through your orgasm, his abs clenching as he felt his own approaching quickly. your eyes rolled back when you felt the first spurt of his cum hit your womb, shortly after that all you felt was warmth. “jesus fuckin’ christ,” eren’s body shook as he chuckled, his eyes fluttering shut as he basked in his post orgasm daze.

you whined when you felt him begin to pull out, a mixture of his and your cum dribbled out of you in thick glob. “what’re you doin’,” you sniffled, your pussy clenching around nothing as eren stared at it with nothing but hunger in his eyes. “i still want a taste. you gonna let me get my fill?” his hands massaged your inner thighs, his thumbs squishing your lower lips together just to see you squirm.

“go ahead renny *sniffle* you deserve it,” and he did, he really did. he was truly the best boyfriend anyone could’ve asked for. he made you feel so beautiful—so loved. he loved you, and you loved him just as much.

eren leant down to give your lips three kisses, muttering ‘i love you’ before kissing his way down your body. he kissed over every scar, stretch mark, every imperfect perfection that he helped you loved with so much tenderness it could’ve brought tears to your eyes.

his emerald eyes flicked to yours—

“i’m so happy that horse faced idiot fumbled you.”

[gojhoes]

my good neighbor

synopsis: You've lived next door to Geto for nearly a year, yet your neighbor remains all but a mystery. But as for you- he knows everything about you, from the shampoo you use to the books you keep by your bed.

warnings: MDNI 18+, NSFW contents: geto x fem!reader, yan(?)!geto, age gap, breeding, masturbation, no curse au, dubcon(?), SOMNO, toys!, p-in-v, panty kink, creampie, size kink, corruption kink, daddy kink lowkey wc: 6.3k

It all starts when an Amazon package with your name on it somehow ended up in Geto's mailbox. He would later refer to this occurrence as his greatest gift from God; the most blessed twist of fate to ever work in his favor.

A pink cardboard box sits on his counter, jarringly bright in comparison to the deep neutral design of his apartment. If the package's appearance wasn't proof enough, printed on top is an address nearly identical to his own, except his is 3-D, not 3-C. Clearly, it belongs to the tenant to his right- an easy mistake to be made by someone who reads hundreds of names and address every day.

Geto knows that he could march back down to the mail room and leave the package in the correct mailbox. He could walk away without another thought but given that the box is this specific shade of pink, he figures it might be something you're really excited for. You're probably wondering about it right now, peering confusedly at the 'Delivered' notification from your email. Besides, you both live on the third floor, so he'd be saving you an extra trip. He's just being a good neighbor.

But then he starts to think- he recognizes this shade of pink. His ex-girlfriend had once received a very similarly shaped package in the same color. Inside that package had been a vibrator that he'd grown quite familiar with over the course of their relationship. Could it be the same thing boxed up right here addressed to you?

Your door is cracked when steps out of his apartment with the package in his hand. From this angle, all he can see is the door to the coat closet directly to the right of the entrance. In his apartment, the same closet is on the left, confirming his suspicions that your bedrooms do, in fact, share a wall.

It also meant that your living rooms were connected, but Geto was already well aware of that. Yours seemed to be the gathering place for all of your friends and given the amount of chatter that trickled through the wall every evening, you had quite a few of them. Not that he minds- he works nights as a pharmaceutical lab tech, so it's not like he's there when you're having your get-togethers.

It was less bothersome during the week than on the weekend, which was when you hosted your entire gaggle of acquaintances for what sounded like game night. He was still working out the details of all the different voices, but over time, he'd developed the ability to recognize certain voices by the pitch and cadence of their speech.

It hadn't been on purpose, but the walls were stupidly thin, hardly a step up from a curtain. It was impossible not to eavesdrop, especially when the voices dwindled to only yours and another that was undeniably male. Geto'd glue himself to the wall trying to hear what the two of you were getting up to, but it seemed you weren't that kind of girl.

Or maybe Geto was assuming incorrectly that there was any type of romance going on. But for the last several weekends, he would hear the two of you chatting, then it would be quiet for a bit, as if you were pausing the conversation to make out. He has not, however, heard any sounds of pleasure from your side of the wall, and that alone has piqued his curiosity.

However, during the day, your side of the wall typically was quiet. Just as he would be getting out of the shower in preparation for bed, he'd hear your alarm blaring right at 7am. If it was loud to him, he could only imagine how your ears still functioned properly after such repetitive torture. He'd hear you getting ready through the walls and smell the coffee you brew while you take a shower. By eight o'clock, there is a jingle of keys followed by hours of silence, and he sleeps just fine.

It had to have been nine months or so since you'd moved in, yet Geto hasn't laid eyes on you even once. Your apparent opposite schedules have managed to keep the two of you from crossing paths despite living just inches from each other.

As he stands between your neighboring doorframes, he thinks about how strange it feels to know someone's daily routine despite never having glimpsed you. Based off your schedule and the lively nature of your social life, he's deduced that you must be an undergraduate student at the nearby university. He himself had graduated the semester before, but the rent was cheap and moving was too much of a hassle.

But what were you, 19? 20? With your own apartment, an 8-3 schedule, and enough time to hang out with your friends nearly every day? He couldn't be sure of your age, not without seeing you, but your behaviors made him sure that you were young.

Geto glances down at the box again, reading your name aloud to test the sound of it on his tongue. He eyes the opening of your door again, craning his neck to see what else might be behind it, but no dice. Maybe if he should just go in and leave it on the counter. He would get to see your place and hopefully satiate this prolonged curiosity, even for just a moment.

Besides, you've left your door cracked. Every front door in the building locks automatically when closed, so technically, it would be your fault if this was a robbery situation, regardless of the value of your things. It's too tempting- he's been too intrigued by the box clutched in his hand. It was fate for the two of you to meet this way. Every time you held it to your clit as you came, you'd think of the moment you saw him with the box in his hand at your door.

His hand hovers over the doorknob- is he really about to do this? Wherever you've gone, you'll likely be back any minute if you've been so careless about your door. No, it's not the right time. He's already nervous about how you will react, even more so knowing he's going to be seeing you for the first time.

You know when someone just sounds hot? The music your body makes is so human, yet so graceful and controlled until your friends come over. You sound perfect when you're just simply existing by yourself. He feels, in so many ways, that he knows you so well already. It wouldn't take him any time at all to learn how to give you what you want. Maybe he'll tell you that, if the moment presents itself.

He's fortunate yet again for the lack of insulation used by the contractors. There is a rushed set of footsteps echoing from the stairwell at the end of hall, giving him enough warning to take a step back until he's standing just the perfect distance between your two neighboring doors. He looks up as the footsteps close in, and his heart skips a beat when he finally, finally sees you.

"Hi!" you chirp. "You must be my neighbor."

The last few steps you take give him enough time to drink you in. You can't be older than 20 with plush lips and a pretty smile, one that lights up your face and showcases your lack of smile lines. And what you're wearing makes his mouth go dry. It's a baby blue pajama set with thin straps and the shortest goddamn shorts Geto has ever seen in his life. He's staring, he knows he is, but you're even more gorgeous than he could've imagined. Your hand shoots out to shake his, small and soft enveloped within his grasp for just a wink of time.

It's not enough, not even close to satisfying the desire you've instilled in him. He forces himself to look at your face and not at the tops of your tits threatening to spill out of that useless pajama top. God, and he can see your nipples straining against the thin fabric-

"I believe this belongs to you," he says, holding out the pink box.

Your face lights up impossibly as you pull it into your hands, and Geto thinks he might die right there. He smiles at your excitement; he was right- you were excited to get this. God, he would be so good to you if you'd let him.

"Oh, thank you!" you say enthusiastically. "I've had a lot of packages go missing lately, so it's really nice to actually get this one. Thank you so much."

You're practically worshipping him with the sinful sweetness dripping from your words. So well-mannered. Would you be this polite if he brought you into his bed and offered to give you his cock? Would you smile at him as you are now, and say please every time you ask him to fuck you? He'd do it for you- he'd give you everything simply just for being such a sweet girl for him.

Geto smiles and introduces himself. "It seemed like a pretty important package."

He catches the way your shoulders tense and the slight flush of your cheeks- shit, was it actually a vibrator in there? Clearly, you're embarrassed, so it would make sense, but there's no need to be ashamed of getting one.

But you're smiling sweetly again, any trace of worry wiped clean. "It's nice to finally meet you, Geto," you say, and he swears that he sees your eyes flick down to his lips.

He hums, tilting his head to side as if to study you. "Likewise."

You send him one more polite smile before disappearing into your apartment. As he's closing his own door, he's imagining you making a cup of coffee like you do every morning. Are all of your pajamas that pretty? He's met you once, but already he can tell that you're a princess. He bets your parents pay your rent and send you money for groceries anytime you ask. A girl as sweet as you was probably well-accustomed such doting and pampering.

Someone was taking care of you, but were they making sure you were safe? Who was reminding you to keep your doors locked? You were a young pretty girl living on your own in the city- anything can happen. Clearly it seems that you need someone to look out for you, and who could possibly be better for the job than him? He lived so close by already; checking on you would be no problem at all.

And after seeing your perfect thighs in your little shorts, the swell of your breasts straining against the blue fabric...he'll do anything if it means he might get to see that again. He'd come up to you from behind and wrap his arms around your waist, pulling your ass against his hips. One hand holding your chin as he kisses the side of your neck, squeezing your thigh with the other...

You need him. Someone older and more mature to nurture you properly. Besides, he was just being a good neighbor.

That evening, he rearranges his room so that the head of his bed is flush against the innermost wall of his apartment, the one that he shares with you.

*** Geto will admit that somewhere deep inside, he does feel guilty. This part of him is disgusted and ashamed, constantly wishing he could be different and cursing himself because he's not. But he was going to make you love him. Once you let him in, you'll wonder why you hadn't come to him sooner. You'll see- he'll prove it to you, and then you'll understand that everything he does is for you.

But the rest of him, the more dominant parts of his personality, run rampant once he's fallen for you. He isn't acting right, deep down he knows that, but he can't stop. He doesn't want to stop. He wants to know every secret you might be hiding. The home a person keeps says so much about them, and he wants to know everything. You won't have to hide from him, not ever, and he'll make sure you know that. Maybe he's obsessed, but can you blame him? You're just so perfect.

He's starving for you, but he's got to be subtle; if he's too forward, he risks upsetting you or scaring you away. He doesn't want to stress you out, either, but it's essential that he sees your apartment. He needs to check your locks, especially the one on your balcony and make sure that you're keeping up with your cleaning.

It means taking advantage of the several minutes you leave your door cracked when you've gone down to the basement to do your laundry. Every Saturday afternoon, before your friends come and steal you away, you gather your basket and leave your deadbolt extended to avoid locking yourself out.

He's managed to pull it off twice, the first time being harder than the second. It took him three days to work up the courage to even try thinking of a plan, but after moving his bed to the wall, closer to you, he's descended quickly into absolute agony. It's a stroke of luck- no, of fate- that has made you put your bed against the same wall- and he can hear everything.

A few days have passed since the package mishap, and by that point, Geto had almost forgotten about the contents of the box. That night, just as he's getting ready for a shift at the lab, he hears a strange buzzing as he's brushing his teeth. It's an electric toothbrush, so his first thought is that maybe it's time to replace it. But as he rinses out his mouth, he finds that the buzzing had not ceased. It's go to be you, he thinks, immediately drying his face and flying over to the wall to press his ear flush to it. He's just in time to hear the beautiful, merciful sound of a mewl escaping from your lungs.

A shaky breath passes his lips. He's dumbfounded by the pleasure that flows through his abdomen when he realizes what you're doing. He'd totally been right about the package. Even through the wall, he's able to recognize the same vibrations. Maybe he's just been Pavlov'd, but immediately he can feel the blood rushing south as a faint throb starts in his cock.

He knows without a doubt that you've got the cutest pout on your lips, maybe a few strands of hair falling into your face as you lay your head back. "Feels good," he whispers, despite knowing that you can't hear him. Do your hips buck up into your hands, or do have those plush thighs squeezing them tight while you try to cum?

Is this really happening right now? Heat creeps up his neck and high on his cheeks as another moan, albeit quieter this time, blesses his ears. He can't stop his hand from finding his cock and palming at himself as he eyes slip shut.

He's dying to know- he wants to see you right now, wants to watch as you spread apart your folds and fuck yourself until you're trembling. He needs more, he needs everything that you can give him- and you will give him all that you can. He knows you will because you're just that good of a girl.

Fuck. He's got to get to work on time before the cultures expire and he fucks up three weeks' worth of data, but you are killing him with each sweet little moan that leaves your mouth. He's picturing you on your knees with your ass in the air, two fingers pumping in and out of your tight cunt while your other hand has a death grip on the vibrator.

He's waited so long to hear your pathetic little whines as you fuck yourself as fast you can on your too-short fingers. You're so desperate, and with how hard you're trying, it's obvious that you're getting frustrated. He wants to help you- it's clear from your desperate cries that you need him to. He would help you cum, over and over if that's what you wanted. "It's okay," he breathes. "Keeping going, it's okay."

Using a vibrator for the first time can feel almost painful if you're not used to the intensity. You're so overstimulated that you're struggling to reach the orgasm you chase so desperately. He feels genuine pity for you as cry out, "please! so close...mm." If you'd just asked him, he would've been able to introduce it your sensitive clit the right way.

He's begging you more, anything you could give him. He knows you'll do it for him soon. You were just that good of a girl, and maybe you were too sensitive to cum without a little bit of a help. If he was inside you, you'd have creamed all over his cock by now, too fucked out to ride him anymore as he pounds into your pretty pussy from behind.

As much as he would love to see you beg for it, he truly thought that you deserved to cum and felt frustrated for you. You were such a sweet girl; the only reason it took you so long to try your new toy had to be because you were nervous. Good girls deserve the best orgasms, after all.

Shit, were you still a virgin? Did you even know how to make yourself cum yet? That would explain why he hadn't ever heard those pretty sounds before. Fuck, you were going to make him lose his goddamn mind if you didn't cum in the next 60 seconds. "Y-you'll cum for me, right? I know you can do it."

Geto did not make it to work on time that day, quintessentially ruining over 300 specimens all because you wanted to play with your pussy right as he had to leave for work. It was terrible timing, but he can't say he regrets bringing himself to one of the best orgasms he'd ever had without even touching you. It wasn't enough, though, just hearing you. He needs to see it, needs to feel your warm, tight cunt squeezing him dry while you moan into his ear.

A plan comes to him, albeit a risky one. The next time you leave to do your laundry, propping your door open like always, he slips into your apartment. It's an inverted copy of his own- the same appliances, same gray tiles, a balcony at the back of the living room. Your apartment is so girly, so shamelessly you, and not to mention spotless. Geto makes a poignant effort to keep his place clean, but only a control freak would keep their apartment this organized. You must be an anxious person- but that's okay, because he'll be there to help you through it.

Two minutes pass- you should be back any moment, and while he has an idea of what he'll say if you catch him, he really wants to avoid scaring you. He can't have you feeling scared around him, so he turns to leave- he can always come back another time after he's more prepared. But then he sees a set of keys lying on your counter, and the gears in his head start turning.

You've left your door open, so you'll be able to get back in- he doesn't have to worry about that. He knows you won't be leaving anytime soon. He's confident that he'll have enough time and he doubts that you'll notice your apartment key missing if you're not actively needing it. So, he pockets the whole set and slips right back out as silently as he'd come.

Early on Monday morning, Geto waits until he hears the jingle of your keys and the click of the deadbolt as it slides into place. The smell of coffee lingers, and his clock reads 8:06, but he can't risk you coming back, so he forces himself to wait a little longer. He's nearly vibrating with the anticipation of getting so much unadulterated time in your apartment. The copied key in hand is representative of everything he's done to get closer to you. This observation will help him learn who you are- what shampoo you use, what you keep on hand in your fridge, what toys you have hidden away.

He decides it's been long enough when 20 more minutes pass, and Geto makes a beeline for your bedroom. Compared to the rest of your apartment, your room is much more lived-in. The white comforter topping your bed is rumpled, exposing light pink sheets under a plethora of stuffies and pillows. He's more interested, however, in the nightstand on the side.

He pulls open the single drawer and sure enough, there's the white vibrator that you've been using quite often lately. Aside from a bottle of lube, there's nothing aside from some medications and a pair of nail clippers. His suspicion that you're a virgin persists from your lack of sex toys- no wonder you were so embarrassed when he hinted at the contents of your package. Already, he was half-hard thinking about how good he was going to make you feel. He was ecstatic to think that no one else had touched you yet. Whoever that guy was, the one you your often spent evenings with alone, wasn't going to stand a chance.

Geto steps away to make toward your bathroom, and feels something soft under his foot. He glances down and bends to retrieve the black lacy thong you've left so mercifully on the floor. It's foul, it's intrusive, it's perfect- he brings the fabric to his face and breathes in your scent. His cock throbs in his pants, begging for attention- for your attention, but he can't have you yet. No, it has to be perfect because you are perfect, and you deserve nothing less.

He shoves the thong in his pocket before going into the ensuite bathroom.

Later that week, the universe finally gives him a break.

That fateful Friday evening, he calls in sick to work. His throat is a bit sore, and he knows the ache in his muscles isn't from last night's workout, so he opts to take his temperature, which reads 38.2°C. He knocks back some cold medicine before burying himself in the blankets on his couch, dozing in and out as the effects sweep him away.

He's roused by a rap-rap-rapping on his front door, and even through his medicated haze, his heart jumps- is it you? Is he really about to get this lucky? He glances at the clock above the stove to see that it's half-past 11, and from the din coming through the wall, he knows that you've got your friends over. As he crosses to answer the door, he does feel a bit better aside from the persistent fog clouding his brain.

And it is you, dressed in a pair of jeans and a pink top that shows off your midriff. Your cheeks are painted with a light flush and your hair is bit disheveled, obviously tipsy from the way you're swaying a little. He smiles at you, drinking in the soft curves of your hips that he's been dying to dig his fingers into.

"Hey," you say. Your speech isn't quite slurred, but there's a lilt to your words that says all he needs to hear. "I'm so sorry to bother you like this, I know it's a little creepy, but-"

He doesn't mean to cut you off, but the words spill out of his mouth before he can stop them. "No, it's no trouble at all. Bother me all you want."

You're tipsy enough that the line works- you even laugh a little, and the sound makes his heart skip a beat. Every sound you make is so sweet

"Right," you say. "D'you have a wine bottle opener by chance?"

He shoots you his best disarming smile. "I do."

"Could I borrow it for a moment? I promise I'll bring it right back, I'm right next door."

He'd give you his left lung if you asked for it. He considers inviting you in, but the state of his illness deters him. All the lights are off in his apartment and he hadn't bothered to change out of his gray sweats and black sweatshirt. His hair is down, likely tangled and flat from dozing on his couch. No, you deserve to see him at his best- he'll get you to come over soon enough.

"Of course," Geto says. "Just a second."

He leaves the door cracked in the same way he's seen yours over the last month. Your fingers linger on his own when he places the wine opener in your hand. Even that slight contact sends a wave of excitement through him.

"Swear you'll come right back?" he teases, smirking a little.

You smile again, making him fall even harder when shoot him a wink before disappearing back inside of your apartment without a response. If this was your way of flirting, he's even more enamored with you. So coy, yet so sweet as you look at him over your shoulder before the door closes.

Geto goes into his kitchen to heat up a bowl of broth. Your tits sat so pretty in that little top- did you always dress like that? Not too revealing, showing off just enough to drive him mad with desire. He didn't get to see your ass, but if it was anything like he remembered, he knew that those jeans would cling to it like a film.

As he's sipping on his soup and scrolling mindlessly through his phone, there's another knock. He's on his feet and at the door in seconds, not even bothering to hesitate to swing it open so he can see you again. This time, you're holding a bottle of rose (because of course, you are) and his wine opener.

"Can you do it for me?" You're looking up at him with what he swears is a pout, and with how you bat your eyes through the question, how can he refuse? It would be criminal not to help, especially when you're asking so nicely with that cute look on your face. "None of us can get it open."

He's delighted that you've asked him. Were there no boys over there to help you? Did you choose him over them, or were you truly just too clumsy to do it yourself?

He cranes his neck to see if anyone else stands in the hall, but it seems deserted save for you, so he pushes forward. Geto does his best to seem mildly disinterested yet nice, not wanting to scare you away with the words he really wants to say. If he didn't fuck this up, maybe he wouldn't have to wait so long to get you to come back. His plan would get to move so much faster, but he had to be careful.

"I should probably do this over the sink," he says, reaching out to retrieve the bottle from your grasp. He purposefully lets his thumb brush the tip of your pinky- enough to test the waters, but not so much that it can't be played off as sheer coincidence. As he turns to go into the kitchen, he says over his shoulder, "Feel free to come in, by the way."

The suggestion is very forward considering you've said less than 20 words to the guy since moving in a year ago. Had you been of a better state of mind, you would have politely declined- you barely knew the guy even if your beds were separated only by a few inches of drywall. But you can't deny your curiosity; not once have you glimpsed what lies on his side of the wall. So you indulge yourself and step over the threshold, making sure to pull the door as you do so.

There's no way he's getting this lucky right now. All the plotting, the strategic timing of your meetings, and his careful research are finally paying off. You are walking right into his apartment without him having to lift a finger. He doesn't think you can get any more perfect- he hasn't even touched you yet, and you seem to already know what he wants. It was proof that the invisible string was real.

You stand at a safe distance on the side of the bar opposite from his, watching intently as Geto works the wine opener into the cork. There's a satisfying 'pop' as he gives it a firm tug. What would've taken you an embarrassingly long amount of time is accomplished with one quick flex of his forearm and a small grunt of effort.

"What's the occasion?" he asks.

You stare at him blankly. "Huh?"

He returns the wine opener to its rightful drawer, drawing out the motions to maximize how long he's got you in his apartment.

"It's champagne, so I figured maybe it was for something special," he explains. "Or are you just fancy like that?"

You're smiling at him again and his heart soars. He prays that you'll always look at him like that, and only him, but he gives no indication of the depth of his feelings. He wraps his hand around the neck of the now-open bottle and extends it toward you as he rounds the side of the counter.

"You could say that," you reply with a giggle. "Thank you..um, it's Geto, right?"

He nods. "Anytime. What's mine is yours."

It comes out wrong- way too intense to say if he's trying to stay above ground with you. But you don't seem to mind. If anything, the flush on your cheeks deepens as you take the bottle from him. From where he stands, he can make out a faint scar dragging across your exposed collarbone. He wonders what it might feel like to run his tongue across you delicate skin and leave marks. Would you keen into him and clutch at him as the quick, sharp pain pulls a whine out of you?

"Um, I'm sorry if I'm ever loud or anything," he says. "I work nights, so I think we have opposite schedules." A white lie, but he doesn't want you to leave yet. If he just keeps you talking, maybe he'll get the chance to ask you to hang out. He's desperate, honestly, but he tries to hide it as he stands between you and the front door.

Your face lights with a carefree wave of your hand. "Oh no, I can hardly tell you're there most of the time. I'm a super heavy sleeper, too, so don't worry about it."

He hums and shoots you a grin. "Guess I've been worried for nothing, then."

"Same to you, though," you continue. "I have people over like, all the time, I know they can get really loud."

It's awkward now, as you stand there with your eyes darting around the room and occasionally meeting his. You're nervous, he realizes, shifting your body in a way that makes your hip jut out. He doesn't want you to leave, but he's less apt to make you too uncomfortable, so he makes to walk you out.

"Thank you again," you say, smiling at him widely. He returns your thanks, and watches you disappear into your apartment once more. Already, his mind is reeling as he checks the time. Your friends should be leaving in a couple of hours- the noise usually diminishes around 2am, which will be no trouble to stay up until.

And he makes it despite taking another dose of medicine, having long since grown used to being awake during these hours. You should've have mentioned that you were a heavy sleeper, because now he has to do this.

His clock reads 3:10 when he quietly turns the lock with his copy of your key. The lights are off and it's silent, such a vast difference from the earlier commotion. He leaves his keys on the counter in case there's an unfortunate jingle when he finally enters your room.

You sleep naked- god, you make it so easy for him to love you. Your lips are parted and the passive rise and fall of your chest signals just how deeply you're sleeping.

He slides a hand between inner your thighs, unable to help himself any longer. He teases at your entrance to see how wet you are, dipping his fingertip in just far enough to get a taste of you as he brings it up to his mouth.

And fuck, his index finger slides right in and your cunt flutters around it.

But you don't stir; there's not even a hitch in your breath as he curls his finger into that spongy tissue that he's sure should've roused you. You weren't exaggerating about your being a heavy sleeper, and Geto silently sends praise to whatever gods that were helping him pull this off. However many drinks you'd had earlier were keeping you pulled under the sea of unconsciousness.

He thinks about sliding his hands under your thighs and burying his face between them, licking and sucking at your clit to properly taste you. Surely you'd have to wake up from that, but his patience is wearing thin.

He needs this- he needs you. He's so desperate to finally sink into you, to fuck you like he's been aching to for months. His hands are on the waistband of his sweats and he's pulling out his cock, the tip already weeping as he thumbs at his slit. He wraps his hand around his shaft and starts thrusting into it, finally letting himself begin to unravel as he lets out a pleasured sigh.

God, he doesn't know where to start. Your perfect tits bounce ever so slightly with every rise and fall of your chest. The collarbones he's been wanting to bite are so vulnerable and delicate, sitting right there for the taking. But he doesn't want to ruin the moment by waking you from too much stimulation. He leans over your still body, holding himself up on his palms as he glimpses your pretty face.

He feels that he might die if he doesn't fuck you right now, lining up his cock with your entrance before he buries himself inside you.

"Ohh, fuck," he breathes. So tight, so warm, so perfect- his own perfect little pussy, so much better than anything he could've imagined. He fears that he might cum right then, digging his fingers into the sheets in attempt to steady himself. Even in such a deep sleep, you're soaking his cock with each slow thrust. Are you dreaming about him fucking you right now? Is that how your slumbering brain is making sense of all the pleasure?

Once he's got some semblance of control, he rolls his hips into yours, sinking back into you until. It's too good, and he needs more, he needs to have his cock as deep as you'll take him. He moves his hands to your knees and bends your legs until your thighs are pressing against your chest. It's desperate, the way he fucks you, but somehow, you remain as still and quiet as you'd been when he first came in. Your body jostles with each thrust and he sees the tip of your tongue creeping out from between your parted lips- fucked dumb, even fast asleep.

He knows he should probably pull out, but he's too fucked out to think straight, not to mention the cold medicine running through him right now. It's not right, but with how fucking good you feel, he doesn't care. You're going to wake up with his cum dripping out of your aching cunt, wondering obliviously if your period came early. Traces of him will be all over you and he just knows you'll love the feeling. He can already tell you're going to be his little cumslut- you're too sweet to deny him such a pleasure.

His thrusts get faster until his balls are full on slapping against your ass and his muscles tense all over. You're squeezing him so fucking tight, it's a wonder he's lasted this long, especially with how needy you've made him.

An involuntary flutter of your cunt sends him over the edge. His orgasm wracks his entire body and he's trembling with each spurt of his cum that covers your gummy walls, uncaring as to what consequences might await him. He moans out your name, panting as he empties every drop into you, and you just take it so well. Just as he's about to pull out, your eyes flutter open ever so slightly.

But you're so tired- you don't even notice that it's Geto hovering over you before they slip shut again. "Mm," you murmur. "Wh-what are you..mm." The words trail off, and a moment later, your breaths are soft and even again as sleep takes you once more.

You're adorable. He slips out of you as gently as he can, he waits until he can see his cum start to trickle down to the curve of your ass. He lifts a hand to stroke your cheek and brush away the stray hairs on your face, but he doesn't want to risk waking you when you're already so sleepy. With how pliable and motionless you are, it's clear that you need your beauty sleep.

As he slips out of your apartment and back into his, he can't help but think of how lucky he is. He's so lucky- how is it that fate has blessed him so richly? He was going to make you his. You were going to get so addicted to his cock, to his scent, to his taste that you'd never dare to leave him. You'll belong to him, free for him to use and praise as he pleases. But he will always reward you for being his sweet girl.

And, he thinks, you are so so lucky to have such a good neighbor.

i felt like a mad scientist the entire time i wrote this. if you've thought about trying to write fanfic, JUST DO IT because sometimes it's really fun.

[bluesidez]

GymRat!Miguel Part 1

I’ve seen everyone doing these drabbles/aus and I wanted to join! 🤠

content warning: It gets suggestive towards the end so MINORS BEWARE.

word count: 719 (kind of proofread, I got excited)

Daydreaming about GymRat!Miguel x PlusSize!Reader / Chubby!Reader and the dynamic of big tall bf x shorter chubby gf 🚻

Next ✩°｡ ⋆⸜ 🎧✮ Masterlist

GymRat!Miguel who started off as an awkward, lanky, nerdy teen using the gym to blow off steam. His mom felt that he wasn’t a great influence to his brother, his father wasn’t his real father, and his step-brother was an asshole.

GymRat!Miguel who’s nearly triple his weight by the time he starts college, body full of muscle. His mom has calmed down despite him previously eating her out of a house and a home. His biological dad agreed to help with any leftover college expenses and his step-dad helps him move on campus. He’s tearful when he hugs Gabriel goodbye, promising to call and play their weekly games.

GymRat!Miguel who stays loyal to his nerdy roots and aims for a Science degree with a minor in Robotics for fun. He sticks out like a sore thumb in his classes, body taking up the ends of lab tables. Even though he prefers to sit in the front of classes, he opts to sit in the back so that everyone can see. He’s constantly using office hours and lingering after class so that he can make sure that his notes are correct.

GymRat!Miguel who first meets you in one of his bio labs and is immediately enamored by you. Your clothes hug your curves, you smell sweet, and something on you always matches. Your shoes and your backpack, your skirt and your jacket, your accessories and your nails.

GymRat!Miguel who ends up being in your group for a project and watches in awe as you take the lead, helping everyone decide which parts to complete. You go out of your way to make the powerpoint colorful and creative. You’re ecstatic when he turns in his parts extra early as everyone else has gone a-wall.

GymRat!Miguel who calms you down when the deadline is near and the rest of the group still hasn’t done their part. You two meet late in the library to finish everything. He thinks you’re adorable despite how stressed and tired you are. He makes the last minute decision to delete the other two group member’s names off of the title slide, taking the initiative to email the teacher before hand.

GymRat!Miguel who walks into the lab building on presentation day 50 minutes early and sees you being cornered by the other group members eyes full of confusion. He quickly walks over asking if there was a problem. Seeing him looming over them, the two decide give up, and scramble together a last minute presentation.

GymRat!Miguel who explains everything, telling you not to worry about the others and just focus on you all’s presentation. You two have great presentation, chemistry blooming as you bounce off each other. You both get an easy A and you hug Miguel out of an excitement before the next lab starts.

GymRat!Miguel who imprints the feeling of your body against his in his memory. Your smell, how soft you were, how small you felt in his arms, how tight you squeezed him.

GymRat!Miguel whose dreams of you have him tossing and turning in his twin sized bed that was far too little for him. He scares his poor roommate to death when his body hits the floor with a big boom. The dream of you under him shattering as he collides with the ground. He groans and apologizes to his roommate, pain in his side and his groin.

GymRat!Miguel who takes a cold shower, too aroused to go back to sleep. He bites his fist trying to quiet his moans, not wanting to wake his roommate for a second time. He replays images of you in his mind, pulling at his length until he shutters against the tile walls.

GymRat!Miguel whose heart drops when he checks his phone after his shower. You followed him on Instagram three hours ago. He checks your page and sees that you're private, but your profile picture is a lot. It's an angle from above you, your cleavage on display.

GymRat!Miguel who stands in the bathroom ogling at the photo like an idiot. He clicks the follow back button, watching as it shifts to pending, and stares down at his body again. He sighs and turns the shower back on, banking on his roommate sleeping through everything once again.

You had no idea the effect you had on him.

dividers by @y-onb 🩵

Leave a like and a comment! Let me know how you feel 😶‍🌫️

[munchhmm]

Hi, I was wondering, can you do a oneshot where reader sacrifices herself and the crew thinks she’s dead but she comes back like a week later and it turns out she didn’t die but she was severely injured and bedridden on the island where it all happened? It could be separated in 3 different parts where the reader is dating one of the monster trio in each part (if that makes sense) and we see their reaction along with the crews reaction to reader actually being alive. Sorry if this was loaded, I really like your writing!

Back To You Part One

i cried writing this it’s so sweet (,,>﹏<,,) thank you for the request and i hope you enjoy sweetness!

Pairings: Zoro x Gn!reader

Warnings: Angst, Mentions of death

Word count: About 1.8k ♡

Explosions from every angle rain down on the crew as they try to flee. The sky is dark with smoke and debris, making breathing a daunting chore.

Luffy protects everyone with his Gum-Gum Fruit powers, flinging pieces of stone and wood away without crushing a single person.

At some point, the enemy catches up, quickly dodging his own attacks as they pelt the ground below. You trail behind in the back, not being able to keep up as well as the others.

Things are looking like they’re going to get ugly. There’s no stopping or fighting back under these conditions. A small trip proves your theory correct as you fall to the ground with a loud thud.

Robin turns to try and help you to your feet, only to be blown away herself by a piece of roofing tile. The enemy grabs you by the neck, slamming your tired and bruised body into the ground—once, twice, three times—until there’s no more movement in your muscles.

Only the dark-haired Poneglyph reader sees what happens, screaming your name with no response. She has no choice but to run and catch up with the rest of the crew, as the enemy hadn’t noticed her and continued chasing the others.

The ground is cold and stiff. Your whole body aches with a pain that could only be described as shattering. It feels like hours have passed since being beaten into the dirt; in reality, it had only been about twenty or so minutes.

A small hand gently tugs on your shoulder, surprisingly strong enough to roll you over onto your back. Quiet murmurs from multiple people can be heard in the background, but the strain from the fight makes it impossible to focus.

After a few moments, your eyes begin to shut on their own, blacking out before you can even register what truly happened. When you do wake up, the surroundings are completely different. No more battlefield of bombs and shrapnel—instead, you are lying on a patch of lush green grass with flowering vines linking around every tree.

“Hello! Glad you’re awake, how ya feelin’?” a frail voice calls from behind, causing you to let out a small shriek.

“Oh! I didn’t mean to scare you! Actually, we wanted to thank you for fighting off that weirdo who keeps taking our flowers!”

When you turn around, there’s a tiny, palm-sized fairy standing with a tray of food relative to his size.

“Well, thank you for cleaning my wounds. I’m very appreciative. Have you happened to see any of my friends, though?”

The question comes out a bit more rushed than intended, causing the smaller fairy to tilt his head in confusion.

“We didn’t see anyone else around. I assumed you beat that guy up all by yourself!”

Now this is really bad. Where are the others? How long have you been away? Have they left you?

Back at a small camp a mile or so away from you, Zoro sits alone, making a small meal out of a fish he caught, only to burn the thing and curse at himself angrily.

It had been five days since you disappeared, no sign other than a piece of your torn top. Zoro keeps the fabric in his hand like it’s the most important item in the world. Everyone has assumed the worst, building a small grave in your honor and attempting to get Zoro to leave with them. He refuses, telling them to come back and get him in a month. During that time, he will do nothing but search for you and train.

His guilt wraps around his brain constantly during these few days— all he can think about is how he could’ve saved you. He should’ve saved you.

Searches along the path the crew ran come up with nothing. That’s when Zoro decides to get a lunch break in before continuing to look around for any signs, never giving up hope that you are still alive.

“Do you know how long I’ve been here for? I need to go look for my friends—they’re the ones who really defeated that guy stealing your flowers.”

You’re desperate at this point, hopefully explaining that Luffy was the one who beat the guy up would convince these fairies to help you look for the crew.

“It’s only been a few days! But if you’re in a hurry, then take this—I insist!”

The small fairy gives you a tiny bottle labeled For Emergencies Only. You tilt your head and look down at the glass jar sitting in your hand.

“When you drink it, you’ll be able to see anything that breathes up to half a mile ahead of you. It won’t be specific to your friends, but just look for anything human-shaped!”

A warm smile graces the fairy’s face as he opens the cork for you, inviting you to drink from it.

“This will help a lot—thank you so much!”

Within a second, the liquid is gone, drunk without a trace left.

Quickly, you thank as many of the fairies as you can, making sure to pay extra thanks to the ones who bandaged and healed you. A quick look around doesn’t show much promise, so you decide that going to the site of the wreckage is a good place to start.

Zoro packs his small setup and begins to walk around aimlessly. Getting lost is his specialty, but this time he tries taking extra caution since he can’t mess up the only chance of finding you.

The edge of the woods closest to the fight is where he found the piece of cloth that came from your shirt. Even after looking over that space a million times, he tries again in case he may have missed something, hoping for any positive sign.

The small divot where your body had laid is still imprinted into the ground. It looks like every other spot around the site, but if anyone had to know that’s where it happened, it would be you.

Looking closely around the surroundings and inspecting the last place Robin had been seen—only feet from where you had been five days ago—comes up with nothing.

When suddenly, you hear a rustling in the leaves.

Assuming it to be a squirrel or other wild animal, you pay no mind at first—until it gets closer and louder.

Finally, you look up and see the outline of what looks to be a person, thanks to the magic of the potion your new fairy friends gave you.

A large sigh of relief leaves your lips—thinking the worst the whole time was finally over.

“Luffy! Zoro! Is that you?!”

A voice calls out, and the green-haired man immediately recognizes it. His heart feels like it’s able to beat again, a wave of happiness taking over his instincts as he runs toward your voice, pushing past tree branches and shrubs like they’re blocking his path to all the riches in the world—and to him, they are.

Finally, Zoro sees you through a small opening. He calls out your name, and now you can see him as well, tears streaming quicker than thought possible.

He embraces you so tightly that the wounds covering the bones in your chest ache horribly—but you don’t care. All that matters is not being forgotten.

“Why the hell did you scare me like that? Everyone thought you were dead!”

His words sound harsh, but his tone is scared, shown by the trembling hands reaching to cup your face.

“I had no choice. I tripped, and Robin got hurt trying to save me. I couldn’t risk getting anyone else involved.”

Your words come out strained and fearful, worried Zoro might actually be upset with you.

“Never mind any of that. Are you alright?”

His voice is calmer now, the grip on your shoulders softening.

“I’m fine, I found a group of fairies that helped me…”

The explanation would have to wait for another time. Even if Zoro has relaxed a bit, you haven’t—still clinging to him like he could disappear at any moment.

He gets the memo, making a weird face at the word “fairies,” but chooses not to press it right now.

“Where are the others?” you ask while looking up at Zoro from his chest.

“They left for a bit. They’ll be back in a few weeks for us.”

He never outright says how the crew felt, but you know by his words. You know that he stayed behind while they left—not because they didn’t care, of course they did—it was because they couldn’t stand the idea of finding you dead.

Neither could Zoro, but he would never forgive himself until he knew for sure.

A few days of relaxing mornings and rigorous training go by when you find the mound of dirt graced with flowers and handwritten notes pinned to a small wooden stake.

Zoro freezes when he sees you looking at your own memorial, forgetting that the crew had set it up with tears and screams a week or so before.

“What do you think this is? It’s beautiful,” you say with a small smile, not wanting to disturb the area.

After Zoro explains what it is and that the others had done it for you, more tears threaten to fall from your eyes.

Zoro stiffens for a moment, then wraps a loose arm around you.

“They really care about me,” the words come out in a whisper, almost too quiet to be heard.

“Yeah, they do. But I care about you more,” he says quietly, pressing a kiss to your temple.

Time passes, and the Sunny docks along the shore as promised exactly a month later, planning to welcome Zoro with compassion and empathy.

Instead, they’re met with both of you, joy overflowing the deck as everyone runs to greet each other.

Robin is the first to give you a hug—tighter than her usual ones.

Sanji, of course, makes a half-hearted comment toward Zoro, causing them to butt heads immediately after reuniting.

A celebration takes place that night, telling stories on both sides for hours about what’s been going on during the past few weeks. Drinks and food are passed around while Brook plays a lively tune to match the mood.

You keep a hand on Zoro’s as his other wraps around your hip. He leans to your ear and whispers,

“I told you I had faith in you.”

He’s never been good with words, but after this big of a scare, he’d do anything to see that smile come to your face just like it is now—and forever.

[jjenthusee]

Aches

Pairing: jason todd x reader

A/N: i burnt my arm making baked potatoes and i wanted to write a drabble on that lol ENJOY :) comment ur thoughts

Summary: Nothing gets past Jason and you don’t mind a caring man at your side. You don’t know how baked potatoes led to an intimate conversation between you two, but anything for the man willing to drop everything for you.

Tags: potato troubles, fluff, hurt/comfort if u squint, soft jason, trigger warning: slight description of burns

Word Count: 1.4k

You stared wordlessly at the burn, oven mitts still in your hands.

You had seared two areas of your arm. It hadn’t hurt when you had accidentally touched the edges of the hot oven, but looking at it made your face scrunch.

The pain had only started once you looked at the damage. Two thin lines of seared skin, still slightly pink from the sudden heat.

Great.

You just wanted baked potatoes and you were going to place them on the rack, but at the cost of your lack of coordination, you grazed the oven with your arm.

The sound of water from the bathroom had shut off, Jason appearing in the corner of your eye as you stood there.

You were tired and another problem had been placed in your hands, or on your arm.

“What you cookin’ sweets—“ Jason lazily walked, trying to rub out the knots in his neck from a late-night patrol.

When you stood there, wordlessly holding oven mitts, had Jason sensed something was off.

Like the analyzer he was, his head perked up, a moment before he was assessing your entire body and kitchen as he briskly walked to you.

Despite being in his leisure clothes, he was ready for any sort of intrusion, but before he could pull out any sort of weaponry mounted to the underside of the kitchen table, did he spot the burns.

In a delicate motion, he turned your arm. You held onto the festive oven mitt as he adjusted your arm.

“Oh, sweets.” Jason softly whispered.

Judging by the preheated oven, potatoes, and the oven mitts you loosely gripped, Jason had put the pieces of events in the correct sequence.

“Lets get this cleaned up and then I can apply a cream.” Jason grabbed the mitts from your palms. “Then I’ll get you some medicine, in case it still hurts, sound okay?”

You nodded, looking down at your own mistake before you sighed.

“Yeah, thanks Jay.” You squeezed his forearm in a quiet thanks.

In a softened gaze, Jason rubbed your hand in return.

“Nothing I haven’t seen before. I’m gonna grab the first aid, you wanna sit on the couch?”

You let yourself sink into the cushions as Jason cleaned up what wasn’t already placed inside the oven.

He sat in front of you, his sheer size leveling out as he sat on the floor, removing the cap off the burn cream you kept in the first aid and placing a cool towel over your arm.

“Isn’t the floor cold?” You watched Jason focus on addressing your arm, first aid kit right by his side. His eyebrows firmly in a line—his concentration contorting his face.

It made you smile.

“It’s not.” Jason intently kept his eyes down, his lashes angled to his cheek.

You raised your free arm to play with his messy hair. It had fallen onto his forehead, spread in clumps.

“You’re lying. My feet were freezing earlier.” You continued to smile as you played with his hair strands, twirling his white streak in between your fingers. “Weather is getting cold, you might have to stay over every night to keep me warm.”

Jason had been growing out his hair the longer the two of you stayed together.

Partly from a passing comment that you liked his hair long and from how he felt comfortable enough to focus on his appearance for once.

He had struggled looking in the mirror for more than a passing glance, but with every reassuring compliment, cheek kiss, and late-night holding had he started to open up to the idea of treasuring his appearance.

Maybe it wasn’t initially for himself, but you wanted to lift him in the ways he had always worshipped your own skin, your heart—your entire self.

Jason’s chuckle interrupted your thoughts. Your eyes lost on the smile lines appearing on the edges of his mouth.

Your heart fluttered at the thought of how they would age as he did. How you can make him laugh and smile to make deeper lines.

You hand slowly drifted down to his eyebrow, to his cheeks, down to small scars littering his face.

Rubbing each blurred skin, sealing the past in a lightened patch.

Your hand drifted again.

Jason flinched at the feel of your subtle fingers at the edges of the misshapen “J” that littered his face.

Your eyes widen at the realization of your thoughtless movements.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t—“ You pulled your hand away.

“No, it’s—it’s fine. Really.” Jason clasped onto your fleeing hand with his own. Your cluster of hands hanging in the air.

In one breath, Jason slowly moved your hand back to his cheek. His eyes closing just before your finger touched back onto his scar—like he was bracing for the same sting he felt all those years ago.

You sadly watched the vulnerability of the man sitting on the floor in front of you. His large hands, gracefully aiding you to touch a deepened hurt that goes past the barriers of his skin.

As soon as he let out the breath he was holding, did you move your fingers again.

The trust he had in you, to touch him so casually made your eyes burn.

When you got hurt, to the smallest of cuts, he was always adamant in first aid, taking all precautions to make sure you were fine.

It worried you how he needed to make sure he checked all the boxes before he could be rest assured, so he didn’t toss and turn as much as he usually did.

You expected as much for tonight, knowing deep in your bones he was going to come back tonight after patrol to check up on you.

But what really made your heart sting was the sloppy care he gave himself. Not giving himself the time to heal in the ways he deserved.

You leaned forward, not caring about interrupting Jason’s work, before you rested your forehead on his hair.

You could smell his shampoo as you rested your eyes, breathing as you cradled his face and leaned your head.

Curling over him like a shield.

“Sweets, it’s okay.” Jason mumbled into your shirt. Despite his reassurances, he had leaned into your warmth, resting his face into the center of your heartbeat, counting each pulse.

“I know, I just…get sad. Not at you, but at the fact I want to grab onto every single being who made you hurt and hurl them into the sketchy dumpster outside.” You rubbed your head against his, tickling your face with Jason’s hair.

“If that’s how you feel sad, I don’t wanna see you angry.” Jason rested his hand onto your waist, rubbing circles into your side.

His words were playful, but you could hear the slight strain as he listened to your protective words.

You smiled to the feel of his hand and the bundle of limbs you created with the gentle man sitting on your cold floor.

“Gotham wouldn’t be able to rest until I’m done.” You kissed Jason’s head, still gently soothing the ache of his scar with your words and hand. As he subtly shook under your touch.

A moment of silence before you felt his warm breath on your chest.

“And I’ll be right next to you.” Jason barely whispered, his grip tightening on you. Your shirt wrinkling at the desperation.

You held Jason as he tried to hide in your embrace, suddenly feeling overwhelmed at your words—the angry protectiveness you held over him.

As you rubbed soothing circles on Jason’s back, you lifted you head at the realization that the oven was still on.

“Jay, I forgot to set the timer.” You gazed at the oven.

Jason lifted his head to look up at you.

“My potatoes.” You quietly murmured. “I didn’t get battle scars for me to not get a single cooked potato.”

Jason smiled as he calmed, slightly pulling out of your embrace while letting all his emotional tension slowly wisp away at your potato conflict.

“It hasn’t been that long. Probably still needs a couple more minutes.” Jason lifted himself to kiss your cheek, to soothe your potato burdens. “I still have to wrap this, so it should be ready by then.”

You sighed into Jason’s hair again. His messy stands moving at your breath.

“I’m going to lie to Roy that I fought off an intruder and saved us both.” You laid your head on top of Jason’s as you gazed at the enemy, your oven.

“And you got a burn mark?” Jason chuckled.

“Yes, a miscalculated punch.” You sighed deeply again.

“Whatever you say sweets.” Jason kissed the top of the bandages, rubbing your skin around them and then leaving a final kiss on your forehead. “Let me get your potatoes.”

[dandylovesturtles]

Made myself emotional over the “Leo and Donnie chose to be twins” headcanon.

———

“By the way, it’s Leo and Donnie’s birthday next Thursday. You’re coming, right?”

Draxum looked up from his work organizing next week’s lunch schedule to look at Michelangelo, sitting on the counter and swinging his feet. Celebrating individual birthdays wasn’t a thing that the yokai did, but Draxum had been forced to accept that the boys could not be dissuaded from this human tradition. He’d been to two birthday parties now, for Michelangelo and Raphael respectively, eating cake and presenting them with some small trinket he purchased.

He’d known that he would have to go to more birthday parties at some point. But he wasn’t expecting two at once.

“Why on the same day? I can’t imagine the blue one wanting to share.” Actually, he couldn’t imagine Donatello wanting to share, either.

“Oh,” said Michelangelo with a laugh. “That’s ‘cause they’re twins!”

Draxum stared at him. “Twins? What kind of nonsense is that?”

Mikey tilted his head. “What do you mean?”

“They’re entirely different species, for starters,” Draxum pointed out.

“I mean, we all are, but we’re still brothers.”

“Yes, by virtue of your shared DNA donor and the circumstances of your raising.” Draxum waved that off. “But “twins” refers to a situation where two children are born at once, especially as the result of a split of a fertilized egg. Which is absolutely impossible in the case of Leonardo and Donatello. Even if I were to be charitable and simply consider them “twins” for having the same hatch day, I can tell you they do not.”

“Uh, okay,” said Michelangelo, unimpressed. “But they’ve always been twins, so I don’t think it matters to them.”

“Why not? I would think it would matter to Donatello especially, since he claims to be scientifically minded.”

Michelangelo laughed. “Not everything is about science, Barry. Not even to Donnie.”

“Then his decisions about when to apply science and when not to are inconsistent and confusing.”

“Well, it’s their birthday, so they get to pick.”

“I am certain that is not how birthdays work.”

“It’s how it works for us!” Michelangelo slipped off the counter. “We’ll see you on Thursday, right? It’ll mean a lot to them if you come!”

Draxum was fairly sure Leonardo in particular would prefer he didn’t, but that didn’t matter. Now he had a mission: he had to correct this strange incongruence.

“Yes, I will be there.”

“Yay!” cheered Michelangelo. “Okay, see ya Dad!”

He squeezed Draxum around the waist on his way out. Draxum was finding he didn’t mind that as much as he used to.

———

Leonardo and Donatello’s party was just as loud and obnoxious as the other two. Blue and purple decorations covered every inch of the old subway station, strange music blared from unseen speakers, and a horrendous amount of junk food was spread out over a table. It was the same group of people present today as there ever was, the eclectic mix of humans and yokai that the boys considered family, but it felt like a crowd three times the size with the amount of noise being made.

Draxum stood off on his own for most of it, his slim birthday present already delivered to the table stacked with gifts. He’d been a little shocked when Donatello and then Leonardo came by to say hello, since he’d been prepared to be ignored by both of them. It was… nice, maybe, that they did that. Even if Leonardo just wanted to make jokes at his expense.

For most of the party, the two birthday boys seemed to be competing with each other for attention. In fact, the longer he took it all in, the whole affair seemed like a clash of ideas. The purple decorations were neat and tidy, geometric patterns and hard angles. The blue decorations were whimsical, uncoordinated, and haphazard, and there were places it seemed someone had deliberately covered up some of the purple with the blue. Leonardo wanted to play rock music and Donatello wanted to play techno. The cake was a mess because they’d both requested different themes for the decorations. There were arguments between the two of them every few minutes, and according to the human girl April this was “typical behavior.”

But why? They weren’t really twins. They didn’t have to share this day.

Hopefully Draxum’s plan would fix all this nonsense.

When it was time for gifts, Leonardo loudly declared that he was going first, sparking an argument. They squabbled for a bit before agreeing to play rock-paper-scissors, which was apparently what they did every year.

Leonardo won the game and celebrated obnoxiously while Donatello scowled at him. Then he gestured at the gift table - which Draxum, in his efforts to stay out of the main throng, was closest to.

“Hey, Barry! Grab me a gift! Make it a good one.”

Draxum sighed but reached over to take one of the blue packages, checking the tag to make sure it was for Leonardo. “This one is… to Leo from Donnie,” he read.

“Oh no, not that one. Our presents to each other are always last.”

“Because they always get sappy about it,” said April with a laugh.

“Do not!” yelled Leonardo at the same time Donatello hissed, “You take that back!”

“Uh, yeah you do, and you know I’m right.”

Draxum ignored the petty argument to look back at the gift table. If they weren’t going to be satisfied with his choice, he might as well give them his own gift.

He lifted it, in its sensible brown packaging, off the table and handed it over.

“Why not start with this? It’s to both of you from me.”

“Both of us at once?” asked Leonardo. “Oh man, you’re throwing off our whole system, Barry.”

“Yes, but he’s giving it to you,” Donatello pointed out, “which means my turn is still next.”

“Uh, no, if it’s for both of us then it counts for both of us, which means it comes back around to me!”

“Ooooh no, you do not get to loophole your way into opening two presents in a row-“

“Ahem!” Draxum loudly cleared his throat, getting their attention. “Would you please just open it?”

“Yikes,” said Leonardo. “Touchy.”

“Some people just don’t understand the sanctity of opening birthday gifts,” said Donatello with a sniff. But he leaned in to watch as Leonardo tore off the wrapping paper and opened the box.

They were both silent for a moment, staring at it. Then Leonardo said, “Uh, no offense, Barry, but what is this?”

“It’s a… scientific study on how twins are formed during the gestational period,” said Donatello, pulling the paper clipped thesis from the box. “Oh, there are more in here… Also about twins.”

“Uh…” Leonardo blinked at it, clearly bewildered. Well, he was always a bit slow. “Thanks…? I think?”

“Not that I don’t appreciate the scientific literature,” said Donatello, “but this isn’t really my area of study and Leo does better with training manuals and textbooks than research papers.” He looked up at Draxum. “Is there something about this we aren’t getting?”

“Yes there is,” said Draxum, sweeping his hand around at the entire party. “I am here to correct your mistaken assumption that you are twins.”

The room fell silent. Donatello set the paper back in the box, staring at him. Leonardo’s brow creased in anger.

“We are twins, though,” he said, setting the box aside like it was burning him.

“No, you are not. There is simply no way that the two of you could be twins. It is biologically impossible.”

“You think that I’m so stupid I don’t know that?” Donatello demanded, getting up from the chair he was sitting in. “Are you doubting my intelligence?”

“Yes, if you honestly think you are twins with him, then I am.”

“Uhhh, Draxum,” said Michelangelo quickly, stepping between him and the now furious Donatello, “this was a… funny joke, but you can stop now-“

“This is not a joke. I am simply explaining the facts.”

“Yeah, well,” now Leonardo was on his feet, too, “the facts are that me and Donnie are twins. Always have been, always will be.”

“You are not,” Draxum insisted. “And given what I have seen here today, I’d think you’d both be relieved, since you clearly don’t enjoy being twins!”

Both boys looked like they’d just been slapped in the face. The rest of the room had gone completely silent, like everyone was collectively holding their breath.

Donatello broke first, turning on his heel and marching out of the room, his hands balled into fists and his shoulders hunched up as high as they could go. “Dee!” called Leonardo, and then he was scurrying off after him. There was the sound of a heavy door slamming, then silence.

It didn’t last long.

“Draxum!” roared the rat, actually getting up from his chair to get in Draxum’s face. “You come in here and upset my boys on their own birthday!?”

“Seriously not cool, Drax,” said the human April. Cassandra shook her head in shared disappointment behind her.

Draxum pushed Lou Jitsu back, scowling at his accusers. “I was only explaining reality! This is really the rat’s fault for letting their delusion go on so long.”

“Delusion!?”

“Barry!”

“Rat!?”

“Ooookay,” said Raphael suddenly, stepping his way into the middle of the fray and starting to herd Draxum back toward the exit. “That’s enough of that for now.”

“I am simply trying to explain-“

“Trust me, hoss, you wanna step away from this one,” said Raphael, and his tone was angry but surprisingly measured. “Come on.”

They retreated to the sewer tunnels outside the subway station. The smell was much worse out here, and Draxum wrinkled his nose.

“Alright.” Raphael heaved a sigh, folding his arms. “So here’s the deal. Mikey likes you, and I guess I kinda do too, so I’m gonna try to help you before you completely torpedo your chances with the rest of the guys. Which, you kinda did already, but maybe we can turn it around.”

“I still don’t understand why they’re so upset,” said Draxum. “Surely it was obvious they aren’t twins.”

“Uh, yeah, they know they aren’t twins by bio-whatever,” agreed Raphael. “They ain’t stupid.”

“Hmm.” Draxum turned up his nose. “Donatello isn’t stupid, maybe.”

“Leo ain’t stupid, either, he just pretends like it.” Raphael pinched his brow. “Listen, that isn’t the point - the point is they already know they didn’t come from the same egg or hatch the same day or whatever. They’re just twins anyway.”

“But how? That doesn’t make sense!”

Raphael sighed again. “Alright, look. Dad didn’t know when we hatched, right? But we all wanted birthday parties like we saw on TV, so he let us pick.”

“Yes. And for some reason Leonardo and Donatello chose the same day.” Draxum could figure that much out on his own.

Raphael nodded. “I was the biggest and oldest, and Mikey was the littlest and youngest, and Leo and Donnie were just kinda sandwiched in the middle. I think at first they just wanted a thing. Somethin’ that set them apart from me and Mikey, ya know?”

“Not really,” said Draxum. Raphael glared at him, and he sighed. “But go on.”

“So they picked the same birthday and called themselves twins. I think Pops just so glad they were actually getting along that he agreed to it. And I think he thought once we got to the day, and they realized they were really gonna have to share it, they’d both demand their own day instead. I know I thought that was gonna happen.” He smiled at the memory. “But the day came, and… they fussed the whole time just like they do now. Arguing about what kind of cake they wanted and who got to open their present first. But they didn’t ask to split. They kept it the same day, and they kept calling each other twins and it just stuck, until we didn’t question it anymore.”

“…They are both stubborn,” Draxum pointed out, and Raphael laughed once.

“Yeah, guess they are. But that’s not what this is.” Raphael shrugged. “They chose each other back then. Maybe at first it was just to have a thing, but then it became real. And every single year they keep choosing each other. That’s why they’re twins.”

Choosing each other as twins… Draxum furrowed his brow. “It’s not normally a choice,” he pointed out finally.

“Yeah, well, our family doesn’t get a lot of choices, so just let ‘em have this one, okay?”

“…Fine,” Draxum finally relented. “As long as it’s noted that this is purely a social designation, and not a biological one.”

“Uh, sure, whatever.” Raphael rolled his eyes. “Glad we got that cleared up, though. Think you can come back to the party and behave?”

Draxum wrinkled his nose at that phrasing, but nodded. “Yes. I will not bring it up again.”

“Good!” Raphael’s smile abruptly transitioned into something much more dangerous. “Because if you make my little brothers upset on their birthday again, I’ll remind you what it was like when we were enemies.”

Then the smile was back. “Now let’s go in!”

He walked back to the subway station, leaving Draxum to follow on his own. Draxum couldn’t help but sigh wistfully.

Raphael would have made a great general for his army.

———

The boys had already returned by the time Draxum got back. They were opening more gifts, and he noted they were wearing hoodies now - though they had apparently decided to swap their signature colors. They were smiling and chattering, and any hint of their earlier upset was gone.

Until Draxum stepped into their line of sight, and both of them went rigid, wary of him.

Apparently just talking to the red one was not enough. Draxum would have to do more. What a pain.

But he didn’t want the boys to hate him. So he sighed and launched into it.

“I… am sorry. I shouldn’t have said you aren’t twins.”

The boys looked surprised at that; slowly, their posture loosened back up.

“And… to make up for my present, I will… take the two of you wherever you want to go in the Hidden City.” The next words were painful, and he ground them out. “My treat.”

Leonardo and Donatello shifted their gaze from him to each other. They were silent, but it didn’t seem like they needed to talk to have a conversation.

Then they finally looked back at Draxum, slow grins growing over both their faces.

Eerily matching, very evil grins.

“Oh,” said Leonardo, happily menacing. “I think we can think of something.”

“I concur,” said Donatello in the exact same tone.

Oh, thought Draxum. Maybe they really are twins.

[bimoonphases]

@wolfstarmicrofic June 25 - prompt 25: Legend [word count 362]

As was Hogwarts tradition, two from the staff took the first years, all Houses mixed, on a tour of the castle. This year, the tour had started in the greenhouses Professor Pettigrew was extremely proud of, to then move inside at a steady pace, following the history and the anecdotes Professor Lupin was sharing.

"Lost already?" Professor Lupin quirked an eyebrow as two students ran up to the group, breathing heavily.

"Sorry Professor," one of them panted. "We were in the Quidditch field, Coach Potter told us to hurry up or we'd miss the tour."

"What's that?" another student asked in that moment, pointing at something behind the teachers.

The wall of the corridor they were standing in seemed perfectly normal at first sight, but if you looked at it from a certain angle, writing the size of windows appeared, all in glittering gold letters: THE MARAUDERS WERE HERE.

"Who are the Marauders?"

"No one really knows," Professor Pettigrew shrugged. "That writing appeared in the late Seventies but no one knows who did it."

"One thing's certain," Professor Lupin smiled. "Whoever they were, they were very good at what they did, because no one has ever been able to erase that writing."

"It's now a Hogwarts legend," a voice from the end of the corridor said. "Who were they? Why did they leave us this? What happened to them?"

"Thank you, Professor Black," Professor Pettigrew rolled his eyes as the handsome man joined them, but he was smiling. "This way, young people, follow me."

Professor Lupin and Professor Black stayed by the wall until the students disappeared.

"Legend, uh?" Remus said, smiling at his husband.

"It would be more correct to say legends, plural, but yes," Sirius smiled. "Face it, Moony, our legacy as Marauders will survive long after we're all gone."

"The famous humility of Professor Sirius Black," Remus rolled his eyes.

"You love it. And you love me."

Remus shook his head, a smile on his lips.

"Yes," he said then. "Yes I do."

They quickly looked around them before kissing in the empty corridor. Exactly like when they had been teenagers in love, in front of that very wall.

[delopsia]

Happy birthday!!!

I'd like to request nebula bronc riding. Prompt: Pegging Robert Reynolds, Rhett Abbott

Thank you! ^^ I'm sorry that it took me so long to get to this one. I was saving my favorites for last 😔

Nebula Bronc Riding — Give me a prompt for your rider(s) and I'll write a drabble with it

Bob Reynolds

"There," pretty blue eyes widen like saucers. "There, there, there, ah—!" His head falls back onto the pillow once more, legs shivering as you hoist them back over your shoulders. It's hard to believe he's even this flexible, knees to his chest, drooling cock trapped between his thighs. And somehow, all six feet of him manages to look tiny.

"Are you sure you don't want the smaller strap, baby?" Tracing your fingers over his rim, stretched around a too-thick silicone cock. "You cute little ass can hardly take it." He's whining before you've finished talking, his cock twitching. Your newfound theory is proving to be a little more correct than you initially thought. "I want..." Bob gulps, squeezing his knees closer to himself, as if to try and fold himself in half. "I want it." A shiver visibly ripples through him, meek little whimpers dissolving into something louder. Now that you've found his prostate again, you're not leaving it alone, even for a second. Purposefully angling your hips to strike it, sacrificing the strength of your once carefully measured strokes. If the precum spilling onto his plush thighs is anything to go by, you reckon you can get him off from this alone. But you're dying to see just how far your theory stretches. Hooking your hands beneath his knees, you draw them apart. "Look," you coo, and there's something else you're about to say, a sweet little something to get him going, but Bob is already lifting his head. You can see the moment his eyes land on it. The obscene sight of this thick pink toy, sinking into his cute ass, stretching him so fucking wide. You don't know how he's even gonna walk to the kitchen in the morning, let alone anything else. A pitchy whimper falls off his tongue, and he's cumming without even a hint of warning. So he does have a size kink.

Rhett Abbott

"Shit, shit," his hips buck like those bulls he rides for fun, damn near causing your strap to slip out of him entirely. "Just like that, fuck!" Wind rushes past, your only reminder of where you are right now. Out here in the closed-off west pasture, miles upon miles of flat land and wire fences. There's nothing here to hide you. Just one person coming over that distant horizon is all it'll take to get caught. But Rhett's babbling like he doesn't care if half the town is watching. "Keep fuckin' me like that," his boot audibly kicks at the ground, stirring up another plume of dirt. "Keep...keep...oh." "You're gonna get us caught, cowboy," squeezing greedy handfuls of his thighs, you lean forward, as close as you can get to his ear. Taunting. "You're supposed to be working, remember? Or do you want someone to see you getting bent over your own truck?" Rhett glares at you from over his shoulder. Your hips snap back into him, and it dissolves, his eyes rolling as his mouth all but falls open. The groan rumbling out of his chest ought to be heard for miles. His arms crumble out from beneath him, collapsing into the hood of his truck. He's clawing at it, searching for leverage that isn't there. The only thing it does for him is make more noise, a dull squeal of palms gliding over cool metal. You draw yourself back, eager to get another look at the pale blue toy disappearing into his shaking ass. His favorite. Always a sucker for the long, oversized toys that leave him sore for days. Something possesses you to seize one of his arms, forcing it back and between your bodies. And Rhett already knows what you're trying to do, sliding two fingers around the silicone, feeling where it disappears into him. "I'm gonna cum again," he blurts, and his fist strikes the truck so hard that you worry it might leave a dent. "Fuck. Keep...keep..." When did he cum the first time?

[swizzlemynizzle]

Underneath the Noise - George Clarkey

—————————————————————————

Masterlist

Chapter 5: Pub Crawl Survivors' Club

—————————————————————————

By the time they stumble out of the last pub, the air’s gone crisp and a bit damp, like London’s gently trying to rinse them off. Y/N’s socks are still squelching in those cursed size elevens, her mascara’s halfway down her cheek, and she’s just realised she hasn’t eaten since what might’ve been a sausage roll seven hours ago.

But she’s buzzing. Not just from alcohol—though the tequila shot she did with a woman dressed as a human-sized inflatable penis certainly helped—but from something lighter. Looser. Like a knot she didn’t know was there has started to come undone.

They’ve officially completed the entire bingo list. Every chaotic challenge checked off, documented, and occasionally filmed at unflattering angles.

They’re still laughing about the fountain.

“Right,” Bach says, his voice suddenly taking on a strange level of authority for someone who earlier tried to chat up a statue. “Now that we’ve all sacrificed our dignity for digital content, I vote we find somewhere warm before one of you gets hypothermia and I have to be the adult.”

“You are never the adult,” Arthur Hill mutters.

Bach glares. “I am now.”

ArthurTV, who has been silently staring at a Pret A Manger sign across the street for a good thirty seconds, suddenly chimes in: “Did you know the Thames used to freeze over in winter? Like, solid. They had entire frost fairs on it. People selling pies and everything.”

Everyone pauses.

“Cool,” Y/N says. “Do you want to lie down?”

“I’m fine,” ArthurTV replies calmly, before nearly tripping over a curb.

Chris snorts. “Right, let’s get you indoors before you try to reenact the Great Fire of London with a vape.”

They end up at a little pub just off Soho—wood-panelled, dimly lit, the kind of place that smells like spilt ale and second-hand stories. It’s mercifully quiet. No DJ, no inflatable penises. Just a few locals muttering over pints and a dog asleep under one of the tables.

“Perfect,” Bach says, already at the bar. “This place looks like it’s never even heard of TikTok.”

They pile into a booth that’s too small for all of them, limbs overlapping, coats tossed in a pile, laughter still spilling out in waves. It’s the first time all day they’ve been still.

Y/N finds herself wedged between Arthur Hill—who’s gently mumbling about how he peaked in Year 10 during a school play—and George, who seems entirely unbothered by the fact that his left leg is pressed firmly against hers.

He hasn’t said much since the fountain. Just small comments here and there, occasionally catching her eye when something ridiculous happens—like Chris attempting to explain the bingo list to the bartender like it’s a UN mission report.

“So which of us actually won?” Y/N asks, sipping her pint.

“Us, obviously,” Chris says, looking offended. “You think your team could out-do us? I saw you trying to convince a pigeon to high-five you.”

“That was ArthurTV,” Y/N corrects.

ArthurTV nods solemnly. “It understood me.”

Chris raises a brow. “Did it?”

Arthur Hill sighs dramatically. “If this is what peak content looks like, I’m quitting YouTube and becoming a lollipop man.”

“You’d cry the first time a kid called you cringe,” George says dryly.

Arthur shrugs. “Fair.”

Y/N snorts into her drink. She’s still wearing the cursed trainers. Every time someone mentions them, she threatens to launch them into the Thames.

“I swear these shoes are actually cursed. Like, haunted by the ghost of failed pub crawls past.”

“They’ve got better grip than your dignity,” George murmurs next to her, not even looking up from his drink.

She whips her head toward him. “You did not just—”

He lifts his pint, calm as anything. “Just saying. You were two seconds away from face-planting into the fountain.”

“I was being graceful under pressure,” she insists.

Chris raises his glass. “To Y/N. May she one day regain the feeling in her feet.”

They all cheer.

Even George.

ArthurTV zones out again, this time staring at the jukebox like it holds the secrets of the universe. Bach gently tugs the menu from his hand and hands him a packet of crisps.

“There we go, mate. Something salty to bring you back to Earth.”

“Did you know there’s a tree in London older than the Tower of London?” ArthurTV mumbles, munching.

“No one asked,” Chris deadpans.

Y/N leans back in the booth, warmth creeping into her limbs. It's loud and chaotic and completely mad—but she’s in it. Fully in it. Not watching from the outside. Not pretending to belong. Just… there. Part of the joke. Part of the group.

George catches her looking again. Doesn’t smirk this time—just meets her gaze, a little too steady for comfort.

She looks away first. Again.

But not because she’s afraid. More because… it’s something. And she’s not quite ready to name it yet.

Outside, the rain has started again, light and lazy, brushing against the windows like a reminder that London doesn’t stop just because you’ve had a weirdly transformative day.

Arthur Hill lets out a deep sigh. “Well. If I die tonight, bury me in Soho. Let my ghost roam the back alleys, lamenting missed shots and poor shoe choices.”

“You’re not dying,” Bach says, handing him a pint. “But I might smother you if you keep monologuing.”

Y/N laughs, curling further into the warmth of the group, her head fuzzy and heart strangely full.

Somewhere between the bingo chaos, the soggy trainers, and the questionable renditions of Wonderwall, something clicked.

She’s not quite sure what it is yet.

But she’s in no rush to figure it out.

———

The laughter softens eventually. Drinks dwindle. Chris is mid-rant about how hobbits would “absolutely thrive on Deliveroo,” and Arthur Hill has slumped halfway down the booth, quietly singing Mr Brightside to himself.

George nudges Y/N’s elbow. “Want some air?”

She blinks, surprised. But nods.

Outside, the street’s mostly quiet now. Slick with fresh rain, glowing under yellow streetlights. The pub’s hum drifts through the door behind them—muffled laughter, a clink of glasses. Everything feels… suspended.

She hugs her coat tighter. “Didn’t think you were the ‘let’s step outside for a chat’ type.”

“I’m not,” he says. “But you looked like you needed it.”

She glances sideways. “Do I?”

George shrugs, shoves his hands in his coat pockets. “You get a look when you’re overthinking. Kind of like you’re bracing for impact.”

Y/N lets out a breath that’s almost a laugh. “I hate how accurate that is.”

They fall quiet for a beat, the sound of a bus hissing by filling the space.

“I’m still figuring it out,” she admits eventually. “All of it. The group. Where I fit. If I even… do.”

“You do,” he says simply.

That makes her look up.

He’s not teasing. Not playing it off.

Just saying it like a fact.

It catches her off guard in a way that makes her throat feel tight.

“…Thanks,” she says softly, gaze flicking to his. “Even if you did make fun of my trench foot shoes earlier.”

George smirks. “Big head, remember? It’s full of observations.”

She rolls her eyes but smiles anyway.

And just like earlier, he catches it. That flicker of her unguarded. But this time, she doesn’t look away.

They stay there a little longer, side by side in the London drizzle, letting the noise fade behind them.

No chaos. No challenges.

Just quiet.

And maybe that’s its own kind of victory.

---

Last bingo video chapter!!! I might wait a day or two to post the next ones xx

Tags

@madforgeorge

@wherethezoes-at

@sundarksposts

[uhohdad]

I'm not too sure if requests are on at the moment (feel free to ignore this if they aren't, if you're uncomfortable with the request, or if you're simply uninterested, my sweet! 🫂)

What are your thoughts on Loser!König with a cuckold fetish? Who loves being humiliated? Who loves watching his girlfriend get fucked by another man? I'm not too sure if this crosses your boundaries or anything, so don't feel pressured to respond! (⁠T⁠T⁠) ♡

After all, König is a useless virgin, or at least he lacks experience in the bedroom. He can't properly please you or drag an orgasm out of you, because he comes embarrassingly quickly, practically huffing and puffing through his second orgasm while you're wincing at the sheer size of König and the splitting pain between your soft, warm thighs. He barely lasts two minutes – if that at all. He's been deprived of pussy and sex, please understand him, Mauschen!

He gets off knowing that his girlfriend is satisfied, despite the envy and jealousy burning within him, as well as the shame and disgust that follows that he can't properly please you, mainly due to his size and lack of experience. As long as you let him eat you out afterwards and clean up that man's filth using his tongue, then it's alright. Just run your fingers through his tangled hair and let him fall asleep with his throbbing, swollen boner leaking all over you. 🌷

orla i love your beautiful mind also i am SO sorry this took so long <3

(18+) Loser!König x Reader x Ghost - Cuckholding

Even though he’s straining against his boxers, you still have to tie König down to the chair in the corner of the room to prevent him from losing his cool. His fists clenched on the arms of the chair, teeth grit and grinding as he watches Simon bury his cock into you like he owns it.

He might as well, because König certainly isn’t pleasuring you. Hasn’t managed to give you an orgasm once. Skipping crucial warm-up to shove his eager, thick cock into a cunt that’s far too tight and unprepared. Burying his finish into you before the first tear can even well in your eyeline. Maybe the apology he mutters into your skin afterwards is genuine, but it certainly doesn’t lend to correcting his behavior the next time.

“Fuck, that’s it, love.”

Simon’s grunts are restrained and ravenous, deep and gravelly in your ear.

“Just needed someone who knows what they’re doing, yeah?”

Through the blur of each degrading slam into your cunt from behind, you catch sight of König, his half-lidded eyes projecting pure loathing as he watches you bounce on his rival’s cock. Jaw tight at your pathetic, squeaky moans and his thighs rubbing together to release the aching throb in his cock.

“You’re dripping, love. Soaking this fucking cock.”

Simon ends his praise on a grunt, an extra rough series of slams into your plush ass. König is gifted the intoxicating image of your eyes rolling into the back of your head, your hands clawing at the sheet in pleasure for once, a feat he’s yet to achieve.

König’s flushed with jealously, skin burning with envy, watching Simon one-up him with his girlfriend’s pleasure. The stuttered moans that leave you are desperate, entirely succumb to his skilled cock. Rough and brute in the right way. His balls are slapping against your clit at the perfect angle, coaxing whines from your raw throat with each bottom out.

“Feel good, sweetheart?”

“Yes - yes!”

Simon gives a pleased hum, rubbing it in by shooting König a smug stare and cocky grin.

“Your girl is so tight and wet f’me.”

König’s eyes flare, his muscles tight and shaking in rage, teeth threatening to crumble under the pressure.

“Simon - Close! So close!”

“That’s a good girl, love, cum on this cock.”

The cry that leaves you is deafening and stuttered by Simon’s abusive cock bullying your g-spot. Limp and pliant to the strong hands on your hips as the pleasure swallows you whole, a white heat that sends jolts of euphoria from your core to the rest of your useless body.

“Such a good girl,” He coos softly, a sharp contrast to the cruel cock that pounds your sensitive cunt.

“I know it’s been too long.”

You can’t even respond, cock-drunk and strung-out on your bliss. Simon leans down, pressing his firm, warm chest to your back, his lips in your ear.

“Gonna’ fill that pretty cunt.”

His ruthless cock bottoms out with each thrust, his hips a blur and the slap of flesh on flesh echoing throughout the room until he presses himself flush to your ass, cock entirely buried in you with a finish deep into your cunt, filling you with his messy, greedy finish.

He gives three final thrusts to stuff his cum in you, his nails digging into your hips when he finally wavers. His cock is pulsing and twitching, pulling out of your overstimulated cunt before slapping his arousal and cum-soaked cock against your thighs and leaving you with a handprint on your ass cheek.

Simon wipes off his sweat with a towel, tossing it in König’s lap as he heads for the door.

“Better get to cleaning, Lover Boy.”

♡ KÖNIG DRABBLE MASTERLIST ♡

lovely dividers by @saradika-graphics

[moredorkysj]

The secret to draw canon All Might~

References!

This file is HUGE! so here's a LINK to the original size.

The references isn't only about details, angles and facial expressions, it's also about how All Might moves his body and his characteristic body language.

It is quite chaotic, I know. Also, I updated it recently, so there might be some doubles. I might have somewhat of a photography memory, but I'm not a robot (#^^#)ゞ.

I have a passion for making collages and have being doing those since my early 20s. (It's kind of therapeutic for me^^)

2. Chose your favorite All Might!

As we all now, Horikoshi's art-style changes through the whole series. He sometime also exaggerates the angles when he wants to add some drama or comedy into the facial expressions.

It can be useful to know what style of All Might you want to draw. (It doesn't have to only be from the manga, it can be from the anime as well). Here are some of mine:

After choosing your favorites, it will be the blueprint of what your drawings of him will mostly resemble. HOWEVER! It's important to know that you can twist it with your own style too. That can help you feel more comfortable with your hand and to draw without relying on only references. (A good example is how I draw All Might's hair, it is sometimes a bit different from how Horikoshi draws it).

3. My step by step sketch

This is an example for how I would draw All Might in a quick pace, without looking at any references. And I would not consider them finished, because there are some shapes that needs some configurations. like: slightly elongate the forehead, lengthen the nose, etc. It's always okay to be extra messy with the sketch, we have erasers for a reason ;)

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I hope you find these tips helpful. You are all free to download and save the All Might collage ٩(^ᴗ^)۶

Edit: Oh! There is a big chance I might add more of younger All Might to the collage in the future. I will of cours post an update for y'all when it happens.

Edit: I just noticed that the collage picture on this post was an old version. I changed it to the recent one. The link was always correct though :)