#like. it's going from bad to worse and all I can do is sit here. in fear

[mumblesplash]

(part 3/3)

AAAAND THAT'S A WRAP ON THE PROLOGUE!!!

Z startles awake at his desk with such violence he nearly tips his chair.  The half-empty styrofoam coffee cup wobbles dangerously.  Before it can spill or settle on its own Z-piece backhands it himself.  Cold liquid splatters the purple-gray fabric wall of his cubicle.  Another mission, another stain.

Z screams.

He manages to steady himself just as the others start to return.  It doesn’t take long, of course.  I-prime is efficient, as always.

S-piece comes to him right away, sultry and queenlike, fresh gloss shining on her lips.

Where does she even get lip gloss all the time?

“Hey, darling.” S-piece leans over the back of his chair and drapes her arms around his neck.  “That sucked.”

“Yeah.”

“Sucked bad, used teeth.”

“Yeah.”

“I liked the part where you went nova, though.  Haven’t seen you like that in far too long.”

Z’s bad mood sweetens a bit at the weight of S’s head on his shoulder and the memory of blazing destruction.

Quick-approaching footsteps flips him back towards sour.  Z-piece knows that brisk, irritating tread, would know it in his sleep. 

I-prime blazes past Z’s cubicle without a sideways glance and—

It’s not like Z ever expects much from him after a mission, but…

I-prime could at least spare a glance!

Z explodes from his chair.  He storms after I, S-piece flowing in his wake.          

I-prime presses onward, his stupid wrinkle-free shirt perfectly tucked into his pants while Z isn’t even wearing shoes.

Z wants to tear that shirt from those proud, straight shoulders and stain it with coffee and blood.

That desire chokes itself out at the sight of T-piece, motionless, slumped over their desk.  J’s standing over them, her hand hovering like an uncertain moth above their shoulders.  L’s at her side, of course.  O-prime is seated at her desk across the aisle from T’s half-cube, watching with her implacable neutrality.

And there’s something wrong about how T-prime looks sitting there, in a way that Z can’t place.

“What are you all doing here?” I-prime says, as if he hasn’t just rushed here himself.

“We need to debrief,” says L.  “I wanna get the report in before the Boss asks for one, do some damage control, but—“

“But T-piece won’t wake up,” says O.

Shapeless dread, like a cloud of needles in Z’s chest.  He wants to rush to T-piece’s side but the corridor between cubicles is too narrow and fucking I-prime is in the way.

S leans over the chest-high wall of T’s cubicle.  She takes in his still form then shoots a dagger of a glance at I-prime.

“What do you know, I?” she says.  “What happened before you came back?”

I-prime’s face remains smooth and composed.

“I cleared him as quick as I could,” he says.  “But the crush of Z-clones got to him first.”

Nausea hits Z-piece like a wave.  He shoulders past I-prime and forces his way into T’s cube.  Behind him O says something about contamination, about how part of T-piece might need to be cleared.

Z shoves J aside, ignores L’s protests, grabs T-prime by the shoulders and drags him upright.

“Hey!” he shouts.  “Wake up, T! Wake up and tell everyone you’re fine!”

The body beneath his hands shudders.  Tenses.

T’s eyes open.  Z sags in relief.

“Let go!”

T-piece flails back, away from Z, tipping his chair and crashing to the ground.  He scrambles backwards, eyes darting between the people all crowded around him.

“Calm down!” L shouts.  “We’re back! It’s safe!”

“Back from where?” T cries, pressed against the purple-gray wall.   

“What do you mean, where?” Z says, dread like thorns in his mouth.  “From the mission.  The world I—from the world that spoiled.  Where else?”

“I knew it.” O stands up.  “They got spoiled.  The Boss must’ve cleared his recent memories to—”

“Cut out the rot,” I-prime says.  “Makes sense.  Could be worse.”

I's right. Locking corrupted memories behind a firewall is rare, but it's happened to most of them. This is normal. It's fine.

T-prime looks up at the six people gathered around him like a cornered animal.

“Don’t worry, T, you’re alright.” L speaks with careful kindness.  “You’ve been hurt on a mission, but it’s safe now.  What’s the last thing you remember?”

Before T can answer, Z-piece realizes what seemed so wrong about him before.  All of them carry a marker, a token, an icon of their names.  O’s icon sits over his eye like a stamp.  Z’s is a charm dangling from his collar.  T’s is a tattoo on his shoulder.

That tattoo is gone.

There’s a collar around T’s neck now, one Z’s never seen him wear, and that’s where his icon now resides.  Before Z can allow himself to contemplate what that might mean, T answers L’s question.

“Nothing.”

Icy silence.  O sits back down.

“Nothing?” L struggles to keep her tone even.

“I know I’m T.  That’s it.”

T’s wary eyes dart between them all.  He gives no individual preference, spares none of them his suspicion.  Z can’t see himself reflected in those eyes at all.

“You’re lying,” Z growls.  He swings to I-prime. “He’s lying! There’s no way my—the clones couldn’t corrupt him so bad the boss needed to clear everything!”    

I-prime’s cool resolve shows no sign of cracking.

“I saw what I saw,” he says.  “It’s done.”

Z screams.  He grabs the nearest object—T’s desk lamp, the one S and Z gave him after breaking his old model—and throws it as far and as hard as he can.  In the shattering he finds no relief.

T flinches back even further and it’s like a stab to the gut.

“Who the hell are you people?” they say.  “What even is this place?”

Nobody answers.

L turns pale.

“I need to send an email.”

alright here's the rundown. more detailed version coming soon probably. the things i do for you guys

(transcript of prologue below the cut)

It's a lavender sky this time, this world. A lavender sky deepening to aubergine over a city of neon and brass. It's beautiful in it's way, just like any other city on any other world.

I-prime hasn't bothered to learn its name.

He stands in the hotel window, watching the burnished streets below gleam with fading light. The rhythmic thrum beneath his feet signals the rousing of the club below. They're playing a song that I has never heard in his life, yet part of him remembers it all the same.

The blank-faced watch on his wrist chimes a single long tone. I-piece taps its face without taking his eyes off the path into the nightclub.

"Hello, T."

"You're not in position," T says through the speaker. Their voice betrays none of the frustration that I knows he must feel.

"I'm where I need to be," I-prime says.

"We talked about this—"

"Yes, you talked, that's what you do. I make decisions."

T-piece's response is cut off by further chimes from the watch. Short, long, short, short—then the voice of L comes through.

"There's no time," she says. "The Boss just Held onto J. It's on, it's now."

"As expected," says I.

With a snap of his fingers the air before him splits. I-prime reaches into the crack between two universes and retrieves his sniper rifle. He looks down its sights, out the window, down the gleaming street.

Someone approaches the door to the club. A tall, svelt man with a face that I-prime is so sick of seeing other people wear.

I wonder what this one's named, I-prime muses as he lines up the shot.

Izaak? Ignacius? Indigo?

As he pulls the trigger on himself from another life, I-prime knows it doesn't matter what this alternate is called.

He lost track of their names a long time ago.

[iceemochaa]

WHO KNEW?

Remmick X Reader

A/N: Heyyyyyy, did somebody ask for Remmick Riding Fic??

I want to say thank you to my pookie @fuckoffbard for giving me this idea. She gave me her blessings to write something that was self indulgent and I wanted to deliver it with love. It took me a while to write and I’m so glad I kept picking at it until it all made sense on paper. Lemme go finish my other 5 fics now. Enjoy :)

Warning: MDNI, No use of name or Y/n, reader insert, Reader isnt described, Riding, fem Reader, AFAB, Creampie, slight breeding if you squint, slight blood play, kissing, kissing with blood, Remmick uses his claws maybe once or twice, cursing, dirty talk, P in V (lowkey what’s the difference), Remmick cries cause I love men being pathetic. Slight Cervix fucking if you squint. If you see any grammar or punctuation mistakes, no you didn’t :)

Word Count:3.6 k

The rapid beats of your heart echoes through your ears, your lips begging for you to stop chewing so harshly. It's only been a few short minutes since Remmick had worked his hands all over you— Freeing you of your clothing, tossing them carelessly in a pile somewhere. He whispered dirty things that he promises he’ll do to you— Soon, later, it didn't matter. All you knew was that Remmick was a man of his words.

He had you pressed against him, chest to chest so that he could breathe you in, Rub his scent right against yours. There's light red hickeys along your neck and arms— something Remmick did when he got all worked up, sucking your skin in his mouth to keep from inserting his fangs. Sometimes he went a little overboard, applying too much pressure until your skin underneath turned a deeper shade.

Currently you looked like a painter's canvas that was going through the rough draft stage; Hints of purple and shades of red painted all over your body. You didn't mind— You liked how considerate he was, never too hard but enough to make you feel, even if you did want him to go further.

For now, This was fine.

When he was done marking your body, soothing kisses placed above the marks— feeling almost satisfied, He tossed you on top of him and got real cozy under your weight. He used his slick tone and smooth voice to ask a simple question that left you paralyzed. A question that your brain has been mulling over and over. It wasn't anything bad— well, maybe to you but Remmick hasn't stopped smirking. He looked like a shark, all teeth and beady black eyes and you were the unfortunate fish that was soon to be his dinner.

“Why don't you Ride me darlin’? .” He said with such an enthusiastic drawl.

Since then you've been in a state of panic. Sure, you've done a lot of things with Remmick that you're too embarrassed to admit out loud but your body still reacts the same— it tingles and gets all warm and mushy when he has you pressed against him, with deep kisses lingering on your lip but this? This right here with your full weight sitting on top of his lap is too much.

“What if I hurt you?” you say in a small whisper but Remmick can hear you just fine. He simply looks at you with a hungry stare, He’s watching you, trying to gauge your reaction. Its the look he usually does when he devotes his full attention to you, shifting ever so slightly under.

“Hurt me? Darlin’ you could never.” he chuckles, tracing soothing circles on the side of your hip but then he quickly adds in, “Trust me, I've been through worse.”

“What's worse than this?” You ask, curiosity getting the best of you.

Remmick stops drawing circles to pinch the fat of your thigh lightly, “Besides burning in the sun?” he takes a few seconds to really search his brain for all the times he had to either catch prey or defend his life. Some of those moments really took a lot out of him, sometimes he couldn’t move for days but there was one thing that still gets his brain turning and his teeth aching with burning rage.

“...Maybe being hit with a guitar.”

A singular brow raises against your forehead. “Is that really true?”

“Now your tryin’ to change the topic.”

“Remmick, please, don't make me do this.”

“m’not making you do anythin’,” his says so innocently, making sure to sprinkle in an extra thick southern accent that gets your mind racing. “I'm just enjoying the view from down here, is all.” he says, “If you want to do something then your free to do as you please.”

”O-Oh okay…”

Sensing your hesitation, Remmick shifts your weight so he can sit up, his face only a few inches away. He plants a kiss right against your cheek, it's short and sweet, nothing but burning love flowing. He adds more, moving his lips lower until it reaches your collarbone then he stops to look at you once more through hooded eyes. “You don’t need to be nervous around me, sugar.” He says against your skin then shifts his head back up so his breath can fan against your face. “We've done far worse.” he says plain as day, the worse being even more freakier things he likes to suggest.

“I’ll gladly accept anything you do to me. You could never hurt me.”

“Are you sure?” You ask once more. Insecurity and fear was a glowing white beacon above your head. You believed Remmick, fully and completely, you just didn’t believe in yourself. What if you suck at it? What if he tells you that he changed his mind about this idea and shoves you off? What if he actually doesn’t like it and he fakes an orgasem? It sounds real childish but it could happen. You would rather indulge in those impossible sex positions he likes to purpose whenever he gets way too in his head.

You shake your head, hoping these feelings would somehow remove themselves from your brain. “You know what, maybe we can do this again later-“

Remmick clicks his tongue in slight annoyance, “Hold on now, Don’t give me that talk.” He chastises you but you can hear the softness in his tone. He wasn’t upset, not at all. An easy going smile, soothing hands, a soft hum. He wanted you to know that this was all fine.

Great even.

“Look, If you want,” he says in a sultry lilt, “I can do that thing with my tongue you like so much right after.”

Huh?

“You know, the one where I lick right up agaisnt-“

“Remmick, Shut up.” You sigh.

“Yes Ma’am.”

Well, here goes nothing.

To build some confidence you figured kissing would be a good start— It was easy and you didn’t have to think so hard about it. You wrap your arms around his neck, hands sliding into the back of his head to feel how soft his hair was. Remmick simply hums, leaning into the touch– almost like a cat. Slowly, You ghost your lips over his, your hand tugging his hair back just slightly so he was forced to look up at you. You can see something deep and primal in his eyes, like he was waiting for you to do this. Have him underneath you, have you take the lead.

You watch as Remmicks eyes glide across your face and slowly land on your mouth, his tongue peeking out to lick across his bottom lip like he was starving— He was always starving for you. You can tell by the way drool builds up in the corner of his mouth, his lips opening and closing like a fish. Like he needed air and the only air he wanted was you.

“Your drooling baby.” You note with a grin, observing the way it slowly drips down onto his chest. Remmick merely smirks, his hand coming up to cup your face in a soft embrace.

“That I am.” He says.

You press your lips right against his, You can hear Remmick breathing in your scent. His tongue pressing against your lips, asking for permission to taste you further. When you do let him in, he wastes no time to explore your mouth, his moan vibrating through you with sloppy sounds mixed with drool. Remmicks hand roams around your skin to keep him grounded. He was trying his best not to take control— have you take the lead but it was getting harder. You tasted so divine.

You glide both of your hands up his shoulders and push him down easily. He follows your lead without hesitation. Once you have him pressed against the bed, you finally break the kiss to plant light pecks on his cheek then slowly work your way towards his neck until you reach the shell of his ear. A low groan erupts from his throat when you suck his earlobe, your teeth working its way to tugging and nipping the shell of his ear soon after.

“Shit— where’d you learn that?” Remmick gasps softly.

“I have a good teacher.” You whisper in his ear, heat building on your cheeks, your nerves slowly turning into want and need— Enjoying the way the roles are slowly reversing. It’s usually him making you squirm and get all flushed but now he’s the one coming undone. You pull back to give him a once over, getting one more confirmation that this was 100% alright. Remmick simply nods his head.

“Well?” He says, “don’t stop now.”

You got this, you chant into your head over and over. He’s okay with it. It’s perfectly fine. Just move.

So you do.

You lift up to grab his weeping cock, feeling the way it burns in your hand. You heard a low groan shutter through the air— His chest starts to move quicker, his eyes growing wider, his fingers pressing deeper into your soft skin now. He didn't have to say anything but his body sure loves to talk— You can feel his muscle fidget under the palm of your hand that’s being pressed against his stomach, The growing anticipation too much to bear. You look towards him for any hints of discomfort, Maybe another confirmation that this was a totally bad idea but he's too busy watching the way his cock is getting closer and closer to where he really wants to be.

Okay, you got this.

He said it was fine, right? You take deep breaths, slowly guiding yourself down until the tip presses against your folds. You're already so wet, practically dripping due to Remmick playing with you earlier before this whole internal conflict started. He glides in so smoothly, entering into your warmth inch by inch. The pain of how big he is completely long gone and now masked with desire.

A small hiss slips from Remmicks mouth, his brows furrowing. “That’s it, nice and slow.” He says. It doesn’t take long for you to be fully seated on his lap now. His hard cock snuggled right inside, right where it belonged.

You stop suddenly, fear brewing once more. “I can’t- fuck, it’s too much,“ you choke out, Your nails digging into his chest to keep yourself together.

“Yes you can— your doing it already.” He coos, like he's trying to calm a frightened animal.

Remmick draws light feathered circles against your skin, his eyes fully scanning your face now. “Darlin, Your doin’ so well,” he says tilting his head back just slight. Still watching you, still trying to calm you down, Your comfort being too important to him.

“Whenever your ready. Move those pretty hips for me.” he sighs softly, “I promise im not goin’ anywhere.”

Here goes nothing.

You finally grow some confidence and lift up slightly, testing the waters, Feeling the way his hand clenches to keep a tight hold on Your hips. He doesn’t want to let you go, you don’t want him too. You come back down slowly, feeling the way your walls grow tighter when he enters once more.

This feels different.

Not in a bad way.

Exciting, new, different.

It feels a little overwhelming at first, trying to make sure you're not dropping your full weight on him all while he’s nuzzled inside your cunt but slowly the burning need grows. You do it again, lifting up to come back down on his length. A soft moan leaving your lips at the sensation. It’s usually Remmick who’s taking the reins; the one finding pleasure for you, Moving at his own accord when he wants. He'll find a rhythm that gets his stomach pooling with heat, a position that has your muscles burning, your mind ditzy.

Now?

You're the one holding the reins, Taking control. Before you know it, you're riding him in slow paces. Your hands pressed against his chest to support yourself— hips grinding down so you can find that slight, hot, burn that makes your stomach churn.

Remmick has his hands tight around your waist, his hold almost bruising. You both don’t say anything, nothing but the low grunts and moans echoing throughout the room. For the first time Remmick isn’t talking his head off— too lost in the pleasure, His eyes pinned to the constant exposure of his cock entering your cunt.

Perhaps you should do this more often, you think.

Soon enough the nervousness begins to wash away into pleasure and your moving faster. The sounds of skin on skin begin to mix into the air. You can feel warmth pooling down from your chest and slowly creeping its way to where you're connected to Remmick, like someone lit a fire under a stove. Your hips were being bruised by his hold, his fingers pressing into your skin. The more you ride him the more you start to take note that his claws are lightly scraping against your skin, leaving unruly red marks. They don’t dig in enough to bleed but you can feel them cementing themselves— A reminder that you made Remmick come undone.

“Sugar, m’close, so so close…” Remmick Whines under his breath, his voice dipping into a higher pitch. While his voice only stirs you on, You can’t help but stare at the way his fangs peeks out between his lips, how his tongue presses against them and then lulls out between them.

“Gonna- mhmm - I’m gonna, fuckkkk. Baby-“

“Not yet,” You groan, stopping to grind down hard, making sure he knows he won’t get a reward if he doesn’t listen. “Not until I say so.” You reprimand him.

Remmick throws his head back, a deep rumble echoing through his chest. You can feel the muscles under his skin tense, his hips practically jump in anticipation.

“m’sorry…” Remmick whines, “Please, I’ll be good.“ Pathetic cries begin pooling from his mouth, his head nodding away from the pure bliss he was experiencing.

“I don’t know…” you say offhandedly.

”Fuck, please, I’ll be good! Just— faster.” He begs, He looked good like this, all desperate and pathetic like. Almost like you’ve been withholding this from him for centuries. To think all it took was riding him like there was no tomorrow.

You watch as his eyes shut close, his breathing becoming unsteady. his fangs peeking out to brush against his bottom lip.

“You overwhelmed baby?”

Remmick bobs his head, sucks in a breath when you slam back down.

“Look at me.” You coo softly.

Remmicks glowing red eyes snap towards your own and what a glorious sight it was.

His ruby eyes half lidded but filled with adoration for you. His chest glistening with sweat and some other substance that you're sure is the copious amount of drool that’s been pooling from the corner of his mouth. How delicious he looked, hair tousled and chest heaving in rapid succession.

“Aren’t you a sight.” You chuckle.

“Please Darlin’ m’not gonna last any longer.”

How cute, you think, Remmick who’s always boasting and teasing you for crying and whining that it’s too much and yet he can’t handle it either.

“How about you beg me darlin. Tell me how much this pussy makes you cry.”

Remmicks eyes widen for a moment, His mouth gaping open like a fish. You swear you can hear the gears turning in his pretty little head. His cock throbs inside of you so good it makes your thighs clench around his waist.

“Your doing so…so, so—fuck, I can’t-“ He sobs in broken syllables.

You fingertips glides down the front of his chest, slowly working its way until it stops on his stomach and you press down slightly. “Yes you can, your almost there.”

“I— mhmm, baby, feels so good—“

“That’s it, keep going.”

”Your so perfect— fuck! made just f’me. Never want to let you go—“

You lean down so that your breath fans against his ear when you say, “You want to come inside?”

Remmicks entire body almost lifts off the bed.

“Yes! please!— wanna pump you full, gonna fucking— shit,” he sobs out loud, “Pussy feels so good, made just for me.”

You speed up once more, the sounds of skin connecting and moans mingled together brings hot fire straight into your core— you're getting so close too, his cocking hitting so deep inside it almost makes your eyes roll back. You figured this would be the time to push your limits— have him come undone with tears in his eyes instead. What a pretty sight it would be, a memory you won’t hesitate to bring again later when he says something smart about the roles reversing back.

“You can do better than that.” You say, testing the waters. “Show me how much you want to cum.”

Remmick doesn’t hesitate to follow your orders, his hips lifting so he can meet your rhythm. His hands moving to squeeze your ass— his claws digging into your skin, holding purchase, using your body to bring him to a climax he desperately needs. You can tell he was close, his hips faltering and then picking up again. He’s practically pounding into you, a speed so inhuman that it makes your pussy numb with pleasure.

God, if he kept going like this— his cock pistoning into your cervix once more, you're going to be sore for days. Wobble on your legs like a newborn dear but you won’t complain. Not when the view of Remmick’s blissed out face will be imprinted in your memory.

“N-Now?” he whines, turning his head to suck a deep mark into your shoulders. His nose tucked into your neck once more. You can feel his fangs brush over your skin just slight, his legs tensing everytime they brush against your thighs and the best part of all? The delicious sound of Remmick pounding into you.

“Y-Yeah, fuck— do whatever you want baby. You earned it.”

Remmick thrusts up into your core a few more times, loud moans echos through the room and he cums right inside of you. Pumping you full, making sure he paints the inside of your cunt white. He doesn’t pull out, no, he wants to make sure your filled to the brim. Nothing but him occupying your cunt from the inside out.

“Ohhh—so tight, mhmmm” he cries into your skin, “I’m— fuckkk!” You can hear a slight hiss afterwards, his forehead pressing into your shoulders. Suddenly you feel warm liquid coat your chest, his mouth gliding along your shouder.

When you turn to look at him, you catch a glimpse of red slide down his chin. He was holding back from biting you— the moment too much for him to handle, his fangs practically pierced through his bottom lip.

“You okay?”

Remmick simply nods, too dazed to give a coherent response anyways. You can’t help but eye his lips once more, watch the way fresh blood pools against his skin. The sight of him all bloody and messy makes your pussy clench around him and he groans.

Without thinking, Your hand wraps around his chin to pull him close, your mind racing with nothing but the need to claim him once more. An idea crosses your mind, something you’ve always dreamed of doing and now was the perfect time to act on it. You squeeze his chin softly, leaning down to plant your lips against his, the muscle bloody and almost swollen but you didn’t care.

The taste of iron and drool only makes the craving grow.

Soon enough your teeth come down to replace the indent of his fangs, biting down hard— making sure another wound opens on his lips and then you just tug. Sucking in his bottom lip, the taste of his blood intoxicating.

You let it go, watch as his lip snaps back into place and Remmick almost howls— his hips jerking up into your cunt, his hands shooting to cup your face.

“Fuck, do it again.” He whines into your mouth.

You comply easily, the taste of him is too good to ignore. You press your teeth down In another untouched area and bite down again, until a fresh new wound cuts open his skin, the flow of blood and spit dribbles out from your kiss.

You swear you can hear Remmick purr against your hand.

When you both part your lips, A long drawn out moan leaves between you two— A spit line follows along until it disconnects when you lean back unto his lap again. You can feel the swell inside, his cocked nuzzled deep into your cervix, right where he belongs. When you finally feel like you’ve had your fill of everything Remmick gives you, his entire being devoted and at your mercy, you sit up slowly.

Remmick hums lowly, his breathing at its regular pace again. He looked fucked up but satisfied completely, a goofy grin laying on his face. He looks down to watch the aftermath, The tip of his cock popping out to reveal an overflow of his cum—it practically spills from your cunt, drooling right back on his pelvis.

“You did so well hun.” You say, teasing and soft, copying the warm southern tone he likes to soothe you with. Who knew you had it in you to reduce Remmick to a weeping mess?

Remmick smiles happily at you, sucking in his bottom lip to taste the spit that lingers from your heavy kiss. His hands moving up to massage your hips. He feels the indents in your skin, the pads of his fingers tracing the lines over and over.

You can get used to this, you think.

“Wanna go again?” you smile.

“Yes please.”

[authorhjk1]

May I request Yoona in green pls? Those hips, that peach, that bod, everything is perfect she makes you want to just devour her whole…in a good way.

https://x.com/mystarmyangel/status/1674366849121927168

https://x.com/mystarmyangel/status/1674386325661945861

https://64.media.tumblr.com/adf6a28c97285056f2422e72d36288e5/da6b6af7912c5cf4-b0/s2048x3072/327d9b42bc0e711321c074e44d3538ccf2587a5f.jpg

Green

(Yoona X Male Reader) Word count: 3265 words

"Have fun, honey."

You read your mom's text after telling her you are going to spend the night at a friend's house. Putting your phone back into your pocket you cross the road. Your hand shakes a little in excitement when you ring the doorbell. The sound of heels clicking on marble floor reaches your ears. Then they seem to stop right in front of the door. The milky glass enables you to make out a silhouette behind the door.

When it swings open you're greeted by Im Yoona. Your teacher.

"Hello, Ms. Im."

And your friend's mother.

"Hello, honey. Are you here for my son?"

"Yeah. I planned on sleeping over tonight."

You try to look nonchalant, but you notice your voice betraying you a little. You know it's wrong and yet you have fantasized about your friend's hot mom a million times. The fact that she's your teacher makes it even worse. In a good and in a bad way.

"Oh? He didn't mention anything."

"Typical."

You joke and Ms. Im cracks a laugh.

"I swear he got this from my husband."

She steps out of the way to let you inside.

"Please come in. He isn't home yet though."

"He isn't?"

You take your shoes off and follow her into the house.

"No, but I'm sure he'll be here soon."

As you walk after her your eyes naturally wander towards Ms. Im's perfect backside. Her most attractive feature is definitely her face and she has an amazing body to go with that, but seeing her ass in that tight green skirt has you thinking all kinds of things. You know you shouldn't think them. She's your teacher. Your friend's mother.

"Anything to drink, sweetheart?"

You feel something tingle inside of you whenever she addresses you with these teasing nicknames. You know she is just doing it to her son's friend and she has been doing it for years. But you wish she would see you as someone on her level.

"I would... I would like a water, please."

"Water?"

She chuckles as she walks into the open kitchen.

"I can't remember the last time my son drank water. He's always after something sweet. Please, make yourself comfortable."

She motions towards the couch in the living room and you don't plan on ignoring her offer. As you sit down you watch her preparing a glass of water. She's facing you and once again you can clearly see the face that always distracts you during class. Just like earlier today. That small, but warm smile and the always loving and caring gaze she seems to carry around everywhere.

"It's a hot day today. You should really be drinking a lot."

You quickly pretend like you were not staring when Ms. Im looks up and walks around the counter towards you.

"It really is."

You accept the glass with both hands.

"Thank you."

Ms. Im sits down next to you on the couch and you're both frightened and excited. Your gorgeous teacher is sitting so close to you, her knee almost touching yours.

You watch her reaching for the hand cream on the coffee table and you nervously take a sip.

"So, what are you boys up to today?"

"Homework."

You reply, which earns you a hearty laugh.

"You're such a sweet talker, mister."

Ms. Im playfully slaps your leg. You feel your cheeks heating up and you would've loved to feel her hand on your thigh just for a second longer.

"For real, though. Anything interesting in mind?"

She glances over at you with an encouraging smile on her lips.

"I was serious."

You chuckle.

"But apart from that we thought about going out later."

"Anywhere specific?"

The slight hint of hidden curiosity doesn't escape you. As much as you would love the idea of Ms. Im being insecure about you going out, you know it's just wishful thinking. She's just curious because of her son.

"A friend of ours has the house to herself for the weekend."

"Oh, I see."

You continue to glance at her hands as Ms. Im is applying the hand cream to her skin. Until now you never thought of fingers or hands as explicitly attractive parts of a person's body. But the way the white cream is partially covering her skin makes you shift around a little.

"And I'm sure your mom knows what you've planned?"

She gives you a cheeky, but knowing smile. One that warms your heart. You know that she is pretty chill about parties and all that. And of course you could lie, but you don't want to get caught the next time the two of them talk.

"Not exactly."

Ms. Im laughs again.

"Teenagers."

She continues to massage the cream into her skin. You would've loved to correct her. You're not a teenager, you're a man. But you know she'd just give you an amused laugh.

"Can't blame you though. I was once your age as well."

Your breath hitches when Ms. Im leans closer. Her smile widens a little and you know she caught on to that.

"It's gonna be our little secret."

She winks and smiles at you and you have the desperate urge to excuse yourself and head to the bathroom.

Ms. Im then ups the ante by placing her hand on your thigh.

"I hope you're able to keep it."

Suddenly you have the feeling she isn't talking about the party anymore. You try your best to stay calm and look into her eyes. Not just because you want to seem confident, but also because you're very aware of the fact that you can see her black bra shimmer through her green top. Earlier in class today it only seemed like imagination, but now when she sits so close, it's clear that it's definitely real.

"But you know me. I'm not the best in keeping my mouth shut."

Only now you notice how her tone has switched from warm to seductive. You don't know when it happened.

"I'm little chatter box."

You bite your lip. You pray that you're not dreaming. Is she really hinting at the thing you've been thinking about since she opened the door?

"I don't think you're that bad."

"Oh, really?"

Ms. Im's smile continues to play around her lips as she raises an eyebrow in disbelief.

"Yeah."

You look away. Out the window. Looking at her is starting to become too much.

"Oh, please. You're probably the person who knows the most of my son's embarrassing childhood moments. Even the ones he doesn't know himself."

The mention of your friend makes you remember that this his mom. That this is wrong. You shouldn't even be entertaining the thought of his mother wanting something from you.

But when you turn your head again to look at her, you catch Ms. Im looking down at your body, her teeth biting her lower lip. You glance down as well. Wearing a white shirt on such a hot day was a mistake. Even without moving much you're sweating. Or maybe it's because of her? The fabric is sticking to your well toned body.

"But I think you could help me."

"H-Help you?"

You see her having to repress a laugh at your nervousness.

"Yes. Help me."

By now she's almost whispering into your ear.

Then you feel two of her fingers slowly moving towards your crotch on your thigh. As if they're walking.

"If we share a secret, a very important one, I'm sure I can learn how to not tell anyone."

You know that she didn't mean anyone. She didn't mean your mother. She meant her husband. And your friend.

"I-I'm not sure about this."

You say that, but you're mentally kicking yourself.

"Just go with it!"

Your inner thoughts scream at you.

"Trust me, handsome. No one will ever find out."

Once the last word has left her lips, Ms. Im's fingers have reached the zipper of your jeans.

You finally manage to look into her eyes. A mixture of lust, excitement and amusement meets you.

"Oh oh."

She says as if it was an accident.

Your breath catches in your throat as she keeps eye contact. The noise of her opening your zipper is the only sound in the room. Both if you don't dare to breathe for a second.

Then, Ms. Im reaches into your pants. You feel her fingers search for a moment. You aren't wearing underwear and soon her fingers wrap around your length.

"Oh my god."

You whisper, which makes her smile.

"You never had a handjob before?"

Carefully shaking your head, you hope this will turn into more than a handjob.

Ms. Im takes your cock out of your jeans and looks down on it.

"Not bad. More than I usually deal with."

Her wicked grin and another teasing bite of her lip makes you shiver. Did she just tell you you're bigger than her husband? Your friend's dad?

"Do you like this?"

You can only nod as she strokes your length. She's doing it very slowly, almost too slowly. But you're sure she knows that all too well. Ms. Im always likes to tease. And it seems like she doesn't mind doing it with your cock in her hand as well.

"Want me to go a little faster?"

There it is. The innocent tone of her voice makes you even more desperate.

"Yeah."

Your voice sounds hoarse now.

"Say please."

Her whisper makes you bite your lip.

"Please, Ms. Im."

"That's a good boy."

You can't believe this is happening. Your head rolls back when your teacher picks up the pace a little.

"So nice..."

She murmurs and then looks you directly in the eyes.

"And so thick."

Your cock twitches in her hand, which only widens her smile.

"So you like it when someone compliments your cock?"

"I-I guess so."

"You guess?"

Ms. Im shakes her and you notice her teacher face appearing.

"Don't guess. You know, or you don't know. Do you guess when you take an exam?"

That'd be a yes, but you feel too good to ruin this right now.

"No. I like it."

"That's what I thought."

Ms. Im reaches for the bottle of hand cream once more.

"Do you want me to continue then? Do you want me to admire and praise your dick?"

She is saying that with such a nonchalant and innocent tone. It makes you buck your hips up into her hand.

"I'll take that as a yes."

Her smirk makes you melt further into the couch. Especially when she lets the bottle hover over your cock.

"I'm gonna have to empty this all over your cock. It's so big I won't be able to pleasure you properly otherwise."

You sigh when you feel the cold cream fall onto your tip.

"That's it."

Ms. Im begins to spread it all over your cock as she continues to talk. "I have to admit, your dick really looks nice. Long and thick...and look at those veins. I bet I'd feel every inch of you if you were pounding me."

The dirty talk alone is already challenging for you. Ms. Im talking about talking your cock is even worse. She continues to stroke you, which means you don't even get a break. Her cream is completely covering your cock now. She has picked up her pace again and the white substance sticks to her fingers and parts of your length.

"And with a cock like that? Your cum must taste amazing."

You watch her lick her lips which almost does it for you. If it weren't for the sound of the front door opening. Your eyes grow wide, but before you can even move, Ms. Im has already thrown a blanket over your lap.

It's the person you've been waiting for.

"Hey, mom."

He sees you sitting next to her.

"Hi, man. Sorry for being late."

"It's all good."

You know you sound weird. But it's hard to talk if your friend's mom is stroking your cock while he's standing right there.

"I'll take a quick shower and then I'm ready to go."

"Take your time."

This is the first time in your life that you really mean those words.

"He's right, honey."

Ms. Im looks into your eyes while her son walks out the room.

"Take your time."

Her handjob becomes quicker under the blanket and before you can say something about getting closer towards your limit, she places a finger over her lips, shushing you.

The two of you hear the lock of the bathroom door click. Then the shower starts.

"Come wit me."

Her devilish smile makes you expect the worst, but you still get up. Not just because you want to feel more of her body, but because she is holding onto your cock.

"Now..."

Ms. Im has reached the bathroom door.

"If you can keep it together until he's done, you can do whatever you want with me."

You swallow hard. Not sure what she is hinting at, but you nod your head in agreement.

"Which implies your chance of deciding where to dump your load as well of course."

Ms. Im gives you another wink.

Your breath hitches when you watch her reach down and take her panties off. She keeps the skirt on, but the black lace disappears into the right pocket of your jeans.

"Take me."

She gives you a quick kiss on the lips.

"Take me hard."

Too stunned to speak, you stay in place while Ms. Im turns around. She places her hands on the white wood of the door and slightly bends over.

"Come on. I've caught you staring at me thousands of times. I know you've fantasized about this exact moment. Put your cock in my pussy and your dreams will become reality."

You hesitate only a second and then you step closer. With a shaking breath you let your cock disappear underneath her skirt.

"Oh god."

A whisper escapes you when you feel her wet folds against your tip.

"Yes, right there. That's where your huge cock belongs."

You push into your friend's mom, penetrating the tight walls of her pussy. Your hands find themselves on her naked waist as you try to hold onto something. Her insides overwhelm you as you push deeper. A groan escapes your mouth when you bottom out inside of Ms. Im and you almost fall over, your legs shaking.

"God, yes. Fill me up."

She moans against the door and despite the running water you're afraid your friend is gonna hear her. That's why you want to take it slow, but you can't control yourself. Within a matter of seconds you thrust in and out of her at a quick pace, leaving Ms. Im a moaning mess.

"Deeper. Harder."

She half whispers, half moans. Her hands hold onto the wood for support as you basically fuck her against it. You pull her hips back whenever you push forward, making her take your entire cock.

"Fuck. You are stretching me out so well. Your cock is amazing."

Her breathless sighs and moans makes it harder for you to keep your composure.

You still can't believe your fucking your teacher, your friend's mom, while he's showering on the other side of the door. It feels wrong and you think you should stop. But you also know that it's too late to turn around. You already had a taste of Ms. Im's pussy by now and you are sure you won't be able to live without it from now on.

"Keep going, yes."

Her moans begin to increase in volume.

"Ruin this pussy, baby."

You decide to silence her, afraid she might get you caught. Even over the running shower you can clearly hear her.

"Make me your-"

As much as you would've loved to know the ending to that sentence, your hand seals her mouth right before she finishes it. Your other hand still holds her waist and now you are able to fuck her a little harder.

Ms. Im moans into your hand. You feel her drooling onto your palm a little as the pleasure overwhelms her. Unfortunately, you become louder as well. Your grunts increase in volume as you near your end and the continuous thrusting makes you grow tired. You know it won't be long until the shower stops running. It can only be a matter of minutes.

Afraid you might not last that long, you lean forward and rest your lips right next to Ms. Im's ear. If these are your final moments, you might as well say everything you ever wanted to say to her.

"You're so fucking sexy."

You groan into her mouth while your cock plunges deeper into her snatch.

"I dream about fucking you in your class constantly."

Ms. Im moans into your hand in response as if she's challenging you to do it the next time you're in her class.

"Whenever you lecture us about anything I just wanna shut you up by putting my cock in your mouth."

You feel yourself getting closer towards your orgasm. Your rhythm starts to become irregular.

"I-fuck..."

You feel Ms. Im's tight pussy hugging you even more, making it even harder to move inside of her.

"I want to cover your face with my cum. Make you look like the slut I always imagined you to be."

It hits you in that exact moment that this really isn't your imagination anymore. This is real. Your inside Ms. Im's pussy. You're fucking her. Her walls are threatening to make you cum.

That's when the shower stops. You only realize the water is off a couple of seconds later. Instinctively, you let go of Ms. Im's mouth and slow down. Which proves to be difficult, because by now you really are right on the edge.

But instead of pushing you off of her and leading you away, Ms. Im just turns her head and looks at you. Her eyes are filled with lust and you catch her lower lip quivering.

"Do it."

She whispers.

"Do it right now."

You don't understand at first, but when she placed a hand your abdomen and pushes you a step back, you realize what she means. Your cock slowly leaves her tight cavern, her juices making it easy for you to slide out. Once she isn't filled anymore, Ms. Im turns around fully. She gives you another deep kiss and then looks into your eyes.

"Now make me look like the slut that I am."

She gets on her knees right in front of you. Your breath hitches. Ms. Im wraps her hand around your cock once more. Instead of her cream, it's her juices that make it a smooth handjob. It only takes her a couple of strokes to push you over the edge.

The only thing you see before you have to close your eyes is Ms. Im on her knees, eyes closed and lips firmly pressed together, waiting for you to shower her with your cum. Your orgasm hits harder than ever before. You almost lose your balance. You feel your built up load leave your body.

When you finally manage to open your eyes, you look down at a cum covered Ms. Im. Her lips and nose got hit with the most of your semen, while her closed eyes and one cheek got some of it as well.

You let out a deep breath, too tired, too baffled to say anything.

Then the klick of the door lock echoes in your head.

-------------------

Hi everyone!

This is chapter number 50! I can't believe I actually wrote this many colour chapters already. And I keep getting more and more requests. My list of chapters that I am going to write has already surpassed the 150 mark. So stay tuned for the next chapters!

[urinarythreatinfection]

Surprise

Shanks x Fem Reader. Smut. 2704 words. Male vers

Desc: You plan a little surprise for your bummed lover.

cw: Lingerie, public-ish sex. unprotected sex. p in v.

You and Shanks don’t get all the time in the world to be able to go on dates, even if pirates are considered to be free. Sure, he has his own treasurer and other crewmates to take care of tedious paperwork, but there are still things that only a Yonko with multiple islands and fleets can do. Managing the crew’s morale, not being far from them, not staying on one island for too long, managing the fleets, avoiding other Yonkos’ territories while moving islands; all of it adds up to a real huge hassle. Now with the new generation there are younger, cockier pirates that try to challenge him too. Even more to manage, which is how the two of you and your date plans got ruined. A young cocky pirate snuck onto one of his territories and caused havoc. Luckily there was a fleet stationed there to avoid casualties but they managed to escape. That means your plans have been cancelled. He’s starting to get really jealous of Luffy and his single crew. The small solace is that the kid will have to learn some responsibility if he really ends up as pirate king, even Roger begrudgingly did in his short time. It’s all been such a bummer for Shanks, and you’ve noticed it as you sail. So what have you decided to do about it?

‘...Maybe this is a bad idea.’ You think to yourself as you stare at the lingerie on the bed. Since your date has been cancelled you’ve decided to try something new, something especially exciting to make up for the ruined plans. You know your husband is very receptive to you, adores you, and is really open to trying… new things; so you came up with a plan. You’ll accompany him to the island meeting, which’ll cheer him up on its own, but you’ll give him a surprise. Lingerie under your clothes and a small vibrator hidden inside you, sending him a risque photo in the middle of the meeting. However, this might be too much even for him. You pick up your little camera snail and the photo snail. You’re starting to get nervous. ‘What if he thinks I went too far and I put him in an even worse mood?’ Your worries tell you. You swat them away. No, you will do this. It’ll be fun seeing how Shanks will react and if he does like it he’ll definitely like it a lot. Plus you already have everything ready. Your eyes trail to the little egg vibrator that'll soon be inside you, feeling your face heat up as you feel the ship come to a stop. You’ve docked. It’s time.

_____________________

“You don’t have to come if you don’t want to.” Shanks tells you as the two of you walk. “It’s not gonna be interesting. It’ll just be about threatening the enemies to back off, make an example, and that’s it. It’s mostly to reassure them.”

“I know you’re not looking forward to it, though. You’ve been bummed since we had to leave to come here. Just thought me being here would give you some motivation.” As you expected he brightens and a happy smile forms on his face as he wraps his arm around you.

“You spoil me, doll.” He kisses the side of your head. “And I’m sorry we had to leave, I know you were looking forward to our date too.” The island you were at has an amusement park the both of you were excited for, but his responsibilities have to come first. People’s lives are involved.

“Oh well, it’s simply how things ended up.” You adjust your bag with a sigh as the two of you arrive, walking inside and into the meeting room. The others are already here, brightening when they spot Shanks.

“Chief!” They surround him, glad that he came. There’s the sound of someone clearing their throat, the governor.

“Settle down, the meeting will begin.” At her words the rest of the workers sit back down. The two of you sit next to each other. You were slightly hoping otherwise but as expected the meeting isn’t very interesting. The good thing, and the main reason why Shanks met with them instead of going straight to fighting, is that the governor and her council look very relieved now that he’s here. It may be a small-time pirate to Shanks, but to them it’s someone that could ravage their island without the redhead’s protection. Thankfully the meeting doesn’t feel heavy at all. No panic or mourning since there were no casualties, which means you don’t have to feel guilty when you carefully slip your hand to your inner thigh and flip the switch connected to the vibrator pressed against your g-spot. It starts to buzz and Shanks looks at you when you flinch.

“You okay?” He whispers and you nod, letting the meeting continue as you squirm every so often. You gulp and take out the photo snail and paper, giving it a small shush so it knows to be silent. Your husband deserves this little pick me up, and this may or may not be for you too. You stand up, excusing yourself to the bathroom; but not after sneakily handing the snail to Shanks with the photo paper. The captain looks confused but takes it, assuming that the squirming must’ve been from you holding your bladder. You head to the bathroom and pull the camera snail from your bag once you’re inside. Shaking slightly, you breathe deeply before dressing yourself down; revealing the lingerie hidden under your clothes. The vibrator has been pressing on your g-spot for half an hour, your panties already slick with arousal. The thought of Shanks’s reaction sends a throb of arousal in your lower stomach and you angle the camera up from below, spreading your thighs enough to reveal the remote strapped to your thigh and the way the cable disappears into the wet fabric of the lingerie.

Snap

It snaps the photo. You take another deep breath before clicking the shell of the snail to send it.

(Shanks's POV)

“Hm?” Shanks looks down at the Photo Snail that had been resting on his thigh. It’s tapping his stomach with one of its eyes to grab his attention before opening its mouth. A photo from the bathroom? Or maybe it’s just a note you wanted to pass, maybe you’re not feeling well and this is your way of telling him. His eyebrows furrow in worry and he gives the piece of paper to the snail. It puts it into its mouth, taking a moment to project the photo onto the paper. ‘I should’ve followed.’ He thinks to himself as the now finished photo is ejected from the snail’s mouth. The redhead picks the paper up and his eyes widen seeing what’s displayed. His beautiful wife in sexy lingerie and a remote strapped to her inner thigh, the small wire weaving underneath her panties and into the tight, wet heat within. You gave this to him before you left. ‘The squirming, she… she’s in the bathroom right now.’ It slowly connects inside his head as blood rushes to his head.

Splurt

“Chief!?” The mayor of the island quickly panics as blood spurts from Shanks’s nose at the sight of your secret nude. The secretary walks to him and the captain quickly hides the photo’s visual from their eyes.

“I’m fine I’m fine.” A tissue is handed to him which he puts to his nose, the bleeding calming down before another wave comes out at the realization that you’ve been wearing that this entire time for him. “Excuse me.” He quickly stuffs the photo into his pocket with the snail, tossing the bloody tissue into the trash before speed walking out of the room to the bathroom. He gets to the bathroom door and you falter, putting your clothes on and opening the door.

“Yes?-” You get that out but not much else as he pushes his way into the room, shuts the door, and kisses you. Your hand reaches behind him and locks it, making him grin into the kiss.

“Hiding yourself from me now, hm?” His hand reaches under your shirt, smiling wider when he feels the lacy bra underneath. “And when you interrupted me so confidently.” He gets close to your ear and slips his hand down your waistband. “So naughty.”

“Shanks..” You shiver and he groans when he slips his fingers to your bare heat, feeling how wet you are. His fingers gently circle your clit before suddenly quickening the speed, making you gasp and moan into his shoulder. He continues while placing loving kisses to your face until you’re close. Before you can cum he stops and pulls his hand away. You lightly glare at him and he gives you a small peck on the lips.

“You’ll get what you want. I just want to get what I want.” He tugs your shirt up, pupils dilating when your boobs lightly bounce. “All prettied up for me.” Shanks kisses down your body desperately, pulling your bottoms down with his teeth and hand on the way down. Once on his knees he presses his tongue to your clothed pussy, savoring the wetness with a groan. His lips kiss where your clit is, his breath heavy as he messily makes out with your cunt; licking and sucking on the fabric until the saliva mixes with your slick. By the time he’s finished you’re shaking, struggling to keep yourself standing. You don’t need to anymore though, feeling yourself being lifted up as he rises with his arm under your knees and the hem of your shirt between his teeth. Once you’re up his body pins you to the wall with your legs at his sides. He leans in and kisses you, prying your lips open with his tongue to transfer the cloth from his mouth to yours. Once it’s bitten down he pulls away. “Hold that up for me, hun.”

“Mm~” You’re only in your lingerie now, your shirt hiding nothing by the hem held between your teeth. You wrap your legs around him tightly and unbutton his shirt, sliding his coat off and shirt off as he holds you up with his body. His hand shuffles down to his pants until you feel his bare length pressing against you. He grinds and you jolt with a small moan, the loveliest sound to him. Next, he pulls your panties to the side just enough so he can fuck you in the lingerie. The vibrator slips out of you with a tug on the cable and he replaces it with his tip to your entrance. His arm tightens around your body and he slowly sinks you down until you two are joined with matching moans.

“Fuck, I’m the luckiest guy in the world.” His cock throbs inside of you, hard and hot from the picture you surprised him with. He pulls back until only the tip is in, then sinks you down again; slow and steady so you can feel every drag of his dick against your walls. It repeats again and again until you whine.

“Stop teasing me..!” He chuckles at your complaint and finally ups the speed, his strong hold keeping you up while he thrusts in and out of you.

“You’re too sexy not to tease.” He mumbles, sucking a mark onto your pulse point. “Pretty girl.” He grinds forward, rolling his hips so his pelvis presses against your clit before going back to his thrusts. “My girl.” While the pleasure clouds your mind you feel his arm pull back before a buzzing sound is heard.

“What?” You question before yelping when the vibrator is pressed to your bud.

“Wouldn’t want this to go to waste, right?” He puts it snugly between your folds. When you squirm he pulls you hard against him. “Nuh uh, doll. This is for you.” Shanks groans as he thrusts quicker. “All for you.” You whimper and dig your nails into his shoulders, the pain making him gasp and throb inside you. It’s hot, the buzzing on your clit, his length, his body against yours. Your lower stomach pulses with pleasure and you moan as a coil forms inside.

“Shanks~!” You moan and he places a reassuring kiss on your lips.

“Go ahead, doll, cum for me. Cum around your husband’s cock as he fucks you.” His words are the last push and you keen as the coil snaps, sending pleasure straight to your head as you climax. He grunts, panting at the feeling of your walls squeezing him. Suddenly there’s a knock at the door and his thrusts slow.

“(Y/n)? Chief?” Someone asks from the other side. Contrary to common sense, Shanks doesn’t stop. Instead he switches to long deep strokes that move your body with each meet of your hips. The movement moves the vibrator from straight onto your bud to the side, yet not enough to stop the buzzing from stimulating you.

“Sorry, she needed a bit of help. She feels sick.” You whimper and he kisses you silent.

“Oh, I hope she feels better soon. The meeting is almost over so she can leave without missing anything important. The only thing missing is your orders.” He pulls away, giving a small shh before speaking.

“I’ll have to help her back to the ship, I can give them to you here.” You clasp a hand over your mouth when he gives a sudden harsh thrust. His jaw clenches for a moment to stop a groan. “..I’ll stay here for a few days to collect info then get my boys to find those troublemakers. We’ll scare 'em then, kill the main ones and you guys-” He gives another harsh thrust. “-can toss the rest in jail. Your choice.” Right after he’s done he presses his lips to yours, his tongue exploring your mouth while going back to his rough pace despite your sensitive body and the person still on the other side of the door.

“Okay then, I'll relay that to everyone else.” They say as Shanks’s thrusts get sloppier, your orgasm is building up again and you don’t know if you can keep quiet enough for them not to hear. You’re trying so hard to hold it in but your husband doesn’t let up at all. “I’ll be seeing you, chief.” His lips leave to press his forehead against yours.

“See you around.” His voice is deep, footsteps getting quiet. The moment they’re gone your control gives out and you cum with a cry.

“Shanks!♡” Your pulse around him and he pants at the feeling, barely managing to ride your orgasm before he finally bottoms out to coat your walls with his cum; keeping his body covering yours until he’s filled you up. Finally the throbbing ends and Shanks sinks to the ground with you on his lap.

“I thought you were going to be normal and slow down.” You state nervously, turning the vibrator off and tossing it to the side.

“I tried, but you were too sexy trying to keep quiet. Hard to keep control.” He gives you a small kiss. “They’ll just assume you were whining from a stomach ache. You look a mess enough to have been throwing up.” A grin forms on his face. “I look close enough when I get real bad hangovers.” His comparison makes you frown and lightly smack him on the shoulder. “Ouch, that's where you scratched.”

____________________

You both fix up the best you can, going with the excuse that you threw up to explain your messiness even when the cum inside you is pooling into the lingerie panties. When you two get back to the ship he cleans you up better, kisses here and there that may have gotten too heated for two people who just got done fucking in a building bathroom; but you do get clean. Since you’re supposedly sick you two stay in the ship and cuddle in bed. Maybe this isn’t as good as a nice date at an amusement park, but the two of you still ended up together; and that's really what cheers Shanks up.

I did it! Ill be making a male version of this too but rn im too tired and i wouldnt bee able to focus okay back yo sleep honk shoo honk shoo.

[lunatf-ao3]

SICK CARE ☀︎︎

[TFWFC] Optimus Prime/Human!Reader

[⚠︎]: ...

Okay, question: Should I or should not I do more of this? wfc Optimus get so little attention!! Taking the idea that the reader arrived on Cybertron in a similar way as in the fic 3.000 million years in the past. ⁱ'ᵛᵉ ʰᵃᵈ ⁱᵗ ˢᵒ ᶠᵒʳᵍᵒᵗᵗᵉⁿ, ᵇᵘᵗ ⁱ ʷⁱˡˡ ˢᵗᵃʳᵗ ⁱᵗ ᵃᵍᵃⁱⁿ!

-

"Your system is rejecting all food. I don't... understand why."

You can't respond immediately, interrupted by a cramp in your stomach. To Optimus's concern, you've been experiencing physical discomfort for a cyclo and thirteen groons.

Honestly, it's driving him crazy.

Your delicate organism rejects the only organic food they have to offer you, expelling it not long after ingestion. He wasn't quite sure what to do. You had assured him that it was "normal," that you were "sick" and had a "stomach virus."

The term was unfamiliar to him, of course, but he really didn't think it was normal for you to forcefully expel the contents of your tanks through your mouth.

He had to admit that it disturbed him quite a bit. He had never seen anything like it.

"And it will continue to do so. The best thing I can do right now is not eat anything, Optimus. You don't have to worry so much, it will pass... I think. I just got intoxicated from eating something weird."

He didn't like the word "intoxicated" at all.

"I don't think it's healthy for you not to eat anything right now. You're expelling your fuel and you don't look well. It's been my fault. I should have made sure to detoxify them." Optimus sighed, looking at the various organic foods in front of him that he had gathered to try to feed you. His optics turned to your face. You were paler than usual and... wet.

"It's not your fault-"

"You are wet." Optimus pointed out, cupping your face between his digits with concern. "You are releasing fluid."

"T-take it easy, it's just sweat. It's not bad, it's natural."

"I'm sorry... I'm worried I can't help you. How do they deal with that back there, on Earth?"

"On Earth..." Or what will be, in the future, many years after the present, this present. You swallow hard, your ship has been difficult to repair without the necessary resources and tools. Not even you can fully explain the anomaly that brought you here.

But for now, you're fine.

...Fine...

"Medicine. But only to speed up recovery or when it gets too serious. Nothing else."

That reassures Optimus a little, who resigns himself to believing you. "All right," he murmurs, putting a couple more blankets around you. It's been too cold lately, and he doesn't want that to make you worse in any way.

An internal reminder popped up on his processor. "Time to drink some water."

You don't say anything, accepting the small makeshift metal container he had made for you. Purified rainwater.

It quenches your thirst. Vomiting so much dehydrates you.

"There you go." Along with his words, he gently wiped your forehead with a small cloth, cleaning up the liquid you were secreting.

At that moment, a wave of nausea hit you.

Optimus didn't hesitate to bring the dented metal you had been vomiting into earlier, holding it for you while... you emptied your tanks.

He held your hair carefully, making sure the tiny strands didn't get in your way.

"Uhh..." You gasped, finally pulling away after you were done. The sheets felt more comfortable when you lay down again.

Optimus silently wiped your mouth.

"Oh, you don't have to do that..."

"It's okay, it's no problem for me. Your comfort makes me happy. Do you want to rest?"

You smile. "Thank you. And yes, I think I'd like to rest now."

He nodded, sitting down next to your little makeshift nest. Even though he didn't have much time, he wanted to keep you company while he could. "...Would you like to hear some stories from Cybertron?"

"absolutely yes."

"Perfect." He stroked your head. "Make yourself comfortable."

[yeiwo7]

What are we?

Fluff | Student!Geto Suguru x Reader

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Sitting on the ground outside an abandoned building at around midnight was not your ideal way of spending a Friday night with your best friend.

Yaga had assigned the two of you on this stupid mission, the final mission of this week, after this, you guys would be free! Satoru and Shoko had to go on an early morning mission, while you two were sent on the later one, which was further away and took gruesomely longer. By the time Suguru and you reached this rural part of the city, it looked run down and broken in every sense of the word. It was stinky, smelly, filled to the brim with slithering curses. All weaklings, low grades. Nothing the two of you could not handle. 

Oh, but with all the bickering, you could not handle him, whereas just being near you, he can't even handle himself...and his little buddy down there.

While strolling the area, killing a few low balls here and there the two of you felt a strong, menacing presence. A stinky, botched looking grade A curse appeared out of no where. It seemed like the curse tried to be human, yet the skin it wore melted off and draped onto the ground behind it, eyes peeling out of their sockets, molding, purple in some places, while pristine pale in others. The curse was hunched over, vomiting out insides, blood and dread dripping down it's chin. Yet, even though it was hunched over it stood at least at 200cm or more. 

The fight took hours, you took some light blows, he took some for you. After much running around, throwing punches and jabs, almost puking at the stench of  that dreadful creature you managed to land the final blow, feeling as if your legs were about to give up. It was alright nighttime and your legs had given up. 

Suguru carried you out the building and onto the road side where Ijichi said he would come to pick you two up. He placed you down onto the ground, leaning most of your weight onto the wall behind suffering while he stood next to you, fiddling with his phone. 

His silky voice spoke up from above you. Too lazy to look up, you just hum a response. Eyes shut as to subdue the pain. "So, we're extra fucked." He sighed, massaging his temples. In a deeper, more tired voice he grumbled."Guess." 

You groaned, rolling your head over to look at him, eyes locking onto each other's. "Don't tell me there's no fucking reception here." You lean your head back and whine. Stray bangs cover your vision, but that is the least of your worries. "There's still that draaama I have to finiish." The air beside you shifted, and you felt a pale hand hook a stray hair strand under his finger and gently place it behind your ear. After clearing your face, he pinched your cheeks and placed a fleeting kiss onto your forehead, before standing back up. "There, there. We don't need our weak little baby to start crying now, do we?" He teased with such a sweet voice, he should've been chained up in prison, or your bed. Both are optimal.

Geto Suguru was an odd silly guy. He was hot, he knew it, but acted as if he didn't so he can hear all the foolish girls gush over him. Acting as if it is the first time he has ever been complimented. Compared to Satoru, he's less loud, less of a menace and less childish at times. However, he is just as bad, if not worse. Gojo may seem spoiled and unbareable at first, but you can get used to his noise. Geto? He lays a sweet honeytrap to catch you in and once you're in the palm of his hand, you. are. dead. He is meaner than Gojo, far more empathetic and mean, just doesn't show it as much. Because when the four of you are together, Suguru will only pick on you, you are his to tease. He doesn't fuck with Ieiri like that. (He's actually afraid of her, just doesn't want to accept it.) She's chill and not a bother to his mind, you? You on the other hand? Just like Gojo. Everytime the four of you are out on missions, it just feels like a babysitting job for Shoko and Geto. 

He cannot stand you...which is why he needs you seated on his lap. Geto needs to be near you, he can't have it any other way. It kills him to be away from you, you are the sweet cure to his cursed lips. He just wants to taste you, to forget this life. He knows it's bad, how desperate he is. It's pathetic, truly. He has made sketches of you, slept to the comforting thought of your embrace and waking up to the lack of you in his cold bed. He loves being around you. Bathing in your light, would kiss the ground you walk on, but unfortunately he has dignity. 

Others have brought it up to him though. They notice how oddly close he levitates towards you, gravitating towards you, regardless of what's happening. Shoko has asked him during one of their smoke breaks, whether they are dating which had Geto dropping his cigarette in shock. He confessed to Shoko how he has been openly flirting with you, which you seem to return. But he doesn't know if you're only playing his game or if you truly want him. Gojo had the bright idea to help by leaving obvious hints and feeding you sneaky truths about Geto's feelings, however they all denied his participation, because the last thing he needs if Gojo accidentally spilling the beans.

"You should train more, I could help." Our nonchalant king, Geto, broke the silence with a rather snarky remark, smirking down at your annoyed face.

"Oh, for fucks sake, can't you say something nice, for once? C'mon I just beat some special grade curse, that we probably don't have documented. I'm beat and tired and here you are being an ass."

"Yours truly, dear~"

"Oh, shut up."

"Make me."

You would've kissed him. Should've kissed him. But something stopped you, what if he was just teasing? Just playing with your heart as he always does? What if you do and he just laughs uncomfortably then walks off and never talks to you ever again? Why would someone like him like someone like you?

Fuck it.

You stare up at him, then a quick shameless glance at his lips. He stares down at you, into your eyes, watching them flicker down, then back. You huff and stand up, shoving his shoulder. He chuckled, ruffling your hair and entrapping you in his embrace. He whispered into the shell of your ear. "You're so pathetic." Now, this ticked you off, reasonably.

"Would it kill you to—I don't know?—praise me? Saying some shit like 'Wow, my best friend's so smart and strong and blah blah blahhh, huh?" You argued, breaking away from his hug, hand on your hip staring daggers at your best friend, who isn't really your best friend.

He leaned a little closer, arms crossed, brows furrowed. "Yes, yes, it would."

You scoff, such a fucking egoist. "Oh, yeah? and why, hm? Why? You egotistic bastar-"

"It would send me to the grave to praise you in that style with those words."

"Oh, yeah? Then tell me, smartass. How would you?"

"Well, I would start it by saying something like," His smooth, silky, sing-song voice slithered into your ears. That deeper voice going lower to a grovel as he neared you. Hooking his fingers under your chin, tilting it higher to meet his mellow, mocking gaze. "my super-smart, super-strong girlfriend so effortlessly protected me." his eyes lingered, before he pliantly stepped back, leaning against the wall with an annoyed attitude. "There, happy?" He was so fucking content with those words. Watching your stupid brain process all his words, growing redder by the minute. For once, Geto's glad that Ijichi came later than expected.

Happy would be an understatement. All you could mutter, standing there like a fool was one word on repeat in his siren voice: girlfriend.

[demonslayedher]

Things that went through my head while watching this episode (in 2025!)

--Tamayo sure made that decision quick to go join the Corp. I love that it is so clear how much she and Shinobu do not want to work together. I wish, wish, wish I could have seen Tamayo meeting Ubuyashiki, as well as first meeting Shinobu. --The animation in the glass pane as Tamayo looks up at the moon?? love it.

--Giyuu really do just be sitting there in an empty room. Buddy, that ain't meditating, that be ruminating.

--I am so grateful for all my years of Japanese study so that I can soak in all the meaning of Aoi using such stiff keigo (polite speech) with Tanjiro (and for that matter, any active Corp swordsman). She truly sees herself as far beneath them, and in her dealings with Tanjiro, it is like she purposefully keeps things strictly professional. It is so revealing how diplomatically she addresses that, at least if she were the one who someone were trying to cheer up, she would prefer to be left alone. That is why she has kept this professional distance all along, isn't it? Somebody telling her "it's okay you weren't as brave as all those swordsmen who wound up fighting to the death anyway" would only make her feel worse, after all. I wonder about her decision to keep wearing the Corp uniform despite the adequacy she feels in it?

--Giyuu would tell her she deserves to wear it, wouldn't he? Luck or not, she likely did more to ensure her own survival on Mt. Fujikasane than he did. (Now I crave an AU in Shinobu dealt with Aoi's post-Final Selection fear not by allowing her to freeload (as Aoi might interpret it) at the Butterfly Mansion and avoid missions, but instead by creating a situation in which Giyuu is pressured to take Aoi in and train her--Water Breath users, after all!).

--Despite that Tanjiro killed the Hand Demon, whom Sabito could not, Tanjiro does not think of that at all. He instead thinks of how Sabito "saved" him back on Mt. Sagiri, and how in the course of the Final Selection, Tanjiro could not manage to save anyone like Sabito could, for Tanjiro could barely save himself. Their outcomes happened to be different, but Tanjiro sees the gulf between their potential and inherent ability so plainly.

--Tanjiro has made the switch from "Tomioka-san" to "Giyuu-san." Get FRIENDED, loser.

--The way the scene is framed so that you can't see Giyuu's face when he declares that the Water Hashira position is vacant

--GIYUU IS SO ANNOYED WITH TANJIRO, HAHAHAHAH. He's not only annoying for barging in when Giyuu is busy ruminating, but for trying to insist on some easy simple solution to a situation he doesn't understand (even though the way better solution to all of this would have just been for Tanjiro to use that battle sense and nose to become the Water Hashira, duh). But also, he is sitting so close. As Tanjiro keeps bugging him, like at dinner, he is still sitting SO FREAKING CLOSE and poor Giyuu just wants to eat. He just wants to bathe. He can barely sleep knowing that Tanjiro is curled up on his front door step, maybe Giyuu look like the bad guy for leaving this poor injured kid out there like that. How the hell is he supposed to explain that the kid is choosing to do that, when Giyuu can't explain anything else in the first place?

--And then he knows he must. So he does. Plain and simple. And Tanjiro gets it. And it hurts.

--And then he accidentally adds to Giyuu's pain. OH SNAP. Soba time.

--In the previous arc, we saw the drama of Muichiro instantaneously regaining memories of precious things people have said and entrusted to him, and how this brought him not only back from the brink of death, but pushed him over the edge to attain a mark. What happened here on the bridge was essentially the same thing for Giyuu--but in a more peaceful way. Though he did not have his mind as clouded as Muichiro, trying to find his way back to those memories would have drowned him in sadness, but now, all at once, all these years later, he can embrace the words Sabito said to him, and embrace the promise he made to Sabito that he would carry on Tsutako's will in the world. He has attained that power again, and in a way, reattaining that memory right after he said "Sabito might have, but I won't" is his first step on his path to being able to achieve a mark.

--and then "Let's have a soba-eating contest."

--wut???

--Was this kid always this weird???? I mean, okay, I guess if he insists, I will eat soba with him and let him be satisfied in making me join the training this way, though I really did just already make up my mind to do that because I am, in fact, the Water Hashira

--As he ate soba, I wonder if Giyuu found himself wondering if Tanjiro ever did weird stuff like this around Urokodaki, thereby second-handedly embarrassing Giyuu for having spoken so highly of him

--Stepping back a bit, I love the underlying creepiness of Tanjiro cheerfully looking down the alley and declaring, "nope, no demons here!" Kiddo, there is a reason for that.

--Also little Giyuu with light in his eyes, I will always miss him

--Jumping ahead, the eye-twitch is so becoming on Shinobu. She should sport that more often.

--My gosssssshhhhhhh I wiiiiiiiiiish we could have SEEN Kanao at all these Hashira trainings. The opening implies that she was with the boys and ran laps around them at Uzui's training. But where are the girls?????? They exist!!! We know they exist! If Kanao hasn't gotten out of this, they ain't either!! But like, seriously, what was Sanemi gonna do when she showed up? Hit her??? Hell to the nah'.

--Still, for as much of a battle queen as Kanao soon becomes after this, she is still strengthening that heart-to-voice connection, and it is hard to do that after so many years of leaving the connection broken. (And unfortunately for Shinobu, it is only because of Kanao's progress that there is any way for them to defeat Douma.) Still, going back to the previous episode, I love that Shinobu judges Kanao's battle prowess so strongly that she will entrust Nezuko to her in the event of, say, Kibutsuji Muzan himself showing up at the Butterfly Mansion (not that this would have been likely to end in Kanao's favor, but Shinobu knew she could at least leave Kanao in charge in case of other high-level demons--maybe even a swarm of them--showing up)

--So yeah, she will totally entrust the defeat of Upper Moon Two to her, even Shinobu, a Hashira, knows she cannot do it herself

--HOW EXTREMELY FRUSTRATING

--This ending theme, man

--That distinctly Muichiro-like silhouette is mean. But the second one looks more like the Heian-period doctor. And the pair of silhoettes after that still have us pretty firmly back in time by several centuries.

--Fly, crow, fly! Fly for the sunlight!

--Love these subdued stills of all these important moments in Corp history that have led them to this time, and how the one of Tanjiro has motion, with his tears flowing and then him standing to face this horrific reality--and that focus on the "metsu" on his sword to tie together all of these scattered scenes of all these people throughout the last thousand years who have been so whole-heartedly dedicated to defeating Muzan once and for all

--All these symbolic spots of red being dramatically destroyed as Muzan passes by, this the most chuunibyou ending song ever and it is great

--Daaaaaang, this means Muzan has been doing his dramatic walk since episode two

[guillotinesandroses]

Artistic Expression; Vil Schoenheit + Genderfluid Reader

He has always valued fairness above all else, in every sense of the word. You have always been a little more of a rough-and-tumble kind of person. Perhaps it is true, all that they say about opposites attracting. In spite of all your differences and occasional arguments, you find yourselves back by each other's side before long. Together you are completed, simple as that. 

His brows furrow as he scoffs, adjusting your uniform once again. You roll your eyes as his hands work near your chest. To anyone else, the pining glances and softness between your glares would have been obvious. Even so, you continue the same way as always. He comments on your rough appearance, a disapproving frown on his face. 

A harsh retort falls from your lips, calling him out on barely being alive. Over time, these jabs have grown crueler and crueler. Still you stumble back together, whether by fate or loneliness. Now as you stand in the rain, a particularly bad fight from yesterday lingering in your mind, you wonder why you bothered to go to NRC to begin with. It is a prestigious school, but since your friendship with Vil is already so strained, you cannot help from wondering whether it was such a good idea after all. Being stuck on the past lights a flare of irritation within you; forgetting should be easier. 

A choked sob snaps you out of your thoughts. You blink, having thought you were alone. Much to your shock, you find Vil sitting in the mud with dirtied clothes.  

"What are you doing here?" 

"None of your concern, potato." He wipes his eyes, but it is not as if you could have discerned tears from the raindrops anyway. His makeup remains smeared nonetheless. "I was meant to search for potion ingredients before the rainstorm, then I fell. Not as if you could understand why I'm in such disarray." 

"I guess that's true." For a while you stand in silence as he collects himself. Wondering how you could distract him from this, you smirk. "Hey, I got an idea. How about we have a good old mud-fight, like we used to?" 

His nose scrunches in repulsion. "Have you lost your mind?! There's no world in which I'd partake in such nonsense!" 

"Your makeup and clothes are already ruined, aren't they?" You chuckle, offering your hand to him. "C'mon, be alive with me for today, won't you?" 

He stands muddied in the pouring rain. His purple, painted lips hang open in utter bewilderment. No words fall out as he gapes like a fish out of water before he finally sighs. Expensive robes shift as his shoulders relax. Your brows raise in surprise and excitement as his manicured hand reached toward yours. 

You pull him in, then immediately slather mud over his cheek. He seethes as you dart backwards with a cheeky grin. Thus begins a familiar back and forth of hiding and striking. Eventually, he gets the better of you and puts a stop to the game. Vil pins you to the dirt, gold and violet, wet locks of hair framing your face.

Your breath catches in your throat, he looks like a masterpiece as usual. Face heating up, you avert your gaze. He picks up on your mental absence. "What is it, potato? Had your fun already?" 

His breathing is the one to pause as you brush a strand of his muddied blonde hair out of his face. Absolutely enamored by his presence, you realize you have not looked at him like this in a while. "You really do work yourself to the bone. I've been... worried. As of late it seems like it's gotten a lot worse." 

"I don't want you to lose yourself because you feel like you aren't doing enough. I know the standards you hold yourself to. Though I... admire it, I can tell you're tired, mentally." 

"Your worrying may be sweet, though it is unnecessary. I can take care of myself, thank you very much." 

"I know. I just... miss this. I miss moments where everything didn't need to be picture perfect." 

He falls silent for a while. You get up when he indicates he is going to stand. About to turn away, you are suddenly tugged back. 

"I'm not letting you slip away this time." He grabs your wrist with a so firm it surprises the both of you, acrylics unintentionally digging into the skin. He offers no apology aside from an ashamed look cast to the side before locking eyes with yours again. "I entertained your immature desires for once. You will partake in what I wish to do now." 

You sigh, but agree to his demand. For the most part the both of you remain awkwardly silent as he washes your hair and cleans your face. The bath was relaxing, but your eyes avoid each mirror. You enjoy being around him, but cannot stand seeing yourself next to him. Only when he sits you down to remove your face mask does he talk again. 

"It isn't only due to keeping up appearances that I enjoy taking care of my own. I find it enjoyable and relaxing." 

"Each to their own," you mutter.

"Perhaps in terms of makeup, but it shouldn't be with self-care." 

"What do you mean? I do take care of myself." 

"Barely." He scoffs. "You always assume no one could see you as beautiful. That's why you let yourself rot, and you refuse any help. It's infuriating to watch such potential go to waste, you foolish thing." 

"Compared to you, what am I?" You huff. He pauses as you continue. 

"You're an actor, a model, a celebrity. You have been long before we reached adulthood. All these years I've watched you become more and more."

Taking in a breath, your chest weighs heavy as your frown deepens. "I know I should be happy... inspired, but nothing I try ever works or sticks. I can't become anything... so at least I can be happy and take it easy." 

"That sort of perspective is precisely why you stay stuck in place." He grabs you by the chin, squishing your cheeks. "You claim to be happy? Oh please, you may be free but 'happy' is not a word I would describe you with." 

You blink before he forces you to face the mirror you have avoided. "Look at yourself. All I did was clean out your hair and moisturize your face." 

You barely recognize yourself, reflection glowing with beauty. Eventually you chuckle, which turns into a short laugh, "...we should have had this conversation a while ago." 

"I must agree. Though I take it this means we understand one another better now?" 

"It does. Thank you for inviting me. I'm sorry for yesterday... and everything before that." 

"Likewise. I will be more considerate of your feelings in the future as well." 

"Pinky promise?" You hold out your finger with a goofy grin. 

He sighs, but the exasperated smile reveals his true thoughts. He connects your fingers, speaking in a soft tone. "Pinky promise." 

[wynnthewynnderful]

Are you into me? Like I'm into you... (Teaser?)

Bucky Barnes x Gender Neutral Reader

Synopsis: Bucky Barnes being a smart ass with his therapist.

Warnings: SFW. No use of Y/N. Diverges from movies/shows canon a bit. I probably have grammar or spelling errors but won't in the future trust.

Word count: around 460

Since the Blip, nothing had been the same for Bucky.

Well, things were never 'the same' for James Buchanan Barnes since the 40's. HYDRA experimentation, losing his arm, losing his memory, nightmares after being freed, a whole new society to adapt too, and a whole bunch of other wonderful things really screwed with the trajectory of his life.

But after the Blip was worse, it was a different kind of screwed up. Because of Steven Grant Rogers, his best friend, the person who saved him, who believed in him, left. Of course Bucky would support Steve, he'd hug Roger's and say goodbye, but of course, James would also wake up in the middle of night with his shirt sticking to his back and his sweat soaking his bedsheets, remembering all the horrific memories and how alone he was.

Thank god for therapy though. Maybe he was reluctant, and a bit of a smart ass about it but surely but slowly, even if all the pain wouldn't ever go away, at least it was more manageable now. Plus, he also had Sam. A little more stable, with a little more new family. Life was finally better. Except for one part. One Bucky didn't really want to touch on at all. But, his therapist did. Of course she did.

"James you can sit here in silence but that won't be helpful for either of us."

Bucky resists the urge to roll his eyes and just tilts his head to the side with a sigh. Goddamn he really couldn't wait for the day he no longer had to go to these visits.

"I doubt the government needs to know about my romantic life" He finally responded, his hands in the pockets of his leather jacket while he glanced out the window and wished he could at least go out to that new cat cafe down the street, maybe he could get Alpine a sibling.

"James," Bucky snaps out of his thoughts as Christina gets his attention and continues speaking, "Part of your deal is that you're completely honest, and yes, the government does want to know about your romantic life. So again, are you seeing anyone?" She presses her lips into a thin line and waits. For one second, for two.

Then she sighs and pulls her pen out of the side of her notebook, her arm making an arc in the air (talk about mildly dramatically), and starts to write in it.

Bucky sighs and looks at her, mildly exasperated and a little on edge as to what she was writing. "Oh c'mon, don't do that." He protested but she showed no signs of stopping. So finally, fucking finally he decided start talking about it. Which I mean, thank goodness he did. Or he never would've met you.

authors notes:

lowkey i drove myself crazy writing some of this because buckys therapist would never ask about romantic life because all she wanted to do was make sure he wasn't a danger to the population but its ok in fact she may ask about that BECAUSE she needs to make sure he's not an abuser....right. (please js go w it atp this is a crazy man's ramblings) AND i just wanted to bring in cat cafe and alpine cause UGH i wish they had alpine in the show so bad and i love alpine and bucky so i had to write it in

[letters-from-himring-hill]

Some of this is not as bad as it sounds and some of it is worse. In order:

The last time Gavrel died, it was at the hands of a monster which apparently flayed him (partly) and then removed his spine (to use as a whip, possibly, considering the legends I found when I looked them up). Morwen does not know this. Morwen is going to be utterly horrified when she finds out.

Bloodbinding is a form of magical oath which creates a compulsion to obey the exact terms of the promise and drives you mad if you don't fulfill it. Kaera briefly inflicted one on Atticus as part of his punishment for [redacted events], but broke it after losing her memories, because she is currently in denial about Atticus being who he says he is.

When Morwen initially met Atticus, she was CONVINCED that he was Budget Saruman, and one wrong word from her would have him murdering her for her Titles. In fairness to her, below the cut is the transcript of the first time they met, so you can see how badly his flirting backfired. For context, she had overextended herself casting magic and was basically bedridden until she was cured, and Gavrel brought her to Atticus because he didn't have a high enough potion making skill to cure her himself.

You are entirely correct about the need for eucatastrophe!

The room seems to be a sitting room or library. There's a desk with a plush chair, two sofas and a coffee table, and a rather impressive collection of books behind locked glass. He lays you gently on a sofa. "There is a slim but not-nonexistant chance," he says, looking at the door with apprehension, "that I might die in the next few minutes."

"What. Why. You could leave and I could explain to him. After all, he's going to need the true story anyway and I can give him that."

"I wouldn't trust him alone with you if my life depended on it. I...I killed his previous master, the man most like his father, when I first came here. He has a right to my head and I have just willingly walked into a space where PvP is legal. I'm stronger than him, so it's unlikely he'll try, but as I said, the possibility is non-zero."

"...the ONLY thing keeping me from threatening to explode his study is the knowledge that you would probably have to clean up that mess."

He looks over at you with a dark glare. "Try it. You'll find that within these walls, only one mage's powers are permitted."

"I'm not going to try, that's what I just said, because you would have to clean up the aftermath and someone would probably blame you for all of it. But I am running out of tolerance for nonsense and rudeness, and trying to kill my friends is rude."

All the malice melts from his face, and he's left with a lost look of surprise and innocence. "We're friends?"

(...oh, look at those shards on the floor, there goes my heart.) "If saving my life, sitting up with me for a day while I was unconscious, and taking the blame for the explosion I caused doesn't make you my friend, I don't know what could. Okay, come here. I'm going to hug you and either I can stand up and then fall over trying to do that, or you can come over here."

"That's-" whatever he intended to obfuscate with is cut off when the doors to the room bang open.

A young man with long white hair, crystalline red eyes and a trailing white and turquoise robe enters the room. If the look Gavrel had given was dark, this is one of pure malice. It sweeps over Gavrel first, then over you, softening into one of pity. There isn't any magic being slung just yet, but the magician does languidly taunt Gavrel: "Ah, so I see you have enough magic to blow her up, but not enough to heal her injuries. How will you effectively brainwash her into submission at this rate?"

Gavrel clenches his jaw, but doesn't refute it. "We need a rebound curative."

"Oh? So you can cure yourself and then show how powerful you are again? I think she read the message the first time." The white wizard steps closer to you, and Gavrel moves between you two almost instinctively, but without even breaking stride, the wizard flicks his wrist disdainfully and Gavrel is slammed into a bookcase. You can already see him struggling against it, but it's not particularly effective. The man kneels in front of you, his kind tone — though still a bit silvery — is a counterpoint to the fact that Gavrel is doing his best to thrash about in the iron grip of his spell. "I am Master Atticus of the Wizards Guild, Archmage of Terrafell. Where are you hurt, darling?"

I restrain the impulse to bite him. “My arm,” I say. “Please let my friend go.”

"Come now, darling," he says with a gentle touch to your arm, above the injury. "Tell me what's happened and I'll help you." He begins smoothly unwinding the bandage. "Usually, healing is an art left to the Tamed Garden, but as he's been banned from the premises unless being Reborn, I will not refuse you any courtesy in return." Gavrel shifts uneasily in the bind.

“I would like a rebound curative, please,” I repeat quietly. It is at this point that I realise the man in front of me would kill me for my titles without hesitation. I send up, mentally, my first attempts at prayer to the powers of this world.

Atticus smooths your hair, either oblivious to the hatred rolling off you or mistaking your cool fear of him for a fear of Gavrel. He returns to unwrapping the binding on your arm, then drops it and reels back when it's halfway undone. His hold on Gavrel drops but before he can get on his feet again, the spell is back. "What the hell is this?" Atticus hisses at him.

When you look down at your arm, it's clear that it hasn't been crushed by rocks. There are three distinct bolts of lightning streaking across your forearm, the wounds open and still dancing with lightning. When the lightning from one part dies back, liquid flesh seems to ooze from the wound like melted cheese only to bubble and burst. Idly, you wonder if the reason your head is swimming so much is because Gavrel has given you something for the pain because there is no way you shouldn't be feeling this. "We need," Gavrel gasps, a "curative."

"Why in the five civilizations is she the one suffering from rebound? This is complete Numenosis. What did you tell her to do?" Atticus is shouting at Gavrel now.

I decide to play the naif. Atticus has clearly underestimated me. “Master Atticus, why is my arm doing that?” I don’t even have to fake the shake in my voice. “Gavrel said you could help me!”

He's stopped short by that, gives Gavrel an indecipherable look, and then turns back to you. "This is Numenosis, darling." He's soft-spoken this time, calm and collected. He fetches something from his desk, a crystal vial of shimmery magenta liquid. He approaches you smoothly, and unstoppers the vial. "This will help with your arm. Can I administer it to you?" It's as if he's approaching a spooked horse, and just as before, the attitude in how he treats you versus Gavrel is jarring.

“Is that the re…the rebound curative?”

He nods and slides his knuckles under your chin to tilt it up. "May I?"

(I AM GOING TO BITE HIM. BITE HIS FINGERS. RUDE MAN.) It’s a very good thing Master Atticus either can’t read minds, or isn’t reading mine. I assume Gavrel would be making indignant noises if this was not what Atticus said it was and somehow I don’t want to look to him to check, if only to avoid reinforcing the abuse narrative Atticus is constructing. “Yes,” I say quietly.

He smiles at you, or rather smirks, and touches it to your lips before tilting the bottle up. It's similar to the cordial Gavrel gave you earlier, but not at all nice. It's acrid and drying and gritty and the aftertaste is like trying to eat a teaspoon of dry cinnamon. You cough and gag as it goes down, but the minute it does, the room stops spinning and your arm stops thrumming with an incessant drip of magic. Atticus then slides his fingers from your chin down your arm, trailing a warm, green magic in its wake. He's humming something warm and tender that brings to mind a babbling brook in spring. He trades from fingertips to whole palm when he gets to your forearm, practically encasing it. You feel your skin knit together and cool under his ministrations, which finish with him clasping your hands together for a moment. When he withdraws, you're left with three lightning-like scars that stretch from just above your elbow to the heel of your palm. He looks over you again, and shifts your hair away from your sweaty forehead. "Are you hurt anywhere else, darling?"

"No, thank you," I say, sitting up carefully. (Is Gavrel still stuck against the bookcase?)

You're safe as you sit up, no dizziness or white outs at all. "Very well," he says, and sits across from you on the coffee table. "Now, please, darling. Tell me what you've gotten yourself into. I can help." (he is)

"Master Atticus, I appreciate very much that you just healed me. But please let my friend go now. I'm very tired, and I'll be happy to come back here, but right now I want to go to my own house and have some time to recover."

He narrows his eyes and glances behind him at your mention of the word friend. "I am sure you need your recovery. Would you not prefer to stay in the Inn? I happen to know of a room with a private bath which would, of course, considering your state, come free of charge. We can meet over breakfast and discuss what exactly happened. You've no need to fear — the innocent aren't punished for accidents here, and we have the best prison in all of Terrafell right beneath our feet."

"Master Atticus, I thought you wanted to help me!" I don't have to act the fear here, either, just let the mask slip a little. Only to show the fear. Not to show the desire to beat the snot out of him, grab my friend, and run.

"Of course, darling," he says. "Whatever you did, you surely couldn't have done it on purpose. You don't have to be scared of him. Even if you don't wish to cause his death, there are options for you." Gavrel sputters in the background.

“I’m not scared of him!” I snap, shooting for ‘petulant and confused’ instead of ‘I want to remove your spleen with a blunt knife’. “Wait. Did you think he was going to hurt me?”

He glances back dangerously. "I think it's fairly obvious he already has," then turning back to you, he says "Being scared of him would prove your wisdom."

“That was an accident,” I say, still going for petulant. “On both our parts. When the spell started going out of control he tried to stop it. Master Atticus, I promise you, if he ever acted against me from malice, I would come right here for help.” (Half of this is true. Half of it is lying through my teeth, of course.)

He looks at you consideringly. "While I assure you, I have nothing but the highest regard for you, I'm afraid I distrust him immensely. I'm rather disinclined to believe any narrative with him as a hero, and even if I can't explain the rebound you have, that's hardly an explanation for the state of the Court of Thaumaturgy." He rubs the bridge of his nose. "There isn't a way to legally deal with this without your cooperation, however. So I will make...an arrangement with you, hmm, darling? You come meet me for tea once a week, and I'll let the Holy Knight go. Is that a deal you can accept?"

At this point I’m frazzled, terrified, and can’t think of a better way out. I hate this but I hate it less than the other options, and all of my other plans involve things like ‘agree to leave Gavrel and then try to initiate hand to hand when Atticus’ back is turned’ and seem like they could blow up in my face spectacularly. “Of course!” I chirp. “I love tea.”

He smiles, and tells you firmly, in a way that says he doesn't quite believe you're telling the truth, "I'll hold you to that, darling."

He nods, and with a twist of contempt, drops Gavrel to the ground. He coughs and heaves for a moment, getting his breath back, then stands and glares. "I look forward to the next time, Atticus," he says grimly, brushing past him and setting Atticus off balance enough that he almost ends up on the ground. "Come on." He helps you stand, then rushes you out the door, down the stairs, and out the front door. He turns to you in the street, his hand gripping the back of your shirt in desperation. "Are you okay?" He sounds like he's on the verge of tears himself.

I hug him. “For future reference, my dear, dense, absurdly self-sacrificing friend, the fact that the person you’re relying on to heal me has a murderous grudge against you is relevant information, which I should be told about before I am lying helpless in his study. I think I’m okay, but if he ever touches either of us again I’m going to want to tear his throat out with my teeth.”

Atticus scar mockup. Do not come for me about his robes, Sims 4's available clothing is pitiful.

[arttsuka]

I wanna be a hater about something so bad right now but I don't feel like expressing my opinion and have the (very toxic) fanbase attack me

[soyboywenzie]

for all the parroting about loving evil characters and wishing they were worse and hating the morality argument, team green does not like the fact that their favs aren’t well liked, nor cared about that much 😗

[urinarythreatinfection]

Surprise

Shanks x Bottom Male Reader. Smut. 2790 words. Fem Vers

Desc: You plan a surprise for your bummed lover

cw: Feminine lingerie, public-ish sex, unprotected sex.

You and Shanks don’t get all the time in the world to be able to go on dates, even if pirates are considered to be free. Sure, he has his own treasurer and other crewmates to take care of tedious paperwork, but there are still things that only a Yonko with multiple islands and fleets can do. Managing the crew’s morale, not being far from them, not staying on one island for too long, managing the fleets, avoiding other Yonkos’ territories while moving islands; all of it adds up to a real huge hassle. Now with the new generation there are younger, cockier pirates that try to challenge him too. Even more to manage, which is how the two of you and your date plans got ruined. A young cocky pirate snuck onto one of his territories and caused havoc. Luckily there was a fleet stationed there to avoid casualties but they managed to escape. That means your plans have been cancelled. He’s starting to get really jealous of Luffy and his single crew. The small solace is that the kid will have to learn some responsibility if he really ends up as pirate king, even Roger begrudgingly did in his short time. It’s all been such a bummer for Shanks, and you’ve noticed it as you sail. So what have you decided to do about it?

‘...Maybe this is a bad idea.’ You think to yourself as you stare at the lingerie on the bed. Since your date has been cancelled you’ve decided to try something new, something especially exciting to make up for the ruined plans. You know your husband is very receptive to you, adores you, and is really open to trying… new things; so you came up with a plan. You’ll accompany him to the island meeting, which’ll cheer him up on its own, but you’ll give him a surprise. Lingerie under your clothes and a small vibrator hidden inside you, sending him a risque photo in the middle of the meeting. However, this might be too much even for him. You pick up your little camera snail and the photo snail. You’re starting to get nervous. ‘What if he thinks I went too far and I put him in an even worse mood?’ Your worries tell you. You swat them away. No, you will do this. It’ll be fun seeing how Shanks will react and if he does like it he’ll definitely like it a lot. Plus you already have everything ready. Your eyes trail to the little egg vibrator that'll soon be inside you, feeling your face heat up as you feel the ship come to a stop. You’ve docked. It’s time.

_____________________

“You don’t have to come if you don’t want to.” Shanks tells you as the two of you walk. “It’s not gonna be interesting. It’ll just be about threatening the enemies to back off, make an example, and that’s it. It’s mostly to reassure them.”

“I know you’re not looking forward to it, though. You’ve been bummed since we had to leave to come here. Just thought me being here would give you some motivation.” As you expected he brightens and a happy smile forms on his face as he wraps his arm around you.

“You spoil me, hun.” He kisses the side of your head. “And I’m sorry we had to leave, I know you were looking forward to our date too.” The island you were at has an amusement park the both of you were excited for, but his responsibilities have to come first. People’s lives are involved.

“Oh well, it’s simply how things ended up.” You adjust your bag with a sigh as the two of you arrive, walking inside and into the meeting room. The others are already here, brightening when they spot Shanks.

“Chief!” They surround him, glad that he came. There’s the sound of someone clearing their throat, the governor.

“Settle down, the meeting will begin.” At her words the rest of the workers sit back down. The two of you sit next to each other. You were slightly hoping otherwise but as expected the meeting isn’t very interesting. The good thing, and the main reason why Shanks met with them instead of going straight to fighting, is that the governor and her council look very relieved now that he’s here. It may be a small-time pirate to Shanks, but to them it’s someone that could ravage their island without the redhead’s protection. Thankfully the meeting doesn’t feel heavy at all. No panic or mourning since there were no casualties, which means you don’t have to feel guilty when you carefully slip your hand to your inner thigh and flip the switch connected to the vibrator pressed against your prostate. It starts to buzz and Shanks looks at you when you flinch.

“You okay?” He whispers and you nod, letting the meeting continue as you squirm every so often with your shirt strategically covering your crotch. You gulp and take out the photo snail and paper, giving it a small shush so it knows to be silent. Your husband deserves this little pick me up, and this may or may not be for you too. You stand up, excusing yourself to the bathroom; but not after sneakily handing the snail to Shanks with the photo paper. The captain looks confused but takes it, assuming that the squirming must’ve been from you holding your bladder. You head to the bathroom and pull the camera snail from your bag once you’re inside. Shaking slightly, you breathe deeply before dressing yourself down; revealing the lingerie hidden under your clothes. The vibrator has been pressing on your prostate for half an hour, your panties already sticky with cum. The thought of Shanks’s reaction sends a throb of arousal to your dick and you angle the camera up from below, spreading your thighs enough to reveal the remote strapped to your thigh and the way the cable disappears into the fabric behind.

Snap

It snaps the photo. You take another deep breath before clicking the shell of the snail to send it.

(Shanks's POV)

“Hm?” Shanks looks down at the Photo Snail that had been resting on his thigh. It’s tapping his stomach with one of its eyes to grab his attention before opening its mouth. A photo from the bathroom? Or maybe it’s just a note you wanted to pass, maybe you’re not feeling well and this is your way of telling him. His eyebrows furrow in worry and he gives the piece of paper to the snail. It puts it into its mouth, taking a moment to project the photo onto the paper. ‘I should’ve followed.’ He thinks to himself as the now finished photo is ejected from the snail’s mouth. The redhead picks the paper up and his eyes widen seeing what’s displayed. His beautiful husband in sexy lingerie and a remote taped to his inner thigh, the small wire weaving underneath his panties and behind him into his tight heat. His eyes focus on your strained erection, the way the tip is sticky with pre-cum while your face looks into the camera with the heated expression. You gave this to him before you left. ‘The squirming, he… he’s in the bathroom right now.’ It slowly connects inside his head as blood rushes to his head.

Splurt

“Chief!?” The mayor of the island quickly panics as blood spurts from Shanks’s nose at the sight of your secret nude. The secretary walks to him and the captain quickly hides the photo’s visual from their eyes.

“I’m fine I’m fine.” A tissue is handed to him which he puts to his nose, the bleeding calming down before another wave comes out at the realization that you’ve been wearing that this entire time for him. “Excuse me.” He quickly stuffs the photo into his pocket with the snail, tossing the bloody tissue into the trash before speed walking out of the room to the bathroom. He gets to the bathroom door and you falter, putting your clothes on and opening the door.

“Yes?-” You get that out but not much else as he pushes his way into the room, shuts the door, and kisses you. Your hand reaches behind him and locks it, making him grin into the kiss.

“Hiding yourself from me now, hm?” His hand reaches under your shirt, smiling wider when he feels the lacy bra underneath. “And when you interrupted me so confidently.” He gets close to your ear and slips his hand down your waistband. “So naughty.”

“Shanks..” You shiver and he groans when he slips his hand over your erection, feeling how sticky you are. His fingers gently circle the tip before suddenly grabbing your shaft and jerking you off quickly, making you gasp while moaning into his shoulder. He continues while placing loving kisses to your face until you’re close. Before you can cum he stops and pulls his hand away. You lightly glare at him and he gives you a small peck on the lips.

“You’ll get what you want. I just want to get what I want.” He tugs your shirt up to reveal your chest decorated in the lacy bra. “All prettied up for me.” Shanks kisses down your body desperately, pulling your bottoms down with his teeth and hand on the way down. His pupils dilate at the sight of your dick lightly bouncing out from your pants, the fabric of the lingerie barely keeping it inside. Once on his knees he presses his tongue to your clothed tip, savoring the wetness with a groan. He places a kiss onto it, his breath heavy as he messily makes out with your cock; licking and sucking on the fabric until the saliva is mixed with your sperm. By the time he’s finished you’re shaking, struggling to keep yourself standing. You don’t need to anymore though, feeling yourself being lifted up as he rises with his arm under your knees and the hem of your shirt between his teeth. Once you’re up his body pins you to the wall with your legs at his sides. He leans in and kisses you, prying your lips open with his tongue to transfer the cloth from his mouth to yours. Once it’s bitten down he pulls away. “Hold that up for me, handsome.”

“Mm~” You’re only in your lingerie now, your shirt hiding nothing by the hem held between your teeth. You wrap your legs around him tightly and unbutton his shirt, sliding his coat off and shirt off as he holds you up with his body. His hand shuffles down to his pants until you feel his bare length pressing against you. He grinds and you jolt with a small moan, the loveliest sound to him. Next, he pulls your panties to the side just enough to free your erection and reveal your hole to fuck you. The vibrator slips out of you with a tug on the cable and he replaces it with his tip to your entrance. His arm tightens around your body and he slowly sinks you down until you two are joined with matching moans.

“Fuck, I’m the luckiest guy in the world.” His cock throbs inside of you, hard and hot from the picture you surprised him with. He pulls back until only the tip is in, then sinks you down again; slow and steady so you can feel every drag of his dick against your walls. It repeats again and again until you whine.

“Stop teasing me..!” He chuckles at your complaint and finally ups the speed, his strong hold keeping you up while he thrusts in and out of you.

“You’re too sexy not to tease.” He mumbles, sucking a mark onto your pulse point. “Pretty boy.” He grinds forward, rolling his hips so his pelvis presses against your dick before going back to his thrusts. “My boy.” While the pleasure clouds your mind you feel his arm pull back before a buzzing sound is heard.

“What?” You question before yelping when the vibrator is pressed to your frenulum.

“Wouldn’t want this to go to waste, right?” He rips off a piece of the tape strapping the remote to your thigh, using it to stick the bullet snugly onto you. When you squirm he pulls you hard against him. “Nuh uh, handsome. This is for you.” Shanks groans as he thrusts quicker. “All for you.” You whimper and dig your nails into his shoulders, the pain making him gasp and throb inside you. It’s hot, the buzzing on your dick, his length, his body against yours. Your groin pulses with pleasure and you moan as you feel pressure building up inside.

“Shanks~!” You moan and he places a reassuring kiss on your lips.

“Go ahead, hun, cum for me. Cum around your husband’s cock as he fucks you.” His words are the last push and you keen as the pressure bursts, sending dopamine straight to your head as you shoot seed all over your stomach and his. He grunts, panting at the feeling of your walls squeezing him. Suddenly there’s a knock at the door and his thrusts slow.

“(Y/n)? Chief?” Someone asks from the other side. Contrary to common sense, Shanks doesn’t stop. Instead he switches to long deep strokes that move your body with each meet of his hips against you. The movement and jizz causes the vibrator to slide down, yet not enough to stop the buzzing from stimulating you.

“Sorry, he needed a bit of help. He feels sick.” You whimper and he kisses you silent.

“Oh, I hope he feels better soon. The meeting is almost over so he can leave without missing anything important. The only thing missing is your orders.” He pulls away, giving a small shh before speaking.

“I’ll have to help him back to the ship, I can give them to you here.” You clasp a hand over your mouth when he gives a sudden harsh thrust. His jaw clenches for a moment to stop a groan. “..I’ll stay here for a few days to collect info then get my boys to find those troublemakers. We’ll scare 'em then, kill the main ones and you guys-” He gives another harsh thrust. “-can toss the rest in jail. Your choice.” Right after he’s done he presses his lips to yours, his tongue exploring your mouth while going back to his rough pace despite your sensitive body and the person still on the other side of the door.

“Okay then, I'll relay that to everyone else.” They say as Shanks’s thrusts get sloppier, your orgasm is building up again and you don’t know if you can keep quiet enough for them not to hear. You’re trying so hard to hold it in but your husband doesn’t let up at all. “I’ll be seeing you, chief.” His lips leave to press his forehead against yours.

“See you around.” His voice is deep, footsteps getting quiet. The moment they’re gone your control gives out and you cum with a cry.

“Shanks!♡” Your pulse around him and he pants at the feeling, barely managing to ride your orgasm before he finally bottoms out to coat your walls with his cum; keeping his body covering yours until he’s filled you up. Finally the throbbing ends and Shanks sinks to the ground with you on his lap.

“I thought you were going to be normal and slow down.” You state nervously, turning the vibrator off and tossing it to the side.

“I tried, but you were too sexy trying to keep quiet. Hard to keep control.” He gives you a small kiss. “They’ll just assume you were whining from a stomach ache. You look a mess enough to have been throwing up.” A grin forms on his face. “I look close enough when I get real bad hangovers.” His comparison makes you frown and lightly smack him on the shoulder. “Ouch, that's where you scratched.”

____________________

You both fix up the best you can, going with the excuse that you threw up to explain your messiness even when both your and his cum is pooling into the lingerie panties. When you two get back to the ship he cleans you up better, kisses here and there that may have gotten too heated for two people who just got done fucking in a building bathroom; but you do get clean. Since you’re supposedly sick you two stay in the ship and cuddle in bed. Maybe this isn’t as good as a nice date at an amusement park, but the two of you still ended up together; and that's really what cheers Shanks up.

There we go! Took more editing than i thought but i think i got everything to be male instead of fem. I really hope i didn't accidentally miss anything.. anyway i did it. this is my first bottom male reader too, kinda cray z. This doesn't count as my second update btw, thats gonna be a diff thing.

[craptainkirk]

Taking a moment to say how pissed and stressed out i am that my dad has taken the day off

[wishmkr-jirachi]

...

[atlabeth]

bend an ear

pairing: peter parker x fem reader

summary: your boyfriend doesn't listen to you. good thing your friendly neighborhood spider-man does.

a/n: there's just something about him idk. andrew garfield spidey bc of course! look at him! this came from me playing the spider-man game after it went on sale and yearning for peter parker (will prob have to rewatch the movies bc of this) anyways hope you like it

wc: 3.6k

warning(s): reader's bf is shitty -- they argue for a while and he lowkey slut shames her. but this is basically all fluff otherwise bc childhood best friends to lovers babby!!! real yearning loverboy hours!!!

Peter just wants to go home. 

It’s been… a day. He got his ass kicked by an English test (he doesn’t have time to do the readings when he’s fighting crime), got his ass kicked by Flash Thompson (it’s not like he can fight back with his super strength and pulverize his ribs), and has spent every second since his final class ended fighting petty crimes around the city. 

Stopping ATM thefts and minor muggings feels good, sure, but on days like these, it doesn’t really make up for failing intro literature classes and getting absolutely zero sleep. He’s just thankful May is still letting him live with her while he studies at ESU—if he had to do all of this in addition to trying to make his rent? He doesn’t really want to think about it. 

So he swung his way to the roof of some random building, and he’s taking a break. Sue him, but Peter thinks he deserves it. What’s the point of living in a city like New York if you can’t have a second to yourself every once in a while? 

He’ll go home soon. Grab a bodega sandwich, maybe stop another crime, and then get home for some much needed rest. But for now, he’s just going to sit on this rooftop and relax for a second. Even Spider-man needs some peace and— 

“Babe—” 

“Why are you following me?”

Peter winces as the door slams open, an argument following close after as a girl storms out onto the roof followed by a guy speeding to keep up with her. His first instinct is to swing away as soon as possible, but for some reason, he stays. 

“Because I want to talk!”

“God, do you even hear yourself?” 

“You keep talking over me, so I really—” 

“You don’t get to babe me right now!” 

As if his day hadn’t been bad enough, now he’s accidentally made himself privy to some couple’s dispute. He’s about to web himself out of this third wheeling nightmare when the girl turns around with a groan, revealing her face, and Peter realizes who it is. 

It’s you.

This is your apartment complex. Peter came here without even realizing it, but can he really be surprised? Your name is synonymous with peace in his brain. Comes with the territory of being friends for so long—it still calms him, even when you’re being the opposite of peaceful. 

“I don’t get why you’re acting like this!” the guy exclaims, frustration clear in his voice. 

Of course. Why wouldn’t your shitty boyfriend be here too? The only reason you live here is because you scored this place together; said he didn’t want you living on campus anymore. Ethan Frey might be the bane of Peter’s existence after two and a half years of him being your boyfriend. 

“Because you and your posse are acting like complete jags in front of all my friends!” you shout back. 

He laughs in disbelief. “I’m just being myself, babe. Besides, you’re the one who said I could invite them!” 

“Because you complained about it just being my friends,” you grind out. “You weren’t even supposed to be here, Ethan! You just can’t handle the thought of me being around guys that aren’t you!” 

“Well, what the hell am I supposed to think, huh?” He gestures wildly. “You spend every second with that geek and I’m supposed to believe you’re not into him?” 

And now he’s eavesdropping on a conversation between you and your boyfriend about him. How could this get worse? 

“God, it isn’t like that at all!” you exclaim with a mirthless laugh. “Peter is my friend— my best friend since elementary school. You knew when we got together that wasn’t going to change.” 

“Yeah,” he says, nodding lazily, “but that was before I knew how obvious his hard-on for you was.” 

Peter feels his face heat beneath the mask, wants to wipe the sweat off his palms. That’s how it could get worse. 

Your nostrils flare as you turn away, your hands flexing while you shake your head. “Get out of here, Ethan.” 

“Oh, of course that’s where you draw the line,” Ethan mocks. “When I bring up fuckin’ Peter Parker.” He pauses then chuckles. “You’d love that, wouldn’t you?” 

Peter nearly intervenes right then and there, wanting to stop this mess before Ethan does anything to hurt you. But revealing himself sounds like the worst possible thing to do, so for once he listens to the rational part of his brain over the emotional. 

“He’s not even here!” you retort. “I live with you, not him. I’m dating you, not him. Why are you bringing him up?” 

“Because I’m not blind.” Ethan crosses his arms. “Y’know, I thought you’d get over this little thing after you let me take you out, but for some reason, it’s exactly the same. I swear you spend more time with him than me.”

Your hands clench into fists. “Get out of here.” 

He scoffs. “You want me to leave you up here?” 

“Yes,” you nod. 

“God, you’ve been acting crazy this whole night!” he complains. “You’ll freeze up here. Just get over it—we’ll go back down, I’ll get you a beer—” 

“I hate beer.” 

“Then I’ll get you a fucking apple juice,” he spits. “Just stop being so dramatic.” 

“You’re not listening to me!” you shout. “I want you to leave me alone!” 

This time he says your name, and you shake your head. 

“Go back to the apartment,” you interrupt. “Because if I have to spend another second with you, our relationship might not make it through the night.”

For once, Ethan is silent as he stares at you. You stare back with no sign of giving up. Eventually, he just huffs and shakes his head. 

“Whatever.” He starts walking towards the door. “You better cool off up here, because I’m not dealing with this shit when you come back down.” 

You stare at the door for a good twenty seconds once he closes the door—slams it, rather—before you angrily kick a stray soda can. Your childhood days of rec soccer must still be in you, because you get an arc on it. Just before it can go over the side of the building, Peter shoots a web to catch it wholly on instinct. 

Your eyes widen as you dart around, and Peter is finally spotted from his place on top of the roof door building thing. What is that even called? He doesn’t really have time to think about it. The aluminum can crunches as it flies into his hand, and you stare at him in complete shock. 

“Uh,” his mouth suddenly feels very dry, but he has to make some excuse for why he’s up here, “littering is bad.” 

Good one, Parker. 

“You’re Spider-man,” you say, eyes still wide. 

“The one and only,” he nods. 

“Oh my god,” you mumble, finally seeming to break out of your shock as you cover your mouth and turn away. “Oh my god, Spider-man just heard my relationship falling apart.” 

“I didn’t hear anything!” Peter exclaims. “I—”

You shoot him the withering look he loves so much, that was able to get his bullies to shrink on the spot in high school—it feels weird being on the receiving end of it. 

“I’m not stupid,” you say. 

“I kn—” He has to stop himself from saying I know, because realistically Spider-man has no idea who you are. “I’m sorry.” 

You huff and cross your arms. “Do your superhero duties include eavesdropping on failing couples?” 

“It was an accident,” Peter says. “I was up here before you were. So technically, you were eavesdropping on my actual superhero duties.” 

You laugh, and he smiles just at the sound of it. One benefit to wearing the mask, because it would expose him right on the spot. “Oh yeah? And what are those?” 

“Patrolling the streets,” he says. “I’ve got a very good vantage point from up here.” 

You hum, your mood turning a bit more morose as you glance away. “Well, I’m sorry you had to hear all that during your patrol.” 

“I’m sorry you had to go through it,” he says. “Your boyfriend sounds like an asshole.” 

You roll your eyes. “He’s fine, most of the time. Just had a little bit too much to drink.” 

Peter will never understand why you defend Ethan so much. You’ve been together since freshman year and he’s only gotten worse since then—maybe he hides how he is around you, because he hasn’t really shied away from showing Peter how much he hates him this past year.

“He looked pretty sober to me,” Peter says. “And trust me, I have plenty of experience fighting guys that have had too much to drink.” 

You huff. “What are you, a spider-therapist?” 

“I’m good at a lot of things,” he says. “And I’m always good for bending an ear.”

“Surely you have better things to do than listen to me complain.” 

Peter shakes his head. “My schedule’s pretty clear right now, actually.”

“Really?” you marvel. “There’s no crime in New York City at,” you check your watch, “11:37 pm?”

“Absolutely none,” he says. “I solved it all. At least for now.”

You laugh again at that and gesture with your head as you walk over to the edge of the roof. “Then I guess I’ll take you up on that offer.”

Peter jumps down and follows you over. You hoist yourself on top of the wall, legs dangling over the edge, and he feels himself frown as he leans his back against the wall and looks up at you. 

“Isn’t that a little dangerous?” 

“You’ll catch me if I fall,” you say. 

“Obviously,” Peter says. “I’m supposed to encourage safe behavior in New Yorkers, though.” 

You laugh and tilt your head up towards the night sky. The moonlight reflects in your eyes and Peter knows he could get lost in them forever. “Just this once, then.” 

“I think I can let it slide.” 

“Good.” 

A comfortable beat of silence passes between the two of you, and Peter finds himself smiling. No wonder he ended up at your place out of instinct. There’s nothing else like your company. 

“I always think it’ll be different,” you murmur. Peter glances up at you, your expression shifted to something more melancholic. “We’ll have a good day, which’ll turn into a good week and a good month, but he always does something to mess it up. It’s like it’s in his DNA.” 

He stays silent as you think. Most of the time when you rant to Peter, you just want to be heard, not given advice. At this point, he’s an expert at listening to you. It’s not like he minds. 

“I want things to work out. I— I still love him. I mean, I think I do. But everything is a fucking struggle with him. If I don’t do things the exact way he wants, if I try to do something for me instead of him, if I can’t read his fucking mind, then he loses it and we argue. And I’m so fucking tired of arguing!” 

Your voice has risen by now, and you bite down hard on your cheek. Peter doesn’t realize he’s started reaching towards you to comfort you until you look back down at him, and he runs his hand over his head in an effort to cover it up. 

“I’m sorry,” you sigh. “I promise, I’m a much nicer person than this. You just caught me at the worst time.”

“Don’t worry,” he says. “I know.”

Your brows rise. “Spider-man knows I’m a nice person?”

“I can just tell,” he rushes, trying to save himself. He’s doing a real good job at not revealing his identity. “I’m good at reading people.”

You chuckle and shake your head, then adjust your position so your back is towards the open air. It makes Peter nervous, he can’t lie, but it’s not like he’s not a superhero. 

“So, spider-therapist,” you say. “Any advice?” 

So this is one of the rare times you do want answers. Peter wonders if you’ll leave your boyfriend if Spider-man tells you to. 

“He doesn’t sound great,” Peter says, inclining his head. “How many times have you argued this week?” 

“Four,” you say. “Five, if you include tonight.” 

He whistles. “And it’s only Wednesday.”

You tip your shoulder. “We’re efficient.” 

“And unhappy, it sounds like.” 

“We’re not unhappy,” you defend. “We’re just…” 

“You’re up here talking to me instead of down there with him,” Peter says wryly. “That doesn’t exactly scream ‘happy couple’.” 

You shake your head with another sigh. “It’s because he can’t get over Peter.” 

He tries to act as nonchalant as possible when you bring him up. Is this an invasion of privacy? Letting you talk to him about all this when you have no idea who Spider-man actually is? 

Instead of floundering over moral qualms, he just clears his throat. “And who’s he?” 

“My best friend,” you say. “The one person who’s been by my side since the second I moved to New York. He means everything to me.”

Peter feels his heart skip a beat. “Yeah?” 

“He’s like— like the opposite of Ethan, and it’s wonderful. I guess that’s why Pete irks him so much. Y’know,” you pull out your phone and start typing in your password, “maybe I should call him. He always knows what to say.” 

“No!” Peter exclaims with a bit too much force, causing you to give him a look. “No— I mean, it’s late. He’s probably asleep. And— and it’s a school night?” 

You tilt your head, and Peter exhales when it seems to work. “True. He’s probably studying for that biochem test.” You grimace. “I should be doing that too.” 

He watches you type out a few texts and send them, and Peter’s never been more thankful to have his phone on silent. What a way that would be to blow his cover. 

You shove your phone back in your pocket with another sigh. “I just hate that my boyfriend and my best friend don’t get along. I love them both—why can’t they like each other?” 

“I mean…” Peter trails off when you look at him, and he gestures with his head. “It seems pretty obvious why they don’t get along.” 

“Yeah,” you say dryly. “Because Ethan thinks Peter likes me, and he probably thinks I have some secret crush on him too. I swear, he’s always looking for a reason to fight.” 

God, could the universe be calling him out any more? It’s honestly ridiculous how this is going. 

“Do you?” Peter asks, because he can’t help himself. “Like him, I mean.” 

“I don’t know,” you murmur. “I love Pete, I do. It’s always been the two of us no matter what. But I…”

He holds his breath as he tries not to look at you, tries not to make it too obvious that he might have stumbled his way into his simultaneous dream and nightmare scenario. 

He’s had a crush on you for what feels like forever. Since you stood up for him against his bullies in elementary school, honestly, and it’s only grown over the years as the two of you have grown. From recesses spent together and bike rides through the city; spending the night in Peter’s apartment because it was easier for your sister to let it happen than try and drag you back home; endless nights with heads bent over textbooks trying to study for tests, over college applications trying to get into the same place, and now studying and researching near every damn weekend together because you’re both unfortunate enough to try for ESU STEM degrees. 

You were there when Ben died. He’s there on every anniversary of your parents’ accident. Without knowing it, you were there when he got bit and his whole life turned upside down. 

You and Peter have been there every step of the way for each other, and it’s why he’s content with just friendship—Peter wants you in his life no matter what. But he can’t lie and say he doesn’t hope. 

No, actually. He yearns. He’s doomed to be a yearner for the rest of his life because he’ll never stop loving you. How could he? 

“I’m not sure,” you finally say with a sigh. “All I know is that I’d rather be with Pete tonight than Ethan.”

Peter wonders if your chest compressions are still as good as they were in high school, because he feels like he’s about to have a heart attack. 

You’d rather be spending tonight with him than your boyfriend of two years and seven months, and Peter isn’t even supposed to know. 

You mistake his silent freakout for nonchalance, and you clear your throat as you jump back onto solid ground. 

“Well, I’ve spilled my soul to you,” you say wryly, crossing your arms. “Anything a superhero can spill in return?”

Peter thinks for a good, long second. His hands itch to take off his mask, to do what he’s wanted to do since he got bitten by that stupid spider and show you who he really is. 

How many times has he been a total asshole, canceling plans on you because he had to go stop some supervillain from wreaking havoc in Times Square? How many times has he been late to something important to you because he was caught up stopping dime a dozen muggings? He still remembers the look on your face when he showed up just in time to miss the entirety of Les Mis’s opening night with your first lead role. 

You were a better best friend to Peter than he was to you because of this stupid mask. If he took it off, it wouldn’t make every mistake fade away, but it would sure help explain some of it. 

But Peter has been doing this since high school, and he has seen far too many times what happens to the loved ones of heroes. They’re used as leverage, used for ransom, sometimes just straight up killed.

You’ve been friends with Peter since you and your sister moved into the apartment next to May’s thirteen years ago. It doesn’t matter if you never share Peter’s feelings. You’re one of the only constants in his life, and he’s not going to lose you because he’s too selfish to keep a secret. 

Losing you would be the last straw. He couldn’t take it. 

So Peter pushes all thoughts of secret identities revealed out of his mind and tries to chuckle convincingly. 

“I’m allergic to peppermint, believe it or not.” 

You stare at him, deadpan. “That’s nowhere close to all the shit I just gave you.” 

“It’s true!” he exclaims, holding up his hands. “Happened after I got bit by the spider. They’re repelled by peppermint oil, and I guess I am too.” 

You shake your head in disbelief. “I can’t believe Spider-man is a coward.” 

“A superhero’s gotta have some secrets,” he says, and he taps the side of his head. “Otherwise this thing doesn’t do much good.” 

“Yeah, yeah,” you say. “Whatever.” 

A chill suddenly goes up Peter’s spine and he whips around—he can hear a distant scream followed by a distant gunshot, and he mentally curses. 

“Duty calls?” you ask, drawing his attention back to you. 

“Yeah,” he says. “I’m sorry—” 

“Don’t be.” You smile, and it’s genuine. A nice change from the state Ethan effortlessly puts you in. “You went out of your way to cheer me up. Pretty super of you.” 

“I hope it makes up for the eavesdropping,” he says. 

“More than,” you nod. “Now get out of here. Your city needs you.” 

Peter nods too, and he backflips onto his original spot. “Have a good night. You’re real special to somebody.” 

He’s gone before you can say anything else, already zipping across the rooftops to get to the scene of the crime. Peter can only think of your face as he swings through the air—all the things he’s too scared to say to you. 

The crime, which turns out to be yet another petty theft, is resolved easily enough with some punches, kicks, and a snappy one-liner. Once he’s retrieved the woman’s purse and alerted the police, he’s back in the sky. 

Peter only stops once he’s swung a couple miles away, perching on the edge of some rooftop for some actual peace and quiet. He checks around once or twice to make sure he’s not somehow back at your place, and when he’s sure it’s all clear, he pulls his phone out. He swipes past all the notifications he’s racked up until he finds the one he’s looking for: the texts from you. 

hey pete, I know you’re prob asleep rn but you were right. I really need to study for that test lol

wanna meet me at the library tomorrow after QM? I’ll buy the coffee this time i promise <3 

as long as you use your roomie’s dining dollars to get me a croissant lol 

Peter can’t help but smile, larger than anything tonight. This is why he’s okay with being nothing but your friend for the rest of his life. 

Deal. Anything to get you an A 

lol

asshole 

Never 

Try to get some sleep. No good studying on a tired brain 

Three dots appear for a good long second, enough to constitute a decent paragraph—then they disappear. In its place: 

I’ll try just for you 

night boy genius

(How could he not love you?) 

Night, girl wonder