#drafts that have aged like milk

[darksigns-exe]

At this point I’m expecting sleep token to drop new EU dates before Paramore. Kinda lost hope on that front tbh.

[moongothic]

It is interesting though 'cause, since we have no fucking True Clue what the hell Crocodile's actual real End Goal with Cross Guild is right now (does he want to get One Piece and fight the Strawhats+Shanks, does he want to get Pluton from Wano (and/)or does he want to destroy the World Government?? We don't know), that we just have a fuck ton of theories on what could happen, but no way to really tell what the actual direction this entire plot thread is going to be

And one I've seen a lot of people suggest was Cross Guild recruiting more of the former (/OG) Shichibukai into their ranks

And I just find that idea so fucking interesting

Because this is where one needs to remember that Oda based the OG Shichibukai on the Seven Heroes from Romancing SaGa 2. The Seven Heroes were a legendary group who once in the past saved the world from a great evil (before disappearing and turning into an evil for the game's protags to defeat). Just reading the descriptions you can see how each of the OG Shichibukai match up to one of the heroes respectively. And the inspo would be fine and dandy by itself, like just some fun trivia about what inspired Oda. But the Seven Heroes were specifically created and lead by Wagnas, with Noel as his right-hand. Wagnas happens to be the character Crocodile matches up with, and Mihawk just happens to match up with Noel. And here we have Crocodile starting a new organization with Mihawk by his side, with unknown true goals. And we do have that one World Government that needs to get overthrown so the world can be "saved". So like.

Suddenly, the idea that Cross Guild could recruit some of the other former Shichibukai (to maybe help take down the World Government?) doesn't sound too out-landish at all

Especially because Moria alone is already like an actual contender for someone who could maybe join Cross Guild. Like, assuming he's alive and made it out of Fullalead with Perona. 'Cause with Absalom dead and Hogback gone with the wind, Moria should have like nothing else left but himself and Perona. And while knowing Moria he's going to be Very Happy about reuniting with Perona, like... where's he gonna go? What's he gonna do if the two escaped Fullalead? But because Perona and Mihawk already know each other, Perona could very easily become a bridge to getting Moria with CG, especially if he's still wounded etc from the escape, Perona would want her boss' to survive and she'd trust Mihawk to help probably. And god knows, if Blackbeard tried or even succeeded at stealing Moria's Fruit, the man could have some legit good intel on Blackbeard (and how he steals powers) that he could then share with CG, something Crocodile could appreciate. Also, if Crocodile and Mihawk want to ensure the Marines are too scared to come after them, getting Moria in their ranks would help with that.

Then there's Kuma. And. Well. Assuming Kuma doesn't kick the bucket in the next few chapters. If Kuma is still somehow alive and his soul/memories can be put into a body (some people have been suggesting his memories could be implanted maybe into a Pacifista or that giant robot on Egghead or maybe even his Seraphim, or maybe just memories could be returned back into his original body), and if he'll still have the ability to near-instantly travel across the planet then I'm putting my money on him returning to the Revolutionaries to be honest. But if he loses that ability, I don't think he's going to be sticking with the Strawhats to be honest. That said, he'll still need somewhere to go (with Bonney?), and with the rest of the Revs on the other side of the Grand Line... Cross Guild could, potentially, be the nearest, safest place for him, if for no other reason than the other former Shichibukai might be his safest bet right now. Especially if Crocodile ever did have any involvement with the Revolutionaries. But indeed, this assumes Kuma isn't Turbo Perma-Dead Forever, which remains to be seen.

I know a lot of people love Doflamingo and would love to see him back. Personally I want him to stay in jail, where he deserves to be. <3 Also I don't think Crocodile would ever want Doflamingo working for him, let alone go out of his way to travel to Paradise to let him out (though if they did, they could also release Weevil while at it, since he's also stuck in Impel Down) (But honestly, unless someone else goes to break Weevil out and Doflamingo just escapes while he's at it, don't think he's getting out)

Quick honorable mention to Law, since he is also a Former Shichibukai. His crew got nuked by Blackbeard but I doubt he'd join Crocodile and Mihawk for any reason, especially if he's still in the race for One Piece (assuming Cross Guild isn't) (Like Buggy is but Buggy might skedaddle for all we know)

But with the Shichibukai, this just leaves us with Hancock.

Thing is, last we saw her she was still in Paradise, wanting to reunite with Luffy. It is entirely plausible she could (or may already have) set out for the New World if she feels like she has to leave Amazon Lily to protect her home-- which she might have to, considdering without her warlord status the Government has gone after her. But indeed, if Hancock is on the run and heading to the New World, surely she'd want to find Luffy. So why would she ever join Cross Guild? She doesn't like men (aside from Luffy), so surely she wouldn't trust that disaster crew with a clown for a mascot. But again. This is where "what the fuck is Crocodile's end goal" comes in again. Because if he wants to destroy the World Government and wreck the Nobles' out of orbit... Well. I don't think convincing Hancock to go back to the place where she was kept in slavery for years would be easy. But also. Perhaps, just perhaps, she could be persuaded into committing some delicious revenge under the right circumstances (whatever that might be).

IDK man, there's potential here, things could get so interesting with Cross Guild and whatever the fuck Crocodile is planning (vs how Buggy's mutiny rolls out)

It is kind of funny though, how like the best case scenario for Cross Guild Shichibukai Reunion would be like. Kuma and his daughter. Moria, Mihawk and their collective daughter. Crocodad and his sharp boyfriend. And Luffy's wannabe fiancée. (The clown is optional)

[beepbeepdespair]

oh boy! time to go on a draft posting adventure!

[kentopedia]

౨ৎ ˖ ࣪⊹ IN ALL THE LINES I'VE READ — nanami kento

summary . . . coffee shop meet cute with literature professor nanami <3

contents . . . sfw, written w f!reader in mind, lit prof nanami tehe, fluff, grumpy nanami, reader is a barista, age gap (nanami early 30s, reader early 20s) — 1.4k

notes . . . selfship coded :,,) this is such a random idea from rylie's brain (and drafts) bc i must post something for my most beloved for valentine’s day <33 i have some other ideas for this so let me know if you like it !!!

The first time you meet Nanami Kento, it’s in a dimly lit cafe in your hometown. 

The evening is just dawning upon you, the grey of the dreary sky turning into a muted black. It’s just after 5pm; the sun already fading into the horizon, drizzly rain coating the windows like crystals. 

You’ve been busy all day — it’s always busy on rainy days, when people seem to recall that the ambience of rain pelting outside mixes well with a cup of warm coffee between your palms. The tables are all full, now that people have gotten off work, and it’s a favorite study spot of many students. 

It’s tiring work sometimes, and there are days where you get weary of the same routine. When saving up money seems like a fruitless effort, and you feel like your life should’ve begun already.

But it’s also good to be around people like this… Seeing them laugh and smile, while you only wonder what they’re talking about. The job pays less, but it’s better than being cooped up in a office all day. 

“Hey,” one of the other baristas sets a latte down, a pattern of milk sitting just on top. “Can you run this to the man over there,” she points to a blonde in the corner of the cafe. 

Wordlessly, you take the mug, wiping the drops of coffee that have spilled over the sides of it. The customer had ordered a pastry as well, one of your favorites. There is a small puff of steam wafting off of it, the bottom of the plate still hot.

The man’s back is towards you, facing the window, and he’s bent over a pile of papers. You can’t see his face — but his hair is done up nicely, and his white button-down sleeves are rolled up to his elbow. There’s a nice watch on his wrist, silver and black; one that’s probably more expensive than anything you own.

It’s a balancing act, weaving through the tables with the pastry and mug in hand, and when you get to his, there’s no room to set his order down. Papers are scattered across the table, and there is a stack of well-loved books beside him. A few are titles you recognize, ones you’ve read, ones you own but haven’t gotten to. Some you know only vaguely. 

“Here’s the latte,” you say, distracted, scanning the spines of the books. The man mutters an apology, and moves his papers so that you can set the coffee and plate down. 

He doesn’t look up at you, offering only a dismissive thank you. But the sound goes unnoticed by you; you’re too preoccupied by your excitement. So few people walk in here with with books you’re actually interested in discussing. 

“I’ve been meaning to read that one,” you say, pointing to a title that is on your long list of books to be read. 

He hums — it’s obvious he doesn’t care, and the sound is just one of acknowledgement.

Embarrassment heats your cheeks as you realize this is probably something he gets often. Upon second glance, he’s attractive… breathtakingly so. He probably fends of hoards of woman, ones who use books to gain the key to his heart, even if they’re only pretending to be interested.

“I enjoyed his other books,” you continue, highlighting the ones that you’ve read and love. At least, then, he’ll know you’re not an idiot, even if he stays silent, eyes glued to the paper. 

His pen stops scratching marks into the sheet, but only for a second. Then, he carries on, unimpressed by whatever slim knowledge you’re able to supply. 

“Are you a teacher?” The words leave your lips, once before you can stop yourself.

He doesn’t care. You aren’t sure why you’re even still bothering. 

“Nope,” he replies, finishing up his summarized commentary, scribbled in a penmanship that is something in between messy and elegant. “A professor.” 

“Oh.” You’d thought he was too young to be a professor, but when you look at home closer, there are faint lines around his eyes, ones even more obvious on his forehead. Around thirty, you’d guess. Maybe even older than that. “That’s interesting.”

You should probably leave him alone. He’s busy, and you’re supposed to be working, and he probably thinks you’re a child, the way you’re talking to him like a brick wall. Yet, there is something about him that keeps you glued to your spot, so intrigued by the stack of novels and the way his hand flexes around the pen. 

“Is it?” There is a hint of irritation in his voice when he finally glances up at you from under the round, wire-rimmed glasses, perched on the bridge of his nose. The pen drops onto the table with a soft click. “Because, I find that—”

His lips part. Whatever he was going to say next seems to die, abruptly cut off, and he blinks at you. Two dark eyes scan your face with a hint of surprise. 

You’re cheeks warm, and you suddenly feel uncomfortable. It’s not typical of you to make conversation with strangers, and you’re certain he notices how awkwardly you’re standing. 

“I’m sorry,” you say, clearing your throat, and pointedly ignoring the lump in it. His silhouette had been striking enough, but it’s nothing compared to the entirety of his face. He’s beautiful — like he’s stepped right out of the pages of a novel himself. He feels like everything you’ve ever wanted, with his stack of books and piercing irises. “I’ll let you get back to grading.” 

“No need to apologize.” The tone shifts a bit, his voice not as rough. Maybe you’re just delusional, but his eyes appear to soften. “I’m almost done, anyway.” 

You nod, and a little smile pulls onto your face. It’s not quite true; the stack of ungraded papers is twice as large as the ones he’s finished. “Well, I should … Get back to work. Enjoy the coffee.” 

He smiles, amused; your heart flips, then sinks all the way down to your stomach, pounding. “Alright. Thank you.”

“Have a good night!” you say, far too quickly, before turning on your heels. Your hands are sweating, and you hope he never comes in again, because you’re not sure that you can stand the embarrassment you feel. 

The blonde professor, name unknown, lets you go, and you slink off to hide in the kitchen, cursing yourself for acting like a fool. With hot cheeks, you down a glass of water, big gulps from your shaking hands, and glare at your co-worker when she grins to herself. 

Thirty minutes later, your shift ends, and the professor has made his way out the door, walking down the sidewalk. As you leave the cafe, your bag over your shoulder and hair undone, you notice that he left one of his novels, the one you’d pointed out to him in the beginning of your conversation. 

You rush out to stop him, carrying the book with you. “Hey,” you shout, waving it to the stranger. “You left this.” 

He glances over his shoulders, bundled up in a coat to combat the brisk air. There’s a redness on his cheeks from the cold, a hint of a smile on his lips. “I know,” he says, hands firmly tucked in his pockets. “You can keep it.” 

“But—” you start, swallowing as the pages rustle with the wind, the cover snapping open. 

“You wanted to read it, didn’t you?” he shrugs. “I’ve got lots of copies. You can give it back to me when you finish.” 

You start to question him, but he’s already turned around, heading away. 

Which means he’ll be back, won’t it? You haven’t scared him away completely. 

You shout something at him, and turns, just halfway, making a face that tells you he didn’t hear you.

“That’s my name,” you say again, repeating it, licking your lips. Your only hope is that he’ll offer his. 

But he doesn’t — he keeps walking down the sidewalk, before he answers a phone call, and crosses the street.

Unsurprising.  

You sigh, gaze dropping down to the book. The pages are filled and filled with his handwriting, notes in the margins, highlights and lines across the words. So much thought had been put into it, that you wonder how many times he’s read this book, if maybe, it’s a favorite. 

The wind flicks the cover back to the front title page, the publisher underneath. In the top right hand corner, Nanami Kento is smoothly written. As if he’d wanted you to discover it yourself, instead of hearing it from his lips.

You trace it, and smile. 

[moody-alcoholic]

The soldier next door.

I have been struck by the block, so instead of working on my main project I wrote this instead... Fuck it I'm counting it as a freaky Friday even though its 3am on a Saturday.

Masterlist

Part 2

MDNI +18 content

Summary: John Price x reader, reader is female. 3.2k words.

CW: MDNI +18 content Language, alcohol, masturbation, PIV sex, fingering. Honestly this is just blind first draft dribbles so you have been warned.

Enjoy ya filthy animals <3

It felt like it was the hottest day of the year when your fridge decided to stop working. You spent a good 10 minuets prying it out of it’s spot in the kitchen to see if the plug had somehow come loose. When you saw it was still plugged in you turned to the internet, looking up the model number trying to find the instruction manual. You looked for leaking, listened for tapping noises, tried it in a different plug, nothing.

You reluctantly looked online and called for a repair man. He said he would be at least an hour, you could work with that you would have to get new milk but that’s not the end of the world- Shit. The cake! You pulled the door open seeing the smooth cream frosting already starting to crack. No this was bad you wouldn’t have time to make a new one. You pull it out wracking your brain on what to do. Surly your neighbours could help? It was a long shot, it’s the middle of the day on a Tuesday, they’re probably all at work. You play with the idea in your head then decide to try. You need to save this cake. You walk into the hallway trying the door to your right first knocking and ringing the bell. Nothing.

You move to the opposite door doing the same. You wait for a few seconds about to give up and switch floor when the door opens. A man stands here for a second you freeze gawking at him surprised he was even in in the first place. John he had introduced himself to you when you first moved in a year ago, but he’s hardly ever around must work overseas or something. He’s here now though, and he looks way more handsome then you remember.

“Can I help you?” He says pulling you out of your head.

“My fridge, it’s stopped working. I have this cake it’s for my niece's birthday. Do you have room in your fridge to store it? An hour at least I have a repair man on the way.” You say. He pauses for a second then moves to the side.

“Sure, come in.” He says. You follow him through to his kitchen as he opens the fridge moving things around.

“Do you bake for a living?” He asks as he takes it out your hands.

“No it’s a hobby, mainly for family and friends that sort of thing.” You say watching him squeeze it in, next to the microwave meals and the beer. You try not to be nosey moving you eyes elsewhere.

“I didn’t think you would be in, I don’t see you around a lot.” You say as he stand back up closing the door. He’s well built, looks older then you suspect he actually is.

“I work abroad a lot.” He says. “What happened to your fridge anyway?”

“I don’t know it just stopped working.” You explain.

“Have you checked the fuse?” He asks. You look up at him confused shaking your head.

“Mind if I come take a look?” he asks.

“Yeah sure.” You say. He tells you he’ll be back in a second and you wait sheepishly looking round his flat. The place is bigger then yours but it looks like it’s hardly been lived in, guess if you work abroad a lot then you don’t really live in it much. There are a few pictures though, you want to move closer to look but you hear a door close, he walks towards you with a tool box and you head over to your place. He crouches down by the fridge plug and opens the box you stand behind him looking over his shoulder.

“What kind of work is it, like offshore mining?” You ask as he unscrews the plug. He chuckles.

“I’m military.” He says, he looks a bit old to be military, you think. It would be rude to ask his age, now you’re getting a better look at him he doesn't look that old, he could even be late 30’s especially with how fit he is.

“See,” he says taking something out the plug and turning to show you, you take it in your hand you’re not quite sure what it’s supposed to look like but it clearly looks burnt.

“Just a blown fuse, I’ll replace it.” He says his hand going back into the took kit.

“Thank you,” You say putting the thing on the side and picking up your phone. You felt embarrassed, you’d gone to all the fuss of calling a repair man only for your neighbour to fix the problem in less then a minute. You make the awkward call to cancel the repair man, when you come back in the kitchen he’s moving the fridge back in place, his arms stretched out pushing it like it’s nothing. You try not to stare as he turns back to look at you.

“Thank you really, what can I do to make it up to you?” You ask. He smiles going down to pick up his tool box.

“Don’t worry about it it’s just a fuse.” He says.

“Please let me make it up to you.” You say feeling silly about the whole thing, you should have thought about the fuse, you should have checked that first. He sighs walking to the door.

“Okay, I have a work event coming up make me a cake and we’re even.” He says.

“Yes I can do that no problem.” You nod enthusiastically. He smiles as he leaves your flat.

“Okay, it’s next Wednesday, is that enough time?” He asks.

“Yeah plenty of time.” You smile back at him.

“Great I’ll come pick it up Wednesday afternoon.” He nods, looking at you like he is waiting for something as you stand in the doorway.

“Yeah, the cake sorry.” You say suddenly remembering the reason for all this in the first place. You try to hide your blushing as go back in his flat to pick it up.

——————————

When Wednesday comes around you’re a bundle of nerves. John didn’t tell you anything about what kind of cake he wanted, and you had been too nervous to ask. So you deiced to bake a classic Victoria sponge with some homemade raspberry jam your mother had given you. You can’t go wrong with that it’s a classic! You think to yourself. What if he thinks it’s too basic? Maybe you should have done a chocolate cake or something, red velvet always impresses people. You try not to work yourself up about it as you sprinkle powdered sugar on the top, leaving it to cool on the side. Fifteen minutes later there is a knock at the door. You go to open it. John is dressed up in military formals, you’ve only ever seen people dressed up like him on TV for royal events or the remembrance parades. He looks amazing, there’s a buzz running through your body as you step aside to let him in.

“You look good.” You say walking to the kitchen and looking through the cupboard for your cake tin.

“Thank you,” he says moving over to look at the cake.

“It looks delicious,” he says.

“You don’t think it’s too boring? You’re dressed up so fancy.” You say as you gently put the cake in the tin.

“Victoria sponge is a classic everyone will love it.” He says as you turn to hand him the tin.

“Bring the tin back whenever.” You say as he heads for the door.

“I will.”

“Have fun at your event.” You say as he steps into the lift, he nods smiling at you.

You’re out on the balcony sipping a glass of wine when you hear the door to the next apartment opening. You look over pulling your eyes away from the social media binge you had been on. It’s John, you feel nerves come back, you look away trying to ignore him feeling like you’re invading his privacy. The sound of a lighter has you spinning your head back to see, he’s smoking a cigar. So that’s where that smell comes from, you thought it was the neighbours above you. He turns his head and spots you looking you quickly turn away looking back at your phone.

“Hey,” he calls.

“Hey,” you reply looking back at him. He’s being lit up from the light from inside his flat. His features look so defined, his arm muscles look bigger, his freshly groomed beard casts a shadow across his face making him look older. When he puffs on his cigar it lights up his face and his eyes feel like they’re burning into you. It awakens a feeling in you, a feeling you haven’t felt in a while, maybe it’s the wine, maybe it’s the yearning for human contact but right now you want to fuck your neighbour.

“They loved the cake by the way.” He says.

“Good, what did you think?” You ask.

“Lovely, I can bring the tin over if you want?” He says. Yes please bring the tin over and fuck me.

“It’s okay, bring it back whenever.” You reply. He nods.

“How was the event?” You ask.

“Boring, they always are.” You watch as he takes another puff of the cigar taping the ash on the floor.

“You’re up late.” He says.

“It’s not that late.” You say looking down at your phone. Shit. It was almost midnight, guess the social media rabbit hole had gone on for longer then then you thought.

“I guess I lost track of time.” You reply. You watch as he extinguishes the butt of the cigar on the wall.

“Don’t stay out too long it’s going to rain soon.” He says opening the door to head back in.

“Yeah I won’t.” You reply. He smiles looking back at you one last time then heads inside. You pick your phone back up not even paying attention to what you were looking at. You finish your wine too flustered to focus on anything and head inside. You take a long hot shower trying to wash away the thoughts coming into your mind, the thoughts of John, of riding him till he fills you up, his face between your legs as you cum on his mouth. It doesn’t work, if anything it’s made you more desperate. You dig through your drawers for your barely used pink vibrator eagerly jumping into bed. That night you fuck yourself, coming over and over until your fingers cramp, each time moaning his name. You were well and truly screwed.

——————————

The next day early afternoon there was a knock at the door. You were in a world of your own replying to some work e-mails. You get up to answer it and it’s John with the cake tin. You blush almost imminently thinking back to last night, his name leaving your mouth as you came on your fingers.

“I washed it for you I didn’t know if I should or not.” He says, you take it out his hands.

“You didn’t have to do that.” You reply your mouth suddenly dry.

“You okay?” He asks. No.

“Yeah, it’s hot.” You say. He smiles, that tingle comes back between your legs.

“Yeah the weather is nice for once.” He says.

“If you need another cake, let me know, or I can do cupcakes too.” You say.

“I’ll keep that in mind.” He chuckles.

“Tea?” You ask, the tingle being replaced with nerves, he looks down at his watch.

“Yeah, sure thank you.” He says you move aside to let him in and he makes his way over to the kitchen. You pass him checking the kettle and filling it up.

“How do you take it?” You ask.

“Milk and a little sugar.” He replies, you can feel his eyes on you as he stands behind you, the hairs sticking up on the back of your neck. You put the teabags in the cup as you hear him take another step towards you, he’s stood next to you his hand finds the small of your back.

“Need a hand?” he asks, his voice sounds lower all of a sudden deeper.

“I think I got it.” You say looking up at him his face centimetres away from yours. You look into his eyes, he has nice eyes, blue they look almost translucent in the light. His hand pulls you closer to him your body turning towards him.

“Every time I come home I get reminded how beautiful you are.” He says. For a second you think you’re imaging it, maybe you’re dreaming, did you hit your head this morning? You’re stood just looking at him your mouth hanging open as you stare up at him. He kisses you his tongue working it’s way into your mouth stroking yours. You press your face into him as his hands grip your waist. His beard is tickling your face but you don’t care, he’s gentle not what you were expecting, although you didn’t know what you were expecting.

You hear the kettle click and you’re about to break from the kiss but his hands slip under your armpits and he pulls you up to sit on the counter. You gasp as your lips leave his. You lean back your head hitting the cupboards as he pushes his hands up your top. You raise your arms and pull it over your head as his lips kiss your stomach. You reach back un-cliping your bra throwing it in the sink. He stops kissing your stomach his hands working their way up to your breasts. He cups them one in each hand giving them a squeeze.

“Perfect, everything about you is so bloody perfect.” He says before locking his lips round one of your nipples. You moan your hand gripping his hair as his tongue flicks your nipple. Your other hand moving to your free breast massaging it. John looks up at you his eyes glistening as he kisses you again.

“Want to move to the bedroom?” You ask him between breaths. He nods, you’re about to move your body to jump off the counter but he scoops his arms round your back pulling you onto him. You lock your legs round his waist, and your arms round his neck so you don’t fall and lead him to the bedroom. He puts you down on the bed taking his shirt off before laying next to you, he’s hairy, of course he is, well built too, defined muscles, you’re looking at him up and down your eyes moving back to his face. His hand traces your breasts down your stomach your waistband, he’s almost too gentle, his touch making you crave his hands all over you at once.

“You have no idea how long I’ve been thinking about this.” He says going back to kiss you before you can reply. It’s a deep kiss, a needy kiss, sloppy and hot your tongues in each others mouths. He breaks away first looking down your body. You grab the waist of your shorts and underwear pulling them down, now you’re being needy, desperate for his touch. He smiles moving to help you pull them off and throw them on the floor. He stands up at the foot of your bed undoing his belt, you can tell by the bulge in his pants he’s already hard, you’re almost licking your lips in anticipation as he pulls them down standing back up and throwing them to the side. Christ he’s big, you try not to stare which only makes him chuckle and heat rushes to your cheeks. He bends down picking his jeans back up pulling a condom out the back pocket.

“You always walk about with a condom on you?” You ask.

“Only when you’re around.” He winks, you blush again smiling, you can’t tell if he’s being serious or not. You spread your legs as he rolls the condom down his uncut length, you try to keep your mouth closed as he steps towards you. He bends over you his dogtags hit your chest, as he kisses you again your hand wraps round the back of his neck and you run your fingers up his hair. His free hand makes it’s way up your thigh till it reaches your cunt. His fingers part your folds, he’s gentle making sure to touch everything, explore each part of you feeling your reaction. When his fingers push into you, you break away from the kiss gasping. He chuckles his mouth moving to kiss your neck as he thrusts his fingers in and out. You’re so wet, feeling your self dripping all the way down to your ass. When he starts hitting your g-spot you moan, his mouth leaving your neck to watch you squirm.

He pulls his fingers out rubbing the juices round your swollen clit making you twitch. He hums and you look up at him smiling. He pulls you down the bed a bit lining himself up with your entrance. You feel him push inside you and you moan with him, he’s big, stretching you out, you let out a breath as you take him all the way. You prop yourself up on your elbows looking up at him as he slowly thrusts in and out of you like he’s trying to test your limit. His free hand makes it’s way to your stomach pressing you down as you arch your back, you fall back on the bed as his thumb starts rubbing your clit. The new sensation makes your breath catch in your throat.

“Holy shit,” you breathe as he speeds up his rubbing matching his thrusts. You want to move your hands to your breasts but you feel too good just lying there and taking it, moaning his name telling him how good he feels, he replies with a chuckle increasing the pressure on your clit making your body squirm.

“Like that huh?” He says in a low commanding voice.

“Yes- please don’t stop.” You pant as you get closer to the edge. Your legs start shaking as his free hand grips your waist, almost pulling you down on him harder.

“John-” his name leaves your lips as you clench round him.

“Yeah, come for me baby.” His words are like music to your ears you’re not really even paying attention just hearing him grunt and moan as he presses inside you, telling you how good you’re taking him, you cum arching your back, calling his name. He cums too you can feel each pulse of his cock burred deep inside you as he slows down bending over you his dogtags falling back on your chest as he pants his hands gripping the bedding.

You look up at him his eyes closed mouth open, after a second he opens his eyes looking at you. You smile at him and he leans down kissing you, a long deep kiss with his gentle tongue. When he pulls away he stands up brushing his hand over your clit making you shudder. You feel a sudden emptiness in you belly as he flops onto the bed next to you. You reach over laying up against him your arm spread over his chest.

“Your cake was really amazing.” He says turning his head to meet your eyes. You nod.

“Better then sex?” You ask a cheeky smile on your face. He chuckles kissing your nose.

“No, not better then sex, but pretty bloody close.” You smile reaching over kissing him.

[animeaandp]

[Emptying drafts-87 left]

(Lost the direction I wanted to go in with this)

MHA Prompt

Warning: smut, swearing, violence, angst

Dabi x pregnant civilian reader

You're Dabi’s neighbor in the crap-box apartments he lived in before joining the league. You were homeless for a while before landing a job selling your quirk's essence. It's hard to produce and sell on your own at first, but big surprise that the criminal world was happy to help. So you became a milking cow metaphorically and sort of literally; you created a product for others to sell and in return you get some of the profit. It’s just enough to get by but without any other prospects or desires that’s fine with you. Nothing wrong with a simple life.

Whenever you’d cook too much food you offered it to Dabi, or on occasion asked if he wanted to join for a movie night; just trying to make friends with your neighbor. He usually brushed you off and if he wasn’t interested then that’s okay. You stopped knocking on his door so much.

The walls are paper thin though so he knew plenty about you without having a single proper conversation. He knows you grew up in an orphanage before aging out with no one and nowhere to go. Dabi learned your favorite movies and shows, that you were actually a really good cook who learned most of it from the cooking channel, your favorite color was green and apparently everything in your apartment was some shade of the color. You loved snakes and were allergic to strawberries. Your best friend was someone named Maddie and you always spoke too damn loud on the phone with her. Telling you to shut the hell up was one of the only reasons Dabi ever spoke to you.

One day you’re confused to see him standing at your door bc you weren’t on the phone or being loud in any way. He wasn’t here for that; it was his first time realizing what you did for work and wanted what you sold. Zero intention of paying for it of course, but before he can threaten you you’re shoving a bottle into his chest and telling him it’s on the house.! It just made you so happy he finally talked to you. Dabi manages a “thanks” then goes back to his apartment.

The stuff worked like a charm and became the source of your interactions with Dabi from then on. Usually you just gave him a new bottle but on occasion he’d throw some money at you before leaving. It was his way of ‘treating you well’ and making sure to never owe you shit.

One day there’s no answer, even though he knows you’re inside; he heard the door slam shut earlier. He pounds on the door shouting at you to open up but no response. The only reasonable option is to kick down your door and interrogate you as to why you’d ever ignore him. But he walks into a mess and blood. Dabi listens but can’t hear anything, and again there’s no response when he calls your name. Flames tickle his fingers just in case as he continues further into the space. The door ahead has a huge blood splatter on it and already cracked open. Dabi pushes through, it’s a bedroom, but still doesn’t see anything, “y/n…i know you’re in here….come on don’t make me start a fire to sniff you out.” The trail continued to the bathroom, and it had to be where you were. Closed but not locked, Dabi opens it and doesn’t understand what he’s looking at. ‘Is she dead.? Was she murdered??’ You’re slumped against the side of the tub, stripped naked, covered in blood and bruises. You’re not moving. Dabi’s not sure if he can see you breathing either, what’s in front of him is such a mess.

Should…

...should he leave you?

Or hide your body? If the police found out everyone would think he did it. There were enough bottles in the corner of your bedroom to last him forever as well. He could just close the door, loot your stuff, and get back to his own life.

He could leave

He could walk away right now

Close the door and never look back

‘Just leave’

“…This bitch is gonna owe me big time.”

.

.

You wake up the next morning tucked into bed with your injuries tended to and bandaged. The television is on and an overwhelming scent of bleach makes you want to hurl. You sit up coughing and cry in pain immediately. “Lay down idiot before your stitches-WHOA! TF!? HAVE YOU LOST YOUR MIND?!!”

“!?!?….D-Dabi-??”

“Drop the fucking knife-you’re enough of a pain in the ass as is.!”

“Wha-AH!!?” You collapse to the floor gripping your stomach now that the adrenaline of the moment has subsided. Davi kicks the knife across the room and stands over you, “Looks like you’re back to being a helpless damsel in distress. Good. You’re a real bitch when you’re injured.” He tried to pick you up but you slap his hands away with whatever strength you have left. He snarls at you, "now what.?? What are you crying about?”

“Don’t touch me again…please.”

"??"

"..."

"…Ah, I get it…a boyfriend? Or some stray who couldn’t keep it in his pants.?” You clawed your way back towards your bed, trying not to cry anymore, “Please don’t make fun of me. Not right now.” He rolls his eyes walking towards you “You sure you don’t want help.? You look pathetic.” You ignore Dabi’s jabs while trying to pull yourself back into bed. Laying there you didn’t look much better; like a dying fish gasping for water on the sidewalk. Dabi crouches down beside you. “Feeling better puppy??” Usually you found his snarky comments funny enough to at least smile, but your eyes look right through him. “What happened; when did you find me? How? What did you do-?” “My my y/n, you’re awfully chatty when you're about to die. Maybe I shouldn’t have helped you.”

“Why then.?”

“…..I need your shit.”

“……ha, haha…”

“whatever. Don’t get up again, my sutures aren’t very professional but you should live. You might look like me, but…..that’s the part where you flatter me.”

“I’d rather bleed out.”

“Yeah, keep it up with that smart mouth then.”

Dabi opens a window to air out the bleach he used to clean up most of the blood. He’d found your medicine cabinet and gives you a handful of pills before going to lounge on your couch and watch tv.

A few hours later and Dabi’s freely going through all of your things again, taking advantage of your lack of mobility. “Remind me; why’d you try and slit my throat earlier.?.” You laid in bed staring up at the ceiling as Dabi ransacked your place there was nothing interesting to find anyways. “I thought you were him.” “The guy who did this?” “Mhm. It was just a reflex; sorry.” Dabi gives up his explorations to lay beside you You were right there wasn’t any good shit in your apartment. “Save it. I doubt it’ll be the last time. I’m still waiting for your answer; who was it?….no, no no puppy don’t start that sniveling crap again. Forget about it then. Just stop crying.” "O-Okay…"

.

.

Over the next couple of weeks, at least once a day, Dabi invited himself into your apartment to check on you. He always helped himself to whatever suited as ‘payment’ for his aid and you never bat an eye. But it’s been a month now and you weren’t feeling any better. Your body had healed well but you still felt like you’ve been hit by a truck every day. Dabi didn’t remember you being so crabby before your incident or remotely so emotional.

You were becoming a real pain in the ass but it's hard to take his insults to heart when his cheeks are stuffed with a third serving of the dinner you made him. You reassure him though, “I'll find a doctor to go see soon. Promise."

"Good."

Bad. Veryyy bad. The worst bad-nothing could be worse-the very worst very bad thing was happening and it was bad bad bad.

"You need to move. Now."

"Wha-No fucking way, I was here first; you move jackass!?"

"First you inconvenience me by getting knocked up and now you want to make me move??"

"No but just get over it!"

"I'm not listening to you and your bastard baby cry every day y/n!! MOVE.NOW.!"

"...."

"....I.."

.

.

You don't move but you don't see or speak to Dabi after that day. You barely let him hear you make a sound to prove that you were even alive. Dabi had the peace and quiet he demanded but it' too boring now. And he's hungry.

Eventually he bangs on your door and shoves a raggedy teddy bear into your chest, swearing that he wasn’t changing a damn diaper. You fiddle with the toy, still finding it perfect as is despite the damage. “I’ll call you Dabi.” Dabi growls at your little jest and pushes his way into your apartment, “just make us some dinner already I’m fucking starved.” “Of course” you steal a quick hug from him as he passed “I’ve missed you too” and he’s disgusted that he allowed such things from you.

His disgust grows as he finds himself walking with you to run errands, building furniture, and even reading a damn book on how to parent for dummies. “This is such bullshit, why do I have to read this crap to you” he tosses the book and rolls over to hug your pillow, too tired to keep looking at that boring book. You find it so cute how grumpy he gets when he’s tired. “Go home then. Get some sleep, you’ve been up with me all day.” He grumbles his usual swears at you while digging himself further into your bed, “I’m sleeping here. Deal with it.” “…happy to.”

A couple months pass by and Dabi is so full of it. You listen to him gripe on and on about how much pregnancy is ruining your body and what an ugly whale you were now, yet he can never keep his hands off your belly for more than a moment. He’s entirely fascinated by it all but every time you tease him he says something rude and snarky about what an eye sore you were. “These aren’t so bad though” “!?DABI..!!?” You flick his forehead but can’t stop giggling as he rubs his face in your cleavage. You didn’t mind it or anything about your life right now. Taking care of this freeloader made you the happiest you’d ever been.

.

.

People like you didn’t get to stay happy though. What a fool you were to forget that. You and Dabi.

.

.

Dabi woke up one morning to find a note saying you ran to the store and would be back soon. He looks out the window to see it’s raining before crumbling the note and setting it on fire with a sigh. He really hated how much of a not-completely-horrible-person you were turning him into. Sick. He snatches your umbrella and heads out to find you. “I swear if that whale catches a cold…”

His footsteps come to an abrupt stop. That last splash under his shoes wasn’t water. It was something thicker and red flowing out of the alleyway. Dabi follows the trail “son of a-“ and rushes to check for a pulse. It’s faint but just enough that you might live if he hurries.

Dabi wouldn’t be there when you woke up in the hospital but he was waiting once you got back home. He already knew what the doctors were going to tell you, that you’d be going home alone. A week later you trudge through the door but Dabi thinks he might be seeing things. Like a ghost you don’t make a sound, or blink. You don’t react to Dabi’s presence at all until he knocks your purse out of your hand and yanks you in by your neck. “Answer me when I’m talking to you brat. Tell me what you need already.” But your eyes don’t sparkle or look mischievous looking back at Dabi. You’d gone numb. So Dabi silently took care of you (to the best of his abilities) until you go from numb to grief stricken.

It was such a headache. The tears, crying and wailing over a half folded pile of baby clothes, or into Dabi’s shoulder once your crying woke him up and he needed you to settle down. He’d drag you into his arms, ignoring your shouting to piss off, and force you back into bed. Then keep you trapped in his full embrace until you exhausted yourself and passed out. Dabi complained constantly but regardless he was there with you.

Finally, Dabi walks in one day to see you packing up the last of the baby junk. He squats down beside you to start throwing in the last of it into the box. You no longer got sad or angry at him for doing such things, you knew it was his way of trying to help you move on. “It’s just…I found something that made me look forward to living…” Dabi rolls his eyes, “pleaseeee no more waterworks I JUST got here.” You chuckle and punch him in the shoulder, “You’re such a heartless asshole.” “and the only reason you’re alive.” He pushes you back and goes to place the box in storage as you plopped down on the couch. You recline comfortable and welcome Dabi slithering over on top of you. “Besides, at least now you’re not a whale anymore and, thanks to whatever fucked up god is out there, these two are still here.” You laugh tugging on his hair trying to pull his face out of your chest. “You’re too old to be acting like this!!” “Shut up and respect your elders you little rat.” He slaps your hand away but eases up; resting his head on your cleavage as his arms coiled around you. “You’re young. You have plenty of time to crap out another baby, assuming you can stay out of trouble long enough to.” You tickle his back with a fond smile, “If only I could.”

“…”

“…”

“…”

“…???….what are you doing??” “Smelling you.” “Uh huh, yeah I got that. Wanna tell me why though??” Dabi drags his face over your chest and up your neck, taking deep breathes all the way to your ear and into your hair. “I’m committing you to memory.” You grip onto his shoulders when he suddenly pushes up and his knees force yours to spread under him. “W-Why???” He scoffs in your ear and whispers “you don’t really expect me to stick around to help raise my own child do you?” “What are…nghh…Dabi wait…” He continues nibbling your ear though as his hands roam to places they haven’t been before. “Wait for what. You want a baby so I’m gonna give you one” “Wh-“ “Maybe two.” ‘Two’?!!” “Mhm. Depending on how good this is.” You feel a growing heat that you weren’t afraid of being consumed by. “This is a horrible idea” you whisper lifting your hips for him “what if I do expect you to stick around?” “Why would you expect that?” “I don’t expect anything from a person like you” you hike your leg up and shiver feeling his lips drag down it “but I’d want you to.” He furrows his brows trying to control himself but this is already more patience than he’d typically exercise. “I don’t want that.” “Do it anyways.” “I don’t wanna.” “Fine. Good luck finding someone else to put up with you, or feed you.” “Hmmm, good point” Dabi’s mouth moved hungrily down your thighs, digging his fingers into both as he went, “a few more and maybe I’ll stick around til their first birthday.” “T-There’s a Christmas turkey in it for you if you stick around for their second.!” “Where’s a rat like you finding something like that” he mumbles between licks before you tense up “From wherever a villainous lowlife like you can steal one from!.Fuck…” “ha ha that’s my girl.”

All your free time is spent rolling around with Dabi, listening to him growling and grunting in your ear, reminding you how he swears to never change a single diaper or be forced to do anything. You try asking him why he’s doing this then and finally he says “You wouldn’t stop crying about wanting a damn baby so I’m giving your needy little cunt one. That’s it.! Just feeding your greedy greedy body what it wants..” and he fucked you with that need. His hands and mouth are never not on you and it’s unsurprising how his lack of shame extended into the bedroom. You think once the pregnancy test says positive it’d all stop but “no way I’m passing this up.” You’re confused and trying to slow him down as he throws you on your bed. “Pass what up? I thought you’d never touch me again now that I got what I wanted?” “No. Because now it’s my turn to get what I want.” He pushes your body into the position he likes and wastes no time. “Nine months without having to waste my time and money on condoms? Absofuckinglutely.” “Wait that’s not entirely true and you never paid for-!?“ “oh shut up, I’m breaking in my new toy.”

True to his word you’re run ragged by his infinite libido. Even after he joins some villain group he comes running to get between your thighs every chance he gets, including when he shouldn’t. One day there’s some loud banging on his door and he slaps his hand over your mouth, refusing to pause his ascent. Then the banging is on your door and you panic hearing shouting for Dabi to open up. “Not a fucking sound” he barks down at you before picking up his pace, ignoring the person’s demands that he not be late to another meeting. You do as you’re told and bare his forceful climax by biting your pillow. Your voice shakes as you try to find it “I…I’m in no condition to be handled like that..” “You’ll take whatever the fuck I give you.” He pulls the sheets over you and dips his head to kiss your cheek goodbye before getting up. You’re too exhausted to care about the arguing and shouting when he finally opens the door to let in whoever it was. You close your tired eyes and just hope Dabi finds all his clothes quickly so they all leave. Then you get a well deserved break while Dabi ran off with his buddies to go do bad guy shit. “*sigh* not a bad life for us at all..”

[butterflybuckethat]

Crybaby

Hello! Found this sitting in my drafts so I thought I’d post it. I’m trying to return so please be patient with me and I appreciate all of your kind words 💕 My plan is to start fresh and expand from Bridgerton (currently in a bit of a Carmen Berzatto shaped hole — stay tuned!)

Notes: Prince Friedrich x Bridgerton!Reader 

Request: I would like to request prince friederich x Bridgerton reader, cause I love him so much. Preferably something really cute and fluffy or he finds reader crying and comforts her either way I’ll be happy thank you

🦋 Masterlist 🦋

You were being ridiculous, you knew you were and yet you couldn’t keep the tears from flowing. You cried often, over a wide range of somethings--anywhere from a spilt milk to death. Your siblings teased you often, mostly after you were finished weeping. Mostly. 

It was Daphne’s birthday, and you being the sibling closest to her--in age and affection--decided that you would plan her an extravagant birthday party; a surprise extravagant birthday party. 

It had taken you an entire month to bring it all together and, as far as you could tell, Daphne suspected nothing. You had it all set up with crystal butterflies and floral accents and lemonade infused with exotic fruits. It was shaping up to be an absolute crush with the entirety of ton buzzing in anticipation of the birthday girl’s arrival. You even managed the attendance of Prince Friedrich of Prussia.  

“Where is Daph?” Colin sidled up to you, an eclair already stuffed in his mouth. 

“You mean she’s not in the carriage?”

“How am I do know if she’s in the carriage or not?” 

“Colin,” you huffed, “you were to ensure that she got into the carriage we scheduled for her.”

“Oh.” 

Your vision went blurry as tears began to well, “Colin, how could you?” Despite the frequency, you were still embarrassed by the rasp of your voice. Colin apologized profusely, doing everything but getting on his knees. He could never handle your tears, none of your brothers could; only Benedict, whose response was a roll of his eyes and a half-hearted hug. 

“I will find her, Y/N. I’m sure she is on her way.” People were staring now and you were praying no one could see your tears. You brought your hands to your cheeks, feigning checking your rouge but really soaking the tears in your gloves. “I will fix this,” Colin said, placing his hands on your shoulders. 

You felt the tears welling up again as you watched Colin make a beeline to the butler and could feel Cressida Cowper’s judgmental eyes narrowing on you. You swiped a glass of lemonade off the table and moved into the smaller of the two drawing rooms. It was closed off to the public allowing you to plop down on the divan, take some deep breaths, and press the cool glass to your swollen eyes. 

“Lady Bridgerton?” The room was dark but you couldn’t mistake the accent, it was Prince Friedrich.

“Your highness!” you stood so fast some lemonade spilled onto the carpet. 

“Please,” he gestured for you to sit but remained mostly in the doorway with the door wide open, for propriety’s sake. “I only wanted to check if you were alright.”

“I did not mean to take you from the party,” you demurred. He dismissed that thought with nothing more than a gesture. “I’m certain Daphne will arrive shortly.” 

“I’m more concerned about you.” He stepped into the room, close to the arm of the sofa. You breath caught in your throat. This...was strange. 

You had spoken to the Prince before, of course. Nothing serious but he had his sights on Daphne and, subsequently, you were frequently in close proximity. “I did not mean to cause a scene,” you were a little flustered at this point and were just searching for words to fill the space.

“I don’t think any of the guests noticed...” 

“My tears?”

“Your tears,” he nodded. Prince Friedrich had not moved but you could have sworn he got closer. “I believe this is the third time I have seen them.” 

You started to groan before you forced it to die on your tongue--it was terribly unladylike, especially in front of a prince. “I’m embarrassed.”

“Please, don’t be.” His hand ghosted over your wrist and your blood rushed. 

“I can’t help it. I cry so often my mother used to call me Blue.” You pressed the glass back against your face in an attempt to quell your blush, but Friedrich laughed. It was kind of a deep chuckle; not much but it made you smile. 

“I rather like that, Blue,” he mused. 

“Daphne is here!” someone cried from the ballroom and you rushed over, helping people hide behind tables and walls before hiding yourself. Most of the candles were blown out, dimming the room completely. You, yourself, hid behind a large centerpiece with Friedrich beside you. You were much too enthralled with all your planning coming to fruition to appropriately react to the Prince of Prussia being mere inches from you. 

“We aren’t supposed to enter the ballroom, Colin!” Daphne chastised, “it’s being painted!” You smiled a little at her belief in your ruse. You could feel Friedrich’s eyes on you, just a glance, but all your hair stood on end.

“You’re scared of paint, Daphne?” Colin teased. She would be mortified when she found out he said this in front of so many people. 

“Of course not. Don’t be ridiculous-”

“Surprise!” you jumped out, along with the rest of the guests, as the servants lit the rest of the candles. 

“Well done,” the prince whispered, lips grazing the shell of your ear. “Now go accept your praise. No more tears tonight.”

[4acoffee]

How the Mighty Fall

masterlist

synopsis. After a late night text ruins your chances of sleeping peacefully, you and your explosive classmate end up keeping each other company during a restless night.

pairing. bakugou x reader

word count. 1.3k words 

genres & warnings. fluff, swearing, aged-up slightly, sharing a bed, angst if you wear glasses

notes. I'm a liar, I'm a filthy fuckin liar I KNOWWW. We're not gonna talk abt how it's been months since my last fic😇 BUT!!! It's summer break!!! I have more time on my hands!!! We'll see!!! Glad I finally got this out out, it was sitting in my drafts for so long I was considering not posting it 🤫

Lord Mouldy Bread Dynosaur💥🍞🦖: I can't fucking sleep.

A couple days into your mission, Bakugou texts you in the middle of the night, just as you're body was getting ready to succumb to the sweet release of sleep after a long day. With a groan you promptly ignore it, tossing your phone to the side of the bed and choosing to snuggle further into the sheets and tucking the blanket tighter around you.

Bakugou is a big boy and you had a long day, he could handle one restless night.

Which is why it struck you as odd that he had chosen to text you. Between his absurdly meticulous schedule, adamantly self-reliant nature, and your tentative friendship, you couldn't wrap your head around what could be so serious about his lack of sleep that he would reach out to you.

The two of you were currently stuck on a scouting mission together, playing the part of roommates while spying on a nearby group who were suspected to be part of a underground organization of villains.

And let it be said that scouting missions were not the explosive hero's cup of tea. Days when you have to bide time at home include you lounging on the couch, watching every show you possibly could on Netflix, and Bakugou pacing around the house, cleaning like his life depended on it. Watching him turn the house spotless made you fidgety, and oftentimes you got dragged into helping him with a few chiding words and grumbles.

You figured the lack of work must be making him ill at ease, causing his inability to sleep, so with one last sigh, you dragged yourself out of bed and into the dark hallway way where you trudged to the kitchen. It was for the best that you at least put an effort into helping him get some rest, a pissy Bakugou would not be good for your nerves in the morning either.

Flicking one of the dim lights on, you make quick work of grabbing a couple snacks. Heating up a bowl of spicy instant ramen, pouring a glass of milk and tucking a box of sugar cookies for yourself under your arm.

Slowly, you make your way to Bakugou's room and knock a few times, stifling a yawn as you hear shuffling on the other side and waited for him to open the door.

The door cracks open enough for him to look down at you and narrow his eyes and the various snacks in your arms.

"The fuck do you w— Hey!"

You push past him to set your stuff down on the nightstand beside his bed and you plop yourself on his sheets, gesturing for him to do the same.

He follows you begrudgingly, eyeing you the whole time, and sits himself next you.

Wordlessly, you hand him the bowl of steaming ramen, which he accepts with another unnecessarily mean look at you, and you proceed to devour the sugar cookies you brought for yourself.

He grumbles about you spilling crumbs on his bed and you roll your eyes, making a point to brush the little crumbs on your lap onto the floor instead.

He pressed his lips together and shot you a glare in displeasure, but stayed silent nonetheless.

Which came as a surprise to you, because usually, at this point he would have been ready to hurl your untidy ass into outer space for making a mess in his room.

A closer look at him reveals the tired set of his brow and the frown etched on his face. Not an uncommon sight altogether, but still more apparent than usual. His hair is all tousled from the rolling he must of done in an effort to get any sleep and you you could see the beginnings of dark circles beginning to set under his eyes.

Curiosity and guilt begin to seep into your chest, wondering if it was really bad enough for his old man sleep schedule to fall apart, and how you didn't notice until now.

You figured he would tell you eventually if he wanted to, if he was comfortable enough to text you at this ungodly time in the night, it must mean that he feels your presence to be agreeable enough to share his thought with you.

Or, because your the only other person in the house.

Either way, for now your content with sitting in silence and waiting for Bakugou to reveal to you what's bothering him, or kick you out if said thing bothering him becomes you.

Still, the silence didn't last very long.

"Well, — aren't you gonna ask me?" Bakugou started in-between slurps of his noodles.

You paused halfway through your cookie to look at him, "Ask you what?"

He glared at you from under his upsettingly gorgeous and long lashes, " 'bout why I ain't sleeping. Aren't you gonna ask, dumbass?"

You blinked at him and shrugged, turning your attention back to your cookie, "I was just gonna let you tell me if you wanted to. I'm not getting told off for getting into your business if you don't want me to."

He doesn't really answer, but looks at you strangely and sets his half finished ramen in his lap. Bakugou stares down at the spicy noodles like the hold the answers to all his problems before he starts talking quietly, quickly, — like he was more talking to himself than you.

"Yunno why I work my ass off everyday? Because when I don't, I end up, — lost in my fuckin' head. Every time, I sleep —"

He runs a hand agitatedly through his already unkept hair, and you watch carefully at his increasingly anxious expression.

"It's always about the same shit, the villain attacks, the war, always cuz' of me."

His voice drops and you lean closer, "sometimes it's me, sometimes it's the people I know, but someone always ends up, fuckin, getting hurt, not makin' it."

He scoffs and shoots you a quick glance, "Know it's fuckin' stupid, I know it's not real but I hate that it could have been, — that it still could be."

He visibly deflates, "I don't fucking know".

You breathe sharply, that's already much more that you expected to hear from him.

You feel oddly proud that he seems to think he can trust you with his feeling, and you make a silent promise to not let that trust go to waste.

Setting your half finished cookie down back into it's box, you set it aside and turn to face Bakugou on the bad.

You're not sure exactly what he needs at the moment, but you figure that even the strongest, most amazing people in the world need the reassurance that everything will be ok. That they are doing their best. That they have the support of the people around them.

Which is what you tell him, in hushed whispers, a little awkwardly with the praise but you mean every word and you need him to understand that as well.

He listens to everything you say, gaze not faltering a moment, doesn't even interrupt him when you tell him he doesn't need to be so stubborn and hard-headed.

Eventually, as your sleep dazed consolation rant comes to a standstill, you think your attempt at reassurance was enough to almost lull him to sleep, or you at least bore him to death, because you notice the way his eyes start to droop and his body begins to slump towards the bed.

Just as the now, room-temperature bowl of ramen was threatening to slip from his fingers, you gently pry it from his grasp and place it out of the way on his nightstand.

He becomes a little more alert and makes a sleepy little sound at you that has you biting your lip to hold back a smile.

You clear your throat, "Ok Dynamight, I think it's time for you to get some sleep."

You pat him on the leg and move to get up from the bed, — only to be stopped by an arm reaching up to grasp yours.

"Where the hell are ya going." Bakugou says to you in a sleepy slur.

You purse your lips in surprise, "Um, back to bed, so you can get some rest, you look really tired now—."

"No". He interrupts.

You splutter as he gives your arm a small tug that has you falling into the bed again.

He doesn't meet your eyes but doesn't let go of your arm either when you look at him questioningly, "Jus', stay here tonight, — it's late".

An obvious excuse, your bedroom is just on the other side of the hallway, — but you know better than to argue with him, not to mention the promise of comfortable sleep seemed far too good to pass up.

So gently, without saying a word, you shuffle over to one side of his bed and snuggle into the mattress, pulling the covers over your body.

You watch as he does the same, brushing some spare crumbs of the sheets and rolling onto his side under your shared covers.

Bakugou doesn't tell you how much it matters to him that you were willing to let him take his time to tell you how he feels, he won't tell you that he is endlessly grateful you took the time out of your night to come check on him, to fill his head with words of reassurance instead of the brutal thoughts that usually haunt him, — but he does pull you closer to him, resting his chin on your head, letting the rise and fall of your body lull him to sleep.

You don't tell him that it was getting hard to breathe from in-between his huge ass arms and ridiculously built chest, but you wait till his breathing evens out to slowly turn around in his grip, snuggling back into him with a content sigh as you both finally get to slip into a well deserved sweet dream.

Masterlist

[dnpbeats]

have this post in my drafts from jan 20th and let me say it's aged like milk 🤧

[teddywook]

RIIZE as parents

Shotaro - For him, having a boy or a girl, it's fine for him. Probably ending with boys. He would prefer to have more than one kid. Chill dad.

Eunseok - He would like to have a boy, but end up having two girls. Protective dad.

Sungchan - I definitely think Sungchan is the member who will have more children, lol. He would prefer to have a boy, and he will have it, the oldest. Then, he would end up having two girls. Protective dad part 2.

Wonbin - This one is the hardest. I think depending on how he feels growing up, he would like to have 1 or more kids. He probably ended up having a girl and a boy. My inclination is more of a boy.

Seunghan - I don't imagine Seunghan having a child, maybe because he is my age? Or because he is Seunghan? Idk, but I think he would be a dad, but maybe late in life? A girl dad. Lowkey wanted a boy, but that girl? The cutest person ever in his eyes. Jealous dad.

Sohee - I realize I can't imagine him with a child, so it is probably because their are my age lol. But a girl dad, part two.

Anton - I can imagine, even being younger, lol. A boy dad definitely. Lowkey wanted a girl but loves so much his boys.

i actually have a riize daddies series on my drafts and dont wanna spoil too much buuttttt

content right here ⇩⇩

➺ shotaro as a daddy boy, no doubts, he will be a mavelous father. protective, but would surely use montessori upbringing

➺ eunseok is daddy girl coded you know. he doesn't know the meaning of no, if his little girl wants something then shes getting. #1 jelous dad

➺ sungchan with twins (i had a dream where i was the mom of these kids and i woke up crying so bad). a boy and a girl #2 jelous dad + jelousy brother

➺ wonbin is so princess coded, of course he would be daddy girl who gets pink polish with glimmer on his nails

➺ seunghan is a daddy girl too i mean, look at him, typa dad that if his daughter says "daddy you're a princess" then hes a princess

➺ sohee is daddy boy, the type who gives his son ice cream for breakfast just because he wanted it too

➺ anton no need explations hes a daddy boy. they would probably watch cartoons, drink chocolate milk and do marathons of dino king on saturdays

[falling-star-cygnus]

i've finally exhausted my Link Click drafts, it's time -> i'm accepting requests for them too :D

the highly anticipated [four people asked for a continuation] pt.2 of the bleeding eyes Lu Guang fic✨ {could probably be read as a standalone tbh, but it'll make better sense if you read pt.1}

Qiao Ling and Cheng Xiaoshi's reactions who's excited for season three? >w<

Lu Guang was home alone.

He was far from helpless, even if the siblings were noticeably more offensively capable then he was, and he proved as much during the whole subway tunnel fiasco. Which Cheng Xiaoshi still kinda felt bad about, even if it was Lu Guang's desperation that drove him to switch places in the first place.

Regardless, Cheng Xiaoshi didn't like it.

Lu Guang hated being alone.

Normally- or, in the new normally- Qiao Ling would stay behind if his roommate was too busy to come out with him to run errands. But, given that it was nearing the time their city seemed to sleep, the two had decided it was better that he didn't go alone.

Cheng Xiaoshi didn't really like this either.

He hoped Lu Guang was doing ok, but he didn't really have the best track record of taking care of himself. Especially when left to his own devices.

"You're going to get wrinkles."

His sister poked insistently at his face. It sorta helped ease the uncomfortable wrongness itching his organs.

He bat her hands away regardless.

"Hey- cut it out, landlady! Not all of us need a twenty step skincare routine to avoid aging..."

Qiao Ling's offended gasp finally tethered him down to their surroundings; the amber flickering of a streetlight and the pale blue glow of a moth in moonlight. The comforting scuff of sidewalk under his feet.

Cheng Xiaoshi loosed a sigh, trying to dislodge the tangled knots that had made home in his chest. Lu Guang was fine. The siblings were going to get back to him, drink their milk tea, and enjoy a cheesy movie and everything was going to be fine.

"Are you worried about Lu Guang?"

He didn't bother responding this time.

"...Me too."

Thankfully, the studio was finally within reach. Cheng Xiaoshi's hands were full with their teas, so he left unlocking the door to his sister.

"We're back, Guang-Guang"

His call was met with silence. Awful, sticky, normal silence that did nothing to ease how tight his heart was feeling. He waited for his roommate to meander back from wherever he had disappeared to, which is what he normally did when he was too far from the entrance to greet them back at a comfortable volume, and set about freeing his hands.

Nothing.

No shock of white hair.

No quiet greeting to Qiao Ling as she made herself comfortable on their couch.

No soft footsteps coming down the stairs.

Cheng Xiaoshi made his way to their shared bathroom, trying to ignore the wheeze at the edges of his breathing.

Lu Guang was fine.

He knocks on the door.

"Lu? You in there?"

Silence. And then-

"Yeah."

The relief that crushes Cheng Xiaoshi's lungs is immeasurable. So dizzying that he feels like he could cry.

Lu Guang was fine.

"We're back. And we brought milk tea." "Welcome home. I'll be down in a second."

Feeling ten years younger, he heads back towards the stairs to claim his spot on the couch before his sister decides the whole thing was hers.

Cheng Xiaoshi almost misses the polaroid innocuously left outside the bathroom door. The white backing is the only part visible from where it oh so innocently lays.

It wasn't like Lu Guang to be so careless with their jobs, even less so with his own photos. Huh.

"Hey, Lu, you left-"

The photo is stained with brown red finger prints. Splatters of what had ruined their last couch coat at least a quarter of the waxy material, breaking apart and staining his fingers in a way that makes him sick.

Cheng Xiaoshi is jiggling the door handle before he even realizes he's moved.

"Lu Guang! Are you ok?"

This can't be happening. Not again, not so soon. Lu Guang was supposed to be ok-

"Open the door-!" "I'm fine."

He so clearly is not. The tremors that Cheng Xiaoshi had thought he was imagining before, or maybe were just side effects of being left alone so long, are more pronounced now. His soft voice is raised and panicked, cornered in a way Cheng Xiaoshi never wanted to hear directed at him.

"Let me in!" "Idiot, it's just a papercut!" "Then let me in-"

A papercut wouldn't make his unflappable roommate sound like that. Wouldn't make the sink run so frantically in the background. Cheng Xiaoshi doesn't have time to wait for Lu Guang to open it on his own.

He reaches up, fingers trailing along the very the top of the door frame until they catch on the thin metal rod up there. A good investment when the other took too long in the bathroom.

And a good investment when Cheng Xiaoshi's best friend could be in fatal danger again.

It takes far too long with his shaking hands to unlock the door, and he barely pries it open an inch before it clicks shut in his face. Lu Guang had thrown his body against it.

He had never been more grateful to be stronger than his twig of a roommate.

Cheng Xiaoshi throws his weight right back and manages to lodge his thigh in the opening before Lu can retaliate. From there, it's easy to shove it open the rest of the way and take his best friend into his arms.

It's a horrifying sight.

Thick, rivulets of burgundy drip out of his tear ducts, marring Lu Guang's pretty face into something out of those scary movies that Qiao Ling forces them to watch.

"Cheng Xiaoshi-"

Cheng Xiaoshi cups his face as carefully as he possibly can, trying to fight the panic clawing up his throat. He can't afford to freak out right now, not when the gentle touch he offers his best friend splinters him to pieces.

"What happened?" "I don't know- I don't know- this has never happened before. I don't- I was just looking through photos-"

Lu Guang's breath stutters and wheezes upon an inhale. His cattish grey eyes are wide an unseeing, or perhaps seeing too much, and he clings to Cheng Xiaoshi's arm in a way he only lets himself do when he's too deep in a panic to stop himself.

"It's ok- it's going to be okay. Lu Guang, breathe!"

He's so bad at this. So completely not equipped to deal with a panicking Lu Guang. Cheng Xiaoshi has never felt like worse of a friend than he does right now, unable to help the person that had carried him through many of his own panic attacks.

He forces himself to take his own advice and breathe. Lu Guang liked cleanliness, so- he could start there.

"It'll be okay."

Cheng Xiaoshi carefully keeps his grip on his best friend with one hand, rubbing between his shoulder blades to try and ground him to the present. With his other hand, he reaches for the rag left by the sink.

He hadn't noticed it before, too focused on just getting to Lu Guang and making sure he was alive, to really take in his surroundings properly.

Carefully, more gently than he's handled anything in his life, Cheng Xiaoshi soaks the rag and cleans away the blood- because he can no longer deny that's what it is- sticking to his best friend's face.

"It's okay."

Finally, after what feels of years of gentle words and even gentler ministrations, the blood stops crawling out of his roommates face. Cheng Xiaoshi had carefully settled Lu Guang's hand against his chest, hoping his pulse- however erratic it was- would bring some comfort to him.

It had worked in the past, when the nightmares Lu denied having threw him around too harshly and he needed real proof that Cheng Xiaoshi was alive. It seemed to be the right call.

Lu Guang's stilted breathing had evened out into something closer to a strenuous hike before finally calming into something just slightly too fast. Improvement was improvement.

"...I'm-"

Cheng Xiaoshi pulls his best friend into his chest to cut him off, realizing the two had somehow ended up on the bathroom floor at some point during this whole debacle.

"Don't you dare apologize."

Lu Guang keeps quiet on his chest.

Cheng Xiaoshi pretends not to notice his shaking shoulders.

[rileyslibrary]

Okay, I have to get this off my chest, or else I’ll combust. Thank you all for the love on the recent Price’s Surprise Cake fic, but truth be told, it was posted by accident, and it was too late when I found out. 🫣

And if you happen to ask how something can be posted by accident, I’m here to tell you that either Tumblr decided to act out, or I absentmindedly placed it in queue rather than in drafts. Since I don’t like blaming my shortcomings on others, I believe it’s the latter. I’ve started using the queue on my main for reblogging art, and I think my brain acted similarly in this case.

Although the story was finished, it needed some minor editing (that I’ve already done), adding a title or a description, and, most importantly, fixing some inaccuracies that still bug me but can’t be altered cause they’re part of the fic now.

So, instead of crying over spilt milk, how about I present you with the inaccuracies so you and I can laugh together: 😅

I wanted to change the fruit tart to apple pie or something that doesn’t need to be refrigerated because who the fuck leaves a fruit tart out of the fridge for so long apart from the part where you get to eat it? Fruit will go bad (you know how already cut fruits taste/smell when you leave them out for too long), tart (that bottom/biscuit part, I don't know; I’m not a baker) will get soggy, not to mention how candles don’t sit upright when you place them in the cream.

Candles. Where are the candles?? Although we do know Price’s age, I wanted to include a sparkly question mark candle that the reader would hand to Ghost along with the box to hide. I thought it would add more to his irritability by seeing that 👇

The timing, omg that still bugs me. Price wants to meet in an hour, and Ghost tells the reader to return in half an hour FOR WHAT?? Why hide the cake in the first place if it’s just for an hour?? Might as well lock yourself in the broom closet with the cake if it’s for thirty minutes. Not only that, but if the reader were supposed to pick up the cake in half an hour, that means they would have to take it with them in the briefing room and therefore ruin the surprise. They’d either have to do it BEFORE the briefing or AFTER, where the reader would run down to Ghost’s office to pick it up.

See? The maths. They don’t add up.

Phew 😮‍💨 Now that I let everything out of my system, I can relax.

[writefightandflightclub]

The things I do for you: (Santiago “Pope” Garcia x fem!reader x Frankie “Catfish” Morales)

Summary: you don’t have a cock… but sometimes you wish you did, specifically so that you could make Santiago suck it 😇. Luckily, Frankie thinks he has a bright idea to help with that. (Aka, maybe this is niche content idek anymore)

Genre: purely smut. Poly! Established Realtionship (MMF)

Reader: fem!reader (vagina-owning)

Author’s note: just don’t even think about looking at me, okay? 😝 Just don’t look at me. Clearly I was on a very specific thing when I wrote this. I found this hiding in my drafts from an age ago and it’s not proofed or refined at all and probably shouldn’t even exist but I got super sick of not having anything to publish, so here it is. (As ever, credit to @astroboots for inspiring Frankie / Santi poly thoughts that I can’t escape through her incredible and flawless Homecoming universe. Consider this a meagre tribute.)

Rating: EXPLICIT. MINORS DNI. Do not read or interact unless you are 18+ or you will be BLOCKED.

Warnings: reader is vagina-owner and in this scene is “wishing” she “had a cock”. As it’s written, this desire is for fleeting and fantasy purposes only, rather than connected with, for example, gender dysphoria. This may however be difficult for some readers even if it is presented exclusively in a fantasy context. Other than that, lots of MM, MF, slightly rough consensual blow job (M/M but fem!reader controlling the situation), oral m to f, general sexy times, some dirty talk, slight praise kink, reader calls Santi good boy a fair bit, lot of cumshot/cum play. Out of character maybe, it was purely for the smut. Not proofed. Probably a ton of autocorrects which will come back to embarrass me. Questionable logistics also. Like I said, don’t look at me 🙈

“You know. Sometimes, I wish I had a cock so I could make you suck it,” you blurt out of nowhere, fracturing the lazy ambience of the morning, and causing your two boyfriends to snap their gaze up at you around the breakfast table.

You could back-pedal. Add some qualifiers, maybe - but given the looks on their faces you feel it will be much more fun to stand by your statement.

“Oh yeah?” You can tell by the instant sweep of his eyebrow that Santi is interested in this conversation. Interested enough that he puts his book down on the table without bothering to save the page, leaning forward in his chair. Meanwhile, Frankie’s spoonful of cereal falters just before it reaches his mouth, crunchy hoops plunging right back into the milk as he loses his faculties.

“Which of us do you want to suck it, hermosa?” Frankie asks, gathering himself immediately and mustering concentrated heat in his mahogany-dark eyes. Meanwhile, you take a deliberate sip of your coffee, looking deviously between each of them from beneath the rim and stoking their suspense.

It’s a tough call but…

“Santiago,” you purr definitively, a positively lewd glint in your eye which causes his jaw to go slack and his big brown eyes to fixate on you. His gaze is brewing with heat but a dull spark settles there too, like he’s somehow dazed. Cock-drunk already.

Okay. He’s listening. And it’s not lost on you that, in your periphery, Frankie squirms in his chair as though he needs to make himself more comfortable all of a sudden.

“So pretty when he sucks cock,” you praise, and Santi’s eyes grow instantly hooded with want, pupils lust-blown and devouring. He talks a good talk but he’s a sucker for a little praise, this one. Not opposed to earning it either. You like that about him.

“Tell me more about that,” Santi says, a hard swallow sinking down his roped neck, and his rough morning voice flecked with grit, as deep and dark as his black coffee.

The two of them are rapt with you, and you love that after all this time together, you can still make them feel so needy. That rarely is a want of yours ever off the table. At least, not without fair discussion.

“I dunno,” you breeze, standing and circling the table, Santi’s gaze following you in your oversized tee and bare legs. His head is already turning and tipping up as you come to stand above him, your crotch falling level with his pretty face. You cup his sculpted jaw almost gleefully in your hand and tip it up further, his thickened fleck of Sunday stubble bristling beneath your hand.

His head goes so easily where you lead, and you think that could prove to be a lot of fun. You shuffle forward, lifting the hem of you tee and pressing his proud nose into the seam of your panties, your fingers snaking tightly into his mussed morning curls. He exhales gruffly against you and you feel his hot breath permeate the fabric, a damp warmth suffusing over your mound. “Hnnngg. I just wish I could fill you up,” you purr, tugging his curls and pressing his face more firmly against your heat. “Sink you down on me until you made those pretty little gagging noises.” Santi lets out a wracked moan already, and you feel him begin to pant ragged breaths against the thin strip of material - all that stands between his lips and your now aching clit. “Use this pretty little mouth up.”

“Fuuuuck.” Frankie expels in a low, abrasive keen. “If you need a cock for him to suck you can borrow mine.” He does so love getting sucked off by Santiago.

Santi twists his head towards Frankie then, licking his lips, but you fist more firmly into his curls and push him back into your heat.

“Do it then.” Santi goads Frankie with little concern for logic, his words sending a vibration right through your core. His robust thighs are now spread on the chair beneath him, and you can clearly see him growing fat and rigid beneath his painfully thin grey sweatpants. Instead of taking care of himself though, Santi -ever the giver- languidly snakes his hands up your bare thighs, and you know it won’t be long before he is moving the dampened strip of fabric aside and delving into your wet heat, his tongue rolling against your folds right here at the kitchen table.

God, you want that, but…

“I wish I could, Frankie,” you coo, almost petulantly. “I want to bury myself in him. He’d look so pretty taking me.”

“Really, Princesa,” Frankie says urgently, watching what Santi is doing to you with a slack-jaw and a razor focus. “You can lie on top of me, put my cock between your legs, grab a handful of those gorgeous curls and make Santi suck you off.” You don’t know what is more compelling in this moment - the way Santi’s long lashed eyes flutter closed or the intense scope of Frankie’s gaze on his mouth and your clit as Santi’s wet writhing tongue fleets teasingly against you. You throw out an arm to steady yourself against the table’s surface as your legs start to wobble.

Christ though. Santi is reliably the cheerleader for your ideas, but Frankie is one hell of a logistician. And he’s deadly serious.

Meanwhile, Santi simply makes an indecipherable sound against your folds as a single thick finger swipes through your slick, noting how wet they both have you already. He looks undone and lust drunk already, even as he hitches one of your legs up on to the chair for better access. “Uh huh. Pussy or cock - whatever, querida. Just tell me where to point my mouth.” You yelp as he curls a finger inside, sending a jolt of pleasure through you, a smugness blooming on his lips as he feels you react. “Or my hands. Or my cock. Or my ass.”

You smile with glee. Your boys sure do know how to treat you right.

You could easily forget the trajectory - the specific thrust of your want, and simply let Santi eat you out like this; however, you hear the scrape of a chair on tiles to your side, and Frankie’s eyes remain full of determination.

He always does enjoy giving you exactly what you want.

The man stands. Apparently, he’s had just about enough of watching. “Upstairs. Now.”

You and Santi each turn to him in unison, and give him the same devilish smile.

Then; you move.

That’s one thing about Frankie. He doesn’t have to tell you twice.

***

The noises are everything. Frankie’s gruff, abortive exhales against your neck. The deep hum and delicate wet sounds of Santi bearing down on Frankie’s thick veined shaft.

The logistics are working as perfectly as they can. You are sprawled on top of Frankie, his broad chest flush to your back as he sits slightly propped on an array of pillows. His head hooks over your shoulder, and his hands under your ass keep you in position. His thighs are spread to make room for Santi to settle in between them and yours are spread too, laying just outside of his, providing contact with his smooth, lightly muscled quads.

Reaching down between your legs, you wrap your hand around Frankie’s hardened length, earning a gentle huff of air into the junction of your neck as you settle Frankie’s shaft up against your heat - because you can’t resist the wet, warm grind. The feeling of him all rigid and needy like this.

From this angle, with his proud length settled between your legs, it almost looks like it could be your cock - regardless of skin tone. You lose some length -perspective wise- given he is settled under you, but he is so deliciously and generously endowed that you still have plenty to enjoy. To take control of.

You pump Frankie languidly in the circle of your hand, angling so the shaft of him bumps against your clit, even planting your feet so that you are better able to angle your hips and grind your folds along the length of him, coating him with your arousal.

You enjoy the way his thighs tense up against yours. The way his broad hands claw a little more insistently into the flesh of your ass, and the way you can feel his chest heaving at your back.

“Come here, baby. Make me feel good,” you command Santi, and he wastes little time.

Within moments he is there on his hands and knees, bowing his head towards Frankie’s need. Of course, the smug fucker doesn’t do exactly what he’s told right off the bat - but you let him off since he does something better.

First, he writhes his tongue all over, licking a wide stripe up the side of Frankie’s shaft and your folds at the same time, shimmying and undulating to reach each of your most sensitive spots.

You know that Santi is nothing but dedicated. You know that if he can make the both of you come undone he will, and you know he’ll drag it out too, until you are barely sure where you end and Frankie begins; however, that’s not exactly what you had wanted. Not the reason you have him bowed before you, his mouth all ready to be used. You’d wanted the power here, and you plan to take it - from both of them.

Indeed, you grip Frankie’s aching, veined cock and you smack it cruelly against Santi’s cheek, causing each of them to whimper deliciously. Then, you run the swollen head of it along his plumped lower lip, swiping the pearl of precum beading there along him and leaving an irresistible salt tang. Lids heavy and brow burdened with need, Santi’s pink tongue swipes the taste of Frankie away with a hum.

“You gonna be a good boy and suck my nice big cock, Santiago?”

You are enveloped by deep, resonant moans as you hold Frankie’s pleasure in the palm of your hand - quite literally. You feel him twitch with anticipation, and you relish Santi’s slack-jawed, needy expression too.

“That right, Frankie? This my cock now?”

“Yes, bonita. All yours. Do anything you want with it.” Christ, he sounds undone already, voice wracked with need.

“And this?” you ask, pushing your thumb past the pillow of Santi’s lips and gliding it along his eager tongue, his lips closing around you as he sucks gently. “This my mouth to use too?”

“Yes,” he croaks obediently.

“Good, ‘cause I’m going to make you choke on my dick.”

With perfect timing, Santi’s mouth falls open with a musical, flowering moan, and that is when you grip his curls and push Frankie’s length past his lips with an insistent surge, until he is all filled up.

Tears prickle at the corner of Santi’s eyes but he takes it with relish, surging wetly down Frankie’s -your- length until you hear his throat rebel with a glug; sounds like crushed fruit spilling over. You release him and he surges off, Frankie’s length gleaming for him, linked to him by spit trails.

“Do you like that, baby?”

“Uh huh,” Santiago nods, a blatant tremor in his voice, looking blissed out and hungry. “Tastes of b-both of you. So f-fucking good.”

When he’s ready, desperate - both of them desperate for more, Frankie’s thighs now trembling against yours - you guide Santi’s head back down on this thick, slick shaft.

This time, his gag reflex relaxed, Santi takes it almost all the way. At least, deep enough that his proud nose nudges against your clit, even whilst his lips and tongue are folded obediently around Frankie’s arousal.

“Fuck,” you breathe at the sudden pressure, Santi all too deliberately nosing gently at your sweet spot until he needs to surge off of Frankie again, his cheeks glistening with squeezed out tears. “So good for me. So pretty like this, Santiago.”

With relish, with your own barrelling need and that of Frankie shuddering and moaning and writhing under you, you control the pace of Santi’s ministrations. Frankie helps you out, thrusting lightly in time to deepen his passage into Santiago’s eager throat, the whole motion grinding you up against them where it counts. Your own arousal swells, your juices leaking from your cunt until they coat Frankie’s shaft too, Santi tasting you as he works so diligently to suck this cock for all it’s worth.

You fall into the rhythm of it, the pace, the wet surge and slip and slide and the choke and release and those pretty tears beading in Santiago’s eyes - practically poetic with need now - his breath ragged and his lips plumped and beaded with spit and cum. Everything so wet and liquid.

Frankie helps you too, finding space for his girthy finger to massage your clit in time with the sensations being delivered to his length, almost as though the pleasure delivered by Santi’s mouth is going directly to the core of you. Almost as though the swirl of his tongue around that fat, contoured head is one and the same as that white hot pleasure spreading through your middle.

You thrill as you watch Santi surge off that cock another time, your stomach lurching pleasantly.

“Good boy. Such a good boy for me. You like this, don’t you? All needy for us?”

It’s not lost on you that -yes- he’s enjoying this. Very much. That besides the moans and the way he pushes his curls insistently into your palm, eager for your control, he’s also hard as a rock, beginning to rut himself up against the mattress less than subtly too to relieve his own throbbing want.

God, he must be aching. Must be so needy as he takes care of you.

“Good,” Santiago gushes, mouth still full of ‘you’, words all rounded and incoherent. “Tastes so good.”

The fact Frankie’s head is now thrown back on to the pillow, his hands fisting into the sheets, is a sure sign that he is close too. The jagged breaths he’s submitting to the air now are a dead giveaway, in fact.

“I’m not going to cum yet,” you insist, even if Frankie evidently has other plans. Even if he seems thoroughly ready to pop and paint Santiago’s throat. “Gonna take a little more from you, sweetheart.” Frankie’s breaths are gusts of air now, like he’s fighting hard to stave off his release. To truly give you the control you crave here.

God, you’re close to your own end too though. You’re dripping now, your nectar coursing down to dampen Frankie’s thatch of coarse dark hair. Dripping to coat his tightening balls.

Frankie’s hand finds your clit again, with new resolve, and somehow he manages to find words - fighting through the pre-nut fog. “You are gonna cum now. Santiago’s making you feel so good with his mouth, hermosa. You are going to come.” He’s warning you. He can’t hold it much longer before he bursts. He’s inviting you - to feel it with him.

You moan into the air, Frankie’s words and fingers both making a rather compelling argument. And, Santiago’s ministrations show increasing vigour, the suck and pop louder and wetter and that crushed, glugging rhythm growing far more insistent.

So eager to please. Such a good boy. Ready to drink it all down.

“Gonna take my cum on your face, pretty baby? Gonna let me paint you?” you ask him, and you hear a muffled affirmative spoken around the girth jammed deep into his face.

You could let Frankie spill over into Santi’s throat - that delicious salt-tang flooding over his tongue. You could keenly watch the bob of his corded neck and he swallows it all down… but you want to see him covered in it. Want that pretty man to be left a mess from you, all chaotic curls and tear-tracks and glistening seed coursing down over that proud chin. That’s what you want.

And so, you reach between your legs and you pump Frankie’s slick, sensitive length in the circle of your hand, just how you know he likes. He groans for you, the sound rattling through you as his hips start to stutter.

Santi waits obediently, basically presenting his face to you while he waits for this thick load to be delivered all over his face.

Frankie follows your lead, his diligent, skilful fingers making your own release bloom through you. At the same moment, your explosion of pleasure is made visible, as Frankie shoots himself, thick and abrupt ropes of cum coating Santi. Spilling over his grizzled curls, his nose, his cheek, his lips, his eyelashes, his face scrunching up with the initial shock of it and then settling into a blissful, awed calm. Then, as you continue pumping his gratified length - pressing the head of Frankie’s cock into Santiago’s cheek as the final pulses of his seed spillover, all warm and creamy over your knuckles too - your core convulses in time, your throbbing waves of pleasure only heightened by the delectable sight before you.

“Fuck,” Santi breathes after a while, lazily swiping seed into his mouth from where it has settled on his mouth.

Beneath you, meanwhile, Frankie is still wordless as he floats back down to Earth. You felt how hard he came, his whole body tightening under you - now slack and boneless and sweat-sheened.

You both flutter down from your high, eyes closing as you drift back down to your bodies. However, as soon as your eyes are opened, you are each eager to survey the mess you jointly made of your beloved Santiago, Frankie’s seed now slowly coursing down his face, already beginning to stiffen in that way it does, but you opt to let Santi enjoy/suffer with it for a few extended moments more.

Then, you feel Frankie’s warm throaty chuckle wrap around you like a blanket. “You got it in his hair, hermosa. Need to work on your aim,” he teases fondly, wrapping an arm around your soft middle.

“Nope. My aim was perfect,” you insist, allowing yourself a devilish smile as Santiago looks mock-accusingly at you - as if he isn’t loving being covered like this - marked as yours and Frankie’s. All used up.

You reach for a cloth from the beside table and laugh gently -fondly- yourself as you help him to clean up.

You’re waiting though, for his inevitable question, his brow and his cock still burdened by his own need.

“Have I been a good boy?” he purrs sinfully, knowing fine well that he has. Knowing that that tone can only help him to get what he wants. Permission to find his own end.

“You have.” Surprisingly. He’s far more of a brat for Frankie. “You can take care of yourself now, baby.” You know he’ll spill himself in moments. Can see the ruddy, swollen head of his cock, flushed almost purple with need as he languidly pumps himself in his own hand - almost reluctantly, as those he’s almost too sensitive to be touched after being made to wait for it while you were pleasured.

“Yeah? Who wants it?”

You roll off of Frankie, and you settle on the bed with your legs wide open, all spread for him. “Cum on my pussy, if you wanna? You earned it.”

From the way Santi practically growls and shifts himself on the mattress, you know he likes the sound of that. Very much. “Fuck. Look at you, hermosa.”

“Mmm,” you hum, fingering your own slick - playing with it, as Santi appears rapt with your plump, glistening folds. “Did you like sucking on my cock? Did it get you all hard?“

Your voice is velvet, and apparently, your words and the sight of you is all that Santi needed. With only a few thrusts into his palm he is coating you, pulsing his seed over your heat until you are a warm, creamy mess. His release is punctuated too by Frankie and Santi both firing gentle, breathy expletives into the air, loving how you look all laid out like this.

Well. Alright.

It seems like your idea worked out pretty well? It seems like everyone had an exceptionally good time - you included. But still, you’re not averse to a little praise yourself, so you simply have to ask. “How was I with a cock then, boys?”

“Honey, we need to get you a strap.” Frankie insists immediately. Oh yeah? He’s keen? That’s… very interesting. “I gotta watch you fuck our little brat. Fill up all those holes of his.”

There Santi goes again, that dazed, lust-drunk look overtaking his face. “Uh. Uh huh,” he agrees efficiently. “Fucking hot.”

No complaints from him either, then? You take that as a good sign too, and a happy, giddy grin spreads over your face as your boys set about cleaning you up too and showering you with long, slow, loving kisses.

With these two, almost anything is possible, it seems. Apparently, Santi can be relied upon to cheerlead any kinky idea you may have. And luckily, the two of you have Frankie to help you work out the logistics.

Actually… there’s an idea.

You bite your lip shyly. “Frankie? Do you think… Can we maybe get Santi a cheerleading outfit?”

The man’s jaw goes slack now as he plays with that mental image, but when you look at Santi to absorb his take, he appears nothing but smug.

Santiago flings himself on to the mattress by your side, nestling himself in between yours and Frankie’s naked bodies. Little attention-seeker he is. Always looking for snuggles. “Cariño,” he teases, with a playful flutter of those pretty lashes. “You’re not ready for how good my cheeks would look in a cute little skirt.”

“Probably not,” you admit, thinking about how on Earth you would survive the sight. “But I’m willing to find out.”

“The things I do for you,” Santiago jests, snuggling even closer into your side. Yeah right, as though he doesn’t love every minute of this. The way that you and Frankie both fawn over him.

Still, you notice Frankie reach to the bedside in that moment, cutting the snuggles unusually short as he reaches for his phone and reading glasses, post haste. “Watcha doing, babe?” you ask curiously.

He turns the screen towards you both and his quest becomes immediately evident. “Your wish is my desire,” he says in all seriousness, and you wonder how you managed to get so lucky. “I’ve got some shopping to do.”

[fantasygerard2000]

So, one of the lousy criticisms Wish gets is its use of too many references to movies that are better than it. This critique just feels heavily biased if i'm being honest. As much as I am fond of some of the older Disnsy movies, which are the reasons why I like Wish, I would exactly call them good. Youtuber Veridis Joe made a video discussing about how just because it's the first, doesn't mean that it's good.

Let's use an obvious example, Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs. Wish takes heavy inspiration from Snow White as it makes sense for their 100th movie to revisit their roots. The saying that Snow White is better than Wish is a lie because, is Snow White really better story and character wise?

That's the kicker with some of these older Disney movies. Just because they're "classics" doesn't mean they're free from criticisms. Hell, people are criticizing that Snow White and Aurora despite the being title characters don't get to do crap and are overshadowed by their own villains and sidekicks. Just because Snow White was the first doesn't mean it holds up. It aged like milk and the reason why people like it is because it invented the classical tropes we associate Disney, people like it because it's "traditionally animated". They care more about the decorations than the foundation.

That's the thing with nostalgia and why at some times, it's not good. People grew up with the old movies and that's why they heavily favored them over reboots and live action remakes. Disregarding the things that are improved because their automatic response to things that are different is to antagonize them. And this is especially problematic when some people actually misremembered the thing they are nostalgic for. The insistence the crybabies on Tiktok insist that Rapunzel should be played by a blonde white actress even though Rapunzel's natural hair color is brown, they they be acting stupid by forgetting wigs and special effecfs exists simply because of a fan casting.

Back on the topic of easter eggs. While some can be groan inducing, most of them are harmless and something that Disney fans can go find. That says something that some of these critics don't watch the movie and pay attention to what it wants to convey and rather list down the things they wanna be mad about, like the songs, the quirky main character, the goat's voice, the scrapped draft and the villain.

Speaking of which.

While Magnifico is the highlight of the movie after years of lacking antagonists and underwhelming twist villains, people are still complaining over him not being a complete villain because of his motivation.

The main gripe people have about him is that be seemed reasonable and that his switch from villain is "sudden", saying that the book is just there as lazy excuse to make him evil and redeemable. This, is media illiteracy. As much as I don't like to bill this to takes I don't like, it's an accurate description.

Magnifico's villainy is applicable to influencers and social media personalities. And considering the age where some of these "celebrities" are outed for being and doing shady things, it fits to a T. You don't know a person is toxic until you found out. And like with Amaya, you don't know if your spouse/partner really loves and cares for you you until you see what they can do to you once they have enough power and influence.

Going back to the topic of previous Disney movies being "superior" to Wish, there's one movie I like to bring up. Princess and the Frog.

Princess and the Frog has many similarities to Wish. After a period of several experimental 3D animated movies that were passable but forgettable, sorry Bolt and Robinsons fans, PatF returns to the old formula of 2D animated, musicals, villains and romance.

Tiana is a great character and her story about working hard to achieve her dreams is in line with Wish's themes. Facilier and Magnifico are even comparable as both men "cheat" their way to get to the top by using magic that isn't theres and suffering the consequences for it.

And like I said above about how classics aren't free from any criticism, PatF has its own problems, mostly about Disney's first black princess being a frog for most of its runtime, and the convoluted plot revolving around technicalities to break the spell. What holds PatF back are these issues and some people dismiss them because they are too focused on the 2D animation, romance, villains, which aren't bad tropes, aren't enough to save your movie. Same way how even if Wish was 2D animated and had a love interest, people will still crap on it because it's Disney in 2023/2024.

Oh contraire, if any of the classical and renaissance films are made and released today as they are, they wouldn't be praised today as they were back then.

[jounosparticles]

I'm curious....... what do you think the hunting dogs's backgrounds are?

I mean, we know fukuchi's and tachihara's and jouno was in a crime ring but i mean like specific details. does that make sense?

like what was their education or did they ever have to do like a mini basic training? did tachihara create a milk locker?

idk they've been taking up my brain since like October and what I do is that since they don't have specific backgrounds my brain just fills in the spaces for me. just little backstory hcs djdebd

hi!!

okay so….sorry in advance i got really rambly but here are some of my ideas for everyone

the whole team

- tachi joined likely after the others

- i assume fukuchi was there from the start

- but you don’t start a one person team so i’d assume teruko and tecchou were there as well!

- fukuchi specifically picked out jouno for the team. maybe he chose all the members? maybe not im not sure really.

- personally i think they started the team with tecchou, teruko, and fukuchi. then shortly after jouno joined then tachi after

- fukuchi wore the hunting dogs uniform during untold origins. this means either they never got new uniforms or the team has existed for at least 12 years.

- that makes me wonder if there are former hunting dogs that have retired or been killed? or maybe it was just fukuchi and teruko at the start.

- i suppose if tecchou joined while a teenager still (16-19ish) during untold origins it would make sense still. i assume he’s in his late 20s if not older (please i need canon ages asagiri please make them at least 28 please im so sick of everyone being in their early 20s sob. anyways). it would still make sense for them to form then

- however i don’t believe fukuchi makes an appearance in the untold origins book? so it may just be a lore mistake and the team may be newer. who knows.

now onto individual characters

fukuchi

- was in the military prior to the hunting dogs. we know this

- his power probably was the core reason the hunting dogs were founded

- i assume he started training and set this goal in his childhood after getting the signal from amenogozen

- he likely helped form the idea of the group

- i like to imagine he knew teruko beforehand

- i assume fukuchi’s ability manifested out of pure desire to save the world. likely around when he got drafted. since fukuzawa and him fought evenly as children i assume he didn’t have the ability then

- i feel the other hunting dogs likely warmed up to him quickly. he just has the personality of that

- he’s probably always felt immense pressure and stress throughout his entire life due to him knowing the worlds outcome results in his actions

- he likely started out with a strong fighting spirit (like when he met fukuzawa) but he was likely drained and very stressed over time

- as for education, hmmmmm. i actually am not sure. we really don’t get much of any mention of school in bsd in general (other than tanizaki and naomi being students and kunikida being a former teacher). i assume fukuchi got some schooling but enlisted while young

i don’t have too much to say about him since we seen a lot of his backstory.

teruko

- i want to say she was also likely military or a public service worker of sorts

- we really don’t know much about teruko. but she has the personality of someone who is very used to her work and likely has been here a long time

- i feel she probably completed school and went to further school in law enforcement

- she is very tough and good at interrogation. it likely made her one of the most noticeable candidates for the job

- i assume her ability manifested likely out of a time where she desperately wanted to change people, hence the way it is. i’m not really sure how exactly ill have to think more on this!

- i feel she was likely quick to adjust to the job. she doesn’t seem to have an issue talking to people and would likely be a good coworker from the start

- a lot of her background is hard to tell when we don’t quite know how old she is. if i could hazard to guess even roughly how long she’s been around i could come up with some better ideas i think

- i like to imagine she uses her ability to mess with people before they find out what her ability is. imagine going to get a coffee and coming back and seeing a random baby at ur coworkers desk. that would be so funny

- she also probably could use her ability to get those "kids eat free” meals and stuff. not really a backstory headcanon it’s just what i would do

- i bet she always had her sense of justice. i don’t think she ever swayed far from the way she is now. her job likely toughened her a bit and made interrogation easier that way but her heart was always the same intent

- i assume she knew who fukuchi was before they started working together (guessing his reputation was already good or maybe they knew each other).

- she’s probably the brains behind a lot of their work. despite fukuchi being the captain usually it’s her and jouno strategizing the most out of them all. i assume she’s super smart

- i feel she was probably very willing to do the surgeries. she already likely was very strong and skilled in her work. she’s dutiful and i think everything about her screams willing

tachihara

- i assume he’s somewhat new to the squad. remembering he’s only 19

- that makes me wonder if he had went to highschool? if so he was part time hunting dog part time student. must have been one hell of a week. i’m saying he probably dropped out after getting recruited OR idk had a lesser workload until he graduated

- i wish i knew how long he has been in the mafia, that could help me figure out a timeline a lot easier for him.

- i assume he hasn’t been in the mafia much longer than the manga has been going on, however he must have very quickly moved up the ranks somehow without outing his ability. possibly his enhanced strength helped here

- he was found and recruited by the hunting dogs but we don’t know when. somehow long enough to gain their trust to infiltrate the mafia, but not long enough to make a name for himself as a hunting dog.

- guessing, he got found at 17, started infiltrating the mafia at 18, and has been since (at 19). best timeline i can think of that’s reasonable. of course he Could have been much younger but i just don’t see that

- anyway, prior to any of this. we know he wanted to be different than his brother which caused him to act out in rebellion

- regardless of that i think the people around him (including his brother) taught him a lot of who he is

- tachihara is loyal and caring, much like his brother seemed to be. they felt very similar in personality there it really shows

- i’ll also note that his eyes stay bright white most of the time in the manga. despite most of the mafia having black eyes

- but i think being in the mafia taught tachihara that good people can do horrible things, which likely influenced his decision in sparing yosano

- i’d guess his ability manifested out of grief for his brother. he formed a much more dangerous ability that would help him get revenge

- as for joining the hunting dogs, i assume he fit in well from the start

- i think he seems like the type to be very easy to get along with which probably made him an optimal choice for infiltrating but also being part of the job.

- we can see that he cares about the approval of his coworkers as well

- he looks very happy and proud of completing his job. i think this just further shows that he’s always loyal to people, even if they contradict each other

- i bet he was surprised at the start of his military job. he likely didn’t have an option to not join. the sudden change from the surgeries was probably hard. i assume he didn’t train much beforehand since it wasn’t really important

- i like to imagine they all trained him a little bit and they all grew to like him rather quickly !!

jouno

- so all we know is that he was in a crime group six years prior to the current events

- as for schooling i’m really lost here. he might have went to school. he might not have went much. who knows. not me

- i assume jouno had a rougher upbringing. assuming he is at least in his mid-late twenties he was in his crime group until he was an adult

- that is explained a lot in his actions as well. he’s maintained his sadistic personality overtime. compare that to dazai who left his crime group while still a teenager and has had a clear change in some core personality traits

- of course, we don’t know how criminal-era jouno was. but i assume he didn’t change too much since based off the way he acts now.

- we also know he was an executive in said criminal organization, so he was likely affiliated with them for a long time.

- let’s take a quick look at the only executive jouno picture:

this photo is really neat. the striped outfit could indicate that he was a prisoner that fukuchi spotted. it could also just appear that way to look ambiguous as well. jouno also is smiling in the image, this could also be him being asked by fukuchi to join the hunting dogs here. it doesn’t really explain what’s going on or where he is. i just think it’s neat and worth bringing up. had be been a prisoner though im sure it would have been an easy escape given his ability (unless he was in an ability space, of course).

- anyway. this picture also shows his eyes closed, meaning he loses his sight before joining the hunting dogs

- he mentioned that he Lost his sight when arresting dazai, which means he was not born that way. i switch between it being an injury or an illness that made him lose it. either idea is interesting to me and i hope we get an answer.

- either way, i want more criminal executive jouno information

- and i’d assume his ability formed when he felt trapped somewhere. possibly cornered or in a dangerous situation and just needed a quick way to escape and formed it out of fear maybe?

-as for joining the hunting dogs, i assume it was a rougher transition for him

- the people who were after him before are now his coworkers. he probably felt awkward over this (if the others know his past)

- i assume he had the hard time adjusting to everyone too. probably easily annoyed but not wanting to come off that way until he was confident in his job

- i also assume the surgeries wasnt something he initially wanted to do but ultimately did because that’s better than being executed or imprisoned for his crimes.

- he also seems like the type to be reluctant to work with others. possibly making adjusting harder for him

- his morality probably clashed against tecchou’s a bit at first, until jouno found the joy in helping others

- i believe the hunting dogs really helped him find joy in helping people as well. their dedication probably helped motivate him

- he also mentions in one panel after fukuchi asks him to betray "so this isn’t some kind of military test?" which (maybe a stretch) Could suggest he’s been tested by the military to see if he’s still reliable. maybe this creates some lack of trust because people don’t believe him.

- i also assume his upbringing influences the way he acts towards people. he’s cold and mean sometimes but that’s likely a defense mechanism to not b too close to others

tecchou

- once again we don’t know much about tecchou yet. there’s nothing about his past yet but that doesn’t mean i don’t have a ton of ideas floating around

- i feel like teruko he probably went to school and then law-enforcement in post secondary. i know he was a good student too

- we know he’s typically very composed. even when joking he often keeps a straight face except that one time he teases jouno but that’s just him being gay idk

- because of this i wonder if he had some communication issues growing up? maybe working in anything unprofessional didn’t work for him since he often was taken seriously

- however with that in mind i believe he was definitely raised with his just morals. it seems really driven into him and seems to be a huge part of who he is

- i like to think his sense of justice stems from being failed by the system before. maybe he lost someone close to him and never got proper justice?

- what backs that up is how he mentions "there is evil that goes unpunished, and good that goes unrewarded.” and mentions that his blade helps decide that. that is an immense amount of pressure onto himself to keep everything he possibly can just

- such ideas i guess stem from his desire to never have someone not get what they deserve. destroy all evil, protect the innocent. he wants to do what the system failed before and takes it upon himself.

- maybe his ability manifested out of his desire to protect people?

- as for adjusting into the hunting dogs, i feel it wasn’t great or badly. got along with people fine but i feel maybe his very straight-faced personality was a strong contrast to the others at first

- he was possibly military beforehand? or law enforcement and was recruited because of his ability and his strong morals

- he was probably willing to do the surgeries and was already very physically trained. anything to serve proper justice

- he seems to be the calmest-acting of them all. very straightforward when he talks. maybe this was hard to get along with initially? until you’re used to him

- i don’t think he sees the way he acts as unusual either. probably just doesn’t care and is just himself. (which i love)

- i also like to imagine his fixation on ants and stuff is just something he’s always liked. idk he’s so cute for that

- he probably excelled at working right away. i see him to be very good at staying determined to get the job done

thank you for the question!! this was super fun to look at. also please ignore the grammar issues i am super tired

[formula-fun]

Hiii, i hope this doesn’t come off as rude or pushy cause it really isn’t my intention, but i can’t help but ask about if i had words, i think about that series an abnormal amount i think, so how are those Max and Charles doing? I miss them, i hope they can work everything out 🥲

no no you're okay!!! <3333 i promise max's part is so so close to being done and it's coming out a lot lighter than the original version was, so I think it'll be really nice <3 the original draft was so depressing you dont even know dfjkdfjkdfjkdkjfdj

heres a little piece in the meantime! mwah

They manage to drag themselves out of bed a half an hour later, and Charles immediately goes through a fuss of digging through his luggage for anything deemed clean enough to wear before giving up and digging through Max’s closet instead. When he finally emerges into the kitchen, a pair of Max’s jeans sagging low on his hips, there is still a novelty t-shirt half-tangled around his head.

“Your closet is very messy,” he announces. His head emerges, and he blinks into the light of day as if seeing it for the first time. DADDY, the shirt proudly proclaims.

“Last time Charles was here he tore everything off the shelves and piled it up on the bed,” Max coos to the cats. They try their best to trip him as he opens a can of food. “Then he just shoved everything back on the shelves when he was done and now it’s a big fucking mess.” Sassy meows at him.

“Don’t talk to them as if I am not here,” Charles sniffs. “And don’t mock me. I was not well.”

“You were pretty well when you shoved it back onto the shelves without bothering to fold it.”

“I folded it!”

“He says he folded it, but everything is all wrinkled,” Max explains to Sassy with false cheerfulness. “So how come it’s wrinkled if he says he—”

“Hey!”

“—folded it? It’s almost like he didn’t fold it at—”

“You’re being rude, Max, this is rude.”

“We’ll put on a movie and refold everything, alright?” he says, doling out the cat food carefully into the two bowls on the counter. Jimmy scratches at the cabinet doors just to his right and cries like he’s never eaten a meal in his life. “We’ll just put it in the dryer for a bit. You have to help me, though. You’re not getting out of it again.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.” Charles scoops the laundry basket out of the cabinet, propping it against his hip. He pecks Max’s cheek as he passes him, and Max ducks his head to hide his smile.

The cat food goes on the floor. The cats lunge for it as if they’ve been starving for weeks and not hours, and Max turns to the fridge to dig around for human breakfast. The doorbell rings, and he sighs.

“Charles? Can you get that?” he calls.

There’s hardly anything in his fridge. They’ll have to order something, probably. There’s Red Bull and milk and Max thinks he might still have some of the tea he bought for Charles ages ago, so that’s somewhere to start. He fills the kettle and puts it on. He digs out the teabags. He registers the worrying silence. He puts the teabags back down.

“Charles?” he calls. “Who was it?”

He rounds the corner. The words die halfway out of his throat. Charles’ pink blush is spreading all the way to the tips of his ears and the collar of his t-shirt that says DADDY on it, and he is currently holding the front door open and engaging in idle chit chat with Max’s mother.

Max’s mother looks thrilled.