#personally I want it to taste like fruit punch

[lottiecrabie]

pray for my soul. part three – matty healy

even after all your prayers, you feel matty's presence linger in all parts of your life. in church, in class, in the knock on your window...

warnings: 18+, oral (f receiving), fingering, choking, roleplay, religious imagery, blasphemy, pfms typical desecration

part three of five

13683 words

You’ve been clenching your fingers too much, hands clutched together as you pray or smother a wave of smoldering emotions. Your heart ring digs into your middle finger; the blood cuts off, pain spreading up your knuckles. You’d find it divine if it didn’t leave some ugly, red rash. 

It makes your mother crazy at the sight, gasping as she spots the scarlet. She grabs your wrist, tugging you across the house. “Mom,” you whine, stumbling along. “It’s nothing.” Of course, she scoffs, pinching the bitten raw fingers and the chipped white nails to prove her point.  

Opening the bathroom door, she shoves your hand under the sink. Scalding hot water pours out. You flinch at the sensation. She’s unbothered, squeezing hyssop soap, scrubbing your hands under the burning heat. 

“You have to keep your hands clean,” your mother says, squirting some more soap. 

If she really knew how soiled they’d been… Dipping in impure places, reaching for sinful desires, memorizing the feel of scattered scars… White soap on reddened, raw skin, but still you know she’ll never make them clean. 

“Dirty girl,” she continues, shaking her head, scratching at the stubborn nail polish. “Don’t you know how to take care of your skin?” 

Your eyes water, but you don’t make a peep. Lingering in the doorframe, the somber presence of your father towers across the bathroom. “I think it’s fine, honey,” he says, but she doesn’t hear, scraping away. 

“I don’t know where this side of her comes from,” your mother mumbles to herself. Water pours and pours, drowning out your pained moans. “Certainly not me.” 

Your father frowns, scoffing. “Well, not me either.” You throw him a pleading look, but he seems just as overrun. 

“I’ve raised a clean girl.” Your mother scrubs your palm, muttering more than anything coherent. “Not this, not this…” 

But she did. She can scrub all she wants, but she can’t wash away the stain of him. You’ve been touched, rotting under the skin. She can cut it off and you’d still remember the feel of Matty Healy. 

Scorching flames lick up your arms. Your hands burn, barely bones anymore. You clench them, frowning at the sight of them. How funny that water doesn’t cool. That soap doesn’t clean. That your mother tries to control you, and all she does is teach you that fire doesn’t kill. 

—

Your youth leader, Betty, offers you the bag of gummy bears, shimmying it in front of your face in appeal. You blush, more from the special attention than shyness, and dig for a red one. You bite the head off first, letting the colored sugar melt on your tongue for a few seconds. Still, as you swallow it, you can’t help but feel that pit of guilt grow inside your belly. You know your mother doesn’t want you eating candy. 

Betty smiles benevolently at you, like she could read the thoughts on your forehead. You hate that. If people are capable of digging inside your brain— Gosh, the filthy things they could see. 

Do you have that same guilty, hungry look when looking at Matty Healy? Can everyone see? 

Betty winks, popping a gummy bear inside her mouth. “I won’t tell,” she says. 

She’s a good person, capable of teetering that line between devotion and relatability. She looks out for you in Youth Group, asking questions when you grow quiet and fade into the background. She calls you little mouse and you pretend to find it funny. 

“Thanks,” you whisper. Your mouth is coated in sugar. The taste won’t leave your tongue; it nevers does. 

Later, with everyone high off fruit punch and chocolate, when the younger kids are playing with an old PlayStation in the basement, Betty looks at the five teenagers left and says with a trickster smile, “Today, I want to talk about sex.” 

A chortle reverberates through the group. Your stomach drops, some unquenchable void spreading through your muscles. Oh, shit. 

Betty grins, laughing too. She even encourages some more chuckle, drawing them out with her hands. Glancing to the sides, you manage to fake some small, nervous giggle. “I know, I know,” she says playfully. “It’s hard not to laugh. It’s this big, taboo thing no one can mention, right?” Betty doesn’t wait for an answer, but the group settles down nonetheless, paying attention. 

You look around. Are they intrigued? How much do they think about sex? Do they know the burning feel of pleasure, waving through tense muscles with relieving fingers? Have they— Have they seen someone’s face break into ecstasy, rough hand passing on a hard, leaking cock, swollen lips whispering the filthiest promises, cum spilling—

You shake your head to chase the thoughts away. You can’t seem to escape it these days, passing that fateful day at the confessional to the fine comb. Heavy breaths, tingling hands, throbbing cunt; it takes everything in you not to tease a finger over your growing need, starting small like he taught you. 

“But it’s important to talk about it. At your age, the world gets confusing,” Betty starts, suddenly serious. “There’s all these temptations, and these hormones, and it’s normal to think about it. To want.” 

Your heart smashes against your ribs. You’re afraid everyone can hear. Yes, you practically want to scream. I want. I want.

“But,” Betty continues, and once again she offers this warm grin, spreading over her face like she is trying to coax people into this sense of safety, “It’s important not to act on them. Peter 2:11. Dear friends, I urge you, as foreigners and exiles, to abstain from sinful desires, which wage war against your soul. The war is human, but abstaining is the godly thing to do. As tempting as it might be, there will never be anything as satisfying as following God’s path.” 

But has Betty felt the burning lips of Matty Healy stealing secrets from her mouth, coaxing an insatiable appetite out of her tongue? Has she felt his callused fingers on her breast, pinching a sensitive nipple? Did he ask her to get on her knees, panting in the hot air? See if she manages to say no. 

Betty doesn't know how much temptation can satisfy. You cross your arms, falling back on your chair. It’s clear now that no one here has grazed the fingertips of damnation. 

“Timothy 2:22. Flee also youthful lusts; but pursue righteousness, faith, love, peace with those who call on the Lord out of a pure heart. The Lord tries us all in different ways, but listening to his preachings and surrounding yourself with fellow followers is the only way to go. I promise that whatever desire you think you want will never make you feel anything other than dirty and guilty, whereas abstinence, although maybe harder and less tempting, will leave you proud and realized.” 

Dirty. Guilty. Forsaken. Disgusting. Stained. Rotten. It spins in your head. You’re merely the idea of a girl; inside, you’re nothing but darkness, coursing fire smothered under the ashes. 

Maybe she’s right. 

Of course, Betty is right. But there’s this constant ache between your thighs, begging, pleading. Would the depths of hell at least take you out of your misery? You’d drown in its murky waters, surely, lost to the voice of God and His merciful hand. 

But at least you wouldn’t burn anymore. 

“Does someone have a question? This is a safe place: feel free to be honest.”

Samantha, a detestable try-hard with pursed lips and a haughty nose, raises her hand. Betty nods towards her. “I don’t have a question, but I would just remind everyone of Corinthians 6:19. You surely know that your body is a temple where the Holy Spirit lives. The Spirit is in you and is a gift from God. You are no longer your own. It’s important not only to abstain from impure relations with other people, but also yourself.”

You hold back a roll of your eyes.

“Great point, Samantha,” Betty says, and of course Samantha practically beams from her corner of the sofa. “You must treat yourself and your God with respect.” 

Your nails dig into your upper arms, faintly scowling. No one here has ever touched themselves. They don’t know. 

They just don’t fucking know. 

—

Matty is in your history class. He scribbles in black sharpie on his desk — three spots to the left and two back from you. You feel his presence, some sort of magnetic pull you can’t explain. 

Indulgently, you wander a guilty eye over to him. He’s beautiful, face pulled down, slight frown as he concentrates on some desecrating piece of art. One single curl falls on his forehead. You wonder if it tickles him. You remember the feel of the loose, dark mess between your hungry fingers. Your stomach clenches; you’re starved. 

You look at him and he doesn’t look back. His lack of heavy stares feel purposeful, thick in the tense space between you. You’re a ghost to him, a stranger. Sometimes, you daydream of standing up and doing something outlandish. Dance, flip off a teacher, slap his desk, get completely naked. Just to get his attention. Just to make him acknowledge that you’re there. 

It’s silly. It’s wrong, even. You’ve sworn to stay away from Matty Healy in all your evening prayers since that fateful day in church. You mean it—echoes of needy groans and wet skin and she’s coming, she’s right there—most of the time. 

You’ve been touched by the mark of Satan. You fester from the inside, rotting around your bones. You can feel it. 

You turn back to the teacher, penning down the new dates on the blackboard in your pink notebook. You bite the end of your stylo when you’re done, crossing your legs, kicking one just to feel that faint, tantalizing rippling up your thighs. 

It’s part of you. You can’t unroot it without killing everything else. 

—

A pink, fluffy towel wraps around your body. You sit at your vanity, brushing your wet hair, staring in the mirror. The girl stares back at you. 

You frown a little, arm dropping down. Cocking your head, you pass a hand over your right cheek, watching it grow red under your fingers. You press at your collarbone next; handprints of bright white on your skin, then nothing at all. 

You stand from the bench; not a chair, your mother says it ruins a posture. Facing your mirror, you drop the towel. 

There’s a naked body in front of you. Inches of silky skin. Red-toed feet wiggling in the carpet. Legs licking up to hips. A stomach, clenching and unclenching. Peaked breasts. You take your hand— and it is your hand— and spread it over your belly. 

You climb up to your breasts, cupping them. You descend them back down your ribs, dancing on the bone. Your waist expands to your hips. You press into them, into the curve of your ass. 

Finally, you cover the apex of your thighs. The hair tickles your palm; the heel of your hand presses into your clit. You try to ignore the strike of pleasure, although you can’t stop yourself from biting your lip. 

With a single finger, you dip into your pussy. Not even to be impure with yourself. Just to feel the warm entrance, growing faintly wet under your grazing touch. 

It’s my body, you tell yourself. You take your finger out, sucking on it. It’s my body.  

—

You find Matty Healy smoking behind the bleachers. There’s a football practice faintly happening beyond it, balls being kicked around on the fluorescent green grass. You ignore the coach’s metric whistle and the resounding cheers from lovestruck girls. You approach him carefully, hands shyly tucked behind your back. 

You forget what to say. You forget the mere existence of bisyllabic words standing in front of him, a lazy cigarette between his ringed fingers. “Hi,” is the only thing you manage. Matty jumps in surprise, raising his eyes from his dirty sneakers and settling them on you for the very first time in weeks. 

Dark brown, nearly black things. They don’t warm at the sight of you. You didn’t even know they could be so frigid, meant to cut apart— or at the very least bleed. All your nerve endings are aware of him. You gulp, blinking away his knifing glare. 

Finally, he blows a cloud of smoke out of his mouth. “Hey.” Monosyllabic too. At least you feel a little less silly. “What are you doing here?”

What are you doing here? You don’t even know, spotting his dirty frame in the corner of your eyes and feeling your feet moving before you could think anything else. You’re there now, with barely your wits about you, and you can’t help that sinking feeling that you’re about to be eaten alive. 

Why would you ever think you’d be anything but prey to Matty’s biting teeth? 

“I wanted to talk,” you say, because that feels the most safe. 

Still, Matty scoffs, taking a new drag of his cigarette. You wonder if your meat catches between his teeth. If he picks your flesh out of the gaps when he’s done tearing through you. 

“Don’t talk for too long. I could bring you down to hell with me, isn’t that right? Ruin you?” Bitter words spat in your face. Your eyebrows rise. 

For the first time, you’re hit with the fact that Matty Healy might actually be hurt. By you. That he’s a boy, a confused teenager kissing a girl, and not some horned serpent luring you to your doom. It demystifies him. Drenches him in normalcy. 

You clutch your cross, softening your stare. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.” 

“Whatever,” he rolls his eyes. “Big bad atheist is forsaking you. Bo-ring.” It’s mean. Cruel and careless. Still, it’s easy to see through him. 

You take the lashing out, smirking at the hit. It’s obvious to you now how open he is, how clear the emotions read across his forehead. How could you have ever wondered what he was thinking? It’s right there, to pick and cherish, to hold between your palms. 

It would mix with the stain of you. Your dirty hands would be indistinguishable from his dirty thoughts. Two spirits catching at the edges, blending into some messy art, wrong and off-putting and yet undeniably beautiful. 

You want to hold him. 

You’re afraid he’d pass through the crack of your fingers like water. Gone before you could bend and sip an indulgent mouthful. Gone before you could let the taste linger in your mouth. Gone before you could swallow him and stick him in your throat. 

Would he leave? You cock your head, considering him. Where would he go?

You feel the ground shift beneath your very feet. The Earth must spin dusty seconds slower. Oxygen must be lighter, dangling your head just slightly over your neck. That’s right, you must be entirely headless. 

“Matty,” you sing with your own saccharine smile, taking a slithering step towards him. 

His jaw ticks, watching you carefully. You stop barely a few breaths away from him, staring him straight in the eyes, unflappable. How good to look at him without shame, without manually blinking between the seconds. 

“You’re not ruining me.” You smile some more, teasing and playful and perhaps just a little bit seductive, if you can manage that at all. Leaning into him some more, you whisper conspiratorially, “I can do that myself.” 

Matty looks away, shaking his head. You spot some faint blush spreading across his cheeks. You bite back a giggle, something overjoyed and overpowered striking through you at the very sight. 

Your hand, ring-free but still sporting that splash of damning scarlet, reaches out for his. You trail two fingers over his, grazing the metal of his index. His eyes snap to the spectacle, engrossed by just the tips of you. You smile victoriously, kidnapping his cigarette. 

With a vague gesture of your hand, you say in a botched raspy tone, “You know, we're all really alone in life, and religion can't save you, and God is a huge dick.” You end your grandiose declaration with a drag of cigarette, blowing the smoke out in his face. You smile proudly as he laughs at your antics. 

The gray disperses around you, finally revealing him. He’s grinning warmly down at you. “Is that supposed to be me?” 

“Nah. Just generally a big bad atheist.” You make sure to coat his words with cheeky taunting which he rolls his eyes at. 

“You’re not funny.” 

“You laughed.” 

Stuck, Matty quickly changes subject, leaning back on the metal structure to peer at you from above. He crosses his arms. “I’m surprised you didn’t cough.” 

You shrug, staring down at the burning cigarette between your fingers. “Maybe it’s not my first cig.” 

When you look back at him, his eyes have grown dark, burning again with that fire that’s become indistinguishable from him. How good to see it again. You feel it seeping under your white sweater, tickling your ribs. You want him there, tearing the bones from you. 

Matty cocks his head. “Is it?” Again, you just raise your shoulders with an air of mystery. He smirks, something dangerous to the edges. Here’s not the boy, but the animal, flashing his teeth like he could sink them in your throat. “What would your God say about that?” 

You hum, refusing to look away from his tense stare. There’s much less teasing when you say, “Probably something disapproving. But then, we all have our vices.” It’s not your fault. Your breath’s caught in your throat. Your head spins, warning bells you delightfully ignore in a back corner of your brain. 

To distract the slight tremble in your hand, you bring the cigarette back to your pouty lips. You take a drag, but it goes badly down your throat, and you cough in the elbow of your other arm. Your cheeks blaze. You peer at him tentatively to find him smirking at you, condescending and smug, clearly having found the answer you so craftily avoided before. 

You scowl, mostly in warning, but that does not stop him from opening his mouth. “Gotta suck it like a straw,” he taunts. His smirk grows wider, more like a grin, “Or a c—” 

“Okay,” you blush further. Images of his— and you on your knees, finally obeying his request, praying real real hard for— You twirl the cigarette in your fingers, feeling the red spread across your face. You mumble, “Don’t be crass.” 

“I thought you liked that.” Must he be so cocky, so detestable. Must he make every cell of yours aware of him, every inch begging for his skin, must he raise your temperature to a feverish degree? Matty seems to read right through you. Perhaps he, too, sees the emotion written across your forehead. “Yes, if I recall correctly, you really, really love when I’m crass. Almost made you com—” 

Your eyes snap to his, daggering him with a glare you don’t mean. You have to stop yourself from rubbing your thighs together, chase that sinfully good reverb to your wet pussy. Triumphant, Matty leans into your ear, breath grazing the sensitive skin as he whispers, “I didn’t even scratch a tenth of the things I want to do to you.” His hand lingers over yours.

In an instant, he’s snapping away from you, stolen cigarette between his fingers. Matty takes an easy drag, pouring the gray cloud over your face in retaliation. A shit-eating grin reigns over his lips.

He’s beautiful. Your insides melt like syrup. He’d try to grab your hips and he’d soak through, sugar sticking on his palms. 

“Save it,” you say finally, taking one step away. You smile. “I like a surprise.” 

He snorts. “I thought I was disgusting.” 

“No,” you shake your head, rolling your eyes like he was very silly, “I said I was.” Giving him a purposeful onceover, you smirk. “Or at least I could be.” 

—

You rub the ringless knuckle with two fingers, still feeling the memory of a ghost on your skin. Kneeling at the end of your bed, you pick at your nails. You think of what to say, of prayers to mouth in the evening. You’ve been sinning, you know this. Forming an hubris, leaning into desires, smoking— smoking with a boy who smirks and pours gray clouds out of his lips and looks you up and down like he could swallow you whole. A boy who’s Matty Healy, a proud sinner, a reckless atheist. 

Still, you kneel at your bed and you find most of your head empty. Your bedroom door is cracked, letting a shine of light pass through. Your father walks; you hear the monotonous steps, loud and heavy and regular. Instinctively, you close your eyes, muttering nothing to yourself. 

“Goodnight, sweetie,” your father says, peeking his head through. You open your eyes in false surprise. 

“Oh, goodnight, Dad.” 

“Sleep well,” he says, and you nod curtly. You’ll dream of filthy things. Scandalous mirages. You’ll imagine skin and hips and breasts; fingers and lips and cock. Licking and biting and devouring. He can’t stop you. 

You grin, bright and wide. “Thanks. You too.” 

Your father keeps the door ajar as he leaves. The hallway light is still on. Your mother is downstairs, busying herself with the dishes. You hear the soothing sound of the running water, a faint hum of a song. 

Beside you, someone knocks at your window. You frown, twisting around, coming face to face with Matty Healy’s scrunched body as he peers through the glass, a smirk on his lips. Your eyes widen. You jump to your feet, heart beating in your chest, looking around like your father would pop through the door at any moment. 

Grabbing the handles, you slam the window up. Matty grins lazily at you, unworried in the face of your clear stress. “What are you doing here?” You whisper-yell to him. 

“Wanted to say hey,” he shrugs easily. 

You blink at him. “At ten PM?”

“You know, it’s still pretty early for us deviants.” He pointedly peers past the window frame, coming back to you with an arched eyebrow. “Can I come in?” 

You bite your lip, flipping back to your half-opened door, to the floating sound of your mother’s song. You should say no. Nothing good can come out of seeing Matty Healy, especially at this hour. 

But a low hum of thrill rings in your belly. Your heart slams in your chest, singing, alive for the first time in too long. You’re electrified, hyperaware. You’re never catching sleep now. 

Fuck it, you think, because you can swear in the sanctity of your own mind. You tiptoe to the door, slowly shutting it. You’re diligent, twisting the doorknob to make sure not a single sound travels back to the kitchen. When your mission is done, you turn back to Matty, a proud, victorious smile on your lips. He grins back easily, already standing in your room, dirty sneakers on your carpet. 

“Hey,” Matty says. 

“Hi,” you answer, hands twisting behind your back. It is impossibly teenage-like. You almost feel like a caricature of yourself. 

“So this is your room?” He continues, speaking softly as to not alert your parents. You half-believe your mother really could magically sense the presence of a teenage atheist boy in her house. Some sharpened instinct for sin. 

“It would appear so.” 

Matty walks in your room, faintly tentative in his steps. He looks around, taking in your vanity holding scattered bottles of perfume and lotion, your gold full-length mirror, the glued flowers to your walls, the fluffy carpet dirtied by his sneakers. The twin bed with pink sheets. The bible on the nightstand. The crucifix watching over you. You flush, looking away embarrassed. 

“Cute,” Matty says. It feels almost derogatory. Cute, like a little girl, someone you coo at and pat the head of fondly. Someone that’s empty brained, not smart enough to follow his wild wordvomit, the boundless theories haunting his mind. You scowl. He seems to see through you, chuckling easily. “I like it,” he insists. 

“No, you don’t.” 

“Well,” he grins. “It’s a little pink for me.” 

“Shut up.” You shake your head, huffing a laugh. 

Matty takes off his shoes, sitting down on your bed. He scoops himself up, resting his back against the wall. A spike of nerves strikes your stomach, but it spreads nicely through your limbs. Between your thighs most of all, clenching around nothing. 

A boy in your bed. How strange. 

“What were you doing?” 

“Praying,” you answer in habit. 

He arches an eyebrow, grabbing your bible. He flips through the pages, half-curious and half-sneering. A small defensive thing beats in your heart. You frown at him. “What were you praying about?” 

“Just—” Now you’re caught off-guard. There’s much valid answers spinning in your head. Peace, health, family. But there’s an insatiable need in you to knock him off his pretentious pedestal. Shake him to his core, just so he knows the ripples passing through your soul whenever he decides to smash into your world. “Sex.”

This definitely shakes him. His hands freeze around the bible, eyes snapping back to you. There’s no shock, per say, but something darker. It calls to you, climbing up your spine. “Oh?” 

You smile. You barely register the step you take towards the bed. “Yes. I’ve been really bad, getting all mixed-up in my impure thoughts. I just had to pray the lust away.”  

Matty inhales slowly, watching you like he could eat through your flesh. You see his chest rise in quick successions. A devilish smirk teases at your lips. “Does it work?” His voice is surprisingly even. 

You sigh. “Does it ever work?” 

His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows thickly. God, he’s so easy. “Why don’t you show me?” 

A playful look through your eyelashes. “Yes, Father.” His breath hitches in his throat. Matty grips the bible like a lifebuoy, and, oh, isn’t that just deliciously ironic?

You fall to your knees under his mesmerized stare, elbows resting at the end of your bed, fingers interlocking together. Spine comically straight, eyes innocently closed, you’re a caricature of a devotee. 

You hum, licking your lips. “Lord, I’m sorry I thought about that boy again.” You relish in the breath of air choking from his lips, half a gasp and half a groan. Your eyelids tingle, begging to take a peek at his reaction, but you know your little act requires your eyes closed.

With a fake frown of guilt, you continue, “I shouldn’t have thought of him bending me over my desk in the middle of history class. I shouldn’t have thought of everyone watching us as he flipped my skirt up.” Definitely a groan, low and gravelly from his sinful lips. “Should definitely not have thought of him fucking me in front of all these students— and the teacher, of course— until I’m cockdrunk and drooling on my desk.” Another muffled sound. Rustling of jeans and sheets. You smirk, incapable of keeping the innocent schoolgirl act, devious as you say, “Lord, I’m so sorry I considered touching myself in class thinking of—”

Matty caresses your hair, following the curve of your jaw, gripping your chin between his fingers. You snap your eyes open, breath stolen from your throat. He towers over you, godly, knees siding your elbows. It’s suddenly not funny at all. 

“I forgive you.” 

And then, all of a sudden, you know what it’s like to be clean. Your soul frees of the soil; of the dirt and grime and mud tacking your bones. Your fingertips buzz, carpet-burnt knees forgetting the pain. 

Your head nuzzles in his hand, grinning. Matty’s thumb grazes your lower lip. Instinctively, your mouth slips open, practically inviting him in. 

His thumb dips inside, pressing meanly on your tongue. You suck on his finger, staring up at him through your eyelashes. His ring tastes like metal in your mouth. Something in you loves it; craves the aftertaste of blood. 

Matty breathes heavily, lips parting. Dark eyes discombobulating you. Your head feels slack on your neck. He slips away from your mouth. Drool coats his skin. It dries on your cheek, thumb rubbing it tenderly, hand spreading on your jaw. 

Your eyes are locked with his, almost mesmerized by the dark pupils. You want to drown in the murky waters. That must be where hell lies, alive and rustling. 

Where you want to dive, lose yourself in the intangible. 

Matty smirks down at you. Like he knows. Like he reads the thoughts on your forehead. Little mouse practically screaming your filthy thoughts. 

“You’re quiet,” he says almost matter-of-factly, like an observation he just realized. The smirk betrays him, broadcasting the gleeful cruelty in the words. I’ve shut you up is unsaid, but much felt. 

You resent it. You want to scream, to be heard, to crash into his ribs and burst the bone. Of course, it’s when your thoughts roar the loudest that your tongue curdles, useless in your mouth. Words escape from you, mind spinning with wantwantwantwantwant without needed direction. You’re a mess of a girl, more a tactless binding of contradictions than anything real— yarn and clusters and knots tying staggering opposites under skin. 

But you want, and isn’t it just great to allow yourself to? To desire, to hunger.

Words loose in your throat, you push yourself up from the ground with two hands spreading over his knees. He follows your biblical rise like an avid follower until you loom over him. He has to tip his chin to look you in the eyes. There is something inexplicably thrilling about it. Power surges up your spine. 

Your hands settle on his shoulders. Slowly; time is yours. Matty skips a breath. His fingers find the back of your thighs, a second nature, more a thoughtless impulse than any type of decision. His digging stare is still locked with yours. You wonder if he’s even realized he’s grazing your legs, dancing fingertips on the skin. 

Your eyes trail to his lips. Parted, gasping an irregular pattern, waiting for you. Red like he’s licked the blood off, trying to catch the last trace of you as he tears through your heart.

“I don’t want to be good,” you whisper, because he has to know. Because it has to be said. Because you don’t, and more importantly, you don’t have to. 

Matty smiles. His fingers hook behind your knees— whiplash from how present he suddenly is spreading from the still hot handprints. He tugs you into him, making you land squarely on his lap. You gasp as you settle, gripping his shoulders, digging in the cotton of his washed-out shirt. 

“I don’t want you to be good either,” he says, bending his head towards you conspiratorially, like telling you a secret. Your heart slams against your ribs, calling for him, for his lingering touch, burning even when he’s gone. I want you, I want you. 

You try to catch your breath, to grab onto your heart with two hands and tell it to settle down, but it’s not enough. He’s seeped under the cracks, loosened the knots. You’re embarrassingly wet, dripping for him even if he’s barely given you more than a brush. 

“It’s settled then,” you say with much bravado, traveling your begging hands to his nape, scooping your hips to sit closer to him. You smile playfully, leaning into him. “I’ll be very disgusting.” 

Matty cringes, letting go of your scraped knees. Fear grips you— you act on instinct, taking his wrist and puppeteering him to your waist, wrapping him around you, interlacing him before he can slip away from your fingers. “I want you,” you say, crystal clear. 

Matty considers you, perfectly controlled if it wasn’t for the betraying blush pinking his cheeks. Two fingers dip under the hem of your pajamas, thumb rubbing at your rib, pinky resting on your hip annoyingly still. It ripples in your body, toes curling like some prophetic foreteller. You throb around nothing, biting your lip. 

His other hand ghosts over your collarbone. The non-touch is still enough to race your poor heart, drunk on the presence of him. He watches your breath quicken, chest rising and falling, then flips to your eyes. “Do you really mean that?” He asks, unsettlingly serious. You nod, once again lost for words. His fingers skislope down the bone. 

He lands on the cross dangling from your neck, sitting perfectly straight on your chest, the crowning ornament of a paper girl. Your breath catches; the world stops. He arches an eyebrow at you, hooking into the gold chain. “Do you really mean that?” 

Turning points, life forking in two like the tongue of a snake. Possibilities on the tip of your teeth, so close you can taste it. 

“I want you—” Catching the chain, he tugs you to his lips, siren to your sailor. Your mouths lock, frenzied delight spinning around your neck, scrambling any remaining wit. Yes, you think, parting your lips, finally.  

You sigh into his mouth, from relief or pleasure or perhaps the vertiginous feeling of standing on the cliff of the unknown, unstable ground rippling under your feet. But Matty is solid under you— your hands rack through his curls, softer than you remember them, gripping the tangible, the steady. 

His hand at your side digs into your hip, drawing you square on his hard cock. You gasp, rolling your head, lingering in the first electroshocks of bliss biting into your limbs. Like jumping into cold waters on the hottest day of summer— shocked from the contrast, giddy from the refreshing cool. You grind into him again, a happy laugh spilling from you. 

Matty doesn’t waste opportunities. He finds your neck, leaving open-mouthed kisses on your pulse. He climbs up to your jaw, biting then licking away the ache. You shiver, trapped between his arms.

The cross rests in the center of his palm still, pretty and cool. He could tear it apart if he wished. Tear you straight to the bone. Instead, he runs a thumb over the metal, over the bloody edges of you. You drip on him, wax candle melting from his flame, but you can trust he’ll lick it clean. 

You take him by the cheeks, drawing him back to your lips. You’re already panting. The room blurs around you; your hip exists because he touches it, because it’s him that does it. You roll them against his, reveling in the choked groans from deep in his throat. 

Matty lets go of the cross, finding your breast instead. He pushes down your camisole, revealing your peaked nipples. The back of your mind half-thinks of being self-conscious, but he pinches one, rubbing it, making you moan, and suddenly there’s no thoughts at all but his name. His mouth rips from yours. He bends down, licking a nipple with an expert tongue. A strike of pure ecstasy waves through you. Your fingers twist into his mane, encouraging him, furiously humping his lap. 

Matty can’t make his mind up— he vacillates between wanting to devour your tits, biting the underboob meanly, kissing it better; between watching your face as you whimper, frown digging in your eyebrows as you concentrate on not making much sound; between kissing you, tongue slipping through your lips; between wrinkling his face close, letting himself get washed in the euphoria. 

In the end, he twists you, laying you down on the bed, him over you. It’s a practiced maneuver— you want to scowl, but he settles deliciously between your thighs and now you’re too busy rolling your eyes into your skull. 

“Beautiful,” he says, short-winded, flicking between your face and your untidy body, pajamas barely covering any flushed skin. You redden, chin dipping shyly. 

Matty burrows underneath your tank top, uncovering your skin inch by inch as he slowly climbs up your waist. His calluses dance on your ribs, branding iron to your vestal body, something to linger when he’s gone. You breathe harshly, staring up at the ceiling, trying to stay very still. 

He passes the shirt beyond your head, hair falling through the neck. He throws it over the bed carelessly, like it didn’t exist now that you weren’t wearing it. 

It’s not like it was occupying its function as a shirt before, more a bunched belt around your waist than anything. Still, you feel self-conscious, uncovered like this in front of him. Topless. Naked. You have the impulse to cover your breasts, hide away from his baring stare. It tickles at the back of your mind. 

“I wanna hear you,” Matty whispers, ghosting up your stomach, eyes following his hand religiously. “You had so much to say before.” 

You wrinkle your nose, shaking your head. It’s all impossibly real. You don’t know how to do any of this. 

Matty smiles reassuringly. “What do you want?” He spurs you on, thumb finding your nipple and circling it. You moan, arching into his palm. 

You don’t know what you want, you just do. Everything. Anything. As long as it’s sinful; as long as it’s worth the damnation. 

“Angel, what do you want?” He whispers in your ear, biting your lobe, unwilling to let it go. You try to contain a shiver, but your legs still part instinctively for him. He smiles at that, something crooked to it, something raw. 

“I’m not an angel,” you say petulantly. 

He’s hard between your sticky thighs. An atheist is kissing your neck where the chain meets the skin. You’re— You’re in your goddamn childhood bed, on the fluffy pink sheets you got for your ninth birthday for Christ’s sake. Nothing about you is innocent, or pure, or angelic. 

You’re poisonous, and dirty, and hungry.  

Of course, Matty doesn’t seem to agree. He pouts condescendingly at you, trailing the tip of his fingers—callused and hard worked and meant to burn, but oh so gentle on your belly — lower, near the waist of your pajama shorts. 

“Is that so?” He says, overly cocky and teasing, practically mocking the very words out of your mouth. Still, you nod. At that, he smiles wider, shadows catching his teeth. “Well, prove it.” 

His hand meets the band of your underwear. You stop your eyes from rolling inside your skull, from scrunching your face in pure delight. You want to see him. See him as he watches you, licking his lips, following every rising chest and huffing lips and trembling thighs. See him as he takes you in, as he stares like he wishes to memorize the very edges of you, like he wants to swallow you whole. 

God, you want to be consumed. 

Your nails dig into his shoulders. You push. “I’ve done my evening prayers,” you say with a moan. “Your turn.” Matty laughs, but he’s going down your body obligingly. 

His lips graze your skin with head-swooning attention. He kisses down your neck, pressing a demure peck on your cross, like handshaking the Lord. A blush reddens your cheeks. 

Your chest heaves, trying to quiet down your screaming heart, the overwhelming anticipation spreading through your body. Every particle of you is aware of him, of what’s coming, and you sense an incriminating flutter invading you. Your thighs close around his waist, softly grinding onto him, biting your lower lip. 

Matty kisses the top of your breasts, gently biting your nipples. He’s diligent on this part of your body, lingering there happily. You can’t seem to swallow down the striking pleasure, quietly whining as he sucks and licks and twists. 

Your mother must be downstairs still. Your father is only a few rooms over.  They could hear, or worse walk in, find you half naked with a boy between your thighs. What would they think? What would they say? What would they do? Scrub your skin off under the burning shower, scrape and scrape until you’re raw, as though you could ever forget the memory of his lips on you? A furrow dents your eyebrows harshly. You bite your lip, relishing in the pain spreading down your chin. 

You can be depraved as long as you’re punished for it. A taste of sin if it slashes down your throat. 

You’ve barely grown accustomed to him that he’s gone already, moving down your waist, ribs a xylophone to his tongue. A small line of hair scatters over your belly. He follows the path, lips floating over your skin. You flex under him, excited and nervous and impossibly hot. 

Matty kisses just above the hem of your pajamas, hand digging into your hip. He looks up at you and inexplicable pleasure grips you. He’s— He’s majestic. Better than some God; prettier, too. 

Dark eyes, red lips, frenzied hair. You rack through the mess of curls, tugging as encouragement. He’ll make doom worth something. A dust of a moment traded for eternity feels awfully fair when he’s looking at you like this. 

Matty’s fingers hook into the shorts. He pulls them down your legs, scratching the silky skin as he goes. Once again, the scrap of fabric is thoughtlessly discarded as soon as it slips out of your feet. 

You’re in your underwear. In front of Matty Healy. You take a few seconds to attempt to wrap your head around the fact, but it’s nearly impossible with his tough fingers climbing back up your shaking legs, approaching your thighs. 

Need throbs inside of you. You crave him. 

“Is this what you wanted?” He says, approaching the apex of your thighs. 

You moan, face clenching, toes curling in the idea of what is coming. Your body holds its breath, anticipation running down its veins. Something about this moment is inherent; your mind barely understands the implications, but your legs retain the memory of a pleasure you’ve never had. Remaining sins from Eve herself. This is millions of years in the making. 

“Love, is this what you want?” 

You huff, resting on your elbows to look at him. “No,” you bite. “I want more.”

Matty laughs, kissing your hip bone just above your underwear. You choke on a breath, shiver dancing up your spine. “Like this?” He whispers, cheeky and teasing because he knows it’s not. 

Your hips rise towards him, falling back uselessly. “No.”

He hums, finding the twin bone, giving it a sweet mirror kiss. You whine, head rolling in frustration. “How about this?” He’s so proud. 

“I want—” You sigh, words fleeing down your throat in a cruel game of hide and seek. The chasm of the unknown reels under your toes. You frown. “I want—” 

“Yes?” Matty bites your hip, smiling knowingly at you as he licks it clean. 

You stare at his dancing eyes, at that damn curl of his falling across his forehead like lightning, at his tongue, pink and soft and— “I want you to lick me.” You’re too proud to be embarrassed at the dirty words. The idea already calls to you, spinning deliciously in your head. Matty grins at you. You push his head, hand still firmly tucked in his hair, lining him up to your center. “Just—” You moan as his chin bumps your ignored clit, “ruin me.”

Matty doesn’t need to be told twice— thank God. He slips your underwear off your legs. You have no time to grow shy at being completely, entirely exposed because he’s pushing your thighs open the next second, licking your clit. 

Your hips jump. A cry slips your lips. You slap a hand over your mouth, heart racing. Again, you can barely finish wondering if your mother heard that Matty is sucking on your bud. Thankfully your palm catches the moans freefalling thoughtlessly from your mouth. You can’t seem to hold them back— it’s beyond reason, beyond you. It listens to the heated bliss soaring through your limbs and nothing else. 

You’re the apple and the snake and the first woman. You’re multitudes stretching under your skin. You’ve got a man between your thighs, eating you. The thought doesn’t seem real, although his tongue proves otherwise, languid and sure and flicking. 

You can tell he’s following the same rhythm he ordered in the dark box of the confessional, ironically close to a priest prescribing penance for mortal sins. Slow and gentle and teasing; meant to boil your blood, get you begging. 

As though you’re not dripping on the sheets for him. As though you’re not dizzy with want. As though you’re not holding back screams. 

Still, he licks and sucks at your clit, swiping and circling on the nerves. He cruelly ignores your entrance clenching around nothing, practically weeping for him. His nails dig into the meat of your thigh like he wants to, though. Like he has to stop himself from doing so. 

You’ve never had more than a lick of sacramental wine, but you feel drunk already. The bed is your island, spreading across the world. Sweat sticks your hair to your forehead. You grind into him desperately, chasing that syrupy ecstasy coaxing through your veins. What is the point of blood? You’d rather live off the sweetness. 

You rack your fingers through Matty’s mane, brushing it back from his forehead as though he needed to see to best work. “Matty,” you say, high-pitched and desperate, “please.” 

“You just had to say, pet,” he whispers, coming out of your thighs out of breath, slick coating his chin. You flush, thinking of why. Devoted, he throws one of your legs over your shoulder, diving back for more. 

Thumb rubbing at your clit, he runs his tongue over your folds. “Fuck, Matty—” You bite into your lip, face scrunching to keep in the visceral words screaming in your mind. 

This is what people have been hiding, keeping firmly locked behind rings and hushed whispers, spelling it out so you wouldn’t put the letters together. Endless euphoria waving, razing, ravaging. You get it now. 

It’s too much power to give to a girl. Because that’s what you are, in the end. Just a girl. 

Matty laps at you, burning tongue finding the apex of all your desires and rubbing a frantic rhythm against it. He moves purposefully, knowingly, as though he already learnt all the secrets even you haven’t discovered. 

Your head rolls back. You bite your hand, tearing through the palm lines, crushing under your teeth whatever future a fortune teller would’ve read in the fated dents. The path bursts; you’re soaring through the sky— or perhaps freefalling. The two feel awfully the same, heaven and hell intertwined until you can’t distinguish which cardinal point you’re following.

Pornographic, sopping sounds ring through the room. He groans against you, reverberating in your cunt. You clench around his tongue, hips flapping wildly. Pressure builds in your belly. Your limbs tense, electricity coursing through the lines. “Matty, I—”

Who are you to wreck God’s perfectly curated plan? Still, you tug at Matty’s curls, grinding into his face, heel digging into his back. Ecstasy wipes your mind clean.

“I know, angel,” Matty moans. He ducks back single-minded, licking into you with a frenzied passion. Quick and strong, thumb pressing on your clit meanly; he devours you. You feel feverish. You feel sick. 

You’re on fire. 

Let you burn down. Catch the sheets, the fuzzy carpet, the whole goddamn house. You’re tired of smothering fire, like a fickle flicker of flame wouldn’t bring it back in an instant. You want to blaze. You want to melt. 

Infinity smears your tongue. You are but a body, and it breaks apart. 

You bite your palm raw holding back a scream. Euphoria erupts under your skin. The yarn rips; you fall apart on his tongue, scattered sins bursting around the room. You tug at his hair cruelly, the last remaining hold on reality as your vision blurs. 

How good. That is all you think for a blink of a moment. How good. 

The debris settles around you. You lay in ruins, catching your breath, laughing softly. This is a fucking orgasm. 

All those talks of sin, of flesh, of ashes. Of apples and girls and flames. All those prayers you’ve done, fingers intertwined as you mouthed false promises. All the guilt you’ve carried with you. For existing, for wanting, for being a girl with a body. 

You should feel dirty. Matty Healy has just eaten you out until your brain leaked out of your ears. You should be disgusting. 

Instead, you feel oddly free. 

Matty peeks out of your legs, face wet and dripping with you. He wipes at it. You finally let go of your tyrannical hold on his hair, brushing away the strands as an apology. He frowns, asking worriedly, “Are you crying?” 

You pat at your cheeks, finding the telltale tears. “Oh,” you say, somehow surprised. “Yeah. Yeah, I guess.” You wipe at them furiously, flushing under his baring stare. How embarrassing. 

He settles beside you, tucking your side onto him with a lazy hand on your waist. The contact is reassuring, somehow. You nestle into him closer. “Why?” He says, trailing a finger on your skin. 

“Just—” You blush harder, looking away abashed. “I don’t know.” 

“Did I…” His eyebrows furrow further. Your heart jumps. 

“No,” you say, wide-eyed. “You were great. It was—” You wrinkle your nose, suddenly ashamed to be talking about all this. Like he wasn’t buried between your thighs just a few seconds ago. “It was really good.” God, you just don’t know what to say. “Thank you,” you add, unsure. 

Matty laughs. “You’re welcome, love.” He runs a hand through your hair, tucking a strand behind your flushed ear. “What is it, then?” 

“I guess—” You bite your lip, trying to find words for something instinctive, thoughtless. “I was just really happy. And free. Like I’d broken through something.” You shake your head. “I don’t know. It was my first time, obviously. It’s… new.” 

“Good new?” 

You smile at his tentative words clearly searching for validation. It makes you a little glad. That it’s not just another day for him, certain and cool and all knowing. That there’s doubts just like you, some pubescent anxiety. 

You nod. “Good new.” 

Although you mean it, something in you still spins with nervosity. It’s new; freeing and hot and fresh. But it’s also new; strange and different and unknown. Now your thoughts are filled with questions. If he liked it too. If you were too loud. If you weren’t enough. If you tasted bad. If you looked good. If you should have done more. If he expects more. If he likes you. 

If it’s it, then. If you’re forsaken. If there’s no going back now. If you should feel guiltier. If you should care less. 

There’s no wrong way to feel, yet it seems you can’t find the right one either. Your brain goes through gymnastics, finding a new worry to latch onto, volleying between contradictions. 

You are free. You are guilty. You don’t know how to reckon with either. 

Matty seems to sense the overthinking smoking out of your ears. His fingers graze down to your naked hip, drawing a slow pattern on the skin. “What?” He breathes in your ear. 

“Nothing,” you shake your head. 

That’s what you want to feel. Nothing. His calluses press on your skin. You feel your walls flutter, already awoken by his ghosting touch. 

You know a way to get there: mind wiped blissfully clean. With a purpose, you hook a hand behind his neck, tugging him back to your mouth. Matty sees you coming, lips parted in readiness, tongue slipping in hotly. 

You moan against him, already feeling yourself boiling under your skin. It’s an instinctive reaction. He’s barely licking into your mouth that you’re already in a frenzy, heart slamming against your ribs for more. 

You comb a hand through his unruly curls, scratching at his scalp. He shivers against you, letting go to breathe a relieved groan before finding your lips with renewed fervor. You like the power it gives you. You repeat the movement over and over, relishing in the smallest reactions you can coax out of him. Not a marble man; he crinkles just like you. 

He spreads his hand under your back, drawing you to your side, titling his head to kiss you better. His fingers dance on your spine, unshy and learning. You feel awfully naked, all of sudden. Laying in your childhood bed, bare other than the cross still dangling from your neck, now tangled somewhere in your hair far from sight. With a boy who’s very much dressed. 

Attempting to rectify the situation instead of having another spout of anxiety, you sneak your fingers under the hem of his shirt. He’s warm and familiar. You’ve somehow learnt the shape of him in the one time you indulgently held him— or perhaps it’s been all those dreams you’ve replayed over and over. 

Still, you’re excited to stop touching blindly and see. Climbing up his chest, you raise the band tee, feeble and immaterial in your greedy hands. Matty leaves your lips, shortwinded as he reaches behind him and tugs the shirt off. It falls in the sea rumbling beneath your bed, lulling you softly. 

He tries to bend back to kiss you again, but you halt him with a hand on his shoulder. Your stare rakes across his chest; skinny and lanky; faint, forgotten scars you know the feel of by heart; a delicious trail of hair feathering down his stomach; a tattoo kissing his skin. Your heart squeezes in your chest. He’s magnificent. Your lips burn, needing to touch him, to lick down his belly and feel him tense and flex for you. 

Your eyes snap back to his. He’s grown almost self-conscious, blushing under your gluttonous peer. You relish in the sight, licking your bloody teeth. You want him, through the flesh and bones. 

“You’re pretty,” you say finally. 

Matty shakes his head, chuckling. “You can’t call a man that.” 

You pout meanly at him. “Big bad atheist can’t be pretty?” 

With an exasperated roll of his eyes, Matty bends to your neck, kissing just under the jaw. His hair tickles your temple. You giggle cheerfully, letting him push you back into the bed. “Will you ever let me live it down?” He whispers, hot breath blowing on your electrified skin. You shiver, growing wetter just at that low tone of his. He knows this, smirking as he leaves a burning path down the curve. 

You hum, trying to gather some sort of wit. “Depends,” you say, but it already falls short, considering how out of breath you sound, practically purring. “Are you gonna start believing in God?” 

Matty snaps away from your neck, propping himself on his elbow as he watches you with affront. You can’t help laughing, wrinkling your nose as the sheer offense on his face. “I’ve got some great quotes underlined if you want,” you add playfully, pointedly looking at the bible resting on the bedside table. Quite precariously too, half of it hanging in mid-air from Matty’s careless throw. 

Matty gets on his knees, staring down at you unflinchingly. Like this, towering over your still laying body, he almost looks godly. “Yeah?” He says, grabbing the bible, cracking it open. “Should we read some right now?” 

You would usually love a chance to rip apart Matty’s skull. Find the unhealed wounds. Teach him words to plaster over. But he’s shirtless, and pretty— to hell what you can call a man, and you’re naked and wet. 

This is not the time for bible reading. You want his mouth busy with something else. 

Of course, Matty is already squinting at the pages. “Your breasts are like two fawns, twins of a gazelle.” His voice was made for music; it comes melodic out of his mouth, like a tempo, like a harmony, like a poem. He looks up from the pages, staring down at you with an arched eyebrow. 

You blush, suddenly hyperaware of your peaked breasts lying openly for him. “Of course you would fall on Song of Solomon on your first try,” you mutter. It’s like sin calls to him, some singing on his fingertips when he runs through the pages. 

He snorts. One hand leaves the weathered hardcover, instead grazing up your thigh. You can’t stop a shiver, feeling the hair rise where he touches. Instinctively, you spread them— just slightly, an unconscious reaction reverberating to your legs. Still, Matty smirks, proud and knowing. 

“You know, you might be onto something. This sounds like my kind of book.” And then, to prove his point, he recites, “Blow on my garden, that its fragrance may spread abroad. Let my lover come into his garden and taste its choice fruits.” How dirty pious words sound from his profane mouth. How he twists the shape of them, warps their meaning. Matty, again, looks up to your reaction, shit-eating grin cracking his face. “I think we just got done with that.” 

You flush even harder. Your head spins with memories— not daydreams, not fantasies, not vestiges from your slumber, but memories, real and undeniable. His head between your thighs, licking into your cunt, starved and gluttonous. You throb uselessly, dripping on the sheets. “It’s not—” 

Matty’s climbing fingers find your cunt, and suddenly you have no words to say. You gnaw on your lip, whining through the shocking wave of bliss hitting you. He gathers your telltale wetness, as though to prove some sick knowledge that you’re enjoying this. That he’s tearing through your beliefs with nails and teeth. 

That you won’t ever look at those pages the same again, just like you can’t catch a peripheral peek of the confessional without straightening in your seat. 

An opportunist, Matty spreads the slick to your clit, rubbing the tender thing slowly. You moan, throwing your head back, dropping your thighs completely open for him. His calluses, rough and mean, are heavenly on your bundle of nerves. 

“Do you want more?” 

You’re not sure he means fingers or passages, but still, you open your eyes, whining, “Yes.” You raise your hips to his palm, falling back on the sheets with a pout. “Please.” 

Matty stops. You clench around nothing, unsatisfied. He flips through the pages, slick fingers drying on the bible’s hardcover. You want to look away— it’s filthy. But they’re so long, spindly and wide-knuckled, and you can’t stop staring. 

Matty finds a page, balancing the bible on his forearm as he finds your upper thighs again. “Now the serpent was more crafty than any other animal that the Lord God had made.”

You almost want to roll your eyes. How cliche. But Matty is teasing a finger against your wet entrance, and you’re rolling your eyes for a much different reason. 

Matty lingers in this moment, circling your clit with his thumb. He watches the spectacle, following his hands, your cunt, your breasts, your face religiously. 

Swallowing harshly, he continues, “He said to the woman, ‘Did God say, ‘You shall not eat from any tree in the garden?’” 

You nod, encouraging him on. For further argument, you wrap your own hand around his wrist, grinding softly into his fingers. Matty licks his lips, distracted again. 

One finger enters you. Slow, to make sure you get used to the feel. Your face scrunches close to hold the cries in. Your cunt flutters with pleasure, begging for him, for more. He’s much longer than your own, but there’s barely any resistance. It’s still not enough to completely splinter you, unravel you to sweet nonexistence. 

Slithering around his wrist in a vice-like grip, you feel the need to tell him, “I want more. Please, Matty.” 

He thrusts in and out of you languidly, sopping sounds resonating in the quiet room. Your neck goes slack. He doesn’t seem to get the crux of the request, however, because he bends back to the book, “The woman said to the serpent, ‘We may eat of the fruit of the trees in the garden; but God said ‘you shall not eat of the fruit of the tree that is in the middle of the garden, nor shall you touch it, or you shall die.’” 

You shall not eat of the fruit of the tree. You shall not eat of the fruit of the tree. You shall not eat of the fruit of the tree. You shall not— But it’s too late for you, isn’t it? 

You’re famished. 

You press his hand into you, locking with his dark eyes. “More.”

Finally understanding, Matty dips a second finger into you. This time, the stretch is uncomfortable, wider than you’ve ever known. You frown at the new feel, trying to clench and unclench to get used to him. He’s patient, waiting, rubbing a delicious pattern on your bundle of nerves to loosen you up. 

“You’re so good for me,” he whispers, and your lips grow slack with a proud smile. 

When you finally feel ready, you grind into his palm. Matty thrusts his fingers, curling them just so. You’re losing your mind, organs pushing against your skin to make place for the invading ecstasy. It’s poisonous, eating through your veins, but you must bottle it up. Being quiet is the most sadistic torture you’ve ever know. 

“But the serpent said to the woman,” Matty’s rhythm falters as he focuses on the words again, “‘You will not die; for God knows that when you eat of it your eyes will be opened, and you will be like God, knowing good and evil.’” 

Your legs kick wildly on the sheets. Matty is unwavering, steady and consistent, fingers fucking into you. Your free hand, not knowing whether to grip the sheets or rack through your sweaty hair, finds his knee instead. Your nails dig into the jeans, like he deserved punishment for making you feel like this. Good and evil. 

“So when the woman saw that the tree was good for food,” Matty’s breathing is hitched, stuck somewhere in the back of his throat. Words come out rough from his lips, yet still just as poetic, just as holy, “and that it was a delight to the eyes, and that the tree was to be desired to make one wise.” He smirks at his emphasized words. 

Like you don’t agree with a full heart and a full mind. Like you don’t crave to take a bite of him. 

Like you don’t want to consume him and be consumed by him. 

Like you’re not letting him defile you with the Lord’s words coating his tongue. Like you’re not needing that very tongue. 

Licking his teeth, Matty stares at you. Can he see the thoughts spinning through your mind? Can he see you? “She took all of its fruit and ate.” And you did.

God, you did. 

You can’t take it anymore. You reach for him, dragging him back to your pleading lips. Again, Matty throws the bible beyond the bed, uncaring for even holy texts. How easy for him. To make religion stop existing— something for the rest of the world, but not these sheets, not you. 

He lets go of your mouth, panting above you. Faster, not to chase some quicker end but to watch your face break apart for him, he thrusts in and out of you. It’s sinfully good. You claw at his bare shoulders, glad to have some skin to sink your nails in. 

You want to leave him permanently changed. Scarred. Because you will be. God, you will be. 

Moaning against his lips, heart beating to the rhythm he fingers into you, brain surely melting out of your ears, you hear a knock at your door. 

You gasp. Eyes comically wide, you freeze in the bed. Matty goes still inside of you. 

“Honey?” Your mother calls, sounding worried. 

Your eyes flip to Matty, sending him an alarm call. He looks pointedly to the door, nudging his chin towards you. You miraculously understand. Racking your throat, you say, “Yes?” It comes choked out of you, clearly out of breath, and you cringe at the fact. At least it’s an answer. 

“Are you okay?” She continues. “I heard a thud.” 

Your face wrinkles in annoyance. Matty sighs above you. That fucking bible. How comical that it’s this and not Matty’s literal tongue between your thighs that will bring your downfall. 

“I’m fine,” you say. “I just— knocked something over.” 

After a torturous moment of silence, time and destiny hanging in the air waiting for the final blow, your mother finally answers, “Okay.” 

God is real. Some higher above is watching over you if, for the first time in your life, your nosy mother chose to drop a line of questioning instead of following it to its fatal end. Your eyes find Matty, grinning in surprise. You have to stop yourself from giggling giddily. He smiles back, nosing your neck. 

He moves between your legs again, a slower rhythm, building back to what once was. Pleasant tingles spread up your belly. You frown, biting down a wait or a moan. Your mother can’t be gone yet. She pesters incessantly. Although, if you were to make a noise, she would definitely burst into the room, nose sniffing sin. 

You’re right. “Well, go to sleep soon. It’s late.” You dagger Matty with a stare, trying to send him a telepathic message. She’s there. She’s right there. 

But Matty just smirks against your jaw, curling his fingers perfectly. You arch your back, slapping a hand over your mouth. Fire courses through you, pleasant and all-consuming. 

“Uh-huh,” you manage, spit out between two smothered groans. 

“You need your beauty sleep,” she continues on, always one to martel a point home. “Remember those dreadful eyebags you had a week ago? We don’t want a repeat of that.” 

You were studying for a test, but that reply is too lengthy to come out of your trembling lips. Matty is now shamelessly thrusting into you. He’s risen to his elbow to properly see you struggle through monosyllabic words, like watching you tortured was a personal pleasure. 

Stress and pleasure coaxes through your body with this twisted excitement. Something sick in you likes the idea that your mother is right there, one door away. That if she found you in bed, getting fingered by a filthy boy who laughs in church, she’d faint on the spot. That you’re spitting in her face and she doesn’t even know it. 

You won’t have a wink of sleep. You’ll sport the eyebags proudly. 

Smiling, your legs close around Matty’s hand, trapping him there. He’s so fucking smug and proud, bending down to suck at your nipples. You want to scream. You need to. He’s so— so perfect. If God is real, he made him for you. Built him out of your rib. 

“Yes,” you manage out difficultly, sticky and ill-fitting out of your mouth. 

“I put some spoons in the freezer to help with the puffiness. Of course, nothing is better than prevention.” You can practically hear your mother nod to herself, snobbish and all-knowing. “Good night’s sleep is the best makeup, that’s what I’ve always said.” 

Matty smiles up at you as he bites on your nipple. You roll your eyes, holding back a laugh. “Yes.” Your eyes dig into his dark stare. Yes, yes, yes, yes! is what you mean. 

“Well, I will leave you to it then.” Your mother finally declares. “Goodnight, sweetie. Sweet dreams.” 

Matty’s thumb swipes at your clit in a frenzy. “Night!” High-pitched, transforming into a cry you cruelly kill behind your palm. 

When you hear the steps diminishing in the hallway, you slap Matty’s shoulders. “Asshole,” you bite, but the insult loses all meaning when you’re laughing, rolling your hips into his hand. 

“D’you reckon she knows the ‘sweet dreams’ will be of me?” 

You up your nose. “That’s awfully presumptuous of you.” 

Matty laughs, rolling the both of you. He lays on his back as you straddle him, fingers still firmly buried to the knuckles inside of you, hand practically sprouting from his jeans. It’s— It’s phallic, sort of. You blush at the new position, at the feel of his actual hard cock pressing into you, too.

To get you going, Matty’s free hands dig into your ass, puppeteering you to grind into his fingers. You roll your shoulders, shiver dancing down your spine. White heat coils in your belly. 

“Am I wrong?” 

And he’s not, of course. But you don’t want to just let him win. 

Hips rolling on his palm, clit deliciously hitting his wrist, you hold yourself up with two hands on his chest. “There’s a lot of profane men out there.” 

A displeased groan leaves his lips. He wipes his face clean of telltale emotions, cocking his head at your far too proud grin. “Is there?” He whispers dangerously, eyes twinkling. Your belly flexes, some sick thrill at the sight of him, of what he could do. 

To egg him on, you nod eagerly. “Tons. Enough to make my head spin.” 

Matty reaches up, hooking his fingers into the cross tangled in your messy hair. He frees it, letting it dangle between your collarbones, dancing to the sinful rhythm of your hips. He watches the show for a second, enthralled by the necklace, breasts bouncing as you— you ride him. 

Because that’s what you’re doing, isn’t it? Fucking yourself into his fingers, chasing some new mind-wiping orgasm. Peering down at him through your eyelashes, with his swollen lips and his unruly halo and his dark eyes; some fallen angel orchestrating your dive. 

“D’you think about them a lot?” You can feel him set the trap, dropping pomegranate seeds for you to follow between each word.

“Oh, all the time,” you lie, smile loose and languid on your flushed face. 

Matty’s smirk cuts through his face. “And do they make you wet like this?” He lingers in a quiet moment to prove his point, the sopping sounds of your cunt ringing through the room, heavy breaths harmonizing. You have some leftover decency to blush. “Do they have you purring and dripping on their hands? Moaning so sweetly for them?” Your throat closes on itself, attacked by waves of dirty pleasure. You clench around him, shamelessly scorching for him. Robbed of words, you manage a nod. “Yes?” Matty repeats. Smaller, distracted by the resonating bliss throbbing inside of you, you nod again. 

His voice goes low, rough but implacable. Meant to be listened to, to be obeyed. “Well, that’s not very pious of you, is it?” 

A rush of euphoria. You shake your head fervently, still thrusting into him. “No, Father,” you whimper.  

He cocks his head. “What shall I do with an impure girl like you?” Your eyes close, letting a wave of rapture swim through you. How good he makes the words sound— not mean, not real. 

You hit your hand beside his face, bending over him. It hits a new spot inside of you, sweet moans falling through shamelessly. You grab his free hand, spreading it across your bare throat. 

Matty groans at that. His fingertips dance on your skin, repositioning correctly over your arteries. “You sure?” He pants. 

Again, you nod eagerly. “I want you to.” To unexist. To unmake. To unravel. To unlearn. 

Matty digs his fingers into your neck, pressing meanly. Headrush, pure and saccharine. Your lips part in bliss, eyes rolling in your skull, hips rolling into him. The world swims around you, soupy, lazy. The tips of you burn. You want his handprints on your collar like some branding iron. Want to be his, want to be known.

Matty lets go of you. The world snaps back to reality all at once. You've never been high either, but this must be awfully close to it. Everything is frenzied, electrified and crazed. Exhilaration strikes through you. You laugh at the contrast. You flutter around his fingers; he curls them into you, like an unsaid good girl, some physical sort of praise. 

“How many guys could do this to you?” His hand still ghosts around your neck. 

“Only you,” you say, revering. “It’s only ever you.” 

A flash of elated grin splashes across his face, but it’s wiped clean for a cruel pout. “Oh, poor little girl,” he tsks. “You lied to me?” 

“I’m sorry,” you say, taking his hand and trailing it up your lips. Staring down at him, unflinching, unwilling to blink, you suck him into your mouth. Your tongue swirls around his fingers. He groans, head falling back tortured. 

“What shall I do with you?” He says roughly. It seems like a genuine question, like he doesn’t quite know. You giggle, laugh choked by his digits. You revel in the fact. To overwhelm Matty Healy himself. To be too much girl, too much hands and skin and hips. To wrap around him. 

Freeing him with a ‘pop’ sound, spit sticking between your tongue and his fingers, you bring them between your thighs, joining its hardworking twins. Wet and crowded, he rubs at your clit instinctively. 

“That’s not quite a punishment now, is it?” He smiles at that. Your free hand presses against his shoulder again, straightening your spine. He’s at a very focused spot between your legs, but you still feel him everywhere. On your stomach, your breasts, your neck. Under your very skin. Everywhere he’s touched, everywhere he’s merely grazed— hell, sometimes you almost believe he’s lodged himself under your lungs, breathing with you.

You shake your head. Feverish elation spreads through you. “Don’t want to be punished.” 

Matty softens at that, toffee eyes growing warm. You could sink into them. “No?” 

You don’t. And, better, you don’t even know why you should be. Why be punished for wanting? You might be a poor collection of sins stretching under a girl, but the names of them fade from your mind as quickly as his thumb swipes at you. Faceless monsters. Unfanged. Uncovered. 

You can have everything you want. You deserve to. 

Staring at him, you grin shamelessly. “Can you eat me again?” 

Matty has never seemed happier than to do anything. For a profoundly rebellious person, he smiles at your demand, boyish and eager to please. You expect him to roll you over, but he takes you by the thighs instead, pulling you over his face. 

You kneel above him, hovering awkwardly, unsure of where to rest. What if you break him? 

You tell him as much, to which he answers, “Well, what a way to die.” 

You roll your eyes. “I’m serious.” 

“Don’t worry, love,” Matty smirks, although you can’t really see it when your cunt is blocking the vision. “I’ll haunt you afterwards. Let you know which one of us is right.” Something in you secretly likes that. That he’d linger for you, seep into your routine. 

It hits you almost in surprise. That some part of you might actually like him. Beyond what he makes you feel, beyond the taboo, beyond the serpent smile. 

You don’t have time to meditate on that. He distracts you instantly, peering at you as he whispers, “My choice fruits.” He turns his head at that, kissing your thigh. 

You laugh, a small shiver grazing your spine at his tender lips. “Shut up,” you say, amused, still chuckling. 

Soft and chaste turn into open-mouthed kisses, wet from his tongue, which turn into a bite, sucking at your skin, licking it better afterwards. Your breathing quickens. Excitement drips down your ribs. (Although that might be your heart. You barely can feel it anymore, a small miracle considering how fast it’s racing.)

Your eyes roll back. Something catches your stare— it snaps to the crucifix hanging above your bed. Jesus Christ himself, nailed to his cross, nailed to the wall. Your savior, all-knowing, all-loving. He died for your sins, and this is how you thank him. You swallow thickly. “He’s watching us,” you whisper.  

Matty’s eyes rise to the cross. “Good,” he answers, careless, impossibly nonchalant. You’re glad for him. For ease. “Give him a show.” 

Matty’s hands pull you down to him. You fall on his mouth, moan ripped out of you as you collide with his burning tongue. It’s already working at you, singleminded, passionate. You’ve been teased for long enough— you know it’s a short matter of time before your end, especially with the fervor Matty licks into you. 

Legs spread around his face, he’s swallowing you whole. His hands dig into the flesh of your thighs, blunt claws leaving crescent moons on your skin as a starved groan graces his hungry lips. Your head rolls back, stomach flexing with need. 

Your hands rack through his hair, grabbing a fistful just to tug on it. Your hold is fierce; you soothe the burn away with a thumb, rubbing at his forehead as your fingers wreck ravage on his curls. 

Breathless, scattered moans fall from your lips. The strangled cries, stifled to the best of your abilities, make him buck against nothing. You would feel guilty at that, at taking and taking and giving him nothing in return. Unfortunately, your brain is working overdrive just to remember your own name.

You rock carelessly against his face. You’re unafraid of breaking his neck, chasing your promised release with acute precision. Your clit rolls against the tip of his nose, strikes of euphoria licking up your spine every time you find just the right angle. His tongue laps at your entrance, thrusting inside. 

This is heaven. You do not rest on some material cloud, do not grow feathered wings and shiny halo. You sit on a man’s face and you whine oh, my God. You make it sound sacred. 

God cannot blame you for your blasphemy; if he made this tongue, he understands. 

Your eyes flick to the crucifix. You could say sorry. You should say sorry. 

Instead, they fall back on Matty. Locked with his dark gaze, you rub against him, chanting his name. “I’m— I’m right there—” 

Gently, he bites on your clit. Slash of ecstasy tears through your stomach. It ripples down your limbs, biting through the flesh, leaving you bloody and scarred and, oh, fuck, you’re coming. 

Gripping his curls vengefully, slapping a hand over your mouth, you scream. Your head loosens from your neck, parts of you discombobulating and reattaching in under a second. You break on his tongue. The proverbs were right— it’s a poet’s greatest weapon. 

Once again, you float a moment into the sheer idea that you can. That you did.

Breathing heavily, you unmount him, laughing to yourself. He takes a gasp of air, but he’s just as languidly satisfied as you. Sticky chin shines with the moonlight. 

“That was—” You shake your head, lost for words, falling on the bed beside him. 

“You’re welcome,” he says smugly. You push his shoulder, shaking your head. 

Suddenly, you realize you haven’t— he hasn’t— It cuts through the daze. You blush, a little embarrassed, a little unsure, a little nervous. You rack your throat, frowning. “Do you want me to…” Your eyebrows rise meaningfully. 

“Oh,” Matty exhales. He blushes, too. “Um, no. I’m… taken care of.” 

You can’t control your eyes dipping to his jeans curiously. There it is— wet patch on the front, no trace of his hard cock. Your cheeks redden further, but something in you is unbelievably proud. 

You’ve made Matty Healy come in his pants. Can you add that to your list of accomplishments? 

You roll to your back, trying to hide the self-satisfied grin. You rest your head against his shoulder. “You know, in second grade, they told us the white marks on our fingernails were signs we had committed mortal sins.” You don’t know why you say it. It bubbles out of you, beyond your usual tyrannical filter. 

Matty sighs, racking a hand through the sweaty locks. “Jesus Christ.” 

“Yes, it was he.” He snorts at that. 

His shoulder pushes your head up. “Well, let’s see them, then. How many sins have you got?” 

You flaunt your nails, raising your arms over your heads. Matty narrows his eyes, inspecting the handful of white marks dusting your fingertips. He takes one hand, interlocking his fingers with yours, bringing it down for a closer analysis. The flutter spreading through your stomach is different than usual. 

You watch his side profile, suddenly desperate to memorize all angles of him. He throws you a playful glance, teasing, “How many of those are about me?”

You scoff, ripping your hand away as he laughs. “You’re a child.”

“No, no. I’m truly impressed.” He grins. “You got more than me.” He shows off his hands in turn. Blunt nails, cut too short, roughened by guitar strings, but practically spotless.

“Well, maybe I’ll be the one corrupting you.” 

Matty rolls over you, pressing a kiss on your lips. “I’ll take it with open arms,” he whispers, then leaves another one, just a little longer, a bit more wistful. Against your mouth, he says, “Forsake me, angel.” 

You shake your head, nose wrinkling. “That’s an oxymoron.” 

Matty rolls his eyes, nearing your lips again. “Stop talking.”

You gasp, cheerfully crying, “The roles really have reversed!”

But he seemed to mean it when he said stop talking, because he doesn’t bother with an answer. His mouth finds yours, hand holding onto your jaw as he draws secrets out of your wanton lips. It’s slow, devoid of the frenzied rush you’ve spent the night in. It leaves you floating, dazing, thoughts incoherently blurring away. 

“I should go,” Matty declares, breaking away from you. Your heart pinches. 

“Yeah,” you nod along, more to convince yourself than him. “I should get some sleep or my mom will freak about eyebags.”

Matty laughs, then surprises you with a kiss on your forehead. Of all the places his mouth has been, this is where you feel him burning the most. “Goodnight, angel.” 

He rolls out of bed, catching his discarded shirt and pulling it back on, slipping into his sneakers next. You're sad to see him like this; put-together, balanced. Throwing the window open, he sneaks out, leaving you with only one last heated look. 

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, you think once he’s gone and the room still smells like him. Your thighs are sticky with your drying juices and sport— you look down at them to make sure and, yes— a purple hickey with the shape of his lips. You're naked, ravaged, undone. And he's walking the streets right now with the taste of you still on his tongue.

Your eyes fall on the crucifix still towering over your bed. There’s really no going back, is there?

[ecoamerica]

Watch the American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 now: https://youtu.be/bWiW4Rp8vF0?feature=shared

The American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 broadcast recording is now available on ecoAmerica's YouTube channel for viewers to be inspired by active climate leaders. Watch to find out which finalist received the $50,000 grand prize! Hosted by Vanessa Hauc and featuring Bill McKibben and Katharine Hayhoe!

[lacyscabinet]

Possessive Natalie x childish and immature reader, who is so clueless on whatever is going on!!

Lich my brain is rotting with the ideas 😭😭

ANYWAYS

They are at a party, and reader is offered vodka, so she drank it all in one gulp, and keeps a straight face, thinking it was water, then she gets more, and gets so drunk, that a guy was hitting on her, so Nat punches him or something, then Natalie has to bring her home 😍😍

I'm sorry I'm spamming so much... but I mean... you asked, I delivered 😙

A/N: THIS. also don't worry about the spamming 😙 requests are open and appreciated<333

Not proofread

MASTERLIST

Strawberry vodka

Nat knew about your naiveness, but she never thought it could go this far.

She was invited to a party at Jeff Sadecky's house, only because her teammate Jackie was kind enough to extend her the invitation. Soon after she called you and asked you to go with her, promising herself to keep a very close eye on you.

The party was actually pretty nice, in other words Nat quickly found her friends and shared a joint with them while you patiently waited next to her "Nat?" You asked "yeah baby?" She softly said "I'll go get something to drink you want anything?" She shook her head, then you headed in the kitchen, but before you got too far you heard "Y/n!" Turning around you saw Nat looking at you "careful" she said with a knowing look, you smiled and nodded, happily skipping inside the house.

The kitchen was full of teens looking for alcohol or other substances but you went straight to the fridge to get the best cocktail (the only one you could bear) a.k.a diet coke.

Suddenly you feel someone approaching you "Hey y/n"

"oh hi Tommy" you smiled at the boy, you shared a few periods together and he seemed fine "Here you want this?" He asked offering you a solo cup filled with something pinkish "What's that?" You wondered, it kinda looked like juice "Oh don't worry it's good stuff"

Shrugging, you brought the cup to your lips, after a small taste the unknown liquid tasted really good, so you just chugged it all down, it kinda tasted like fruit punch but stronger.

As the minutes passed the more light headed you got, not even paying attention to the small talk Tommy was trying to do, you poured yourself another cup of pinkish magic

"You look very pretty tonight" you heard him say "Thank you Tommy"

"How about we go somewhere else?" He asked you, getting closer, fingers landing on your hand "Nah I'm good" you felt dizzy, and at the same time really energetic.

"GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM HER YOU CREEP" you heard someone scream "Jeez! I was just talking to her" Tommy defended himself "Fuck off! You're touching her!" The other person said "Oh come on, it's not like-" the boy could finish the sentence that a punch flew across his face making him gasp in pain.

"Here" the person grabbed your hand, dragging you away "Oh hi my sweet little cucumber Natalie" you recognized her finally

"oh good God, how much did you drink?"

"maybe one or two or three or maybe four cups"

"Damn, let's go home baby"

A/N: the devil works hard but I work harder (fifth and last content of the night, I'm heading to bed, goodnight guys!)

[ten-shi-fandoms]

Hi hi! I wanted to know if you request are still open. If they are i wanted Wally Darling comfort where reader is having a hard time and wally comforts them

Sure no problem :) this actually made me feel a lot better having a pretty hard past few days so thanks for this request.

_______________________________________

"Everything will be fine"

__________________

Cw: Wally Darling x Reader, gender neutral reader, reader had a bad week, Wally being supportive bf, pre established relationship (dating), kissing (very mild and soft), first person pov, reader cries, minor angst to fluff, tooth rotting fluff, short like Wally-, kinda sucks srry

___________________________________

Why?

Why did everything have to go wrong?

It felt like everything was against you.

Like the world was turned against you.

It all started earlier that week when Howdy asked you to help out around the shop which you happily agreed too. You ended up falling from a stool, dropping all the items you were holding and landing on your hand which caused you to sprain your wrist. Howdy apologised profusely but you reassured him it wasn't his fault that it was yours for not being careful. But things seemed only to get worse.

Later that week you went to help Sally with one of her plays only to forget all your lines during the performance. Sally told you it was fine and that the play was still fun especially when you both had to improvise but it left a sour taste in your mouth. You almost burnt the cookies you were baking with Poppy. Almost fell out a tree while watching butterflies with Frank. Almost made Eddie fall after tripping over your own feet. And even dropped fruit punch all over yourself when you were setting up for a tea party with Barnaby and Julie.

It was like the world hated you. Like it was out to get you just for existing. Tears gathered in your eyes as you sat on a couch in Wally's house. Wally had invited you over a few minutes ago to have a painting date. Mainly he would paint and you would pose. It was always a lovely arrangement but the events of the week begun to make your emotions act up forcing tears out of your eyes. Tears slowly slipped down your cheeks as you choked back a sob.

As more tears fell down your now wet cheeks you heard footsteps walk into the room and closer to your area. You didn't have to wonder who it was when you felt arms wrap around your shoulders. Wally said nothing as he held you, allowing your body to shake with each sob that racked your body. You heard Wally hum gently. He was humming "Beautiful Dreamer" a song Barnaby had introduced him too. It always seemed that Wally loved that song often humming it to you or singing it to Home.

The soft sound of Wally's humming alongside a gentle hand rubbing through your hair helped you calm down a bit. You were still a mess. Your eyes red and puffy, tears still rolling down your face onto Wally's cardigan, (h/c) haid stuck to your face but your breathing was a bit more steady and you weren't sobbing as much. Wally gently leaned you back, just enough to roll his sleeve down wiping the tears from your face even as new ones fell with such gentleness you felt like you were going to melt.

"Everything will be okay." his soft voice rang through your ears as you stared at his half lidded eyes. He gazed at you like you were something so precious that he couldn't look away. You could feel the warmth in his eyes. The love that constantly swirled around in dark iris everytime you looked at him. Before you could speak Wally leaned forward placing a soft kiss against your lips. More tears welled up in your eyes as you wrapped your arms around his waist pulling him as close to you as you could. You felt Wally smile at against you before he pulled back. His eyes were glossy like he was in a daze. A expression you had come to love.

"No more crying now, I don't want the apple of my eye to become soggy" he teased, placing gentle kisses against your cheeks and under your eyes effectively kissing away your tears. You couldn't help but giggle. The soft kisses, the corny joke, the warmth that Wally provided all of it made you feel better. You always felt better in Wally's arms. He made you feel safe and loved with little effort. It was one of his many charms. You sniffled a bit, a small broken sob leaving your quivering lips. "Okay.. No more crying." you muttered, your voice hoarse. Wally smiled once more, the warmth that seeped out of his smile warming your heart from the inside out.

"Good, now go wipe your face. I'm only going to paint my lovely honeycrisp if their smiling." you smiled at the apple themed nickname nodding as you got up walking off to get cleaned up. As you were walking you heard Home make a few creaking noises and Wally sigh.

"I know Home, (Y/N) is beautiful even when they cry."

[deathmetalunicorn1]

I loved that! Can I request a Part 3 of the Yandere Platonic Straw Hats with Eri Reader? Arlong Park

Reader wants Nami to come back and learn why she left, and after learning about Nami's past, feels very sorry about Nami's situation and wants to help her, like how Nami helped Reader

Reader reveals a small part of her past, that she doesn't remember much about her mom, only that she gave her away because of her 'Curse', but says Nami's mommy sounds like an amazing person

(Both Zoro and Luffy become absolutely pissed, and want to find Reader's mom and beat the crap outta her)

-You were curled up in Luffy’s arms, sniffing softly as you rubbed your eyes with the back of your hand again as he walked through the small town with you.

-Nami had been traced to this island, in Cocoyasi Village, where her big sister, Nojiko had found the 5 of you, looking for Nami.

-After learning she had stolen the ship to return to the island, Nojiko was sympathetic, especially seeing you, and brought you all to hers and Nami’s childhood home.

-You ate some mikan, ignoring Nojiko’s laugh as you didn’t care much for the slightly sour taste, as she told you why Nami had stolen the ship.

-Nami had been working hard to make whatever money she could, to buy the freedom of everyone on Cocoyasi Village, and while furious at first, the four men of the crew slowly calmed, hearing about how hard she had worked.

-Zoro was still annoyed with Nami, “She could have just asked us rather than just taking the ship!” Usopp agreed with him.

-You looked up at Luffy, holding onto his vest, “Are we gonna help Nami?” he instantly grinned down at you, “Of course we are!”

-Your eyes were as big as saucers, learning from Nojiko that she was part of another pirate crew, Arlong, a fish-man, who took Nami after seeing her map-drawing skills, and after killing Bell-Mere, their adoptive mother, in cold blood in front of them.

-Your eyes were full of tears, biting your bottom lip which made the five adults panic, trying to calm you down as you curled in on Luffy, which is what you did when you were scared.

-You sniffled loudly, trying to curb your tears, “I want Nami’s mommy to be my mommy too! My mommy was mean; she gave me to mean- mean men who hurt me. They made me use my quirk to hurt others. I-I want a mommy like Nami’s mommy!”

-Luffy’s blood was like ice and fire all at the same time, they all knew of the scars you had on your body, scars from years of torture, not just physically, but also mentally and emotionally, even Sanji, being the newest member of the crew, had gotten filled in, at least with the basics, that you had been abused and tortured for your unique ability that was not a Devil Fruit ability.

-Luffy looked furious, hearing of your past, of what your mother did to you, they all looked furious, ready to seek out your mother and get revenge. Nobody is allowed to hurt you.

-Nojiko took you from Luffy when he announced they were going to go get Nami back from Arlong, but you couldn’t shake the sense of dread as Luffy gave you a grin, “I’m gonna get Nami back! She’s our friend!”

-Only a short while later, you were hiding behind Nojiko and Genzo, hiding from the marines and Nezumi who were attacking the mikan field, looking for the money Nami had buried there.

-You were scared, not wanting anyone to get hurt and Nojiko swallowed hard, not willing to risk your safety and she nudged you away, “Go hide!”

-You hesitated and ran, doing as you were told, and you heard Nezumi, “Don’t let her escape!”

-The sound of a punch filled the air, but you kept running, tears nearly blinding you as you ran, looking for a place to hide.

-You found Usopp and Zoro shortly after, Usopp bleeding just a bit from a minor wound, but the amount of blood made it look worse than it was, while Zoro had been attacked by Arlong and left to die, his wounds reopened.

-You held Zoro’s hand to your chest, crying loudly, which alerted the members of Arlong’s crew, and they were able to find the three of you as your horn grew dramatically as an aura seemed to surround it.

-You ignored him, telling you to stop as you helped heal the wound on his chest at least partially before you were grabbed, a sharp cry leaving you as you were pulling to the arms of an unknown fish man.

-Usopp tried to grab you back but was instantly kicked down by the other two fish man, your eyes were wide as your hand was stretched out to him, crying out, “Usopp!”

-You were dragged to Arlong Park where you found Luffy, without his hat, and most of the park was destroyed around you, Luffy was injured again, but so was Arlong, who looked scary.

-The fish man holding you held you out, “Hey Arlong! I found a new kid! She can heal others!” Luffy turned, his eyes wide as you were struggling, as he was holding you up by the back of your shirt, trying to get free.

-Something hit the fish man holding you and instantly you found yourself in Nami’s arms, after she had knocked him out, leaping away with you.

-Your eyes lit up as you hugged her around her neck, “Nami!” she said nothing, glaring at Arlong before she spoke while setting her down, “You won’t take Y/N!”

-Arlong looked amused, laughing loudly, seeing Nami acting in a similar way to Bell-Mere, remembering her from so many years ago.

-Sanji was doing his best taking care of the other fish men, as was Usopp, Zoro, and Nami, who were all injured but fighting hard, while Luffy was fighting with Arlong.

-You were crying heavily, your quirk activating, the horn growing and glowing brightly as your hands were over your years as panic quickly took hold of you.

-It was hard to breath, you could barely see out of your teary eyes, sharp panting gasps were making your chest hurt.

-Nami was blown head over heels, but quickly saved by Sanji and you noticed a locket fall from her pocket, falling nearby.

-She didn’t notice but you quickly grabbed it, so it wouldn’t get stepped on, clutching it tightly to your chest.

-A blinding light surrounded you and the locket, stunning everyone; it felt like you were screaming, but no sound was coming out as swirls surrounded you, the locket disintegrating into dust, revealing a lock of bright red hair which then began to swirl.

-Eyes went wide, everyone gawking at you as Bell-Mere slowly appeared as the day she had died, minus the gunshot wound, kneeling down beside you, holding you close before she gasped loudly, returning to life.

-She looked down at her hands in shock, as she remembers dying, looking at the gun being pointed at her before she looked down at you, now drenched in sweat as a heavy fever took over your body, unconscious.

-She then looked around, seeing Nami, now an adult, fighting against Arlong and his men, alongside other humans and she set you down, cracking her knuckles, “Seems to me nothing’s changed! Arlong you bastard!!”

-You woke up four days later, after being nursed back to health by Nako, long after Arlong and his crew were defeated, Cocoyasi Village was safe, and Nojiko and Nami were reunited with their mother.

-Luffy, Usopp, Zoro, Sanji, and Nami, alongside Bell-Mere and Nojiko, had all refused to leave your side while you were recovering.

-Usopp told Nami of your past, of what little you told them when searching her out and she was just as furious, as was your new mother, Bell-Mere, who immediately adopted you.

-Luffy held you while you both ate, sitting you on his lap, as he refused to eat until you woke up, being unnaturally quiet for once.

-You were scared he was mad with you, once you were done eating, turning to look up at him and you cupped his cheeks as he bit into another meat-stick.

-He looked down at you, cheeks full and instantly he grinned down at you, “I’m glad you’re awake! You scared me!”

-You apologized to them all, giving them all, unknowingly, puppy dogs eyes, which lead to you being passed around for the next ten minutes, getting hugs from everyone, some, Usopp and Sanji, crying more obnoxiously than others.

-Your eyes were sparkly when you were passed from Nami to Bell-Mere, getting introduced to her and she beamed down at you, “So you’re Y/N~ I guess I owe you a big thanks for bringing me back to life!”

-Your eyes went huge, holding your cheeks, “I did that?” they all nodded, Zoro lightly scolding you with no real malice, that it was the reason you had been out the past few days.

-Once Nako said you were safe to leave his clinic, Nami hugged her mother tightly, who was going to stay in Cocoyasi Village and rebuild it, giving Nami her blessings to continue on her journey and every single one of them promise her that they were going to keep you safe, which made you beam brightly up at her.

-Nami put a couple of mikan trees on the Going Merry, as a piece of her hometown, as well as to have fresh fruits available.

-Luffy pointed out to the sea, “To Loguetown!” the rest of the crew, including you, all cheered out loudly.

-You were all unaware of the looming storm as a shadowy figure looked at the photos he was just sent, of you using your abilities, seeing you return a woman who had been dead for years, back to life from only a lock of hair.

-He scowled lightly, knowing this would be something that would be very dangerous if you were to fall into the wrong hands.

-He turned to another person, holding out the best photo he had of you, taken just before you left the island, when Bell-Mere was patting your head, bidding you goodbye, showing only you and her hand on your head, smiling shyly up at her.

-He inhaled deeply, “Put a bounty on her, alive and intact only. Her name is Y/N. Make it for one hundred billion.” His subordinate gawked, but said nothing, doing as they were told before he leaned back into his chair, a deep sigh leaving him.

[mycatsaidwhat]

things i’ve heard college students say pt. 27

-if you hit it raw, why are you voting red? 

-if all he does is smoke and give you meat, you’re dating a barbeque grill sis 

-being horny is a feminine trait, you should be thinking about war

-lord, we thank thee for the food before us *grocery store sushi, sponge bob fruit punch, pokemon-themed fruity pebbles* 

-why does the aftertaste of coke zero taste like blood 

-suck it up, you’re an American, you can do anything with god and Nixon on your side

-i’m too drunk to pray for god 

-if I’m ever in a coma, just show me that meme of Georgia as a state backslapping the Republican elephant and I will bolt upright 

-“Academic weapon” and “alcoholic” both begin with A

That they do, Braden, that they do

-My Little Pony? More like My Big Pony

That did psychological damage

-turning right on red is the greatest civil liberty we have left in this country 

-well as of 1989, dueling does not prevent you from running for public office, so props to you 

-he walks like he got pegged

-if I’m ever throwing up on the side of the road and I text you that I’m drunk, you don’t have to come get me. I always find my way home. Like a pigeon. 

-being in a relationship will NOT solve your problems. Happiness comes from substance abuse 

-I wrote down all the reasons we should do shots tonight. For context I have an essay due tomorrow. 

-I want you to take a picture of Quintin Tarantino in person because he simply CANNOT look that weird in real life 

-you’ve got like 50 feet of intestines, right? You could definitely do a couple laps around a tree with them 

-*is making an alignment chart of writers that we’ve covered in class and whether we could take them in a fight and if we’d feel good about it* 

-i wanna kill everything or die, I don’t know, I’m sad 

-he seems like the kind of professor who would make us fill out the course evals in class 

-he has abs, what do you think we were doing? 

-Here in this house we stand for the flag. The flag being Bucky Barnes in the first Captain America movie, greasy and sweaty and freshly tortured

-I’m just trying to enjoy my shitty Busch light and you bring me Charles LeClerc with his legs spread 

-if I got cancer my private snap story would become an inspirational story and that sounds like a lot of pressure 

-college is just progressively caring less about people seeing what you’re doing on your computer in class. I’m texting, I’m on Doordash, I’m on Shein, I’m on Tinder, I do not give a fuck 

-got stacks on stacks on stacks, baby I clear the racks 

Nice, Dr. Suess, get it! 

I was referencing a rap over Gimme More by Britney Spears, but sure  

-if doing drugs and fucking raw in pools in front of everyone is what adult producers think eleventh graders are up to these days then someone needs to tell them 

-I’d fuck to the Gravity Falls theme 

-you missed the professor’s Coin Jar Day and his annual discussion of child marriage 

[ecoamerica]

Watch the 2024 American Climate Leadership Awards for High School Students now: https://youtu.be/5C-bb9PoRLc

The recording is now available on ecoAmerica's YouTube channel for viewers to be inspired by student climate leaders! Join Aishah-Nyeta Brown & Jerome Foster II and be inspired by student climate leaders as we recognize the High School Student finalists. Watch now to find out which student received the $25,000 grand prize and top recognition!

[spitinsideme]

new anon just dropped

i have a compulsion to study you under lab conditions so i need to ask this or i'll explode: do you have a favorite food? if so what is it?

-science anon

WOAH IM BEING EXPERIMWNTED ON !!! i remebe4 omce i saif soemthing and this person saif "you have such an interestibg mind i want to do tests on you" so thats great

ia actually hate most foods !! i dont really enjky eating ? not in a bad way all foods ksut suck to me so i dont enjoy it, i also forget to eat like all the time so ihave to b consatly reminded otherwide i willl loterally just not eat for days and survive off of water and juice ... i honestly have to be in the mood at the time to be ablr to ennly food so i will tell you now ehat foods i am .. most oftrn in the mood for ?

kebabs !! i fucking LOVE kebabs theres a place nesr me that sells kebabs snd i get the mkxed kebab and jts so fucking good i devour that dhif UP im moaning everyime i take a bite !!!!! they also have like jalapenos in there anf i loeyhemr sososdmuch ohdmygdodd

i also absolutely adore tesco meal deal sanfiwches .. i also get the triple sausage, bacon anf egg sandwich and likr uduslly paprika crisps, for drink i like to get cherry dr pepper (i love all things cherry) or like that fruit punch fanta which is super duper good i like fruity fizzy drinks aor sometime i get oasis i vrry kuch love oasis !!! i then might get jalapenos and cheese crips .. no one uderatandd hw much i fucking love jalapenos and cheese crips my legs tremble just sy the thoight of them they taste so fucking good like my eyes are watering just thinking about rhen becsude i lkve them so much

[cookinguptales]

time to shill for Big Salt!!!

Okay, so like I said in my last post, I recently became a ~Vitassium Ambassador~, which is a fancy way of saying that I shilled for this company for free for so long that now they're paying me to do it.

In salt. Much like a deer.

Anyway.

Vitassium is SaltStick's line of products specifically for POTS, EDS, Cystic Fibrosis, Vasovagal Syncope, and other forms of autonomic dysfunction. Essentially speaking, SaltStick has been making electrolyte products for years, and when they realized that a lot of their patients buying them were doing it for medical reasons, they started doing research into creating products specifically for that purpose. And that's how the Vitassium line was born.

Vitassium generally has more salt and less magnesium/calcium/potassium than SaltStick's other electrolyte products, which is good if you need a lot of salt and you don't want to take too high a dose of the rest. Personally, I tend to use a mixture of both of their lines so I can get a little calcium/magnesium boost sometimes but more salt other times. (The amount of potassium is fairly similar in both lines, with a little more in the SaltStick line.)

Either way, it has a lot less sugar than Liquid IV, which I get sick off of due to sugar sensitivities. Like... *googles* 11g of sugar in Liquid IV vs. 2g of sugar in Vitassium, with the same amount of salt in each serving. I have to be pretty careful about my sugar intake, and I suppose I can't speak for everyone, but my stomach handles Vitassium a lot better than most of the other alternatives on the market.

So I've been using it for several years now and I'm really happy with their products! Like -- I may now officially be a shill for Big Salt, but I don't plan on lying or exaggerating anything here. I use their products every day, and sometimes that's the only way I can manage to take a shower.

(My fellow POTS/EDS-sufferers know, the shower struggle is real. lmao)

Anyway, they just sent me one of everything in their Vitassium line. They didn't actually ask me to show it off, but I'm doing it anyway because this is my blog and I cannot be stopped.

From left to right, we have a bottle of their electrolyte capsules (these are sugar-free extended-release salt pills with a bit of potassium added), both flavors of their electrolyte fastchews (chewable electrolyte candies that provide quick relief... think salty sweettarts), a cute bottle full of packets of their electrolyte drink mix, sample packs of the fastchews, and some stickers.

Personally, I mostly use the fastchews. I've tried salt capsules in the past and had some stomach upset, but now that they sent these to me for free, I guess I'll try them out again. The fastchews are basically sour candy full of salt lmao. (They also have about 2g of sugar per serving, just like the drink mix.) They really are effective, though, so I tend to take them as needed throughout the day.

I usually just keep a bottle of them in my purse, but the sample size bags are resealable and fit well in pockets, bags, etc. I'm happy that they sent me some little sample bags because now I can refill them, haha.

I used to just buy the normal SaltStick fastchews, and my go-to flavors in that line are orange, wild berry, and lemon-lime! I haven't tried the mango because I'm allergic, the peach is okay if very sour, the coconut pineapple is a nice piña colada taste but a little sweet for me, and I really hate the watermelon ones!

(Look, I promised to be honest with you. lmao)

The Vitassium fastchews are newer, and they only come in two flavors so far. I always buy the fruit punch because I despise artificial grape flavor. They just gave me a bunch of grape ones, so I tried them. Good for what they are, but I still hate grape.

(Do any of my chronically ill followers want these? lmk)

The drink mix is the newest Vitassium product! I like it quite a bit; the relief is quicker when you drink it vs. eat it, and speaking as someone who generally hates drink mixes, the flavor is pretty good.

I've tried both the fruit punch and the pink lemonade, and I think I prefer the pink lemonade. The flavor suits the salt a little better, imo, and I think weirdly it mixes a little better?

I usually buy the drink mix in the canisters because it's cheaper that way and produces less waste (the canister pictured there is one I already had) but the packets are very handy to keep in your bag. They're easy to tear open and even when you tear off the whole top, the opening is small enough that it pours smoothly into small-necked bottles. I like to put some ice in mine and shake it up.

(Side note: Vitassium has specifically designed all their packaging to be as easy to open and use as possible because they know that so many of their customers have arthritis, EDS, and other connective tissue disorders. Which, as someone with EDS, I truly appreciate.)

Finally, one thing I genuinely like about Vitassium is that they try to make their products as accessible as possible for their customers who use them for medical reasons. They have something called the Vitassium Club, which allows registered users who have a medical condition to get 25% off all their electrolyte products. You don't have to get a doctor's note or anything like that, just send in a quick online form and wait for them to change the status of your account.

That brings the cost of the product down considerably for the people who need it most, which is good because honestly? Electrolyte boosters add up fast when you need to consume that much salt every day.

Uhhhh, I think that's everything for now! If you have any questions, lmk! I'm fairly passionate about this kind of thing because when I was first diagnosed with POTS/EDS like... god, 15 years ago now, they didn't have anything like this. I remember struggling to develop a diet that worked for me with no one to teach me and honestly? That fucking sucked. I don't want anyone to be in that position.

So now here in 2023, I'm happy to pass on any chronic illness-related tips I have. Like drink Vitassium! And add salt while you're cooking, not at the end! The flavor will be less strong that way! And a packet of sugar-free hot cocoa mix will often have as much sodium in it as a bag of chips!

Stay salty, friends. 🧂💜😎

[shankschewtoy]

hihihi! this is my very first request as i have just recently made an account in tumblr and ive been reading youe content for little while now. i really love them 💕💕💕💕

could i request for swapped au where the worst gen trio(?) see reader-san getting angry for the first time?

their haki explodes everywhere as they stared at the person who triggered them with so much hatred and literally almost knocks everyone out with how strong their haki is. over all, it's your choice. thank you!!!!! ☺️☺️☺️

a/n - I’ve gotten a couple other requests that are very similar but then I forgot to post this :’) aww tysm anon! You’re so sweet 💜😭

Warnings ⚠️ - daily reminder that I bully kid, g/n reader

Stunned

Kid

- It was a pretty normal day for the guy, just tinkering with some newer projects, and watching one piece

- He’s a happy man if he gets to do these two things lmao

- This scene was a bit different than others, it was thrilling, suspenseful, everything you’d want in an action/adventure series

- You were fighting a villain that Kid really despised, he thought she was so annoyingly irritating (no I don’t understand kid)

- Honestly, you personally didn’t like this woman either, sadistic, god awful, horrible taste in fashion, annoying devil fruit ability, and she also had this tone of voice that made you want to strangle her to death everytime you heard her

- “Aw y/n don’t be a stranger! We’ve known each other for so long now.. So I’d consider us as friends!” She had this fake smile that made you want to punch her teeth out

- You almost gagged at her words, friends? You were far from that

- “Can’t Oda just fucking kill her off..?” Kid muttered to himself, almost reaching for the tv remote in order to fast forward the scene

- He stopped right before he pressed the fast forward button because he saw you twirling your scythe around, like you always did before you got serious in fighting

- You rushed towards the woman, clashing, weapons scraping each other’s weapons

- The woman laughed, holding her hand out, and causing your scythe to fly out of your hands

- “Repel..!” The woman said with a giggle, slamming her baseball bat into your head, sending you flying towards a rock

- Kid looked angry, worried, but also so enraged he could punch through a wall

- “JUST FUCKING DIE-!” -kid

- You grumbled something under your breath, struggling to recover from the hard hit to your head

- The woman dragged her bat across the rocky ground, the metal screeching noise echoing through your ears

- “Maybe we can’t be friends.. After all, I can’t be friends with someone who’s so weak.” She said with a disgusted look on her face, stopping when she was around 10 meters away from you

- Something snapped when she said that to you, what did she call you? “Weak”?

- You grabbed your scythe, and you slammed the bottom of it onto the ground, a wave of haki flowing out of your body, your eyes almost glowing with fury

- The woman faltered, falling onto her butt in such a pathetic way that children would laugh if they saw it

- You slowly walked towards the woman, your eyes wide with rage, your irises trailing with your powerful aura

- “Wait! Please! I’m sorry! I didn’t mean anything I said!” The woman pleaded, standing on her knees and holding her hands together as if she was praying to a god

- You simply looked at her with a pitiful look, “Who’s the weak one?” You asked her, putting your scythe’s blade to her neck before you finally eliminated her

- this long battle was finally over, Karen, the repelling magnet was finally dead, killed by you, the crimson reaper

- “LET’S FUCKING GO! FINALLY!” Kid yelled, slamming his hammer into the table as he kept cheering your name at the top of his lungs

- The neighbors filed a complaint and called the police because they thought Kid was either high on some shit, or just fucking psychotic

- “Uh does a Eustass Kid live here? The neighbors were complaining that this house was too loud, and suspicion of drugs was reported.” The officer said as Kid looked down with an irritated look on his face

- “I don’t do drugs, I was just watching tv.”

- the officers were lowkey scared of him, so they left him alone

- “FUCK YOU KAREN!” He flipped a middle aged blondie off with an angry look on his face

- “See?! I told you! He’s dangerous!” The woman cried to the police

- The officers didn’t want anything to do with Kid, so they immediately tried to calm the Karen down

- “God, I can’t even watch one piece without her loud ass complaining about stupid shit.”

- The Karen has repeatedly informed the police about Kid, and they’re too scared to do anything about him 👍

Law

- The enemy you were fighting was starting to get annoying, why was he so fucking talkative?

- You needed this guy to just shut up before you literally exploded

- “Hehe! Can’t get me can ya? Awww.. You getting tired~?”

- You were about to drop kick this man into oblivion

- Your attacks were getting quicker, faster, was it your anger towards this guy?

- The man ended up slicing your shoulder with his blade, the steel digging into your skin, smearing blood all over the side of your face

- You grunted, grabbing your shoulder to try and stop the blood from pouring out

- the man laughed, twirling his blades around in his fingers while cackling

- His laugh was so goddamn loud, could he just shut up?

- Something snapped

- You clenched your bloodstained fist, shaking it quickly, the blood dripping off your knuckles

- The man still laughed, looking at you like you were just a silly act in a play, a comedic commercial

- Haki surrounded you, that same color, the color of the king

- Your fists were clad in haki now, your eyes wide open with such rage

- Law was sitting on the edge of his seat, hands clutching his knees

- He’s never seen you like this, he didn’t even know your haki was this strong

- he was stunned, he couldn’t even move, when was the last time he blinked?

- your aura caught the enemy’s attention now, it made him freeze up, chills down his spine as all the hair on his body stood up

- He was frozen, his eyes wide, sweat dripping down his forehead

- You slowly walked towards him, the enemies that were on the battlefield were knocked out from your haki

- The man was visibly shaking in his boots, struggling to even maintain eye contact with you as you stopped right in front of him

- “Not so talkative anymore are we?” You asked in a smooth sounding voice, holding your fist close to you as you twirled your scythe in the other hand

- You didn’t even wield your weapon, you slammed your hardened fist through his face, sending him flying into his own frightened soldiers

- They created a pile, a lump of pitiful enemies

- You didn’t even waste your time dealing with them, you took the blood that was splattered across your fists, and sent that blood flying towards the men

- That blood turned into a shuriken, slicing through the men, leaving them screaming as your aura settled back down

- Law dropped his cup of tea, his face purely shocked

- oh god he loved you even more now if that was even possible

- This moment would be replayed every single time he felt like he wasn’t gonna make it through the day

- It’s his hype up video :D

- every single time he watches it, he gets more stunned 💀

- he’s a deer in the headlights pretty much

- he’s that one guy on Reddit who’s arguing with people named “justarandomguywithamustache” or something weird like that

- he gets pissed off when people don’t agree with him or understand what he’s saying

- Law ends up thinking everyone’s just really fucking stupid lmao

- he 100% stays up until 2am arguing with people about the grim details of your abilities in that specific fight

Luffy

- He usually watches one piece as he’s eating something, never before has he watched tv without meat in front of him

- this is an intense scene, you were getting irritated with how many enemies were surrounding you

- Their grubby hands were clawing at your scythe like they were animals

- “LUFFY! I SAID TO NOT FUCKING LEAVE YOUR SHOES BY THE DOOR!” - Zoro tripped over his shoes

- “SHHHHHHH-!” -Luffy

- he’s 100% in the zone right now, he’s not even taking a bite of his food, he’s just intently focusing on this fight

- You immediately kicked aside two of them, slamming both of your fists into two others’ faces

- Feeling their noses crack underneath your fists was such a disgusting feeling

- The scene slowed every time you landed hits on the surrounding pirates

- One desperately tried rushing towards you, throwing three bombs, the fuses about to reach their end

- Child’s play for the crimson reaper

- You dodged nonchalantly, letting the three bombs whip past your hair, exploding behind you like every other fight scene

- “YEAH Y/N!!!” -Luffy was bouncing in his seat, his heals tapping against the ground with anticipation

- The man who threw the bombs was absolutely stunned, frozen

- Haki enveloped your scythe, but suddenly, an enormous fist that was covered in haki slammed into your cheek, sending you flying backwards before you could even react

- “WHAT?! NO-! NONONO- Y/N GET BACK UP!” -Luffy

- You groaned, vision slightly blurred from the impact of the punch

- The pirates who punched you looked intimidating to say the least, his eyes dark, an intense exchange of eye contact between you two

- You were angry, you were just about to finish the fight, and then some asshole just had to come and punch you in the face?

- He rushed forward again, raising his fist like the time before, but this time, haki surged out from you

- Your aura was being sent out in pulses of frightening, chilling power

- The man hesitated, stopping his advance as his henchmen around them started collapsing from the sheer force of your indomitable willpower

- “The color.. Of the king?” the man asked with stunned eyes, his fingers were shaking with worry

- “Try it, try to punch me again.” You said with a dark look in your wide open eyes, you looked down on this pirate with the most disdain in your face

- He screamed, throwing his fist at your face before you simply punched him first, using your scythe to force him into the air

- You jumped off the ground, raising your scythe above you and slamming it into the pirate, sending him flying back down, through the ground

- You won, that was an understatement..

- Luffy was amazed, sparkles in his eyes, “SEE?! I knew it! He never stood a chance!”

- “Sabo did you see it?! Now do you see why y/n’s so cool?!”

- “Wait wait wait- SEE?! It’s slo-no that means it’s super powerful and cool! And oh- look at her cape! It changed to a different shade of red!”

- He was such a fanboy

- He needed to scream into a pillow from how hyped up he was right now

- Sabo and ace were so confused and had to sit through Luffy’s long episode of fanboying over you lmao

- He’s that one kid at school that thinks you solo every verse

- Luffy will hold true to that for as long as he lives 🫡

a/n - I love combat stuff 😭 I wrote this in hc form because it was just a bit easier for me :) I hope you enjoy anon! So sorry to the other anons who requested something similar to this- it took me a while :’)

[animestan69]

mutti wo ist blechkuchenranking

You always want to take... but you never want to give. But I guess I am your dance monkey. What is a Blechkuchen? A flat Kuchen baked on a Blech, next.

Donauwelle The ultimate Blechkuchen. The queen of Blechkuchen. Name a better Blechkuchen, you can't. Chocolate... a sexy cherry... cream... the wave. Perfection. A balanced Blechkuchen, which is rare. If I had to eat a Blechkuchen, which, any other type of cake is much preferred, it would be a Donauwelle. 10/10

Zwetschgenkuchen/datschi I've grouped the other Obst-varieties of Blechkuchen together because, naturally, those exist in non-Blechkuchen forms, too. Zwetschgenkuchen also exists in a normal Kuchenform-form. However... Zwetschgenkuchen MILES above all other Obst-Blechkuchen. They hate to see me be correct. 8.5/10. Or 9/10 mit Streuseln (und Sahne).

Any Blechkuchen-Version of some Obstkuchen, e.g. Apfelkuchen, Rhabarberkuchen, Beerenkuchen, etc. I'm not punched from the stool but it's fine, it's a classic. It's above the Butterkuchen because of the fruit component. Makes it more exciting, at least a little bit. I don't know what it is about Blechkuchen that makes me less excited than if the cake were to be in its organic normal form. The eye eats with, I guess. 7/10

Streuselkuchen This one ranks this high not because it's particularly good. It's because Streusel are fantastic. But Streusekuchen as a whole NEEDS fruit, preferably a berry-esque fruit. Otherwise I'm just picking off the Streusel and leaving the rest, like a child. 6.5/10

Zitronenkuchen We're getting into absolute dry-cake territorium and I'm just not into it. I'm counting Zitronenkuchen as a Blechkuchen because... might as well. Marmorkuchen never a Blechkuchen, Zitronenkuchen can be a Blechkuchen - and it remains equally as unexciting. Never met a person absolutely exhilariated about some Zitronenkuchen. 6/10

Fantakuchen I guess kids like it... it's like a Zitronenkuchen, sometimes with Schmandcreme on top... sometimes without. Another dry-cake, no fruit. 5/10

Schmandkuchen (mit Mandarinen) Mandarinen on their own? Yes. Mandarinen in a cake? Absolutely not. They're used to undry a dry ass cake and it's not working for me. Rather Mandarinen than Rosinen but preferably neither. Schmandkuchen... girl... it's whatever. 4.5/10

Butterkuchen ...................the NRW of Blechkuchen................. 2/10

Bienenstich I'm doubling down, babes. You thought I wouldn't but I will. I'd rather eat 10 Butterkuchen than 1 Bienenstich. The crust on top... no. The huge amount of cream... no. I'll repeat myself but this tastes like the color beige. A cake like this NEEDS some contrast, some fruit - but it hasn't. And that's on her. 0/10

Kuchen of the Blech-variety I'm not including but wanna give a honorable mention to:

Zwiebelkuchen

Speckkuchen

Brownies

[gamblersdoll]

Guts takes Nerd's virginity at a wild school party while drunk, Their relationship will change after that for better or worse, write what you find most realistic. :D

tw: dubcon, oral (f), p in v, virginity loss, alcohol for those who aren’t into this kind of setting, this is somewhat new to me as well. please DNI if this isnt your cup of tea

you debated on going, you really did.

parties werent your thing, but you felt drawn to it, to the experience. however, you had absolutely no reason to go. you know, no friends, no reputation, (except for being a nerdaholic,) and no interest in alcohol or anything.

but what if.. he were there? that would be the only reason you would or could go.

damned if you do, damned if you don’t.

the music blasted your ears, practically banging into your eardrums. your couldnt hear anything, yet you heard everyones thoughts. their faces said it all. you didn’t have to hear them.

“she actually came?”

“maybe she thought it was some study group.”

“how much you wanna bet that she leaves in five minutes?”

many faces that you saw. confused, pitiful, disgusted, disappointed. but you stayed to yourself, keeping your head low and just trying to enjoy yourself. the smell of alcohol burned your nose, seeing several spiked punch bowls and the obvious hard liqueur. everyone seemed experienced with the alcohol.

you felt someone bump into you, turning your head and looking at the person responsible.

guts.

he didnt look your way, obviously looking for someone else or something else. it didnt bother you, you were just somewhat happy that he was there. you looked to the punch bowl, deciding that you could relax, yet be safe.

you have never tasted something so strong, obviously someone doesnt know how to evenly measure liqueur and juice together. because you tasted more liqueur than fruit punch. like, only a damn hint.

but you felt so warm in your chest, your tummy, your arms. it was like a warm burn, a comfortable one. you were in a room by yourself, at least. just being able to be at a party counts, right? you honestly dont know why you even came, but for guts…

what the hell are you thinking?

you didnt show up for him, that damn brute.

you took another gulp, immediately swallowing the god awful liquid and feeling that same burn again in your chest.

you were fucked, a lightweight at that. what the hell were you thinking? youre not gonna want to wake up early tomorrow. you couldnt even stand, not like this. you go try to take another sip, but someone slams open the door to the secluded room.

guts peaks his head in, making eye contact with you. “so youre still here. why?” he questions, closing the door and closing the distance between you both.

you reeked of the alcohol, he could smell it on you. “holy shit– are you drunk? i didnt know that the nerd could drink!” he laughs, putting a hand on your shoulder. he’s hysterical.

you look up at him, eyes glossy and puffy, your chest feeling like it’s burning, but somehow you were able to reach up and kiss him. he muffles a protest for a moment, yet, he wraps his arms around you. he greedily shoves his tongue into your mouth, fighting yours, which didnt put much of a battle up.

your back reaches the plush mattress of whoever’s bed this was, but your shorts were thrown off. you laid there, allowing him to touch you in the most intimate way and it all felt like a burning touch. to say you were sensitive was an understatement.

“a nerd having a body like this..” he grumbled, ripping your panties off, “wearing red panties..” he groaned out, his mouth satiated with drool and he dove into your cunt, lapping up at the intoxicated slick of your intoxicating pussy. you moaned out, your body being so sensitive, it felt like each blood cell was in your clit.

you felt like you were seeing stars, your eyes screwed shut and him prying your legs open. he noisily slurped up your juices, you trying to close your legs out of embarrassment. he took his tongue and licked up your clit, to your abdomen, to your tummy, to your breasts, to your lips.

he took himself out of his jeans, stroking himself with slow pumps and crawling on top of you. “relax the most you can. you should know how sex works, right nerd?” he asks, looking down at you.

you nod, “yes..” you say, to the best of your abilities.

he drove the tip of his cock up and down your slit, before sliding himself inside. he groaned, eyes rolling back momentarily and you winced from the stretch. but you were able to relax, thanks to the alcohol.

he thrusted into you, slowly. he did feel something somewhat pop, “guess i popped your cherry, huh nerdhead?” he chuckles, thrusting his hips slower until your hips rested some more. “there you go, fuck you feel good.”

you started to moan out, adjusting to his size and length as he gripped the sheets beneath you. “ ‘could a nerd feel this fuckin’ good?” he questioned, his hips starting to pick up a rhythm. he grips at your hips next, putting his weight into his knees as he pulls his hips back. “take me, take all of me.” he says, each word having their own thrust.

what you suspected was your climax, snapped. and you squeezed on him, eyes fully blown out and you moaned, no, screamed from how nerve wracking your orgasm was. he was better than your fingers, better than a wet dream. you looked down to see his entire abdomen soaked, not really sure what happened.

“youre a fuckin squirter? oh, i see. you’re pretending to be a nerd, but youre some kind of sexual deviant arent you?” he questions and pries, thrusting into your cervix again. he gets close to your ear, dangerously close. he’s breathing on you, heavily. and he’s practically humping his cock into you.

his hips grow erratic, his breathing becoming labored. he pulls himself out, quickly stroking himself to come onto your plush stomach.

he pants out, trying to catch his breath. “how did you get here?”

the drive home was quiet, very, quiet. to your surprise, he drove a smaller car, like a miata. he also was a decent driver, and wasnt even intoxicated at all. he pulls up to your residence, and he unlocks the passenger door. “we’re here.”

you open and close the door, walking around to his side and lean down, poorly. “t’ank you, gus..” you say, walking to your door.

luckily, he waited and watched you until you close the door behind you, then drove off.

[yourfavedrinkspilk]

this is not a fave who drinks pilk, but a pilk experience. i've had a good time with some pilks and wanted to try something new and exciting with a soda i like

rock crilk. fruit milk.

the photo does not do it justice. it's pinker than that in person, like a solid #FFAAD2. it was also swirling ominously (warning sign)

i want to say it might be nice if you like strawberry milk but i'm not sure of that to be honest. rock creek fruit punch by itself is pretty good but with the addition of milk, the taste of Red Dye can no longer be hidden with copius amounts of sugar and carbonation. it's been a bit since i had just the small mouthful i did (couldn't stomach anymore. i do not like strawberry milk) and i can still taste Red.

attempting to cancel my bias against strawberry milk, i'd rate this a 5/10. not awful, but i am 100% sure there are better fruity beverages to put in milk.

[ladybellissima]

Finding Love Katakuri x Reader Part 17

The first thing (Y/N) thought was how on earth could she be that stupid to agree to go with them.

Was it Luffy's carefree and kind attitude?

The way he was able to take all of her fears away in an instant?

Maybe

He had this kind of personality which made him able to get her trust without worries.

But damn was he a chaotic man.

Their "well planned" escape was a disaster.  Clinging onto chopper for dear life, who wasn't really helping her either, because he was himself a crying and frightened mess, she thought that running out there to Katakuri wouldn't had been more dangerous than this situation. With the words "We will die!! I see the light. It's bright and white! ", Chopper cried out in panic, while they were rolling around inside of this man's castle.

Shoutings and explosions echoed outside and let the castle tremble dangerously. Was this even real? How could everything escelate in such short time? For one moment she ate a delicious dessert with fruits and chocolate chips. A taste of heaven. Beautiful weather and happy people around. Enjoying her time with Katakuri.

And now?

"Quit that nonsense you idiot!",angered Nami punched the poor reindeer on its head and knocked him out.  (Y/N) was happy to still have one focused and concentrated person around here, but not for long after they had to watch that not only Sanji jumped out of the window.

No.

With a short "I come back", Luffy jumped out as well. Nami got pale like a ghost and (Y/N) had to cover her ears of her outburst of rage.

"These idiots!!!! How could they just jump out! Do they have a death wish!? I will gladly fulfill it!! Come back here!!! ", Nami shouted frustrated and hang by the window exhausted.

Okay. The situation escelated. And there wasn't anything what (Y/N) could do. In a way she understood Sanji to help his family out there. And it wasn't a surprise either that Luffy would go out too.

"He sure is a reckless but kindhearted captain.", (Y/N) spoke to herself while she shook Chopper awake from Nami's punch. Jumping to his feet with a huge bump on his head he cried out in panik again after realizing that his captain was gone.

"(Y/N)-san please hold me till it's over.", he spoke like a little kid and jumped into her arms again. Hugging this cute reindeer dearly, she crawled away from the windows to get a safe spot at a corner. Closing her eyes for a moment she inhaled deeply.

She was afraid.

(Y/N) could feel her body shiver and balled her fists to control it. She was in the middle of a fight. A dangerous battlefield and on top of that, on the wrong side, while fighting twisted feelings.

They all were really nice people. Caring for a complete stranger, keeping her safe and were kind. She wished them all the best and that they could leave like they wanted, but for what price? Would that mean that Katakuri got hurt? Or worse? On the other side could she just watch how Luffy and the others got hurt by him? Her look fell onto the whimpering Chopper in her hands. Even if she never met them in the first place, she was sure that she couldn't stand seeing such a sweet reindeer get hurt.

Sighing deeply she pressed Chopper closer to her, while thinking about Katakuri. It felt terrible to be in between the fronts, but if she had to decide, it would be him. It would be always him.

"Katakuri… I hope you are okay..", she whispered exhausted while the shouting and clashing sounds got louder.

Suddenly her body felt light and got lifted up in the air. Clouds were passing the windows quickly and with an immense speed they were passing the cake chateau walls. Her body was pressed against the wall roughly and for a moment it took her breath away. Nami was clinging onto the windowsill and screaming her lungs out.

It felt like a blackout. A moment where time stood still and your mind got blank. (Y/N) could only endure this rough journey and pray to make it out of here alive.

"We…. areee baaack!!", Luffy's voice echoed through the door and he flew across the room and straight to the wall with a cursing Sanji underneath him.

"(Y/N) ~swaaan..Nami~swaaan. don't worry, now your savior is here…", Sanji grumbled under Luffy's body, while reaching out to her. Shaking her head of his ridiculous behavior towards her, she suddenly felt the pressure on her body loosen and she was able to calm down. Getting up she quickly got to Nami's side and helped her up. Both looked out of the window and were met with the view of an open field. Far away from whole cake. (Y/N) couldn't believe that they really made it out there. Sighing relieved they hugged each other of happiness.

"Nami! (Y/N)! Come out already!", Luffy's voice reached them and let the girls rush out to the entry. Bege pushed them through the door and they landed on the soft gras safe and finally in normal size. Placing Chopper down who kissed the gras out of relief and to be on safe ground again, (Y/N)'s look wandered around in awe. It was so peaceful out here. Nothing compared to the moment before. Inhaling the fresh air she was able to collect herself. The amount of happenings were too much for her to handle in such a short time. And all started with a crying Pudding on the floor.

"It was all fake…"

The words were running in her head and let her shiver. After a long time (Y/N) was able to find a friend. Someone she thought she could trust and share her thoughts. Was this all a show for her? An act to just get informations what a political marriage is about? The feeling of betrayal made its way through her body. Crawling up her neck and giving her an uncomfortable shiver. Was she really that naive?

"(Y/N) ~swan. I am so relieved that you are fine. My precious flower. Is everything alright? You are so serious. ", Sanji appeared by her side and dancing around her like a drunken ballet dancer.

Sighing she gave him a sad smile, which let him stop in his tracks and kneeling before her, while offering a flower to light her mood. Taking the present with a short thank you, she gave it a closer look. "A crimson flower. What a coincidence..", she thought amused.

" I was just deep in thought. Thinking about Pudding, Sanji", (Y/N) answered and she could see his uneasy gaze.

"I have to apologize Sanji. I was very rude towards you. I didn't know that Pudding was about to kill you. I thought she is in love with you.", (Y/N) spoke and bowed slightly. Sanji's eyes widened of her sweet words.

"I was such a fool. Now I realize that she just used me for information to become the perfect actor as a forced bride..she just played with me. ", she added, while still her sad smile didn't waver. Sanji was touched by her words and couldn't stand the thought to see her sad. He knew what twisted mind Pudding had. He got trapped too in her charismatic and confusing world.

"Don't worry about it (Y/N) ~swaan. She is a difficult person and not easy to handle. Maybe not everything was an act. I was sure that in some ways she helped us and then sadly not. Quite difficult to understand. You have to find out by yourself…. ", Sanji spoke seriously and took her off guard. It was sure not easy to believe in his words, but (Y/N) knew that she would listen to her of what she had to say. She was family after all.

"I think you are a really nice person. And you didn't deserve that. I am very sorry.", (Y/N) spoke and knocked him out with her kind words.

"How unbelievable sweet…..", he whispered and got scolded by Nami for acting like an idiot again.

(Y/N)'s eyes met Luffy's bright smile. That someone could still be so enthusiastic after what had happened was a miracle for her, but it also lightened the mood and the will to go on. (Y/N) listened to their conversation of how things would go on now. She was only a side player in this dangerous game and didn't want to disturb. Silently observing their discussions with the scientist and the other scary looking people, who seemed very strong in her eyes, she wished it wouldn't go on so chaotic like before. But she felt that her wish wouldn't come true. They decided to part ways to get better chances in reaching their ship. Kissing Chopper on his head she wished him good luck, while a scary skeleton man asked her to show him her panties. Before she could say something he was already kicked out of the way by a pissed Sanji. Chuckling slightly she joined Luffy's side to start their next mission. Reaching the ship as quickly as possible.

In a way she wasn't surprised that they were just running to the ship. But that they met a speaking tree on the way and were now sitting on it, while it rushed through the fields with high speed, was beyond her imagination. If Katakuri knew what she was doing he would be more than pissed for risking her life and following these strangers. But even if she always was being too quick with her trust towards others, (Y/N) always stayed true to her feelings and her heart. Feeling her body in pain of her past wounds, she was also in a way happy to travel easier. It was really exhausting to be with these pirates.

"(Y/N) isn't that awesome?! Come here and watch this amazing view!", Luffy called out to her, while she was doing her best to hold onto a tree branch. Laughing happily he came to her side and took her bridal style to get her to his view point, while Sanji was shouting at his captain how he could just take her in his arms.

"Don't be afraid look!", he placed her beside him and pointed to the woodlands before him.

"Luffy! Stop that. We are not on a vacation idiot!", Nami scolded him and ordered the poor tree to go faster.

"Yeah (Y/N) ~swan isn't interested!"

Ignoring the others, (Y/N) had to admit that the view was really great at this point. Looking around she was met with beautiful flower fields, exotic trees with fruits and a furious big mom on a cloud. That was something new.

At first (Y/N) wasn't able to comprehend the next disaster, which was about to begin.

"Luffy…", she spoke shocked, while pointing behind him.

"What? Did you find something nice?", he asked innocent, while she grabbed his face to turn it to the nightmare in pink. Nami and the others followed (Y/N) 's look and froze in the spot.

"What the heeelll!!!!", they shouted, while Big mom came closer with a murderous glint in her eyes.

"Wedddding cake!!!!", her voice let her surroundings tremble of her power.

Gasping (Y/N) knew what was going on. Even Katakuri kept a safe distance at such a situation.

"Oh no. She is having a hunger pang… ", she whispered shocked, while the poor tree tried his best to get away from Big mom. Luffy quickly stepped before (Y/N) and was ready to give his best to safe his crew.

"Katakuri…. I hope I see you again", she thought frightened. Because she knew all too well how cruel and deadly Big mom could be.

[maltmealo]

Chapter 17: Midnight movie thoughts

"what are you doing?"

"Crying."

"you're sad, why?"

"I miss him."

It was late, later than midnight you guessed, an old black and white rom-com playing on the little box TV in the corner. It almost felt like your college dorm room, except for the severe lack of a roommate and the stress of upcoming exams that you had pushed back studying for.

You weren’t focused on what the TV had to say, the words blending into the mindless chatter as you pressed your ear against the wall.

Pop pop pop!

Like throwing bacon in a hot pan, there was that faint crackling of Cliffjumper on the other side of the wall, reassuring you, that you weren’t completely alone. But that was worse, wasn’t it? The experience you had had with Doctor Sowa, a taste of true connection, the feeling of finally being able to relax as someone else supported you, that was what you wanted, not the mere presence of someone.

You lean away from the wall, a pit of anxiety boiling in your stomach as you wrap the thick blanket around your shoulders, hoping to give yourself that same feeling.

You wanted to feel that music.

A low tone broke you out of your thoughts, it sounded like fire, a warm crackle instead of the excited pop of oil, the sound of wood burning inside a ring of stones to keep it from spreading. You would have panicked if you hadn’t heard it before.

Arcee is the one person you have barely seen in your time here.

You stand up off your bed and peek out of the door, a light disappearing around the dark corner. Your legs itched at you to follow, and your rational mind told you that she probably didn’t want to be bothered so late at night when she was probably just walking back to her room; on the other hand, your irrational side had been making most of the decisions as of late, so you followed.

You drop the blanket and walk down the hallway, uttering a silent apology to Cliffjumper if he awakes and discovers you have left your room. Luckily the floor wasn’t as cold, your new socks doing most of the insulating as you turn the corner and head to the only room with a light on.

You peel into the room to see her sitting on a metal slab pushed up against the wall, a bright pink cube in her hand. She stops mid bite as she spots your head, she freezes before finishing her bite and finally speaking up.

“You can come in you know, it's creepy when you hover,” she says loud enough for you to hear as she motions for you to come closer, setting the pink cube down on the desk beside her.

You approach her, looking around the room as you do. Various objects lay scattered around, discarded sheets of metal with holes or cuts in them, motorcycle tires stacked in the corner, and road signs screwed to the wall.

“What's that?” You ask, pointing to the pink cube as Arcee arms your arm and lifts you onto the slab with her. She reaches over and grabs the pink cube, holding it out for you to see.

“This? Just an energon cube,” she shrugs, taking another bite out of it. It looked like jelly, but harder and somehow more liquidy, a thin sheen of pink sweat covering the cube, “want some?”

You nod and reach up, taking a small chunk of the cube and shoving it in your mouth. It was sweeter than what you had tasted when you had bitten Cliffjumper, almost like someone had dumped all of the sugar into one of those off-brand fruit punches that already had too much sugar in it. It was metallic too, almost like a sweeter version of the blood you had pumping through yourself.

You shudder, fighting the urge to expel the confectionary gel from your throat as you harshly swallow it. You wipe your mouth of the leftovers, forcing a smile up at Arcee.

“It's good,” You say forcefully. Arcee looks down at you with an amused grin, shaking her head and taking another bite of the cube.

“You don’t have to lie, you look like you just drank acid,” she says, chuckling and setting down the half-eaten cube, “Not exactly for humans.”

“Why would you give it to me then?” You ask, gagging finally as the syrupy taste lingers in the back of your throat like a cheap cherry cough medicine. Arcee offers you an apologetic smile, rubbing the back of her head.

“Curious, never really had a close interaction with a human before besides Fowler,” She shrugs, the concerned look still on her face as she watches you struggle to get the taste out of your mouth, “are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m good it's just really sweet,” You cough, covering your mouth with your arm as you give her a small nod.

“It's low-grade energon, it’s processed enough for us to drink it but it's not very good,” She explains, leaning down and placing her forearms on her knees to get a better look at your face, “What are you doing up so late?”

“Thinking,” You say simply, leaning back on your arms and looking up at the ceiling.

Arcee cocks her head to the side, and raises what you assume to be a cybertronian version of a brow, “Care to share? Or will you continue to be thinking when you should be recharging?”

“Thinking seems better than sharing.” You respond simply, the sleek metal ceiling reflecting the image right back at you in a distorted blue and oddly human-like blobs.

“Uh huh,” She replies slowly, mimicking your position and looking up at your blob twins, “it's the thing that's keeping you up right?”

“The ‘thing’?” You ask, turning to look over at her.

“You can hear me right? You can hear all of us.” She says, gesturing to her chest where the soft rumbling of her spark originated, “That's what's keeping you awake?”

“That is… a part of it,” you say, turning back to the ceiling. The soft crackle comes back into focus, blocking out any of the ambient noise in the base. It wasn’t overwhelming, but it certainly wasn’t pleasant when you heard what the real thing could sound like, “you don’t…. It doesn’t sound real anymore.”

Her brows furrow and she shifts to a different position, putting her hand on your back to get your attention, “Not real?”

Another faint crackle cuts you off as you open your mouth, it was not fire, no, it was the oil that roasted over it.

“Yeah? I mean, I don’t know how to explain it, its… new.” you sigh, crossing your legs and glancing at the barely cracked doorway.

Arcee pauses, looking away for a moment and looking back, nodding, “it’s certainly something new for all of us, we’ve never exactly outlier on our team before.”

“Outlier?” you ask, vaguely remembering the words from Ratchet’s and Optimus’ description of what you were.

“Yeah, Outlier, it just means your spark is…” she trails off before snapping back, “Unique, more unique then it already is of course.”

Unique. That was certainly something you had heard time and time again in your life. It felt odd to describe this situation as unique even though it certainly was. Not many people had been in this… whatever it was.

“fun,” your voice sounds meek even to you, you don’t want to cringe though, you want to cry, the reason you felt so empty, like all your fight and want had been drained out of you was because you had pushed away the one thing that could keep you full.

Arcee is silent, looking down at you with an unreadable expression, she gently rubs circles into your back trying to figure out what to do.

“Hey, its not-” Arcee starts but she's quickly cut off by Cliffjumper entering the room.

“Whoa, you two hanging out without me? I’m feelin’ a bit left out,” Cliffjumper feigns annoyance and sits down beside the two of you, offering a grin as he taps your head with a finger, “As your official protector and guide, I gotta hang with you, can’t protect what ya can’t see.”

Arcee’s hand falls away from your back and is replaced by Cliffjumper’s, he smiles down at you comfortingly.

“Sorry, I couldn’t sleep,” You explain sheepishly, your voice returning to its designated volume finally.

“Sleep? Well i got the perfect remedy for that aliment,” Cliffjumper nudges you forward off the slab and onto his hand like he was collecting change off a counter.

Arcee stays silent for the duration of your exchange, deep in her own thoughts before she notices you looking at her in concern.

“I’m okay, you go get some sleep,” she says with a small smile, waving you off before she adds playfully, “Cliff isn’t going to bite.”

“Har har,” he deadpans, dropping you on his shoulder and speaking in cybertronian again to her. You try to listen in and understand some of it, but it doesn’t sound like anything you’d ever heard, sharp tones that evened out into noises you’d never even heard, there was no rhythm, even if you were sure that there was a repeated word or two. It wasn’t the words you spoke yourself, it wasn’t flowing smoothly, but they spoke it as if it was as easy to swallow as water.

Arcee responds in the same language, nodding and giving him a weak smile that reminded you of yours not even a few minutes ago. Cliffjumper nods back and begins to walk out of the room.

“Bye, Arcee, thank you.” You wave goodbye to her, turning back and settling down in the dip of his shoulders.

“So,” Cliffjumper starts, walking down the hallway at a steady pace, his spark crackling warmly up at you, “how's the spark doin’?”

You put your hand to your chest like the hole was in your chest instead of your nonphysical soul that you didn’t even know was real two months ago. It was definitely still there, you felt like a water balloon that had gotten poked by a needle, not popping but slowly deflating.

“Could be worse,” you shrug, pulling your hand away from your chest and leaning up against his neck.

“Ever the optimist, aren’t we?” he chuckles, tilting his head to the opposite side when you lean on his neck, his shoulders twitch slightly, jostling you away from the gentle pulsing of the cabling running along his neck, “You gotta lean on my neck cable like that?”

“Sorry, did I hurt you?” you ask apologetically as you move away from his neck cable.

“Nah, you’re fine, just ah… ticklish as you humans would say,” he says after a moment, stopping in his tracks as you arrive at his door, “Nothing big, I would let you do it if I wouldn’t accidentally knock you off my shoulder.”

Before you could respond he entered his room, the bright red lighting hitting your eyes and making you squint. As your eyes adjusted to the soft red LED light of the room you could see it was fairly… dense, unlike Arcee’s room which only had a few things, his room had many, An apple tree planted where the floor had been pried open to sound the dirt below, the slab covered in a giant quilt that was most definitely not made by him and various other things that looked to be from a farm.

“Your room’s nice,” you compliment as he plucks you off his shoulder and plops you down on the quilt, sitting down right beside you and looking around.

“Yeah, it is nice, right? Got most of this stuff from the first human I met,” he adjusts the quilt and you’re pulling closer to him, now effectively leaning against his side as he continues, “Nice old lady, let me set up in her barn, even made me that quilt when the winter kicked in.” he pauses, a reminiscent look on his face before he continues, “that’s why I decorated this place like this, honor to hand that feeds or whatever.”

You let out a breath through your nose and you smile, “That sounds lovely, what was she like?”

“She was… warm, hardworking even though all her systems were failing, she took care of her farm until she offlined,” he says solemnly, rubbing the fabric of the quilt through his digits. He shakes his helm and looks down at you, “Sorry, didn’t mean to get sentimental there.”

“It's okay,” you comfort, soothingly patting his thigh, “Sentiment is good, makes you more human.”

“I ain’t a human, but I appreciate the sentiment,” he chuckles, patting the top of your head with his digit and grinning down at you. “You seem well adjusted to us giants walkin’ around you.”

“Well, yeah, sort of,” you shrug, waving his hand away from your head with faux annoyance, “why do you bring it up?”

“Just ah… nuthin’, I don’t want you to be scared of us, ya know? Humans always seem to be so… scared of big such, and well if you haven’t noticed,” he gestured down at his body with flourish, “we’re big stuff.”

“No, I'm not scared more so…” your voice trails off, your mouth hanging open as you try to find the words that refuse to come to your mind.

“Everything else?” he questioned.

“Everything else.” you confirm, staring down at the ground.

He didn’t say anything more, watching you carefully for a moment before scooping you back up and laying down. Before you could protest, he had laid you on his chassis, right above his spark chamber if Ratchet’s anatomy classes and your senses said anything. Popping took over your senses, bubbling oil and sharp crackles echoing through your mind.

“Everything else ain’t good for you, only a couple of emotions at a time, yeah?” he chuckled, vibrations rumbling through his chassis and through your body. The hard metal under you was warm, like a car’s hood after running for hours.

Your head nods slightly and he chuckles. He reaches a servo up and cups your back, the warmth surrounding your body so the cold wouldn’t invade your poor human flesh.

“You should recharge, everythings gonna be the same when you wake up,” his voice comes out smoothly, his thumb tapping on the berth gently before he stops.

“G’night, Cliffjumper,” You mumble, too entranced by the warmth embrace and the sound of his spark to give him anything else.

His body stills under you as he feels your breathing even out. He glances down at you, not even risking moving his neck lest he wakes you up. He could feel each breath you took, your chest rising and falling in a slow pattern. It was a comfort, he knew you were alive and well. He didn’t quite know why he felt like that, you had bit him, he had scared you, it should have been something that made you hate him and he the same but…

He couldn’t finish that thought. He didn’t want to. Instead, he dimmed the lights and slowly started to go into recharge.

“G’night, squishy.”

[strawberrysurecake]

Hey just read your tsund hcs of bucci gang and liked the idea.

Going of that how would the gang react if the reader distance themselves and went cold turkey because of the way they are acting.

Feel free to ignore and have a lovely day/evening.

I'm so happy to see other people enjoying tsundere content! I hope you're having an amazing week, too!

For anyone who has yet to read the original Bucci gang tsundere headcanons post, you can find it right here.

And thank you for your patience, anon! I ended up writing so much that some of these headcanons might as well be short fanfics.

Giorno

From soldato to don, he has successfully scaled to the very top of Passione but oddly enough, something is missing

As he shakes hands with Italy's most influential figures, the mystery of your whereabouts never leaves his mind

The last he saw you was five weeks ago when he revealed your promotion to capo and allotted you your very own territory

Despite slyly establishing your territory snug against his own, you have never once dropped by his private villa to see him and your biweekly reports over the phone are short and impersonal

He can't bring himself to meet you without a formal reason so he makes shit up about a spontaneous conference between capos that you're obligated to join

Every capo of Passione is now in his secondary villa and he's stuck interviewing and chatting up every one of them until he finally makes it to you

You conduct yourself far too professionally for his tastes and you often attempt to break free from his company once the conversation steers from business to personal

As you turn to leave, he impulsively grasps your hand, his uncertain eyes pleading to yours

He asks why you've been distant and wonders if he's done something wrong to upset you

Apparently you've been distant because you misinterpreted his detached demeanor for contempt and you only wanted to respect his boundaries now that he's your boss

He sputters as he attempts to correct you, struggling not to make his true feelings obvious in the process

All becomes well when you wrap your arms around him and he tries reciprocating your hug despite the confused glances of the capos surrounding you two

From then on, your biweekly reports are done over brunch; Monday at your house and Thursday at his villa

Bucciarati

The elderly women have stopped gossiping about his prospective relationship with you

While he's puzzled, he's somewhat relieved to get a break from their nosiness

He goes on with his life, a niggling thought of you resident on his mind

Bygone are the days of zipping your mouth shut or threatening to lock your unattached head in a cupboard as you've ceased bothering him with coquetry

Even though you no longer talk to him, he still thinks of you

By chance, he stumbles across you at a local farmers' market

He fondly greets you but you respond monotonously in return

Only now does he realise how much he misses your teasing jests and smug laughter

You don't make a move to shoot a cringeworthy pick-up line so he supposes he'll have to do it himself

"Orange you glad to see me?"

His hand is trembling with awkwardness as he picks up the next fruit, palms sweating

"I think you and I would make a great pear."

When you crack a smile and reply with a berry corny pun of your own, a wave of relief washes over him

You're back to your dumb flirty antics with his dignity as your personal punching bag—the way things should be

Mista

Why is it that whenever he tries to initiate a conversation, you suddenly need to leave?

He misses your sweet laughter and smile and wishes he took the time to admire them before you turned distant

He needs to set things right so the first thing he does after Bucciarati dismisses him for the day is visit a confectionery store

With a box full of your favourite treats in his arms, he knocks on your door and presents them to your stunned self

"Look. I know it seems like I loathe you and all but I swear I do care about you. I'm sorry about the way I've been treatin' you before. I won't avoid you again."

He's elated when you accept his apology though your devilish smirk bemuses him

He learns too late that you have him wrapped around your little finger—all according to your plan

Narancia

After many, many circumstances of repelling your affectionate advances, you seem to have gotten the memo

Days off have become lonely without you following him around like a lost puppy

Now you won't even look him in the eye

He thinks he's hallucinating when he spots your familiar face in a plaza amongst crowds of tourists

He breathes in and calls out to you, bumping and squeezing past tourists as you frantically search for the voice shouting your name

It doesn't bother him how the crowds look at him funny, he just needs you by his side again

Before you can ask what he's doing, he's embracing you, face buried into your neck

"I'm sorry. I don't really mean the things I said or did. You can hug me and you can lean on me all you want. I want things to go back the way things used to be."

Your gentle hands stroking his hair is soothing and he wishes time would freeze to savour it

His face heats up when you ask if you can hold hands while exiting the plaza

"Fine but only 'cause you want to..."

Abbacchio

On a particularly bad day you were having, he snapped at you to go away

To his surprise, you actually did go away

Fear settles in after a few days of dead silence from you

He obsessively stresses over what happened, blaming himself for making your shit week even shittier and wondering if you'll ever talk to him again

He knows he shouldn't be drinking excessively but the aching of his heart is unbearable

He's typically moody when drunk but when it comes to you, he's a completely different type of drunkard

Before he can rethink his actions, he has your number punched into his phone

He wakes up the next morning with a pounding headache and heavy dread

He reluctantly summons Moody Blues to replay the phone call he had with you last night

"I miss you, amore. Your face, your voice, your weird questions... Please let me make it up to you. Let me see your smile once again..."

He is so close to withdrawing his Stand in shame until he hears your muffled reply from Moody Blues' ability

Fugo

He is saddened to hear you apologise for avoiding him—something he believes to be soley his fault—but he is intrigued and horrified to know you want to hang out later today

He scrambles to get himself ready and barely makes it to your house on time to take you out

He spends the entire afternoon and evening by your side, visiting any shops or bistros that catch your eye and drinking in your happiness

He's thankful to have made your week little better in the end

After a heated argument regarding his blatant disrespect towards you over the past few days, you swore to never speak to him again

Guilt perturbs him for taking things too far in order to conceal his feelings

Whenever he tries to reach out and apologise, you cut him off and walk away

Trish

A week later, Bucciarati, not knowing of the recent rift between you two, pairs you together for a mission

It feels like some deranged joke to have you in his car but not be able to speak to you

Despite limited communication between you two, you both carry out the mission without fault until an armed enemy with a knife lunges out of the woodwork for you

Against all senses of logic and self-preservation, he rashly leaps in front of the blade and unleashes Purple Haze's virus onto the enemy

Sharp pain burns at his abdomen while you frantically disinfect the wound, angrily lecturing him for being so careless

"I wanted to protect you... I've been such an asshole to you... I'm so sorry... I..."

He embarrassingly faints before he can confess his love

On a positive note, his gallant sacrifice has repaired his relationship with you

He swears to himself that he'll never insult you again and if his heart beats too strongly around your presence, he'll just have to put up with it

Lately, you haven't been paying attention to her

She had her nails done in your favourite colours but you have yet to notice them

She supposes it's only natural that you'd stop showering her with compliments with the way she insults you each time

One morning, she rakes over her modest collection of jewellery, contemplating what to wear until an idea comes to mind

She later meets you at Libeccio and boldy takes the seat beside you

The gang watches her strangely but she ignores them to gift you a dainty bracelet that matches the thin chain wrapped around her left wrist

"Don't think too much of it. This was a spare and I needed it gone. I thought it might look good on you..."

Your reaction is so sweet that she can't help the blush that spreads across her cheeks and ears

Now she takes extra care to pay you a compliment instead of an insult when you notice a new change in her looks lest she loses your precious attention again

[xxlea-nardoxx]

Tmnt Au incorrect quotes "Pride and Love Edition", featuring my two AU ships and my OC's.

Charlie and Max are my OCs and May is the AUs April. :>

Leo: How the hell did you crash the Shellraiser?!

Raphie: So I was just driving today, right? And my navigation told me to go straight.

Raphie: I was like „woah, that’s homophobic“. Instead, I went gay. And, THAT’S when I got into an accident.

Leo: …

Max, with a proud smile: And THAT’S who I’m in love with, ladies and gentlemen.

---

Lee: Yeah I’m LGBT.

Lee: cuLt leader.

Lee: God hates me personally.

Lee: douBle katana wielder.

Lee: *sniffles* Trying my best.

---

Raphie: It’s Pride Month, you know what that means!

Mike: I get to eat as many Skittles as I want?

Raphie: What? No! What has Lee been telling you?

Lee, walking in, pouring Skittles into his mouth: Taste the rainbow, bitch.

---

Charlie: Is there anyone here who’s actually straight?

May: *raises hand*

Lee: *puts his hand down*

---

Mike: What do you want for breakfast, Lee?

Lee: Gay Cheerios.

Mike: I TOLD YOU TO STOP CALLING FRUIT LOOPS THAT!!

---

Max: You look good in that hoodie.

Raphie: You know where else I’d look good?

Max, zero hesitation: My bed.

Raphie, at the same time: By your side- wait, what?

---

Lee: I want a bf.

Don: Do you mean best friend, boyfriend or bread feast? Because you’re being really vague here.

---

Raph: What are you drinking?

Lee: Vodka.

Raph: Straight?

Lee: No, gay. Why?

---

Lee: And now for a gay update with Raphie and Max.

Raphie: Getting gayer.

Lee: Thank you, Raphie.

---

May: I have feelings for you.

Don: Why? What’s wrong with you? Are you sure you’re okay?

---

Don: So, what’s it like dating Max?

Raphie: He once referred to sand as „heterosexual glitter.“

Don: …

Raphie: I love him so much.

---

Lee: Look, do I consider myself attractive? Yes. But would I have sex with my clone? Also yes.

---

Mike: Who else is hiding in the laundry room trying to listen to Dons and May’s convo?

Lee: Me. I’m in the laundry basket.

Charlie: I’m in the washing machine.

Raphie: I’m in the closet.

Charlie: We accept you Raphie. <3

Raphie: No I’m literally in the closet.

Charlie: Love is love. <3

---

Lee: Wow, this parking is as straight as I am.

Leo: I know I should be focused on the fact that you just came out, but HOW DARE YOU INSULT MY PARKING!

---

May: I’m so happy, I could kiss you!

Don: Um…Neat.

*later*

Don, lying face down on his bed: I said „Neat,“ Raphie. Who the fuck says neat these days? It’s not neat to say neat but I said it anyways because I’m fucking stupid.

Raphie reading a book: Don’t beat yourself up too much, Don. Everyone gets nervous sometimes. Remember what I did when Max confessed his love to me?

Don: Didn’t you thank him?

Raphie: *closes the book and looks at the ceiling* I fucking thanked him.

---

Don: Your smile? It makes my day.

May: Your happiness? I live for that.

Raphie: A room? Get one.

Lee: Hotel? Trivago.

---

Raphie: Sometimes I get so caught up on being gay that I forget I’m actually bi.

---

May: Don is too tall for me to kiss him on the lips. What should I do?

Charlie: Punch him in the stomach. Then, when he doubles over in pain, kiss him.

Raphie: Tackle him!

Lee: Slap him.

Mike: Kick him in the shin!

Don: No to all of those! Just ask me to lean down!!

---

Lee: I never tell people off the bat that I’m gay. I wait. I wait until they say some homophobic shit and then I laugh and am like „you know I’m gay right?“ and watch the look of terror on their face.

Leo:

Leo: I like you.

---

Raphie: Due to personal reasons, I will be fucking sinking to the bottom of the ocean in a large metal box.

Lee: Did Max say ‚I love you‘ and you said ‚Thanks‘?

Raphie: THE REASONS ARE PERSONAL–

---

Max: Did Raphie just tell me he loves me for the first time?

Lee: Yeah, he did.

Max: And did I just do finger guns back?

Lee: Yeah, you did.

---

Raphie: Two bros!

Max: Chillin‘ in a hot tub!

Raphie and Max, in unison: Zero feet apart ‚cause we’re GAY AS FUCK!

---

Mike: What do rainbows mean to you?

Lee: Gay rights.

Mikey: There’s money!

Raphie: They look awesome.

Donnie: It is an optical phenomenon that separates sunlight into ist continuous spectrum when the sun shines on raindrops.

---

Mike: You use emoji’s like a straight person.

Lee: That’s literally the worst thing anyone has ever said about me.

---

Raphie: The only straight I am is a straight-up badass.