#they could be so bad for each other...and yet...

[sluttyminghao]

♡ title: good girl, bad intentions ♡ pairing: mingyu x seungcheol x afab!reader ♡ genre: smut, small amount fluff at the end ♡ w.c: 3.6k ♡ general warnings: alcohol consumption on multiple occasions ♡ smut warnings: porn without plot, dominance/submission, breathplay (light choking), exhibitionism, restraints (cuffs, collar, belt), power imbalance, humiliation kink, spit play, gagging on dick, impace play, MMF threesome, marking/possession, overstimulation, collaring (in this its symbolic for ownership), emotional aftercare ♡ a/n: thank you to @nerdycheol for beta-reading for me at such short notice! please note this is NOT part of the thirteen temptations series, just another piece I've been working on. enjoy!

You felt them before you saw them.

The party was buzzing with way too much light, there were too many bodies grinding against each other, multiple glasses clinking and champagne bubbles rising to the ceiling. You were dressed for power, or at least that was the idea—slick black satin hugging every curve and inch of your body, and your Louboutin heels high enough to demand attention. You’d come with friends, ready to play the part. Smile, flirt, sip something expensive. Pretend you didn’t know the two men watching you from across the room were going to undo you completely.

You shouldn't have made eye contact, not with Seungcheol. Not when his stare alone made your thighs press together and your pulse skip. He didn't smile; instead, he just watched you intently, like he was waiting for the right moment. He already knew exactly how and when you'd crack.

Another thing, you really shouldn't have turned your head just slightly to find Mingyu standing directly behind him. Mingyu was the opposite of Seungcheol; his smile crooked as he stared you down like a predator eyeing its prey. His sharp eyes devour you just as hungrily as Seungcheol’s, but there was something in his eyes that made him look like he was already planning which mirror he’d bend you over.

They didn’t approach you, not yet. They didn’t need to. All night, they just watched and stared. Their smirks are engraved in your brain, and they are all you can think about, no matter how much you drink or how much you try to distract yourself. To make it worse (or better), every single time you glanced back, they were closer.

By midnight, your drink was untouched and definitely flat, your panties were so damp it was almost uncomfortable, and you were one look away from begging. That was when Seungcheol moved. Soon enough, he’s one step behind you, his musky cologne settling into your nostrils. Mingyu reaches you not long after in a few long strides, his smirk only growing. His voice brushed against your ear teasingly, sending shivers down your spine.

"You wore that for us."

It wasn’t a question, and you also didn't deny it.

"Do you know what that does to us?" Seungcheol murmured, his breath at your neck now. "When you walk around acting like you aren't already ours?"

You swallowed.

"Come upstairs."

It wasn’t a request, no, this was a flat-out demand, no sugar coating it. Mingyu's hand curled almost comfortingly around your wrist as you’re ushered away, whilst Seungcheol’s hand was already low on your back, keeping you as grounded as you could be in that moment.

And just like that, you were walking into the elevator and into their world. You were walking straight into fire.

The penthouse door closes behind you with a deep, metallic click. That sound alone makes your stomach flip. This is real now. Your back hits the wall before you can take a breath or take in the exquisite furniture of the penthouse.

Seungcheol's hand braces beside your head, boxing you in. His body presses close, not touching you, just making sure you know he was present and dominating the air around you. Mingyu moves in from the other side, his fingers trailing along the hem of your skimpy dress.

They haven’t even kissed you yet, and you’re already trembling.

"Still pretending you're not desperate for it?" Mingyu asks, his voice low and husky, but his words warm against your cheek. His fingers slide under the fabric of your dress, brushing against your bare skin and soaked panties.

"She’s soaked through," he mutters to Seungcheol without looking away from you. "Little slut came upstairs ready to be ruined."

Seungcheol grabs your jaw firmly. "Open."

Your lips part willingly while his thumb pushes between them and rests on your tongue. "Good girl. Keep that mouth soft. You're going to need it."

You moan around his thumb as Mingyu slides down your body. His tongue flicks over your inner thigh quickly, then he stands abruptly, eyes darkening with each pass he makes over your trembling form.

"Take it off," he orders. "All of it. Slowly."

You obey without question. You peel the dress off your body inch by inch, letting it slide down your arms, your waist, your hips. You step out of it, barefoot now. Your panties come next, until you’re left completely bare under their eyes, you're trembling, exposed, and burning.

"Turn around," Seungcheol says. "Hands on the table."

You do. The glass is cool under your palms. The view behind the floor-to-ceiling windows is breathtaking. City lights stretch endlessly; anyone could see in if the one-way blinds weren’t drawn. You're thankful for that much.

But not for long.

Mingyu steps behind you, his large hands coming to rest on your hips.

"Spread your legs. Wider."

He kneels quickly, and you don’t get time to react until you gasp when his mouth finds you, hot and wet and so hungry. His tongue slides between your folds, and your knees just about buckle, but Seungcheol is there instantly, grabbing a fistful of your hair to steady you.

"Stay still," he growls. "Let him taste what belongs to us."

Your moans echo through the room, but Mingyu doesn’t stop. One of his huge arms wraps around your thigh, pinning you open, while the other hand slides between your cheeks, spreading them wider as his tongue fucks into you deeper.

You cry out when he sucks on your sensitive clit, your body twitching on it’s own accord, with your orgasm rushing up way too fast, and it’s overtaking all of your senses.

"Gyu—I'm gonna—"

He stops, making you sob loudly at the lack of orgasm and contact.

Seungcheol laughs darkly. "You don’t get to cum unless we say so. Understand?"

You nod frantically, tears already welling in your eyes.

"Say it."

"I don’t cum unless you say so. Please, please, I need it."

He lets go of your hair, and Mingyu stands and moves to the front of you. Both of them are rock hard now, their cocks straining against their tight slacks. Seungcheol walks around you, fists your hair again, and tilts your head up.

"On your knees."

Your knees hit the marble, cold and sharp, but you don’t care. Your pulse is a scream in your throat, begging to be released. Seungcheol unbuckles his belt with slow, deliberate clicks, then lets it dangle from one hand like a warning. Mingyu is already in front of you, zipper down, cock heavy and flushed, waiting.

"Open that pretty mouth of yours," he says.

You do. He doesn’t go easy; he keeps one hand on the back of your head, pushes himself in deep, and you gag around him. Your throat tightens, but you take it, you let him fuck your face, hot and wet and messy, with spit dripping down your chin.

"Look at you," Seungcheol says behind you, voice thick with pride. "Such a good little cockslut."

You whimper around Mingyu’s length. Seungcheol moves closer to you, dragging the leather belt across your ass. Then, snap—the leather cracks against your skin. You jump and moan around Mingyu, ultimately leading to you choking. And still, you don’t pull away.

"Again," he commands—another crack.

Your whole body shakes as you let the pain settle into your body. Mingyu groans, his hips jerking from the next level of stimulation he’s receiving. "Fuck, she likes it."

Your eyes water as he pulls out, strings of saliva clinging to your lips.

Seungcheol lifts your chin. "Get on the bed. Hands and knees."

You scramble up, thighs trembling. Your body is full of fire and ache and want. You feel them behind you; Mingyu’s hands spread your legs just far enough that they can see your dripping cunt, and Seungcheol climbing onto the bed in front of you, his cock thick and hard in his hand.

Mingyu thrusts into you without warning, and you scream from the unexpected feeling that slowly bleeds into pleasure. Seungcheol grips your hair, pulls your mouth to his cock. "You scream around it."

You do, you moan around his length sinfully, while Mingyu pounds into you from behind, each stroke hitting deeper than the last. They fuck you together with no mercy and absolutely no hesitation. Just thick, heavy thrusts, wet sounds, praise and filth poured into your ears.

"You were made for this."

"Our perfect little toy."

"You take us so well, baby. So fucking well."

And when you finally, finally fall apart between them, screaming as your orgasm tears through you, they don’t stop. Mingyu holds your hips steady while Seungcheol fucks himself into your mouth harder. You cry and shake, and fall apart all over again, until you collapse.

Until they say, gently:

"You're ours now. Say it."

Your voice is broken, raw, and best of all, ruined.

"Yours. I'm yours."

The room is still as your chest heaves and your breathing starts to even out. The city outside continues its life, oblivious to your utter wreckage 25 stories up. Mingyu pulls himself out of you slowly, groaning as your slick clings to him. His hands stroke down your back, grounding you. Seungcheol brushes damp hair from your cheeks, his eyes softer now, full of something dark and possessive and unbearably warm.

They ease you down onto the bed, shift you so you're lying between them. Mingyu grabs a warm cloth from the side table as Seungcheol kisses your temple.

"Did so good, baby," Mingyu murmurs as he cleans you, gentle now, reverent. "So fucking perfect."

You whimper when the cloth drags over your swollen core. You're raw and completely overstimulated, but you don't want it to end.

Seungcheol watches you as his fingers trail your jaw. "You ready to say it again?"

You nod.

"Say it loud."

"I'm yours."

Mingyu leans in. "And who do you belong to?"

You look at him and then at Seungcheol.

"Both of you."

They smile. It’s not over. Not by a long shot.

~~~~~~~~~~

You're not sure how long you've been lying between them, bruised and blissed out. The lights are low now, and the air is thick with sweat and something heavier. A promise. Mingyu brushes your hair behind your ear, his knuckles tender against your cheek. Seungcheol moves behind you, spooning your body with a possessiveness that leaves no question.

"You're still shaking," Seungcheol murmurs.

You nod, you can’t help it; their hands and their voices combined—you're too full of them.

"We’re not done," Mingyu says.

Your eyes flutter open, squinting as the light shines slightly in your tired eyes. He leans over the side of the bed and pulls something out from a drawer. Leather glints in his hand. It’s a collar; it’s black and thick, with a delicate silver ring at the very centre, and studded with tiny diamonds. Your breath catches at the sight, and your heart skips a beat, any words you had dying in your throat.

Seungcheol kisses your shoulder. "Do you trust us?"

You nod slowly.

"Words, baby."

"Yes. I trust you."

Mingyu sits on the edge of the bed, turns your face to him. "Then let us keep you."

He fastens the collar around your neck, slow and deliberate. The leather is cool at first, then warm as your skin heats beneath it. The buckle clicks.

"You look so fucking good like this," he whispers. Seungcheol's hand slides between your thighs again, only to find you completely soaked again.

"On your knees."

You move like instinct as the words flow from his plush lips, and the carpet rubs your raw skin that only feels more sensitive the more you kneel. You ache everywhere, and you want more.

Mingyu stands, and he grabs something else from the secret drawer. Cuffs. They’re soft-lined and black as well, to match the collar. He binds your wrists behind your back, chuckling when the lock clicks into place and you look even more vulnerable than before. Seungcheol walks in front of you, his sweats low on his hips, cock exposed, half-hard and heavy. He looks down on you like you’re his prize.

"Open."

You do. He fucks your mouth slowly this time with deep, dragging strokes. His hand tangles messily into your hair, steadying you. Mingyu takes the opportunity to kneel behind you, his hands gripping your ass, spreading you open. You moan around Seungcheol as Mingyu pushes himself into you easily again.

"She’s so needy," Mingyu pants, his hips taking on a steady pace. "She’ll never get enough of this."

Seungcheol groans. "She’s not supposed to."

You're a mess, a toy, even an offering. You cry out around Seungcheol as Mingyu pounds into you, the cuffs tight at your back, the collar heavy around your throat.

You're theirs now. Forever.

~~~~~~~

The collar stays on.

It hides beneath the silk scarf you knot around your throat before dinner. Mingyu picked the outfit; something too short and far too sheer, your nipples barely concealed beneath a sheer black blouse and no bra. Seungcheol added the final touch: no panties.

You’re going to dinner with them like that.

The car ride is quiet as you head to dinner. Mingyu’s hand rests on your thigh, his thumb dragging slow, deliberate circles, almost teasing you. Seungcheol just watches you in the rearview mirror, his eyes dark with lust.

You arrive at the restaurant, it’s a high-end, rooftop place where all the city’s most beautiful people gather. They don’t take reservations. Of course, Seungcheol and Mingyu don’t need one.

You’re seated in a private booth, but it’s not private enough. Not for what they’re planning. Mingyu slides himself in beside you, while Seungcheol takes the other side. The tablecloth is long enough that it drapes to the floor elegantly, fortunately covering anything they may want to attempt. 

"Be good," Seungcheol says, reaching under the table. "Or don’t. We like a challenge."

You don’t expect his fingers to slip between your legs the moment the server walks away after taking your appetiser orders. You gasp loudly, but Mingyu is able to cover it just in the nick of time by bringing a glass of red wine to your lips.

"Drink, baby. Let him play."

Seungcheol leans closer, his voice low and almost condescending. "You’re dripping in public, what a slut."

He circles your clit, letting the pads of his thumbs tease you before falling lower and letting himself play with your entrance. He lets one finger, and then two, slip in and out of your dripping cunt slowly while you try not to shatter. You clutch Mingyu's thigh under the table desperately, and he grabs your wrist, growling in your ear.

"You’re going to make a mess on the seat. You want the staff to see that? Want to walk out with your thighs shaking?"

Your hips jerk as Seungcheol curls his fingers inside you, the action having your insides spasming and your body lurching forward.

"Hold still, or you’ll be bent over the damn table right this minute."

You nod frantically, biting your lip. The waiter returns to take your main course orders, but you can barely make out the specials over the pounding of your heart. You’re not going to last if they keep this up. Seungcheol takes the opportunity to slip another finger inside you, a whimper escaping you while Mingyu strokes your thigh.

You cum silently and quickly, your eyes widening and your pulse stuttering as you try your hardest to keep yourself contained at the table. Your walls clamp around Seungcheol's fingers, and you can feel the fucker smirk against your neck.

"Good girl."

He pulls out and wipes his fingers not so delicately on your inner thigh, letting you feel just how wet you truly were.

"We're not done."

They make you finish your meal with their hands on your body the whole time. You probably came at least another 2 times, but your mind had grown so blank that all you could think about now was them.

Later, back in the car, Mingyu pushes you face-down across the expensive leather seat before the door even closes. He doesn’t wait. He pulls the scarf from your neck, revealing the collar. "You don’t wear this unless you act like ours."

Seungcheol grabs your jaw and forces your mouth open.

"She’ll learn eventually."

The car fills with your cries, your wetness, and your surrender, and outside, the city keeps moving, unaware.

~~~~~~

You don’t remember packing, and you don’t remember much except being told to get in the car and leave your phone behind. Seungcheol drove, while Mingyu never took his hand off your thigh the entire ride.

Now, you're standing in the centre of a secluded cabin, the floor-length windows fogged from the thundering storm outside, and your skin, already overheated.

Mingyu maneuvers your body into the bedroom and presses you against the large wall-length mirror with the fancy detailing on the edges. The collar glints in the low firelight that Seungcheol had started up the moment you entered the cabin.

"Look at yourself," he whispers.

Your breath fogs the glass as you examine yourself; messy and fucked out without even being fucked yet. From behind you, Seungcheol pulls off your sweater effortlessly. No bra, as instructed, their grins growing when your nipples start to pebble in the slightly cool bedroom air. His fingers trail down your spine. You shiver at the contact.

"Spread your legs. Wider."

You obey, of course. Mingyu's hands are firm on your hips, and Seungcheol crouches in front of you, his mouth hot against your inner thigh. His tongue teases you first, a soft swipe that makes you gasp. Then, there’s nothing soft at all in his following actions. He eats you out like it’s the last meal of his life, completely greedy and relentless. You moan, your sweaty forehead pressed to the mirror, smearing it with your need. Mingyu’s fingers close around your throat.

"Not yet."

He tightens the grip around your windpipe, but it’s just enough to have your eyes rolling and your pulse hammering harder.

"You cum when we tell you that you can."

You nod, your voice breaking. "Please."

Seungcheol’s tongue pushes deeper into you, if that was even possible. His hand reaches up to toy with your nipples, pinching hard enough to make you whimper. Mingyu grinds against your ass, hard and thick through his jeans. "You hear that? She’s begging already, such a good little whore for us."

"She’s going to beg all weekend."

They take turns.

Fucking you against the mirror and against the wooden wall. They fuck you on the bed with your wrists tied to the headboard with Seungcheol’s belt while Mingyu forces you to keep eye contact. Your body never gets a chance to cool. Every orgasm is either denied or dragged out. Every moan of yours was silenced by either their hands, their mouths, or their cocks.

You cry and you scream. They never stop. Seungcheol whispers praises in your ear while Mingyu pounds you from behind, hand wrapped around your throat.

"You take us so well. Look at you. Made for this, and us.”

They ruin you, and then put you back together just as quickly. In the morning, you're sore and raw and marked, lying between them as the fire dies low.

"You still ours?" Mingyu asks, his deep voice thick with sleep.

You nod, sleep taking over your sore and wrecked form.

Seungcheol chuckles. "Good. Because this was just the first night."

The fire has burned low. Outside, the wind blows through the tall pine trees and rattles the windowpanes. Inside, the silence between you three is thick with the weight of everything that just happened.

Your skin is still warm and feels completely raw in places. You ache in every limb, and your body hums with the memory of every command, every touch, every moment of surrender.

But here, now, you feel held.

Seungcheol gets up and returns quickly with a wet cloth, wiping gently between your thighs, over your stomach, and up your chest. His eyes don’t leave yours. “Still with us?”

You nod slowly. You’re not sure you could speak even if you tried. Mingyu’s situated right behind you, beefy arms wrapped around your waist, and chin resting on your shoulder. His lips brush your neck.

“You did so well,” he murmurs.

They don’t rush, and they don’t pull away. Seungcheol smooths lotion over the bruises he left earlier, eyes filled with worry as he works the lotion into your skin gingerly. Mingyu kisses the crown of your head, again and again, like a rhythm he doesn’t want to stop.

“You’re ours,” Seungcheol says. “Say it.”

You whisper it against Mingyu’s collarbone. “I’m yours.”

Mingyu tightens his arms. “Both of us. Not one or the other. You don’t choose. You belong to us.”

“You’re not allowed to pull away,” Seungcheol adds. “Not after this. Not ever.”

They say it like a promise, laced thinly like a warning. Almost like they’re daring the world to try and take you from them. You shift to face them fully, resting a hand over each of their hearts. “I don’t want to go anywhere.”

Seungcheol leans down and kisses you slowly. Not hungry, nor commanding. Just his. Mingyu kisses you next, softer than he’s ever been. His hands tremble just slightly as they cradle your face. The three of you lie back down. You’re tucked between them, your collar still on, but now it feels like safety instead of submission. Their legs tangle with yours. Their breathing slows around you.

No one speaks. There’s nothing left to say. You are theirs. And they are yours.

And for the first time in a long time, you sleep like you’re home.

[shana-reviews-tmblr]

It should also be made clear that Verosika had ZERO reason to not expose Blitz, he literally showed himself to her and she was still royally angered by him, and when he was giving the whole "why am i the bad guy for sucking at relationships" or when he gave a half assed sorry he "told it like it is" or how he was "sorry" for not falling in love Verosika or anyone at the party all of this got under her skin, but she never threw him to the wolves

because like she said the party is about HEALING

yes the methods are rather uncomfortable, but you have to look at it from an unbiased view, imagine if we didn't know who Blitz was and only saw the show from Verosika's perspective, suddenly having a hate blitzo themed party doesn't feel as "cringy" because all we would have known was that the two have a bad relationship with each other and that Verosika said he was a heartbreaking freak on top of the things he did when he broke up with her.

and yet its clear the party had rules and Verosika in the end was a lot better than some think she is.

She still needs to heal, but given the other hellaverse ladies who are far, FAR worse than her.

Verosika doesn't deserve the hate she gets, and i love that Apology Tour was pretty much her ep with Blitz just like Oops was Fizz's episode with Blitz, i want to see these two become friends and no longer hate each other, because it's very clear that even if BLitz didn't think he could love Verosika or be loved by her, he DOES care about her and she also still cares about him.

it's why i love the hellaverse for exploring more nuanced relationships so we try to get as much of an open POV and see how things are rather then the typical

1 side is right, 1 side is wrong and one side is the side we are suppose to side with cause the story says so.

it's refreshing.

My Personal Favorite Thing From Apology Tour

I like the terms that Blitzø and Verosika are on right now. I like how they seem to have a mutual understanding. She doesn't want to or need to forgive him, but she wants to see him be better.

As our girl Charlie would say, "it starts with sorry"

She can tell he cares about Stolas a lot but she also knows Blitzø needs to work on himself and give Stolas a break before he pursues him again.

Also notice how when she saw Blitzø was at the party she wasn't furious and asking him to leave. She just says he was brave for showing up. She seems almost not surprised that he's there. This is because Verosika knows that Blitzø hates himself probably more than most of the people at the "I hate Blitzø" party. He belongs at this party more than anyone. Verosika realizes this when he talks about wanting to change his ways, and this is why she offers him cake.

I saw the piece of cake as a peace offering. She's letting him know she understands how he feels about himself and how it makes sense why he's at the party.

[lilhughesy]

°•*⁀➷ YOU & LUKE — umich hockey au thoughts

what your “friendship” with luke looks like ->

what your “friendship” with luke is like ->

- you and luke met somewhere during frosh week of both of yours freshman year

- somewhere between the packed schedule of organized activities and the never ending parties

- you noticed him immediately with his height and his broad muscular shoulders

- and you caught his eye with how cute you looked

- definitely took ethan to push luke to talk to you

“hey! i don’t think we’ve met! i’m ethan and this is my friend luke!”

- and the rest of that night is history

- luke definitely walked you home after that party, even though he was a bit drunk but still capable of knowing his surroundings

- since then, luke always walked you home after a night out

- you and luke definitely get food after leaving a party or the bar

- he’s a bit shy but always seemed more relaxed when he was around you

- you would hang out in the guys’ dorms when they weren’t at practice

- you and luke would sit together on one of the beds but slowly as you two got more comfortable with each other, get closer in proximity. it was normal to see you laying your head or your legs on his lap with his hands playing with your hair or the other way around where luke was resting his head on your thighs while you played with his curls

- the guys always tease you two

“so did luke grow a pair yet?”

“shut the fuck up dude, we’re literally just friends”

“yeah… that’s what they alllll say”

“mark!!”

“sorry babe”

“don’t call her that”

- you would go to practices and games pretty often

- he lost his mind when he saw you wearing a blank umich jersey for the first time because all he could think about was how good you’d look wearing the same jersey but with his last name and number on the back

- during practices, you would sit near the top of the bleachers with your designated arena blanket and your laptop to do homework

- but at games, you sit near the glass with your friends to cheer on the boys

- you love the way his face literally lights up when he sees you waiting for him after the game, like his eyes sparkle and his little crooked smile forms

- and you will always grab food with them post-game no matter the outcome

- if the team loses, luke tends to ask you to come over to his place or ask if he could come over so you two can hang out (it takes his mind off of the game’s outcome and who are you to say no)

- but if the team wins, they’re most definitely going to throw a party

- luke will always come and find you when he knows you’re coming to the party, always tells you to let him know when you’re leaving or if you’re uncomfortable

- he will literally tell everyone to leave the party if anything happens to you

- luke doesn’t text too much but will blow up your phone if he thinks you’ve slept in

notifications: lukey pookie (23 unread messages)

“are you awake?”

“we have class in half an hour”

“i need you to take notes”

“that sounds bad but yk what i mean since you do a better job than me”

“and i can actually read your handwriting”

“please wake up soon 🙏 i hate when you’re grouchy because you were in a rush”

“dukers says he’s gonna burn your jellycat if you don’t wake up”

“and i really don’t want our place to burn down so pls hurry”

- you tease him occasionally on how hot his brothers are because his reactions are always so funny

- (plus quinn and jack are really hot)

- he always gets to lectures before you do and he saves you a seat

- and you bring him a refresher drink if you stop by a shop on the way (he doesn’t like coffee)

- luke likes to tease you about how short you are compared to him

- he would purposely put things at higher places so you struggle to reach for them

- ethan lovesssss teasing you on your mini crush on luke after you accidentally let it slip one time at a party

- ethan then goes to tell rutger, who most definitely will not let it go

- all the guys know about luke’s feelings for you, but because of bro code, they won’t say a thing

- luke will pick up your call on the first ring if he’s not at hockey

- and if you need a ride, he will always come to pick you up (because he loves when you’re his passenger princess)

- he will also most definitely boot out whoever is sitting in the passenger seat before you get into the car

“dude i’m serious, get out of the seat or you’re not getting the ride”

“yes, i mean that i will make you walk the rest of the way”

- is so so incredibly protective of you

- like he might be quiet, but he is scary if he needs to be

- will definitely fight someone for you

- luke likes sharing history facts at random times which everyone starts to groan when he does, but she shushes the other boys and lets luke continue to talk about it since she just loves the way his eyes shine when he talks about stuff he’s interested in

- even though she probably won’t retain any of the information because she’s terrible with history

- luke will skip practice to get you medication and food if you’re not feeling well

- doesn’t care about the punishment for skipping, he’s only worried about you

- will kiss your shoulder and your hair if you’re sick and throwing up in the toilet

- this boy is so sweet because he hates vomit but will push down his fear since he’s so concerned about you

- he would help you tie your hair or hold your hair back and rub gentle circles on your back with his hand, and will help you drink water and gatorade

- you would ask him to stay the night because you don’t want to be alone

- and he would absolutely say yes

[lush-escape]

This is Me Trying

pairing: Jason Todd x Reader

synopsis: your friend takes you out to a street race to meet her boyfriend and his brothers

a/n: street racing Jason Todd won't leave my brain. I'm going to do my best to keep reader as ambiguous as possible. Updates will probably be slow between work but I will also be posting this to my AO3 which i will link here. I hope you enjoy ♡

next: part 2

“I just don't see the entertainment in it, is all.” You try to explain to your friend. She had finally, finally, dragged you to one of her boyfriend's street races. You could see the appeal to them. Hot people racing dangerously and illegally in cars or on motorcycles, what's not to like? Aside from the fact that you only get to see them take off and then they're gone. A whole ten seconds of oggling.

“It's not just the race,” your friend smiles as she drags you along the sidewalk. It's dark out, almost midnight already, groups of people walking alongside you to the meet up.

“Its also the after party. You will have fun. I promise. Maybe you'll meet someone.” She shrugs, you roll your eyes. And yet you follow along like a puppy dog to humor her all the same.

It's crowded, almost overly so. Suffocating in a way. But your friend finds her boyfriend easily like she has a GPS radar on him. He's handsome, because of course he is. Dark hair and beautiful blue eyes, dark brown skin. Dick, she said his name was. This is your first official time meeting him.

He's friendly and polite and his smile was bright enough to power up Superman if he really put his mind to it. You doubt it would be hard for him. You stand off to the side a bit awkwardly as the two talk for a second, catching up. You hear him mention his brothers.

There's more of him?

You can hear your friend and Dick talking quietly to each other before you catch;

“Yeah, I mean.. Jay's here tonight. I could introduce them.” Dick mumbles with a smile and you notice him burying his face into the side of your friend's hair. Ugh.

“Jason?” A younger voice pipes up, you turn your head to take in the newcomers. “If you hate your friend you could just say that, there is no need for torture.” Dick laughs before introducing his younger brother, Damian.

He says they're adopted but you find that hard to believe when they look almost identical. Aside from the fact Damian has green eyes instead of blue. Both black hair and dark skinned. Damian speaks more properly, you notice, with a hint of an accent you can't quite place.

“I dunno man,” another speaks. Tim, you find out his name is. “Jason's been in a pissy mood all day. I wouldn't-”

“It's fine, it's fine! It'll be good for him. He needs to make new friends.” Dick insists.

They're talking about you as if you're not even there - not giving you a chance to speak for yourself on if you want to meet this Jason person or not. Your friend laughs. You glare.

Damian and Tim share a look before shaking their heads and that doesn't look promising at all. You're regretting your agreement to come along but your friend places a reassuring hand on your shoulder.

“I've met Jason before, he's nice.” But you know what her definition of “nice” is. It's far different than your own.

“Yeah, mhm.” You respond with a half hearted smile.

But the group walks further into the crowd. More cars and motorcycles come into view. You learn that Dick races with a 1979 trans am, one that he rebuilt with his brothers. The five of you walk by it and it's impressive. You find out that Tim is, apparently, still hesitant on racing while Damian claims he's too young - Dick teased him for being scared which earns him a chop to his throat.

‘If Jason is like these three then he can't be so bad.’ you think to yourself.

Until you see him. The small group stands in front of a heavily modded black and red Honda CBR600RR. It's nice. Clean. You stare at the bike until a gruff voice cuts you out of your thoughts.

“What, Dick?” Jason's expression is one of pure irritation as he tunes his bike.

He's tall and built like a brick shit house. Your mouth almost goes dry. Black hair with a white tuft in the front with a broad chest, beefy biceps, and piercing blue eyes. Oh boy.

“Just showing the angel around,” Dick slings an arm around your friend's shoulder. “And her friend.” Dick gestures to you. Tim and Damian step aside, a parting of the sea. You stand silently, almost dumbfounded, until you find your voice again.

“Uh, hey-” You try.

“No. I don't want to talk to people.” He cuts you off.

Oh.

“Told you,” Damian snickers quietly to Tim with a crooked smirk who shakes his head with a snort of laughter that he tries to cover with his hand. Your friend gives you a sympathetic look.

Great.

“C'mon, Jay. Don't be rude, I was trying to introduce- ” Dick tries again.

“Ain't got time. Race starts soon.” Jason grunts as he stands to his full height and holy shit is he intimidating. “Sorry, little birdie.” He comments as his gaze sizes you up. But he turns away before you can even get a word in.

‘Nice my ass.’ You think to yourself with an eye roll off to the side. Dick shoots you a sympathetic smile before he leads you and your friend away from Jason back towards his trans am.

“Worry not. That was him being polite.” Damian turns his smirk to you. Lovely.

It's a warm night in Gotham already and the crowd of people definitely doesn't help. “So it's always like this?” You ask your friend as you watch groups of people walk by laughing and talking. She nods in response.

“It's fun! I didn't think the racing scene in Gotham was this big but it kinda makes sense I guess.”

“I never even knew there was a ‘racing scene’.” You comment in response which gets a small laugh from Dick.

“Oh yeah, the scene’s huge here. It's fun and illegal, two things that every Gothamite loves.” He jokes.

“So, do you race for fun or.. is there a pool involved?” You ask Dick. The most knowledge you had about street racing was from the Fast and the Furious movies.

“For fun!” Dick beams. “Okay, well- winning the pot is nice, obviously. But personally? I do it for fun.” The answer makes sense to you. Dick gives off the vibes of an adrenaline junkie with the energy of a golden retriever.

“And Jason?” You ask, pretending to simply be curious. Dick stops for a second before he smiles at you. He looks at you like he knows something you don't.

“He races-...” Dick cuts himself off, his eyes roam off to the side as he chooses his words.

“Jason races to forget.” Tim finished for Dick who simply nods in response.

“Cliche.” You respond.

“Very.” Damian agrees. He looks less than impressed. “For him racing is simply a way to focus solely on the rush. Nothing else.”

[acosmicbee]

Big Bad Beast

(Inspired by Little Red Riding Hood, hope the formatting is okay, this was written on my phone)

"Y/N!" You'd barely made it home from the bakery, the little bag you'd brought still full of freshly made bread, and you were already being ordered to do something else.

"Yes Mama?" You asked, setting the bag down on the kitchen counter. You didn't even need to see her to know that her and your dad had been fighting yet again.

Broken glass littered the floor -- good thing you hadn't taken off your shoes -- and you could hear the mix of hurt and anger in your mother's voice. You hoped she wasn't about to drag you into their fighting.

"Y/N, go to your grandparents." Your father ordered, walking into the kitchen. Your mother started to argue as he packed you a separate bag to take, letting you take some of the bread and a few other things as a snack.

"But what about-?" You started only to fall silent when your mother walked into the kitchen to continue their argument and he stopped paying attention to you.

It didn’t matter that there were signs everywhere warning against leaving town without a suitable weapon. You doubted they even noticed them, too consumed in their hatred for each other.

There was a beast in the forest. A monster rumored to be anything from a mountain lion to an angry god. It wasn't stopping almost anyone who could from volunteering to help take it down, prowling the forest with shotguns and pitchforks.

Either way, you'd choose a beast over listening to your parents fighting anymore. You just silently took the basket of baked goods and walked out the door, sighing as you stared at the sky.

You waved to the baker as you passed, stopped to assure one man standing at the edge of the forest path that yes, you would be okay on your own, before you were finally within the woods.

It was a cool spring day and you kept your sweater buttoned up as you walked the familiar path. You loved this path, it was serene and quiet. Perfect for getting away from all the fighting.

You had been walking for nearly an hour, never straying from the path, when you started to get hungry. You didn't feel like walking while eating your snacks so you began looking around for a good place to stop for a second. It was then that you spotted a pretty field of wildflowers through a gap in the trees.

The bees were buzzing and the entire field smelled lovely and sweet as you made your way to it. That, combined with the chill of morning wearing off into the heat of midday as the sun climbed further and further, made you feel a little sleepy as you finished the bread. Before you'd even recognized what was happening you were dozing off, curled up in the flowers.

-🐺-

Robert grinned as he emerged from the tree line. It was so easy to join a hunting party to hunt down this 'beast'. No one even questioned him about where he came from, just happy to gain another hand. They'd welcomed him, stupidly. Most of them were dead now, the rest would join them soon. They would be hunting down no more werewolves, ever. 

It was late afternoon, a beautiful day he'd decided. After all, it wasn't every day he got to kill some worthless humans for killing his kind. His hand smeared some blood on a tree as he began to walk down the main path, ready to dissappear back into the depths of the woods.

It was only once his nose had been filled with the scent of wildflowers and he looked to see where it was coming from did he see the small figure napping in the field through the trees. Stealthily approaching he watched as you calmly slept, oblivious to everything around you.

You were a human child, which made you dangerous by default. But you were so... small. Of course he knew human children were smaller than werewolves, but you looked to be around his youngest pup's age and you were just so tiny in comparison.

You were a stupid pup, he decided, or you had stupid parents who didn't care enough. You wouldn't survive long in the world either way. You were letting down your guard too easily, sleeping where any wild animal could have stumbled upon you. Now if he was your father, you'd be able to do so safely, knowing you had a protector to watch over you while you napped. You seemed alone though, he could smell no hunters nearby or any other human.

He watched you for another moment before a dark smirk crossed his face. He and his wife had room in their den for another pup. Especially one so stupid and clumsy, honestly he was doing you a favor. No matter, your father was here now and he'd be taking care of you from now on.

[heron-knight]

ACT I: INFERNO

it was still dark when I woke up-- hard to tell what time what with the lights of the city, and the clock on my alarm hasn't worked for months. late fall, with that kind of crisp, clear air that doesn't have any fog to mute the neon glow from all sides outside the window. chilly on a night like this.

I think that's why the first thing I noticed was just how damn sweaty I was.

the old shirt I'd slept in-- the one I'd worn the day before as well as the three consecutive days before then-- was soaked completely through until even the sheets beneath me were drenched. not exactly comfortable, but the familiar sensation of damp fabric sticking to my skin was notably absent. I wouldn't notice that until later, though.

It was late-- or maybe early, at that point-- and with work tomorrow, I'd usually have gone right back to sleep. doesn't matter how overheated I am, sleep is too valuable a resource to waste even a second of past the momentary effort of peeling off my shirt and tossing it with the others on the floor. that's what I intended to do, at least up until I made the mistake of moving my body.

it hurt. the sudden and all-consuming agony shot from each nerve in my arm the second I moved it and pulsed through every cell for who knows how long until eventually, it partially faded. partially. it didn't feel broken-- not that I could have snapped my arm and not noticed until I woke up, but there weren't many plausible explanations for why it hurt that much. no, it was more like... a muscle cramp kicked up to eleven. like each part of my arm was twisting and collapsing in on itself. I screamed, I think-- in too much pain to notice the slight change in how the sound felt as it tore itself out of my throat. screams hadn't felt like that before.

my arm fell limply back down to the sweat-soaked mattress, the active pain gradually fading to a more passive ache. I stared at the ceiling for a bit-- my eyes couldn't focus on it yet. that moment of hellish agony had shredded my cognitive function for a second, and my eyes were still too full of tears to really see much. it wasn't too dark, though-- I could tell that much. I could feel the stiffness in every other muscle in my body, the tension in each limb ready to snap shut around my nerves the second I tried moving them. I knew better at this point than to try.

fuck.

I gripped the fragments of my train of thought and wrenched them back to coherence. I needed to do something.

I'm alone. phone's out of reach, not that I have anyone to call. it hurts. oh fuck it hurts. I have to do something though. I can't stay like this. I'm overheated already and its only getting worse. why the hell is it so hot.

focus.

it hurts but its not injured. its just pain. a whole fucking lot of pain but its just pain. one finger. move one finger. I can do this.

I twitched one of the fingers on my other hand-- the one I hadn't moved yet. it sucked, as expected. not as bad as when I'd moved my arm, but not exactly fun. it wasn't as intense, though-- and faded faster than it had for the arm.

good. I did it. I'm okay. okay enough at least. good. keep going. good girl.

I jolted slightly at that last thought, inviting another full-body wave of mild agony. why had I thought that? why was that how I had chosen to motivate myself in that split-second decision?

and more importantly, why had it worked?

it felt nice. pleasantly intense in its warmth in a way that I definitely wouldn't have expected to feel so good. almost enough to partially drown out the pain. I wasn't sure exactly why it had sprung to mind-- I could worry about that later. the feeling of it, though-- of thinking it. if saying it to myself-- it was hard to define at that point, that way that the statement felt more real than anything I'd felt before. I turned it over in my mind, tilting each of its two words at every angle, taking in the flavor of how it felt to hear. I said it to myself a few times.

good girl. good girl. good girl.

damn, that felt nice. nice in a way I hadn't experienced before even without hearing it in more than just in my head. I had to really hear it. I had to truly say it to myself with my own voice. I flexed the muscles in my face-- they hurt too. why did my teeth hurt? I inhaled slowly once the pain had mostly diffused, then spoke slowly. clearly. feeling each movement of my tongue as I said the words.

"good girl." I whispered to myself. I shuddered again as my heart began to pound. damn. that's... effective. should I look into that?why's that work? I mean' I'm not... I'm... I'm not.... I shifted my weight absentmindedly, which was a bad idea. my train of though was once again derailed and my capabilities were momentarily limited to the production of a soft whimper.

for a moment, the constant but discordant noises of the streets below were the only sound that could be heard.

...right? I'm not...

I would have thought about it then if I hadn't realized that I'd heard my words through the top of my head instead of the sides. I flexed the muscles there-- muscles that I hadn't had before-- and my ears twitched.

the ears that sat on the top of my head.

events from the previous day surged through my head-- my commute, just like any other day. the train, just as crowded and smelly as all the ones I'd taken before, and the familiar lurch as it sped forward. I remembered the bundle of robes I'd stumbled backwards into-- the soft, startled yelp as the person beneath it spun around, slightly wobbly and smelling of cheap vodka. an exclamation... was that really what it had been? in a language that I didn't understand.... and a flash of light that had left my eyes blurry and my muscles and bones unusually sore. A hasty apology in a high, accented voice and a card tucked into the the pocket of... the Walgreens uniform-clad stranger next to me. slowly, I flexed the remaining still-sore muscles until eventually I was able to move.

my legs ached as I put weight on them, leaning forward before eventually managing to stand. something swished in the air behind me as I rose, and I spun to see nothing there.

once more, I inhaled, feeling the last twinges of soreness as my lungs expanded as I slowly reached up to my head. somehow, I knew what I would find even before my fingers made contact.

ears. soft, triangular ears firmly affixed to the top of my head. they twitched as I ran my hand along them and I could feel them do so because they were mine. the discovery of them wasn't why I gasped, though-- that was from the sensation. it was intense. electric. warm in a way that spread out from them the moment I felt my hand against them almost enough to melt away the soreness. I traced it as it melted through me, soaking into each nerve-- I ran my fingers down to the back of my neck, pressing gently into the muscles. the skin of my hand was soft.

I sighed. It felt right. it felt correct. like it was all falling into place. I could feel the texture of my fur as I slid my hand around my back, running it along my tail and sending a euphoric shiver all the way up my spine to the base of my skull that left me momentarily lightheaded.

I could still feel the ache in just about every muscle, the deep discomfort in each of my bones-- I needed to break through it, and I knew I could. the motion found its way into my mind until carrying it out became an obligation. who was I to resist it?

who am I now, anyway?

deep breaths. in. out. in. you're going to enjoy this, aren't you? I held my hands in front of me for a moment, clearly seeing the fur that coated them almost entirely but for the soft pads across the palms despite the darkness of the room. with a final exhale, I laced my fingers together and stretched with everything I had.

oh fuck oh fuck oh fuckkkkk.....hhhhh...

the sensation in every muscle, every joint, every single part of me both new and mostly unchanged was beyond what I had ever considered within their capacity for feeling before, flooding my brain with far to much information to ever process. I could feel myself let out a soft, high-pitched sound with each pop of each joint, a gradual cascade at first when all that stretched was my arms that ignited into a torrent as it reached my tail. I couldn't think anymore-- couldn't analyze. couldn't read into what it meant or what I had thought up until now nothing was allowed to mean-- all possible cognition was simply smothered in the overwhelming wave of sensation as my legs trembled for a second, then collapsed entirely and I fell forward onto the bed, my eyes starting to water. I lay there for a moment, face down on the sweat-soaked bed, taking a moment to recover from the experience I'd just had. no thinking for me now. no chances to lie to myself anymore. only the lingering sensation remained-- that, and what my instinct told me to say to myself.

"...ghhh..." I tried to focus on it. words. how did those work again?

"...good...girl..." I could taste the truth to the words. the absoluteness to them. every aspect of the statement and just how much I needed it all to be true because nothing was going to stop it from doing so. absoluteness was all there was to the first coherent thought that found itself back to my conscious mind.

so I'm a catgirl now.

I laughed at the simplicity of it. an accidental curse from an intoxicated spellcaster, as far as I could tell. quite a stroke of fortune. I spun over, staring at the ceiling for another moment before sitting up and stumbling across the piles of old clothes to the bathroom, my head swimming with the desire to see the extent of the shift. grinning, I swung open the door and flicked on the lights.

I felt my throat start to close up as everything came crashing down in that single moment when, just thirty seconds after I first felt alive, I died inside once more. there were changes-- heavy ones, of course. the ears, the tail, the fur just about everywhere from the neck down-- but all I could see, all I could feel-- it wasn't even the pain at this point. not even the feeling of my claws digging into my palms as my hands clenched-- it wasn't all the things that had changed that I saw staring back at me.

instead, the man in the mirror was nothing but a sudden and crushing realization of the things that hadn't.

it hurt. more than the cramps as I'd woken up. more than the soreness everywhere. more than anything I'd known so far. I could feel the pain building in my throat into despair until finally, I dropped to my knees with a sob and fell onto my side, the warmth of my body soaking out into the cold tile floor.

PART I OF III

[PART II:]

> be me

> bump into a drunk wizard on the subway and she curses me

> find out the next morning that I'm transforming into a catgirl

> track down the wizard and confront her about transforming me into a catgirl

> she is very confused because she definitely turned me into a catboy

> ask her why I feel like a girl then

> well fuck

[krosiefics]

drowning for your love • lee minho

mdni 18+

Synopsis: After years of not wanting to learn to swim you and and the boys finally convince Minho to learn to swim. How does he go from almost drowning to having you squirm underneath him?

WC: 2k

Tags: SMUT!! afab!reader, dom!minho, piv, unprotected sex, fingering, consentttt, lwk drowning, pet names (baby & kitten), ass grabbing, nippleplay, probably forgetting some sorry :(

————————————————————————

“I dunno about this…” Minho voiced as the two of you neared your apartment complex's community pool. Minho doesn’t know how to swim…at least not yet. After endless bugging from you and his friends, he finally gave in to you teaching him how to swim. The other would be here if they could, but their hectic schedules had conflicts so you were the only one available today to teach him.

“C’mon Min.” You chuckle, setting your towels on a nearby deck chair. “It doesn’t even go past six feet (1.8m).” Minho looked over you skeptically because both of you know for a fact that he cannot stand in six feet of water, unless you wanted his head well below the surface. “Look, we’ll just start on this side.” You sigh, shrugging off your shirt and shorts, revealing your two-piece bathing suit. Unbeknownst to you, a certain cat-eyed boy eyed you as you took off your articles of clothing, his gaze trailing along the curves of your hips and ass.

“Ready? Minho take off your shoes.” You stare at him blankly. Minho’s face doesn’t show it but he got flustered, his red ears the only clue to his flusteredness of hoping that you didn’t catch him staring. God, what was wrong with him? You offered to teach him to swim out of the goodness of your own heart, and now he’s over here ogling at your body each time you turn your attention away from him. Minho felt guilty as his eyes were glued to ass, each sway it made as you stepped down into the pool.

”Here.” You smile, outreaching your hand for him to take. “Is the water-“ “The water’s not cold.” You cut him off with a stare. Minho sighed in defeat as he reluctantly stepped into the pool. You weren’t lying when you said the pool wasn’t cold, it really wasn’t, which was surprising since it was only you two in the pool.

Minho shuddered as he entered the pool, water coming up to about his hip. “Chan said that he had tried to teach you to swim and you kinda got the basics…can you show me?” You tilted your head to the side, amused at how what Chan had said about Minho being like a cat in water was true. Minho hesitated at first, but slightly pushed himself forward about two feet before he started flailing his arm and kicking his legs to get his stability back.

“So it’s that bad huh?” You scoffed, a small smirk resting on your lips. “Im not that bad!” Minho protested. “Min, you practically started the first stage of drowning in three feet…it’s bad.” You giggled, shoulders shaking from your laughter.

Minho smiled softly at how his suffering is amusing to you.

The two of you spent the next three hours in the pool, till your fingers got all wrinkly. Minho finally made some progress about an hour in, he was steadily swimming towards the four and five feet, and whenever he felt himself go down, you’d remind him to just stand up. “Okay, you wanna try going to six feet?” You challenged, the poor boy in front of you looked at you as if you had lost your mind as he panted, “You’re insane.”

“Okay, fine. If you do this then we can get out and go buy some pudding, yeah?” The word pudding had Minho agreeing within less than a second. Minho’s face lit up as he pushed his feet off the five feet deep water before he started his attempt to swim. He almost made it to the wall when he felt his body become heavy, sinking into the water.

Suddenly his foot touched the bottom of the pool, though that meant that his head had gone under, the sudden frantic splashing of arm had you diving into the pool. You couldn’t tell with all the bubbles if he was still conscious, only when his arms went limp as you pulled him out of the pool did you notice.

“Shit! Min! Minho!” Your heart dropped, his eyes were closed and his chest wasn’t rising. Water began welling in your eyes as you started pumping his chest before making the decision to give him mouth-to-mouth. Unfortunately for you, you failed to hear the small groans that emitted from his mouth after the first chest compression. Minho didn’t really know what was happening, he remembers being pulled out of the pool while conscious only to be laid down- he doesn’t remember closing his eyes- or at least that’s what he’s telling himself.

He totally wasn’t doing this because he was basically getting you to do mouth-to-mouth, indirectly kissing him. Your mouth pulled away from his, the boy breath you gasped, groaning as you positioned your hands again against his chest.

“Woah, wait.” Your eyes went wide when you realized he was just fine. “You fucking jerk! You scared me!” You huffed as Minho wiped his face of the excess water on his face.

“I scared you! I’m the one who almost drowned!” Minho scoffed back playfully. “Were you awake the whole time I was…” Your words trail off, not wanting to finish your sentence. “While what? You were kissing me? No.” Minho smirked teasingly. Your brows furrow as you gasp exaggeratedly, “How would you know I did mouth-to-mouth?!” Your face was pink and hot, your flusteredness ought to be obvious.

“What? You’re acting like you hated kissing me.” Minho tilts his head, grabbing a towel from the poolside chair, wiping off the water from his skin. “I didn’t k-kiss you!” You exclaimed, cursing at yourself for stuttering. “You sure? Wanna compare the two?”

Your heart was pounding, you could practically feel it in your ears- you didn’t know what possessed you, but you blamed your state for encouraging you to make Minho react the same. “Why not?” You tilt your head with a bit of cockiness, though you wore a facade in front of it. Fortunately for you, you gauged the reaction you wanted from him. Minho shyly turned away, a pink flush spreading from his cheeks to his ear. The black-haired boy cleared his throat before saying, “Let’s go.”

In an instant the two of you were covered in towels, tension between you two as you walked back towards your apartment. Minho easily imputed the code to unlock your door, he had been here too many times before to not know it at this point. Once the door clicked shut, your back was suddenly against the door, towel dropping as Minho was so close to you. “Min,” You breath out, heart beating at your ribcage. Minho’s eyes flickered down to your lips then back up to your eyes. The look in his eyes was something you’ve never seen from him before, it was almost as if he was pleading for you to allow him to close the distance.

“Please.” You sighed shakily. With that, Minho closed the space between you, your lips connecting as his hands gripped at your hips. He was too nervous to touch you anywhere else, not until your hands found him and you guided them up your side, that’s when he took initiative. Minho’s hand trailed along each one of your curves, from your hips to your waist down to your ass. You groan into the kiss as his hands massage at the flesh. “Up.” Minho grunts, hands hooking under your thighs. You easily comply, wrapping your legs around him as he carries you towards your room.

Minho’s teeth grazed along the side of your neck before sucking the spot under your ear. “Minnie.” You whined as he set you on the bed, caging you in his arms. “Fuck, kitten. I wanna do so many things to you right now, is that okay?” Minho scanned your body laid out for him, your bikini top having slanted slightly revealing more of your breast. “Min please, make me feel good.” You whimpered, pulling him closer with your legs. Minho peeled off his wet shirt, throwing it somewhere on the floor.

Minho’s hands were everywhere feeling you up, he only stopped when he reached the strings of your top. He looked up at you which you quickly nodded. “Tsk, words baby, use your words.” Minho tsked, teasing you. “Min.” You said sternly before rolling your eyes, “You can take it off.” The boy above you smirked, pulling the strings of your top, your breasts on full display. His hands go to knead your mounds as soft mews fall from your mouth. “Good?” He raises his brow at you. “Minho I swear to god if you don’t do something-“ Your words are cut off with his lips, suddenly his hand cups your cunt, fingers delicately tracing along your clothed folds.

”Fuck Min,” You moan, his thumb rubbing circles over your clit. “Hmm? You look so pretty wiggling under me as I rub your little clit.” Minho hums, leaning in taking your nipple into his mouth, gently sucking and nibbling at the skin. Back arching off the bed, your chest presses against his. “Min…need it…need you.” You whine, tears forming in your eyes from the stimulation. “What do you need, kitten?” He peers down at you with a grin. “Need you…to- ugh- fuck me.” You beg, moaning when Minho presses down on your clit a certain way. “Yeah? Gotta stretch you out first kitten.”

Lifting your hips, you help Minho pull off your bikini bottoms. Minho’s cold finger probed your throbbing entrance, running his fingers along your slick. With each wiggle of your hips Minho grew harder and harder in his swim shorts till there was a very evident bulge. “Min, more.” You plead, hands reaching for him. Minho chuckled, placing a small kiss on your navel before coming back up, kissing your lips as he slid another finger in.

His fingers worked in and out of you, stretching you to fit his size. The feeling of you clenching around his fingers, thighs shaking, and high pitched moans made the boy on top of you stop. You whined at the loss of friction but your disappointment was quickly washed away when you felt something hot and pulsing like at your soaping hole. “This still good with you?”

”Jesus fuck Minho, just fuck me already!” With that Minho slammed his hips flush against yours, giving you no time to adjust. His hips met yours as he set a pace, slow and deep. Your hands fly to his shoulders, wrapping around the nape of his neck. Minho grunts as he brings his lips to your collarbone, leaving kitten licks along your skin.

“Fuck Min.” Moans fall from your mouth as he ruts into you. “Hmm, you like this kitten? You like feeling my cock so deep inside of you?” Minho growls into your ear, “You look so pretty like this, taking my cock so deep. Almost couldn’t resist fucking you in the pool earlier in your skimpy bathing suit.” He applied some pressure on your lower stomach, allowing you to feel just how deep he really was.

“So fucking pretty, all for me.” Minho groans, hips faltering as he drew closer and closer to his climax. “All for you Minnie- oh my fucking god.” Your grip on his neck tightens as you slightly pull the hair there. You’re so close to spilling over the edge, you try to hold it back but it’s just too much. “Fuck, your pussy is all mine.” You clench around him, driving you to your climax, thighs shaking at either side of Minho.

“Hold on baby, almost there.” Minho groans into your neck as he continues pumping into you. You whine at the overstimulation for a few seconds then he’s reached his climax, spilling his hot cum inside of you. His hot breath fans across your neck as you both try to catch your breath. “I guess I need to keep giving you swimming lessons huh?” You joke as the boy above you pulls out of you, adjusting himself so that he can hold you in his arms. “I guess so.”

@katsukis1wife @pixie0627

[vicolette]

𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐋𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐚𝐠𝐞 !

– Warnings : English isn’t my first language, uses of y/n & pet names, pda, not proofread,

"Darling, come on…"

Publicly displaying affection to your lover has never been something that you liked, rather preferring to kiss his whole face in the safety of your house in private. It wasn’t the worst, but you certainly didn’t like it.

Much to your dismay, you have fallen in love with Pau Cubarsí – the sweetest boy that you had ever met, who would hold the door open for you and always search for your eyes in a room full of people.

It came with its advantages, like having similar interests or always glancing at each other whenever something sounded odd. Disadvantages were also there, which you wouldn’t have thought were so bad.

They were.

It started of small, like Pau being too shy to hold your hands in public until you finally took the hint and grabbed his hand like it was nothing, having turned your head around to avoid his gaze. While you rather just listened and were big on words of affirmation and acts of service, Pau was a huge fan of physical touch and gifts.

It also wasn’t necessarily bad, since you quite enjoyed him hanging on your every word and getting you a little gift based off of your likings. However, physical touch was something that you absolutely loathed, more specifically in public. The sight of couples kissing and hugging wasn’t a problem, but it was the thought of you doing so that made your stomach turn.

"Let go of me, Pau." Just by hearing your tone of voice, did the said person know that you were dead serious about this, his frown only growing as he tried to get your hand. The only boundary that he was allowed to cross – holding your hand, nothing else.

The busy streets of Barcelona solely worsened your mood as you struggled to make your way back to your car as easy as possible, and it was only because of him.

Him, who couldn’t resist trying to pull you into a teddy bear tight hug. Him, who was the clingiest boyfriend that you had ever met. Him, who loved you unconditionally and a bit more than you'd thought.

"Please, Y/n." As you finally saw your car from afar, you searched for your keys and noticed that they weren’t in your bag, before hearing a sound of keys clicking behind you. As you turned your head around and saw your desired car keys in his hand, you could merely scoff before trying to get them back.

"Baby, Pau-" The nickname made you almost vomit, keeping your attitude up. "Y'know I love you, right?"

It seemed to have gotten his focus, as Pau hummed with an almost surprised expression, stepping forward as his chest hit your back. The action made you roll your eyes, seeing how the parking lot was filled with cars, yet empty of people. "I love you too."

"Really?"

"Yeah." You almost felt bad when you had asked that. Key word: almost.

"Then you wouldn’t mind giving me my keys back, right? After all, they’re mine." To see his expression fall off was one of the most comedic things ever, having to stifle your laughter by biting your lower lip. However, it was you who got irritated when he shook his head, looking at him up and down in the most obvious was to make your point clear.

"And why not?"

"Because…" Pau thought for a while, even having the audacity to place a finger on his chin to make it obvious just like you, before a grin grew on his face. "Actually, you can have it back, under one condition!"

Oh no.

As you only furrowed your eyebrows before nodding, awaiting for him to continue, Pau smirked and grabbed your hand, twirling you around so that you were completely face to face with him.

"One kiss, and I won’t kiss you in the car while driving." His one condition made you feel the slightest bit appreciated, since he was dead serious about his love languages, even if you felt manipulated.

"That’s it? Nothing else?" As you said it just to make sure, Pau nodded his head with an expression of approval. Although he looked cute, as always, you had to be quick and quiet.

So, as you stepped closer and placed a hand on his cheek to bring him closer to your face, your lips merely brushed against his for a second, before he held your neck and pulled you closer. It was a bit uncomfortable, to be completely honest, yet it wasn’t the worst.

Well, until you suddenly heard a middle-aged man yelled out that this was inappropriate, making you touch him by his chest and try to push Pau away. However, he didn’t even budge for a while, before snapping out of it as he stayed silent, the screams of the stranger still audible.

All of a sudden, footsteps were heard as Pau grabbed your wrist and dragged you back to your car, having to calm himself down before quietly chuckling and then full-on laughing, even throwing his head back.

"Hey, wait!" The guy said before running, seeing how the both of had already made it inside your car, with you quickly opening the door to the passenger’s seat and Pau had started the car. Not long after, you two made it out safely of the parking lot – even if just barely, yet you managed it.

Inside the safety of the car, Pau could only laugh as he felt some tears of relief brim his eyes, wiping them away while driving with only one hand. Meanwhile, you solely touched your lips – where Pau's lips had been – and felt your stomach tingle.

"I hate you." As he held onto the grab handle and shook his head, Pau looked at you from the corner of his eye, seeing how you were facing the window. With one hand letting go and hold onto the wheel and the other moving to your thigh, he gave it a squeeze before speaking up.

"You love my kisses, though."

– A/N : i love loredana

[ilovedwardfpe]

May i req 1x1x1x1 x reader smut 🙏🙏

I'm hungry for more freaky 1x fics LMAOO

Js to let know,1x is male here

Grammarly is seriously pmo

Anyway, I hope this is good for my uh… first smut!

And NO I’m not doing the entire thing I’m too lazy

Warnings: smut! Cursing

Pairings: 1x1x1x1x x fem!reader

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Summary:

You were bored out of your mind,BUT looks like someone was hungry.

—————————

(2nd pov)

You were lying on the couch at home with a lollipop in your mouth, staring at the ceiling while the minutes dragged by, the room too quiet, the air too still, and nothing—absolutely nothing—felt interesting enough to do, so you got up without really thinking, just started wandering around the house, poking your head into rooms you’d already seen a hundred times, opening the fridge even though you weren’t hungry, flipping through the TV channels without stopping, walking in circles like maybe, just maybe, something exciting would suddenly appear out of nowhere because that’s how bored you were, so bored that even being bored was getting boring.

Eventually, you decided to walk outside, maybe to see your boyfriend. He was in a house of killers, so going there could get you killed if he hadn’t told them about you. But you had already made the decision and you were going with it. You didn’t feel like waiting around anymore.

Once you got there, they all ended up knowing who you were. No one looked surprised or confused when you showed up. A few glanced your way and gave subtle nods, quiet acknowledgments like you were just another part of the day. Even the youngest one, somehow already taller than you even though you were the adult, looked at you with recognition, not curiosity. It was unsettling, but oddly comforting too. And then, just before you turned to leave, Jason leaned in close and whispered something to you: “Be careful with him..”

(Your pov)

A shiver went down my spine as Jason leaned to whisper, I nod slowly as I walk I've to my boyfriend's door as I knock, All I hear is grunting until the door opens but only by a little, You see your boyfriend and he was sweating and huffing for air it seemed like, I were going to question him! But he had already shoved me inside of the room with him—He felt warm,his crown was off on his bed,You felt like you knew what was happening especially remembering what John said.

“I can’t contain myself…fuck.” he said, picking me up as his hands go to my ass gripping it, he bring me to his bed which the mattress was hard but the bedding and stuff was soft, he sat me down and wrapped my shirt off like a DAMN animal. There was just NO way he could be this bad but oh I was so wrong, he put his head forward and started to lick my chest like a new born baby, I muffled my moans as he begins to undress me and the moment he slips off my pants he slips a finger in, going at a ungodly pace which causes me to do nothing but moan louder each time.

I was gripping his back so hard you couldn't imagine it, he slips another in which causes me to grip harder, my g-spot was hit repeatedly which almost made my eyes roll back, I bet he could feel me getting close because I was tightening up, I was moaning quicker, he picked up the pace and I could not even warn him due to how much I was getting, eventually, I did release and he took his fingers out: Licking them, He smirked and looked up at me as if I was a trophy he had won.

“Good girl. But I'm not done yet.”

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Yeah I’m not finishing this I have 2 other requests and I need to make my master list 🥀

[2b4st4r]

hiiii. i love your writing sm😭 Could I request a Zoro fic that goes from VERY ANGSTY to comfort/fluff? Like they fought and it was heated/bad but they have this rule that if one of them opens their arms for a hug, the other one has to accept it?

pls i saw a tiktok abt the rule and i thought it would absolutely be so perfect for him 😭😭

The Sunny’s Silent Embrace

Zoro x F!Reade

Words: 5,488

Warnings: Verbal cruelty, Emotional intensity, toxic communication, female reader.

*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*

The Thousand Sunny rocked violently, a toy in the raging hands of the Grand Line. Rain lashed against the portholes of the galley, each drop a percussive beat accompanying the growl of thunder that seemed to shake the very bones of the ship. Inside, the air was thick with a different kind of storm—the heavy silence of defeat. The recent battle had been a brutal, unexpected loss, a collective blow that had landed squarely on the Straw Hats' collective gut.

You stood at the sink, the warm water doing little to thaw the ice gripping your chest. Your hands moved mechanically, scrubbing at plates that felt impossibly heavy. Sanji, bless his chivalrous heart, had offered to take over the cleaning, his voice a low rumble of concern, but you'd waved him off. The rhythmic motion was a distraction, a small anchor in the tumultuous seas of your mind.

But it wasn't just the sting of defeat that clung to you. It was Zoro. The thought of him, just a few rooms away, eating with the others, twisted something inside you. You and Zoro. The crew’s unwavering pillars, their steady calm in any crisis, the ones everyone looked to when things got truly dire. And yet, here you were, a chasm between you, built from the debris of an argument that had erupted amidst the chaos of battle. It had been quick, sharp, and unfinished, swallowed by the roar of the fight.

You replayed it in your mind, the specific moment that had shattered your usual seamless understanding. It had been during the scramble to protect a civilian outpost. You’d urged him to fall back, to regroup, seeing the overwhelming numbers closing in. But he, ever the stubborn sword-saint, had pushed forward, his focus solely on the immediate threat. “Just cut through them!” he’d grunted, his voice laced with an uncharacteristic edge of frustration. Your own retort had been a sharp, “That’s not always the answer, Zoro! We have to think strategically!” The words had barely left your lips before the true pandemonium of battle had enveloped you, tearing you apart and leaving the accusation hanging, unresolved, in the smoky air.

It wasn't that you two didn’t argue. Those instances were as rare as a calm day on the Grand Line, but when they did happen, they hit with the force of a tidal wave. Yet, even in those moments of fiery disagreement, you had a rule, a silent pact forged in the deep understanding of your intertwined lives: if one opened their arms, the other was bound to accept the embrace. It was a lifeline, a forced surrender to comfort, a promise that no matter how heated things got, your love for each other would always prevail.

But now, even that seemed fragile. The tension between you two was a palpable thing, a heavy cloak draped over the entire crew. They saw it, felt it, and their usual boisterous energy was muted, replaced by a quiet watchfulness. You were the mother hen of the Straw Hats, kind and nurturing, quick with a comforting word or a knowing glance. But you also had an unwavering spine of steel. You didn't suffer fools, and you certainly wouldn't let anyone, not even the people you loved most, stomp all over you. Not anymore. The past had taught you that lesson with brutal efficiency, leaving scars that ensured you would always voice your concerns, your opinions, your boundaries.

The warmth of the dishwater was a stark contrast to the cold knot in your stomach. You glanced out the porthole, seeing nothing but a blur of grey rain and furious waves. He was out there, in the dining area, probably oblivious to the silent turmoil raging within you. Or maybe not. Maybe he felt it too, this gnawing distance that felt utterly foreign to your shared world. You longed for his presence, the steadying weight of his arm around you, the comforting scent of him. But the unresolved words, the sharp exchange, hung in the air, a barrier you both seemed unwilling, or perhaps unable, to cross. Not yet.

You stacked the last sparkling plate, the familiar click a small victory against the turbulent weather outside. Wiping your hands on a towel, you surveyed the now-clean galley, a faint sense of accomplishment settling over you. Your stomach rumbled, a reminder that despite the emotional storm, your body still craved sustenance.

Opening the pantry, you grabbed a bowl and filled it with a generous portion of Sanji’s creamy seafood chowder, the rich aroma instantly warming you from the inside out. He always made it just right, packed with tender chunks of fish and plump shrimp, a perfect comfort food for a day like this.

Plate in hand, you pushed open the galley door, stepping into the dining room. The usual cacophony of the Straw Hats was muted, the boisterous laughter replaced by the drumming of rain against the sturdy portholes and a smattering of low, hushed conversations. Your eyes scanned the room, searching for an empty seat, but your gaze snagged on the most familiar one. It was your spot, the one you always claimed without thinking – right next to Zoro.

He was there, as expected, hunched over his own meal, eating in that silent, focused way of his. The space beside him seemed to hum with an unspoken tension, a stark contrast to the usual warmth that emanated from your joined presences. The rest of the crew, scattered around the large table, seemed to be conversing in hushed tones, their eyes occasionally flicking between you and the silent swordsman.

With a sigh that no one seemed to notice over the rain, you made your way to the table. The wooden floorboards creaked softly under your steps. You pulled out the chair beside Zoro and, with a subtle clatter of the bowl against the wood, plopped down.

The sound of the rain outside seemed to amplify in the sudden quiet, as if the ship itself was holding its breath. You picked up your spoon, stirring the rich chowder, trying to appear nonchalant, as if the heavy atmosphere was just a figment of your imagination. You listened as Franky described some minor repairs he’d made to the Sunny, his voice a rare subdued rumble, and Usopp chimed in with a story about a close call he’d had earlier. Robin offered a quiet, insightful remark, and Chopper fretted over the general well-being of everyone after the rough battle.

Then, a cheerful, familiar voice cut through the muted conversation. Luffy, who had been devouring a mountain of meat, looked up, his wide grin instantly brightening the room despite the circumstances.

“Y/N! You’re finally here!” he exclaimed, his voice full of genuine delight, completely oblivious to the lingering tension. "We were just talking about... well, mostly about how hungry we all are!"

His innocent interruption effectively halted the low chatter, drawing all eyes to you. You offered him a small, tired smile, feeling a flicker of warmth from his usual effervescent spirit. The weight in the air, however, remained.You offered Luffy a soft smile, a genuine warmth briefly touching your eyes. "Hey, Luffy. Yeah, I just finished up in the galley. This chowder smells amazing." You gestured to your bowl before taking a spoonful, savoring the rich, creamy flavor.

The conversation slowly picked back up, though the underlying tension remained. Chopper recounted his part in the battle, his small voice tinged with a familiar frustration about not being able to heal everyone at once. Franky chimed in with observations about the enemy's unexpected tactics, and Nami, ever the strategist, began to dissect the flow of the fight, wondering aloud where they had gone wrong, her brow furrowed in thought.

You listened, contributing a nod here and there, the warmth of the chowder a stark contrast to the cold knot still residing in your stomach. Zoro, as usual when a post-battle debriefing began, remained silent. He just ate, his gaze fixed on his plate, his jaw working steadily.

"I think," you finally interjected, setting your spoon down with a soft click against the bowl, "that our biggest mistake was underestimating their numbers. We went in thinking it was a standard skirmish, but they kept pulling out more reinforcements. And..." You paused, glancing briefly at Zoro before looking back at Nami, "...we got separated too quickly. When we split up, our usual coordination went out the window."

Your voice was calm, clear, and unwavering, as it always was when you voiced your tactical insights. You didn't shy away from pointing out flaws, even your own. It was a trait the crew relied on, a way to learn and grow from their setbacks.

A low, humorless chuckle rumbled from beside you. Zoro finally lifted his head, his single visible eye glinting with an uncharacteristic sharpness.

"So," he drawled, his voice a low, rough rasp, "you're saying we should've just run away then? Or maybe just stood there and waited for an invitation to fight on their terms?" He let out another scoff. "Always got an opinion, don't you? Especially when it's about what everyone else did wrong."

The words hung in the air, cutting through the already thick atmosphere like a sharpened blade. The crew went silent, all eyes wide and fixed on the two of you. Luffy had even stopped chewing.

You felt a hot flush creep up your neck. You hadn't expected such a direct, sarcastic attack, especially not from him, and not in front of everyone. Your jaw tightened. "That's not what I said, Zoro, and you know it," you replied, your voice losing its calm edge, a hint of steel entering it. "I'm talking about strategy, about adapting to the situation, not about cowardice. There's a difference between a tactical retreat and running away."

He merely grunted, pushing his empty plate away from him with a scrape that grated on your nerves. "Right. And you're always so good at judging everyone's 'tactics' from the sidelines, aren't you?" His gaze met yours, colder than you'd ever seen it. "Maybe if you'd focused less on telling others what to do, and more on keeping up, we wouldn't have had this problem."

A sharp, incredulous laugh escaped your lips, devoid of any humor. "Keep up, Zoro? Keep up?" Your voice rose, the controlled facade you usually wore crumbling under the weight of his barbed words. "I was trying to make sure we didn't walk into a trap! Someone has to think beyond just 'cut 'em down,' you know! Someone has to think about the crew, about the innocent people we're supposed to be protecting, not just the next swing of their sword!"

He slammed his fist on the table, a loud thud that made the plates jump. "And someone has to have the guts to actually fight instead of standing there analyzing every single variable! Sometimes, Y/N, you just have to act! Your 'thinking' got us bogged down, got us scattered, and it almost got innocent people hurt because you hesitated!"

Your eyes blazed, the usual warmth replaced by a furious fire. "Hesitated? I was being prudent! Something you seem utterly incapable of! You charge in, headfirst, every single time, and expect everyone else to just clean up your mess!" You gestured around the silent room, at the stunned faces of your nakama. "Look at us, Zoro! Look at what your impulsiveness cost us today! We lost more than just a fight; we lost valuable time, valuable resources, and we almost lost people because you couldn't listen for one damn second!"

His face hardened, a muscle ticking in his jaw. "And what about your 'prudence,' Y/N? You're so busy being the rational one, the 'mother hen' who has to guide everyone, that you forget to actually trust us! You act like we're a bunch of helpless idiots who need you to constantly point out every single flaw, every single mistake! Maybe if you weren't so busy 'correcting' everyone, you'd actually be present in the fight!"

The words hit you like a physical blow, stripping away layers of carefully constructed composure. "Trust you?" Your voice was barely a whisper now, thick with unshed tears, but the raw pain in it echoed through the silent room. "I've always trusted you, Zoro! More than anyone! And I thought you trusted me! But clearly, that trust only extends as far as me agreeing with every damn reckless move you make!" You pushed your chair back with a violent scrape, standing abruptly. "Maybe I am too much of a 'mother hen' for this crew! Maybe my 'prudence' is just a burden to your boundless ambition! But at least I don't just blindly stumble through life, leaving a trail of destruction in my wake!"

He rose too, his voice a low, dangerous growl. "And at least I don't constantly try to second-guess everyone, especially when they're in the middle of a damn fight! Maybe you should just stick to your dishes, Y/N, since you're so good at cleaning up after everyone else!"

The air in the room became brittle, ready to shatter. The rain outside seemed to intensify, matching the storm brewing within. The crew watched, horrified, as the two people who were supposed to be their anchors, their unwavering strength, tore each other apart.

A gasp rippled through the room, quickly stifled. You stood frozen, your hand gripping the back of your chair so tightly your knuckles turned white. The accusation, the sheer, dismissive cruelty in his voice, hung in the air, a physical blow.

"Just stick to your dishes," he'd said. "Since you're so good at cleaning up after everyone else."

Before you could even formulate a retort, before the searing pain could fully register, Zoro pressed on, his voice a low, venomous hiss, "Or maybe you should just go back to being the 'helpless little orphan' everyone always had to save, huh? Is that what you want? To be 'taken care of' again, because you can't stand to actually pull your own weight?"

The world tilted. The rain outside, the groaning of the ship, the stunned faces of your crewmates—it all faded into a dull hum. That detail, about your childhood, about the orphanage you’d barely escaped, the endless feeling of being a burden, the constant need for others to 'save' you—it was a vulnerability, a deep-seated insecurity you had only ever shared with him, in the quiet, safe moments of your shared intimacy. It was a wound he knew intimately, a truth you’d laid bare, trusting him completely. And he had just weaponized it.

The silence that followed was absolute, suffocating. Even the incessant drumming of the rain seemed to cease. Every eye in the room was fixed on Zoro, then on you. Your anger, so fierce just moments before, dissolved into a chilling, hollow ache. Your expression, once fiery, settled into something utterly cold and distant. It was a look of profound betrayal, a raw, exposed hurt that cut deeper than any words.

You simply stared at him, your eyes wide and unblinking, the vivid emerald of them now clouded with a pain that spoke volumes. The anger was still there, but it was overshadowed by a desolate emptiness. Without a word, without breaking eye contact for a single, agonizing second, you turned.

The scrape of your chair as you pushed it in was unnaturally loud in the oppressive quiet. You walked to the door, your steps slow and deliberate, each one a hammer blow against the silence. Just as your hand reached the doorknob, a rough, guttural sound tore from Zoro’s throat.

"Y-Y/N!" he rasped, his voice uncharacteristically strained, a note of desperation, perhaps even regret, lacing his tone.

You didn't pause. You didn't even flinch. With a soft click, you opened the door and stepped out, vanishing into the storm-lashed corridor, leaving nothing but the lingering scent of seafood chowder and a shattered calm in your wake. The door swung shut behind you with a soft thud.

Zoro sank back into his chair, the sound of the closing door an echo in the suddenly cavernous room. He picked up his fork, his knuckles white around the handle, and resumed eating, his gaze fixed on his plate, avoiding everyone's eyes. His jaw was clenched, a muscle working furiously. He devoured his food with a grim, almost violent determination, as if trying to swallow down the words he'd just spat out.

The rest of the crew remained frozen. Luffy's usual boundless energy had completely deflated, his eyes wide and unblinking, his half-eaten meat forgotten. Nami looked pale, her hand covering her mouth, her eyes darting from the closed door to Zoro, a mixture of shock and utter disbelief etched on her face. Usopp’s jaw hung open, his usually expressive face a mask of profound dismay. Chopper whimpered, burying his face in Robin’s side, trembling. Robin’s expression was unreadable, but her eyes were narrowed, a dark intensity in their depths as she observed Zoro. Sanji’s lit cigarette dangled forgotten from his lips, a wisp of smoke curling upwards as he stared, his face a tight mask of icy fury directed squarely at the green-haired swordsman. Franky's usual loud demeanor was replaced by a stunned silence, his cybernetic arm resting heavily on the table, his sunglasses doing little to hide the shock in his eyes. And Brook simply sat, his skeletal hand clutching his cane, his empty eye sockets conveying a silent, bone-deep sorrow. No one spoke. The only sounds were the incessant roar of the rain, and the almost savage clinking of Zoro’s fork against his plate.

The silence at dinner stretched, thick and suffocating. No one dared to speak, to break the fragile, shattered peace that now hung over the Sunny's dining room. Zoro continued to eat, each movement of his fork a grating sound in the oppressive quiet. His face was a mask, unreadable and stark, yet the tension in his shoulders and the rigid set of his jaw spoke volumes of an internal battle. He didn't look up, didn't acknowledge the accusing stares, the pitying glances, or the sheer horror etched on the faces of his crewmates. It was as if he had walled himself off, a formidable fortress of guilt and stubborn pride.

Nami eventually pushed her plate away, the remains of her meal untouched. She glanced at Sanji, who was still fuming silently, then at Luffy, whose boundless appetite seemed to have vanished. Even Usopp and Chopper, usually the first to break any awkward silence, remained uncharacteristically subdued. Robin simply watched Zoro, her expression serene but her eyes holding a deep, knowing sadness. The storm outside continued to rage, mirroring the tempest that had just torn through their bonds. It was the worst argument they had ever witnessed between the two people who were the very bedrock of their crew.

Meanwhile, you were far from the stifling atmosphere of the dining room. You hadn't gone to your shared cabin; the thought of being in such a confined space with the lingering scent of him, the memories of your shattered intimacy, was unbearable. Instead, you found yourself on the upper deck, exposed to the full fury of the Grand Line.

The rain plastered your clothes to your skin, stinging your face with its cold onslaught. The wind howled, a mournful cry that seemed to echo the ache in your chest. You didn't care about getting soaked, didn't notice the chill that seeped into your bones. All you felt was the searing burn of his words, the shocking betrayal of him weaponizing your deepest vulnerability.

You walked to the railing, gripping the wet wood so hard your fingers ached. The Sunny bucked and swayed, battling against the relentless waves, but its struggle felt insignificant compared to the turmoil within you. Tears, indistinguishable from the rain streaming down your face, blurred your vision as you stared out at the churning, dark expanse of the ocean.

"How could he?" you whispered, your voice ripped away by the wind. "How could he say that?"

The words echoed in your mind, a cruel mantra. "...helpless little orphan... taken care of again... can't stand to actually pull your own weight?" He knew. He knew how much you had fought to shed that identity, how hard you had worked to prove your worth, to become independent, strong, reliable. He knew it was the very reason you pushed so hard, spoke your mind so fiercely, refused to be silenced or dismissed. And he had used it against you, twisted it into a weapon in the heat of a moment.

Your body trembled, not from the cold, but from the raw, exposed wound he had inflicted. The anger was a dull throb now, overshadowed by a profound sense of desolation. You had given him your trust, your whole heart, laid bare the most fragile parts of your past, believing he would protect them. And he had shattered them with a single, cruel blow. You closed your eyes, letting the rain wash over you, wishing it could wash away the pain, the betrayal, the crushing weight of everything that had just been said.

Time stretched and warped. Minutes bled into what felt like hours, the relentless rain and wind a fitting soundtrack to the turmoil in your soul. You stayed at the railing, numb to the cold, the sea a vast, indifferent canvas for your pain. The memory of his words, of that look in his eye, played on a loop, each repetition tearing at the fragile remnants of your composure.

Then, through the howling wind and the drumming rain, you heard it. The soft, rhythmic thud-thud-thud of familiar footsteps. Your heart, already a raw nerve, lurched. You didn't need to turn around. You knew that heavy, measured tread, the way he always moved, even when trying to be quiet.

The footsteps stopped beside you. The air, already heavy with moisture, suddenly felt charged with an undeniable presence. He didn't speak. He simply stood there, a silent sentinel in the storm, his familiar scent of salt, steel, and something uniquely him, reaching you even through the downpour.

You kept your gaze fixed on the tumultuous ocean, your jaw clenched. The thought of looking at him, of seeing the face that had just uttered such cutting words, was unbearable. Yet, the fact that he had come, that he was standing there, silent, beside you in the driving rain, stirred a tiny, unwelcome flicker of something. Was it concern? Regret? You crushed it down. It didn't matter. Not after what he had said.

The roar of the wind and the relentless lash of the rain were the only sounds between you. You gripped the railing tighter, your knuckles white, your gaze still fixed on the chaotic sea. Every fiber of your being screamed at you to move, to run, to escape the suffocating presence beside you, yet you remained rooted.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Zoro’s voice cut through the storm, rough and low, almost swallowed by the wind. "Y/N."

It was just your name, but the way he said it, strained and thick with something you couldn't quite decipher, made a shiver run down your spine that had nothing to do with the cold. You didn't respond, didn't turn.

"Look," he continued, a rare tremor in his tone. "What I said back there… about your past." He paused, a harsh breath escaping him. "That was out of line. It was... I didn't mean it." The admission was grudging, forced from him, but it was there. "I was angry. And I lashed out. I shouldn't have said that. It was a shitty thing to say."

You remained silent, the bitterness a cold knot in your stomach. An apology, of sorts. But was it enough? Could words, even regretful ones, truly mend the sharp, tearing pain of betrayal?

He shifted beside you, the movement subtle. "I know I screwed up," he muttered, his voice still low, almost a growl. "I know I say stupid things when I'm pissed. But… that was different. I know that."

You could feel his gaze on the side of your face, a heavy weight that you stubbornly refused to meet. The rain plastered your hair to your skin, making you shiver. You wanted to scream, to lash out, to tell him how deeply he had wounded you, but the words felt lodged in your throat, choked by the sheer enormity of the pain.

A long, tense silence settled between you once more, broken only by the angry sea. Then, Zoro let out a frustrated grunt, a sound of self-loathing. "Damn it all to hell," he cursed under his breath, the words ripped away by the wind.

You felt it then, a slight movement beside you. He turned, and without another word, without preamble, his arms opened.

It was the rule. The unspoken, unbreakable pact. The gesture, even in this storm-lashed moment of profound hurt and anger, was unmistakable. His arms were open, a silent invitation, a forced vulnerability in the face of his own cruelty. It was a desperate plea for connection, a surrender to the one thing that had always pulled you back from the brink of absolute despair with him.

The rain beat down on your exposed skin, chilling you to the bone. Every instinct screamed at you to resist, to turn away, to let him feel the full weight of the chasm he had created. But the rule… it was there. A promise, forged in happier times, that no matter how deep the cut, how bitter the words, the embrace would always be accepted. Your breath hitched, a silent battle raging within you.

Your body felt heavy, rooted to the spot, a silent testament to the anguish that still gripped you. Every cell screamed in protest, urged you to resist, to push him away, to make him understand the depth of the wound he had inflicted. But the rule. It was a covenant, a sacred vow made in moments of profound love, designed precisely for the times when words failed, when anger threatened to consume everything.

With a ragged, shuddering breath, you finally turned. Your arms, heavy with reluctance and a profound weariness, slowly lifted. You stepped into his open embrace, the cold rain still lashing around you.

The moment your arms wrapped around his broad back, a familiar warmth, despite the chill of the storm, spread through you. His arms closed around you, a strong, unyielding hold that felt both like a cage and the only safe harbor in a world gone mad. Your head came to rest against his wet shoulder, and you could feel the rhythmic thud of his heart against your ear, a steady beat that was both maddeningly familiar and utterly alien in this moment of raw pain.

There were no easy apologies, no immediate flood of tears. Just the raw, exposed nerves of two people who had just torn each other apart. The scent of him – salt, steel, and the undeniable musk of his skin – filled your senses, a potent reminder of everything you were to each other, everything that was now so precariously balanced.

He tightened his grip, pulling you closer until there was no space left between you, as if trying to absorb your hurt into himself. His voice, when it came, was muffled against your hair, stripped of all its usual sharpness, raw and laced with something akin to desperation.

"I'm an idiot," he rasped, the words forced from him. "A complete, utter idiot. I didn't mean it, Y/N. None of it. Especially not… about your past. That was unforgivable. I know it. I swear, I didn't think. I was just… angry, frustrated with the fight, with myself. And I took it out on you. The one person I should never, ever hurt." He inhaled sharply, a shaky breath that felt more like a sob. "I'm so sorry. I’m so damn sorry."

The sincerity in his voice, the rare admission of such profound self-reproach, finally broke the dam within you. A choked sob escaped your throat, and the tears, indistinguishable from the rain, began to flow freely down your face.

"How could you, Zoro?" you whispered, your voice broken, your hands fisting in the fabric of his wet shirt. "You know… you know how much that means to me. How much I fought to get away from that, to prove… to prove I wasn't just that helpless child. How could you throw that back at me?"

He pulled back slightly, just enough to tilt your chin up with a gentle hand, forcing your gaze to meet his. His single eye, usually so stoic, was filled with a raw anguish, a genuine regret that mirrored the storm in your own soul.

"I wasn't thinking," he repeated, his voice rough. "It was a cheap shot. A dirty blow. I knew it the second the words left my mouth. It's because I know how much you fought, Y/N. Because I know how strong you are, how much you've overcome. And in that moment, I was so consumed with my own frustration, I used the very thing I admire most about you against you. I was a bastard."

His thumb gently wiped a tear from your cheek, the touch both rough and impossibly tender. "You're not a burden. You're never a burden. You're… you're my anchor, Y/N. My reason for fighting, half the time. You make me better, even when I'm too much of a fool to see it. And I hurt you. God, I hurt you."

You leaned into his touch, the warmth of his hand a small comfort against your chilled skin. The storm outside still raged, but here, in the circle of his arms, a fragile peace began to settle. The anger hadn't vanished completely, the sting of his words still lingered, but the crushing weight of betrayal was slowly, incrementally, lifting. He was admitting it, truly admitting it, without a shred of his usual pride.

"I need you to listen to me too, Zoro," you said, your voice still thick but gaining strength. "I'm not trying to tell you how to fight. I'm trying to make sure we all come out of it alive. Sometimes, charging in isn't the only answer. Sometimes, you need to think. And I need you to trust that I'm coming from a place of care, not judgment."

He nodded, a slow, solemn movement. "I know," he murmured, his gaze steady on yours. "I know that. And I do trust you. More than anyone. I just… sometimes I forget how to listen. How to actually hear what you're saying, instead of just reacting. I promise, Y/N. I'll try to be better. For us."

The rain continued to pour, washing over you both. But in the quiet understanding that settled between you, a different kind of calm began to emerge, a fragile, hard-won truce after the storm.

You leaned against him fully, the tension slowly bleeding out of your muscles, replaced by a profound weariness. The solid warmth of his body, even through the soaked fabric of your clothes, was a comfort you hadn't realized you desperately craved. The tears had slowed to a trickle, mingling with the relentless rain. You simply rested there, in the circle of his arms, listening to the pounding of the rain and the steady beat of his heart. The argument hadn't magically disappeared, the sting of the words wouldn't vanish overnight, but the chasm between you had begun to close.

After a long moment of shared silence, the only sounds the relentless storm, Zoro let out a soft, low chuckle. It was a genuine sound, a rare warmth in the face of the raging elements, and it vibrated through his chest, a comforting rumble against your ear.

"You know," he murmured, his voice still a little rough, but with a hint of his usual easygoing tone, "we're gonna get sick out here."

You managed a weak laugh in response, the sound a little rusty from the tears and the cold. "Probably," you agreed, tilting your head slightly to look up at him. His eye, still holding a hint of lingering remorse, also held a familiar warmth, a promise of forgiveness and reconnection.

He tightened his arms around you once more, pulling you even closer for a fleeting moment before releasing you. "Come on," he said, stepping back slightly but keeping one hand on your arm, a gentle anchor. "Let's get inside. We've got a lot of warming up to do."

As you walked, side by side, back towards the comparative warmth and light of the ship's interior, the storm outside continued its fury. But for the two of you, hand in hand, a fragile peace had begun to settle, a promise that even in the harshest of storms, your bond would endure.

[karikitdemonrp]

-----

Core gave a soft chuckle when he heard Kohaku's reaction, a soft affectionate sound as he relaxed in his lover's arms. The fox's purring only deepened into something more instinctual almost. A sound only Core would make when he was unraveling in the way only Kohaku could make him unravel. It was a side of the kitsune only Kohaku knew, and a part of Cire loved that the two shared these moments between them. Something only they had.

Core's nose twitched a bit when it met Kohaku's nose, but not out of anything bad. It was more so to enjoy the sensation if anything. "Well, you did want me to misbehave. And you talked me into it. I've also kinda been craving you as well, but I'm not always up to ask. Especially with all that happened I was sure you'd want to rest... yet you proved me wrong." Core chuckled, nuzzling his nose gently into Kohaku's for a brief moment.

"My beloved warrior, so strong. So amazing." He hummed softly, his green eyes looking into Kohaku's amber ones. "Yet I know what makes you squirm, only I know what makes you crumble and scream, and I know you enjoy it." The kitsune hummed softly, enjoying the moment. "I'd love to take my time with you on the futon. I need to pamper you properly after all. You did manage to save my senses from that awful durian." Core stifled a laugh and sighed lovingly, his gaze never leaving Kohaku's. His purr grew a bit louder at each affectionate touch Kohaku gave, only serving to work the kitsune up a bit more.

"I was sure the futon was clean and fluffed up a bit too so it was comfortable for us for tonight. Be it for relaxation or other activities. I knew after what happened we both needed a comfortable futon to lay on." Core's tail swayed slowly as he moved to stretch. "Why don't we go ahead and go get comfortable on our futon, my love? You saying you craved me has... gotten me a bit worked up." The kitsune cleared his throat with a nervous blush, knowing Kohaku would likely playfully tease the fox.

=K

Kohaku’s breath hitched at the warm graze of Core’s teeth, the way the fox’s voice dipped low, molten and unfiltered now. That soft, playful growl at his ear made the demon slayer’s pulse quicken in a way he didn’t bother hiding.

He chuckled softly, curling an arm around Core’s waist to pull him close, noses brushing again. “So you are going to misbehave, hm?” Kohaku teased, voice just as low now—like a shared secret only for them. “Good. I was starting to think I’d have to carry you to the futon myself.”

He pressed another kiss to the corner of Core’s mouth, then another along the curve of his jaw, and whispered against his skin, “Let’s take our time tonight. Tea, fruit… and maybe a certain fox I’ve been craving since this morning.”

[elowmojo]

- 10 JUNE 1985 -

It was a beautiful day, I'm alone in my room, pacing back and forth, not really sure what to do. I'd dumped Lucas for the 20th time, Dustin was at his “nerd” camp, and El and Mike were too busy kissing to give me any of their time. I didn't feel like playing third wheel… All I wanted to do was go to the movie theater to see this new film that had come out a few weeks ago. But I have no one to go with and, more importantly, no one to take me there. And there is no way to ask Billy to do me that favor— I already know what his answer would be… I can't wait for this new Mall to open. I heard there's going to be a movie theater inside! I'll still give it a shot and ask my mom if she can take me there, but she works so much that I hardly ever see her. - That's what I thought… I'm going to spend hours bored again. ARG!

- 11 JUNE 1985 -

I tried my luck again, but then another thunderclap rang out in the house. Billy had the misfortune of being in the kitchen when I asked my mother to take me to the movie theater, and of course his father was there… And he forced him to play chauffeur. I didn't even dare look at him, but I could feel his icy stare freezing me in my tracks. Billy got angry because, obviously, he had other plans, another date I guess. I'm yet another burden for him… If that stupid movie theater wasn't so far away, I would have figured out a way to get there on my skateboard. It would have spared us another family “drama.” Car ride will still be a real treat, I can't wait :) Okay, I'm being a bit harsh… Even though Billy was still a jerk, he was less of a jerk than he used to be. We'll see what happens. I'm finally going to see The Goonies!!!!!

- 11 JUNE 1985 -

Okay… I've had a really strange day. The movie was cool. It felt like watching our gang, but in the movie, instead of fighting monsters, they had to find some kind of treasure. But I digress. I thought Billy would just drop me off and leave, like he usually does. I was waiting in line to buy my ticket, then Billy stood next to me in line. He even came to see the movie with me. It was really weird, okay, because of me his plans had changed, but nothing was stopping him from going to his date during the movie. It was strange because I really enjoyed the moment despite everything. Well, he didn't stop complaining and making comments throughout the movie, but it made me laugh. Especially when he shouted “Here comes the potato!” every time Sinok appeared on screen. He probably wanted to sabotage my session, but he failed. The only person whose session he sabotaged was Erica Sinclair, who kept turning around to tell him to shut up, Billy just threw popcorns at her face and called her a shrimp. She was really furious! I know someone who's going to have to put up with her anger tonight. I never thought I'd write such things, but it was really cool. I spent à good day. It was one of the rare times I got to have some “fun” with him, without us insulting each other or hating each other. I even felt like we were like real brother and sister. It was a pretty nice feeling. Even though I know it's only temporary… Everything went back to normal once I got home. But hey, at least I had a good day. I hope there will be more like that.

[ Sorry if it's not good, I'm pretty bad at writing and my english is really chaotic, but I loved this idea of Max diary journal to share some happy, or bad moment with Billy, cuz I really love them together T_T ]

[elysiality]

sixteen carriages plays every time I remember Shauna shipman isn’t real, That’s how bad it hurts. Anyways!

can we get a Drabble based off climax by usher(glorious ahh song, give it a listen)?

-🐰

climax. ᥫ᭡ shauna shipman.

a/n · wellll my requests are closed, but it’s a short drabble so…. :3

꒰ ꒱ CW . yellowjackets typical antics. canon compliant. angst, because it’s the only thing I know how to write. infidelity but it’s on Jeff so who cares. suggestive. post-rescue. slight spoilers for s3. (๑⃙⃘´༥`๑⃙⃘) 1k words. no beta, we die like half the cast.

There was a reason you and Shauna had earned the title ‘Fire and Ice’ before the plane went down. Jackie was gentle rain, extinguishing the inferno that burned in Shauna, melting the ice around what you proclaimed was a heart of stone. The mediator, the martyr, the pariah in some ways garnering resentment from both of you for being so….pure. Innocuous, for lack of a better word.

She didn’t have the burning rage that Shauna had, she didn’t have your frigid demeanour. Her death was preventable and yet you didn’t raise a finger to stop it. If there was anyone who could’ve, it was you. But you didn’t. You brushed it off as a tiny fork in the road that didn’t concern you, didn’t need your involvement. You weren’t the peacemaker and you certainly weren’t the peacekeeper.

The only person to stand up to Shauna, to dump ice water on her flaming head, to match her fight head on and knock her off her high horse of misery and self-pity. It’s what made your love tick— the messy, fervid struggle for control that was more a tug-of-war game between children vying for each other’s attention.

When Shauna rose to power, you were right there— her consecrated consort, the cool one in the face of adversity who managed to somehow talk her down from the murderous rampage she had flown into after finding out about Natalie’s successful operation to call for help.

The attraction between you was stormy, tiptoeing the line of being a danger to both of you. Canines drawing blood, rough nails that had been pared off with a knife coated with the essence of others, digging into scarred skin, hands that touched you like sickles, kisses saccharine enough to rot the harvest.

Now here you lay, Shauna’s head a weight on your stomach where the shirt you stripped off her back has risen up, sprawled out in a tangle of limbs on your childhood bed, passing a blunt back and forth, the scent of hunger and smoke tangling with the innocence of a room that was no longer yours— the picture of domestic indolence. Nobody could tell what had happened to you, what you had been through, if they didn’t look into your eyes, where the light had long since drained.

But then again, you’ve always been a savant at pretending everything’s fine, haven’t you?

“You seem pretty morose for a blushing bride-to-be.”, you comment dryly, your voice holding a serrated edge that sharpens against Shauna’s ears, sharp as the knife she held so treasured out there.

She lifts her head up at you, the same eyes that burned with wildfire once now dimmed down to an insipid black. “You know I have no choice.” She’s searching for pity. Hard luck that she’s forgotten who she’s talking to.

The response comes just as she expects it. “Yeah? I don’t seem to remember you having any such qualms when you were fucking your dead best friend’s boyfriend— willingly, might I add.” Cold air, potent and heavy, stinging her flushed cheeks like it had slinked in through a cracked window.

“Point taken.” Her head droops back onto your lap, groaning. There’s some malaise in the atmosphere now, lingering resentment and angst that won’t fade. There had been a choice to make. It was either you played perfect housewife with Jeff or she did. Mrs. Taylor was insistent on it. And you made Shauna take the fall, of course. Not your crime, not your time.

You take another lazed hit of your joint, rustling her tousled hair affectionately. She jolts up, her ironically frigid hand grabbing yours, a juxtaposition to the warmness of your palm. Ah. There’s that fire you’ve missed. She has an idea. A lurid one, judging by the twitch of her lips. You eye her, leery.

“We could run away.” The cadence of her voice is urgent, breathless— like she’s running to catch a leaving train. You stare at her dourly, and then sigh, exhuming smoke fumes right into her face. She doesn’t so much as flinch as you put it out in your makeshift ashtray.

“Us? Run away together? We’d kill each other before we make it past the edge of town.” You huff, squeezing her cheeks between the pads of your rough fingers— gentle, but stern. A warning. To stop dreaming of what can never happen.

Her nails, no longer jagged as you remember them to be, dig into your thighs, leaving crescent shaped marks that you have no doubt will be covered up by the garishly extravagant maid of honour dress tomorrow. “If you die on me”, she grits out, her voice grating, “I’ll eat your heart.”

It takes a bit of time for you to snap out of your stupor. You sort through the hash in your mind, searching for the appropriate response to what you know is a serious declaration.

“If you die”, you say just as somberly, like you’re attending a funeral, “I won’t write you a eulogy.”

She gives you a once over before letting out a snicker that soon turns into raucous peals of laughter from both of you. You’re just kids here, not the monsters forced to grow up, not the beasts that have been tamed after so long of being rabid.

Shauna’s head goes lax on your lap, melting into your thighs with that devil-may-care attitude you know so well. “We wouldn’t even make it past the gates of the venue, huh?”

“Nope.” You say in a cheerfully chipper voice that does nothing to hide your rancour. “Mrs. Taylor would probably come for us with a gun, locked and loaded.” You clear your throat and assume a falsetto, scrunching up your face.

“And where do you missies think you’re going?” you mimic in what could not be a more terrible impression of a doddery old lady, but is rewarded by the unladylike snort that emits from the dark head on your lap.

You sink back into your low spirits as fast as you emerged. Your hands card through the dark locks that can never truly be washed free of the blood, the scent of woods and bitterness of starvation.

“You’re going to be a married woman tomorrow, Shauna.” your heart is loaded down by the weight of that information. That you’ll be there, in a dress that isn’t white, standing not opposite to Shauna on the aisle, but next to her as she promises her heart to another, expected not to projectile vomit all of duck egg white satin curtains (meticulously hand picked, of course). The girl who’s always been yours.

It’s imperative and it’s inexorable. Nothing you do would stop it. Your fate’s been set in stone since you let her into your heart, since you let her burn off the stalagmites guarding your love. You feel strangely jilted, even if you were never together.

There’s, of course, the unspoken that she’s technically already his. The douche had been too eager, probably more so for the gratuity money than actually for her, and had signed the papers as soon as the word ‘yes’ shaped in her mouth. But that thought rankles you far worse than the others.

“And I’m leaving after the wedding.” you continue, desultory, forcing her chin up to look at you, really look for what may very well be the last time. “I have to let you go.”

How anticlimactic. The souls that were so tangled with each other that their strings were knotted into loops, have now been separated by the looming scenario of her, living a woefully boring life with a milquetoast man and you, off with the wind, letting life do whatever it wishes to you.

No more emotionally charged arguments, no more surreptitious make-up visits, no more of that familiar dance that’s been yours for longer than you can remember. Really, you could almost cry like a child, a lover seeing their darling off at a train station for a sabbatical. Only, this one’s permanent. And she was never yours, not really.

Shauna ensconces you in her arms, hands gripping onto the shirt that still smells like her, looking up at you with eyes you could paint in your sleep. She’ll always be your fire, the heat that scorches your welcoming arms. “Then stay with me. Just for tonight. One last time.”

You can give her that. The final climax of a ‘love story’ (if you could even call it that) that was always hurtling towards an unhappy ending at breakneck speed.

· · ────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

TAGLIST. @f4riedimples , @scatorcciosbabe

[inbabylontheywept]

Okay so I very unwisely got tumblr because of a girl and things with said girl are confusing af but basically being on tumblr doesn't affect that anymore. I was thinking about getting off of it but I found your posts and they alone are worth staying on for.

I can't figure out how to find other blogs to follow though.

I figure since you're the thing that I like about the site, I might also like the things you like, so i was wondering if I could ask you to share some blog recommendations?

Easiest recomendation is my older sister, @lizardho. Very similar childhood, very similar writing style, if you like my writing you'll love hers too. I consider this her finest piece at present. It's an easy rec. We are incredibly similar people.

If we're doing similar writing styles, me and @foldingfittedsheets often get mistaken for each other. No relation, but again, we do a lot of slice of life work. From all her works, this is my favorite story and this is my favorite comic.

For my standard writers pack, there is teaboot, prokopetz, and gallustromegalus, and derin. They tell a lot of anecdotes and they all have great styles. Gallus is probably my favorite but it's fierce competition and they all come highly recomended. Not tagging them because they have huuuuuuge followings and I don't want to pester them.

For people that I consider significantly underrated: There's @drenamigmo / @drenamigmofridgemagnets . Amazing storyteller. Small body of work publically available right now, but the two stories in this post are just achingly beautiful. They have an AO3 called "aterriblewriter" (I need to give them more shit for that, they are actually incredible) that I check kind of obsessively for new writing. They also write league fanfic, so if that's your thing, I'm jealous. I wish I loved league more just so I can enjoy more of their writing.

I really like @miseria-fortes-viros. She has two stories from Greek mythology that I consider the two finest uses of tumblr itself as a medium. You'll see it if you clickeither of these: This one is about Orpheus and Eurydice, this one is about Icarus. She tells anecdotes sometimes, and this one about a welding class she took is again, fantastic, but it's not her bread and butter, it's just a rare and unexpected treat. You also get to watch her slowly dissolve into madness as everyone with a bad literature take seems to go out of their way to die by her hand.

If you like my earlier fiction works, @spyglassrealms writes scifi that is frankly much better than mine. I followed him to learn about worldbuilding. I stayed for his worlds.

And for my final note: I am not normally a big anime guy, and I generally avoid the stuff. BUT. But. This piece by @hakeism is one of the most bafflingly moving stories I have ever read. One of my favorite cultural changes of the last decade has been a general shift away from irony back into sincerity, and Hakeism writes so incredibly sincerely about absolutely ridiculous things that it warms my heart. They take life seriously, even when it's stupid, because life is always stupid and yet it must be engaged with. The fact that it is stupid is no excuse for refusing to participate in the world. We must, in the words of Fraggle Rock and Ben Folds Five, do it anyway.

[pheastinyworld]

it takes time ❀•°•───────•

request: Omg i really love your writing ❤️❤️❤️ but may i request a fluffy with Bedsy pleaseee he deserve to be happy too 🥹

Word count: 2.4k

Warnings: um, none? oh not super proof read yet

author's note: accidently deleted this, you didnt see that. okay okay so there's angst SORRY... BUT just for a bit, it ends fluffy dw. this is also for my darling @belli5 cause she hit 300 yesterday and im so so proud of her!!!

| phe's main masterlist |

you really hadn't meant for it to get this bad. you couldn't pinpoint exactly when it had all started going downhill, but wherever you were at in your relationship wasn’t healthy anymore. you couldn't stay, you were only hurting yourself.

you had known each other since you were kids, growing up next door, your parents relatively close. 

you had known him long before he was considered as ‘connor bedard number one overall draft pick.’ when his family moved into the house next door, your mom sent you over with a freshly baked batch of cookies, ones which you were annoyed about giving away. 

putting on your hoodie to combat the awful weather outside, you only needed to walk a few steps before your spare hand was knocking on their door. within a few seconds, the it swung open with such speed you stumbled back slightly, being met with a wide eyed boy.

“who are you?” he seemed so excited it threw you off a little before you finally said your name.

“i live next door, my mom told me to bring you these.” you shoved the tray of cookies forward with a shy smile. the boy took them like he was given a million dollars.

“thank you.” before stuffing a cookie into his mouth and continuing, mildly incoherently, while chewing, “i'm connor by the way. how old are you?” 

“seven, how old are you?” you asked back, already feeling oddly comfortable around him. his eyebrows shot up and a grin spread on his rosy cheeks.

“me too!” 

you two have only gotten closer since that afternoon. you attended every game of his you could. no matter what, you stayed close. connor moved to play in the whl and you finished high school. both your parents were nervous about what the distance might do to your friendship. luckily on one random saturday morning, after conor had been drafted by the blackhawks, you facetimed him, chicago university acceptance letter in hand. 

you were both new to the city and sticking together made both your parents happier. so, you did what any childhood friends would do and moved in with each other. and somehow, like anyone else would in that situation, you ended up falling in love with your best friend. stupid, right? oh but he just made it so easy.

you would be exhausted, hunched over your textbooks and laptop, the white computer light shining into your bloodshot eyes. connor would rest against the door frame, sighing before walking with careful steps over to you, gently closing your laptop and shushing your whines at him. 

“no, con, i really need to study.” you said, trying to push his hand away, head not even turning towards him once. 

“yeah, but you’ve done so well already, you’ve been studying all night and you look burnt ou-”

“hey!” you scowled at him, pulling the glasses off your face and dropping them on the table. 

“you know i didn't mean it like that,” connor chuckled, holding his hand out with a warm smile. sighing, you took it and let him lead you out and onto the sofa. 

connor let you choose the movie to watch and pulled you close to him, playing with the ends of your hair and rubbing circles on your shoulder. 

and it would go like this all the time. you were just as bad; it takes two to create the mess you found yourself in. 

back-to-back losses for chicago blackhawks and connor was over it; his body felt overworked and his morale was low. dropping his bag down in the entry of your apartment with a thud, you already knew how his mood was going to be, watching the game at home and feeling the sad pang in your chest for him.

his hair would still be damp and his body hugged by a hoodie. you walked towards him, holding gentle expression and opening your arms out for him. connor accepted your embrace without a second thought. 

“come on, let’s get you into bed.” 

you would lead him into his own bedroom, sitting yourself against the headboard so he could rest his head on your stomach.

“played like shit.” he finally mumbled after not speaking. he had always gone quiet when he was upset, ever since he was young. 

but you hated when he did this, because to you, he was the best player you had ever seen, inside and out. “no you didn’t, you played your best. today wasn't your fault.”

it went pretty silent for a while as you ran your fingers through his damp hair. he slowly relaxed, the adrenaline and tension finally releasing under your touch.

“thank you,” and even before you had time to respond, connor quickly added, “love you.”

you shut your eyes, feeling a small pang in your heart. this is probably when you started noticing it. the feelings. voice almost cracking, you responded, “love you too darling.”

he would never say much else, just snake his arm around you and snuggle into your warmth, humming as you stroked his hair and lulled him to sleep. 

but best friends didn’t look at each other the way you two did. best friends didn't react like that when they were told i love you. 

and the day connor walked into your room, holding up two shirt options and asked which one would look better for a date with a girl he had just met, you broke. everything you had been holding in came crashing down.

“the black one looks the best on you.” you just let your mouth talk as you tried to focus your mind on not letting yourself cry.

you tried to do anything to distract you after he left. you baked, you tried watching a show, you tried sleeping. and then you tried reading a book. oh what a mistake. pulling the novel from your bedside table, your bookmark fell out and onto your lap. glancing at it you began to tear up, and at some point tearing up became full chest wracked sobs. it was the customized bookmark connor had bought you at your request; it detailed a very old picture of you two, both eight years old, lying next to each other on the bedard family sofa and dead asleep.

you had given connor all of yourself. every boyfriend you had was short lived because you could only ever look for connor in whatever poor guy had asked you out on a date. you were happy when he was happy, your heart broke when his did, you felt the tight pull in your chest whenever he was upset about a game. you would bend over backwards to put a smile on his face. 

you dropped the bookmark, the edges streaking with a cocktail of inky colors that had mixed with the liquid from your salty tears. you moved without thinking, you couldn't think. maybe if you had, you may have acted in a different way. mindlessly packing a bag of overnight clothes, calling your close friend you had met from school and asking if you could crash at hers to collect your thoughts.

connor came back to an empty apartment and no girl on his arm. he hadn't felt any connection. but he didn't care about the date anymore. no, now he was frantically rushing around the apartment looking for you, pacing up and down the hallway outside your empty room, phone in hand as he called you. 

when you finally picked up, he let out a relieved sigh, huffing out a laugh, “i thought something had happened, you all good? where you at?” 

“connor, i can't live in that apartment anymore.” your voice cracked at the edges; you felt like a coward doing this over the phone. connor knew when you were about to cry, he could always sense it coming by the way you spoke.

his heart dropped, a bit confused, “huh? why?”

you paused for a second, “because connor… oh god… because you'll never feel the same way about me, and i'm breaking my heart being so close to you but just not enough. i- i can't live with you anymore con, i'm sorry.” 

the line went silent for what felt like lifetimes. you almost hung up, embarrassed that your lifelong best friend couldn't even form words at your confession. 

“come back and we can talk about this.” connor finally said, voice low and careful, his mind still racing. “please, baby.”

your breath caught, he heard it too, “don't. don't call me that. please don't.”

you sighed, head dropping, “ill come by at some point to get my things.” 

“no that's not what i mea-”

you couldn't take it. you felt embarrassed, upset. you hung up and turned your phone off for the rest of the night.

you stayed at your friends house for three days. three long days in which connor had felt horrible. he moped around at practice and go straight to sleep once he got home. he couldn't bare being in the apartment too long or else he was reminded about how much he missed you and how big he fucked up.

you felt just as bad. you realized you had never really gone this long without at least texting. and it hurt. 

connor was supposed to be at an early morning skate, you knew his schedule. entering the quiet apartment, swiftly making your way to your room to pick up some of your study materials. but you halted in your tracks, stopping right at the threshold of your room.

your best friend was lying on your bed, face nuzzled into your pillow; the one on the side of the bed you always slept on. he looked so peaceful, but even asleep he looked exhausted. 

you tried your best to pick out your books without making a sound, but the universe just wasn't on your side. 

“hey.” you shut your eyes when you heard his voice, back still turned away from him. what could you say? ‘yeah con so still very much in love with you, fuck you for waking up’ maybe you'd steer clear of that.

“hey.” was all you got out, continuing to place your notepads in your bag. 

connor sat up and rubbed his eyes, seeing you again made his heart ache. he couldn't believe you were actually here. getting up quickly, he scrambled to stand beside you, hands on your shoulders and forcing you to turn towards him, eyes full of purpose. 

“please look at me,” connor was almost begging, he didn't know what else to do. 

you knew that if you looked at him, looked into the eyes you loved so much, you'd break into tears. but you did it anyway, because it was him. you'd always say yes to him.

“i know you're hurt and embarrassed, but please let me explain, i just need you to listen.” connor said carefully. “please?”

everything in your chest hurt, but you nodded, looking up at him as he sighed, swallowing to try gain some composure. 

“i never wanted you to feel the way you do, please know that. i had no clue you felt that way and i feel like an idiot now becau-”

“i know con, i didn't expect you to love me back the same, it was stupid, i ju-”

“no, it's not stupid!” connor exclaimed, his hand going to hold your cheeks. 

you blinked, not knowing what to do.

“it was never stupid.” his voice was smaller now, shy in a way that threw you off. “it was stupid i didn't notice it. any hope i had that you did, i told myself it wasn't because i didn't want to ruin things. you've been my person for so long that i'd hate myself everyday if i made things difficult.” 

it was like your ears were ringing, you weren't really sure what was happening. he was talking so fast you could only fully process bits and pieces. 

“you… what?” you let a tear slip past your eyes and connor was quick to wipe it away, smiling at you softly.

“baby i fell in love with you the second you knocked on my door with that tray of cookies. and i've only fallen more in love with you since.” connor felt like a weight was lifted off his shoulders as he wiped away your tears. 

you on the other hand, couldn't even form words. so you did the only thing you could do, reaching up to place your lips against his. immediately you both melted into the kiss.

when you two finally pulled apart, connor kept you close, pressing his forehead on yours, stupid smiles tickling the edges of both your lips.

“i really wish you'd have told me sooner.” you said, giggling as he rolled his eyes.

“you could've done the same. and maybe not left me stranded in this empty apartment to sulk.” he responded, nudging your nose with his, making you smile even more, warmth spreading across your entire body.

“got you to confess though didn't i?” he chuckled at you, pressing one more kiss on your lips, never wanting to let go of your.

“sure did.” 

[wistericaine]

pr nightmare | mattheo riddle

rockstar!mattheo x reader | chaotic fluff | wc: 1031

summary: mattheo meets your chaos through a pr disaster

This week had been a genuine PR nightmare for Mattheo. 

The end of his band’s tour was approaching, and Mattheo couldn’t be happier about it. For as much as he loved to party and drink his days away, he was absolutely exhausted. Train ride to train ride only to perform on stage—even though chaos was fun, there was only so much he could do.

And attention was always a hit or miss, he had found. Theo had bullied him quite a bit for his changing attitude on the idea of attention—wanting to bask in it one day and vomit from it the next. He supposed that world tours did something like that to you. 

Which is why he ducked the line almost as soon as he could. 

He ducked and he ran, ran as fast as he could away from the venue. Headphones on, hoodie pulled over his head, and arms flailing about as he ran faster than the wind could blow against his face. It was a freeing thing to do. He could feel his soul seeping through the sweat on his skin, finally basking in what he had wanted to do the entire tour. 

And that was when he had bumped into you. 

It was a small bump, thank God, that didn’t push either of you over. A shove, more like it. 

What had shocked him the most about it was the fact that you hadn’t recognized him during that interaction. That you just asked whether he was okay without any mention of an autograph or a photo. The fact that you just wiped his face with a small towel before continuing on with your night. 

Never before had he had an interaction like that. Even before the band had started, most of his interactions would be around sex or fights.

Never that. 

He stood for just a moment blinking. Dumbly, he thought. Who spends minutes thinking about a girl just because she didn’t ask you for a signature?

Mattheo could’ve answered that question for himself—truly, he could. But when the flash of a camera and the rustling of leaves finally registered in his mind, he knew that there were more important questions to answer than that. 

The park felt noisier than usual.

You usually came there for comfort—the quiet and calm peace of the place calming you down almost instantly. Whether it be from a long day at work or just a generally bad day, the park was an instant remedy.

Today didn’t seem very remedying though, you noticed, walking around the crowds that were currently mingling by a newspaper stand. 

There were some on their phones. Some reading the papers and some even doing both. Their voices ranged from quiet to loud, obnoxious enough for you to pull your headphones out just to cancel the noise. 

And yet, even with that in mind, you were still mildly curious.

But it wasn’t until you passed by the newspaper stands that the drama truly caught your attention. Just past the fountain stood a magazine stand with glossy covers stacked one on top of the other. There were multiple on display—but the one that caught your attention had bold red letters on its front.

Mattheo Riddle’s new girlfriend. 

On the cover you found a photo of you and the man you met last night—distorted in a way to look more like a romantic moment than what it truly was. A single mishap of a panicked man running away from whatever it was he was running from. 

You figured that this magazine was exactly what he was running from. 

Yet you couldn’t find it in yourself to look away from the photo. It had been edited to quite a decent extent, the coloring of it just a bit redder and orange. Text had covered the entire page to the point you could barely make out the cover photo, questions and speculation about who you ever were. Fake names and dates were thrown in there, some stating that you had known each other for months while some said since childhood. 

It was all ridiculous. You hadn’t even heard of the man before. 

You rolled your eyes and scoffed, about to walk away before you heard a familiar voice. 

“You saw it too, huh?”

You turned around then before gasping just so. The man from last night—Mattheo Riddle—was standing with the same hoodie and glasses he had on last night. 

“I have.” you murmured quietly. 

He sighed then, grabbing your arm and dragging you off to a more private place. “I was hoping I could find you before the tabloids did. Don’t know why I wished for that.”

You nodded before looking at him. “How do famous people usually deal with this stuff?”

“Well—” he said, looking around for just a moment before pulling you down a small alley. “I suppose a public relations team and a well-rehearsed lie.” he shrugged. “I mean, my team wants me to fake a relationship.”

You felt your eyebrows rising at that. “They what?”

“Money.” he shrugged. 

“Well—” you said, before pausing at the idea.

Your life had been a bit boring lately, if you were being honest. Not much had happened, and you figured that this might be the chance you had to change that. A fake relationship could turn into a fake engagement. Plus, you might get some fun experiences.

“Only if you get me a nice ring for the engagement.” you settled.

Mattheo blinked once, twice, before his jaw dropped. “What?”

“A nice ring for the engagement.” you repeated. “And I want weekly dates. And, if you’re lucky, I’ll give you my top secret dance that you can write a whole album about.” 

“Are you serious right now? He deadpanned. 

“It goes to the rhythm of ‘Ballroom Blitz’, if you must know.” you said, huffing dramatically like he had forced you to tell the secret. 

Mattheo laughed at that. A full body laugh, one that left him panting on the wall and smiling bright at you. 

“You’re insane.”

“It’s called improv, baby.” you winked at him. “Now come on! The first date starts now.”

Maybe this wouldn’t be a PR disaster after all.

hello everyone, i hope you guys enjoyed! i had this idea that i wanted to try for rockstar!mattheo, so i did. i imagine he has a kind of artic monkeys x maneskin vibe, so do with that what you will. thanks so much for reading!

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