#anyway I’m gonna go turn into a fucking shrimp

[imdressinguplikeacat]

i was supposed to be a small bird or perhaps a deep sea creature. not this

#in my flop era bro. its not giving #I’m basically always in a bad fucking mood unless i take adderall #lowkey kinda suicidal as fuck but I’m not gonna do anything about it #just kinda sick of being completely alone in all my experiences its just lame for real #being like ohh talking to someone about it might make me feek better but it always makes me feel worse #for my whole life it just makes me feel worse man #because nobody gets it or I’m too fucking stupid to articulate it in a way that doesn’t sound insane and delusional #genuinely really truly its like being an animal trying to communicate with a person so I’m like. why the fuck am i not just an animal?? #it would be easier #anyway I’m gonna go turn into a fucking shrimp #I’m so over it

[loveinhawkins]

kept thinking about Eddie & Steve deliberately making jokes to ensure that Dustin and co don’t get into the boat on Lover’s Lake.

“Nicely done,” Steve says when they’re far enough away from the bank—when they’ve left a disgruntled Dustin behind rather than a worried one.

“Hmm? Oh, yeah,” Eddie says—glances back to where the kids are, although they’ve already got swallowed up by the darkness. “‘Course, man.” He gives a weak smile as he drags the oar through the water. “Those little shrimps would probably try and, like, cannonball right in, and honestly? I, uh, really don’t think my heart could handle that.”

“Yeah, they… really throw themselves into things.”

Steve decides that he’s never gonna bring up Operation Child Endangerment if Eddie’s in the vicinity—the dude already looks at them all like they’ve got a few screws loose, he doesn’t wanna make it worse.

Although, on second thought, him and Dustin probably let that particular cat out the bag with their persistent optimism way back in the boathouse: “There’s nothing to worry about.”

Eddie’s wide-eyed look painted a thousand words.

Oh, he thinks you’re crazy, sing-songed the perpetual high schooler hiding in Steve’s brain. Eddie ‘The Freak’ Munson thinks you’re crazy. Time to seriously re-evaluate your life choices.

“Did you think Eddie was a bit, uh, weird back there?” Dustin asked him later. “Like, he’ll be okay, right?”

Dustin was prone to using ‘weird’ as a catch-all term, where it could mean anything from someone being genuinely weird to them experiencing severe emotional distress.

Steve clapped him on the shoulder reassuringly. “Henderson, I’m pretty sure he thinks we’re weird.”

He almost wants to make a joke about that now, get Eddie to laugh, maybe. To tell the truth, Steve had almost cracked and laughed himself once he’d gotten into the boat, when he turned and saw Dustin’s comically outraged expression.

It was only as Nancy and Eddie began to row that he registered the laugh would’ve secretly been one of relief—heartened by the sight of the kids left on the shore.

He stays quiet; Eddie’s shoulders are slowly tensing more and more the further across the lake they go.

It’s not noticeable at first—Robin’s providing a running commentary on the movements of Dustin’s compass, while Nancy determinedly pulls her oar in and out of the water—but Steve soon realises that Eddie’s kind of stopped rowing, instead just making ripples as his grip goes slack.

It’s damn hard to see, but Steve just barely makes out Eddie’s eyes glittering in the dark, staring down at the lake.

“Hey,” Steve says quietly. “You don’t have to—we’re not too far out, we can take you back, man.” He tries for levity. “This thing holds three people tops, remember?”

Eddie’s smile is more of a grimace. “Nah, man. Had enough of being chickenshit.”

“Dude, you’re not…”

Steve trails off, biting back his frustration—it doesn’t look like Eddie’s listening to him anyway; he’s still not taken his eyes off the water. Steve briefly wonders if he’s got that thing Robin says she gets sometimes, something about an imp—it’s why she never gets on Ferris wheels or whatever, convinced that she’s somehow gonna fall.

Eddie gives himself a shake and resumes rowing.

“Sorry. S’just… pitch black down there. He—” Eddie clears his throat. “He wouldn’t have seen—”

His voice cracks, fades into the night. His grip on the oar slips—he snatches it back before it can fall.

“Eddie,” Steve begins, but Eddie speaks right over the top of him.

“I—I hoped he was just drowning instead.” Eddie scoffs, and there’s a bitterness to it, an edge of self-loathing that Steve wishes he couldn’t hear. “And then maybe—” A sigh, another grimace disguised as a smile. “That’s a pretty fucked up thing to think, huh?”

He’s got that tone, Steve thinks, like when he kept repeating that he ran away from Chrissy—like he thought that if he said it enough, someone would snap, condemn him. Like he’s looking for proof that he’s monstrous.

Robin’s still talking, tactfully giving Eddie a semblance of privacy. Underneath her chatter, Steve hears Nancy’s rowing falter for just a moment, and he feels a pang in his chest.

He thinks of Barb and drowning. Wonders again if an ordinary tragedy would’ve been better compared to…

Then he lets it all sink back down.

“That’s not fucked up,” he says firmly. “Trust me, dude, that’s… that’s normal.”

Eddie chuckles shortly—it sounds like he’s doing something similar, pushing everything down, down…

“Normal, huh? No-one’s called me that before.”

“First time for everything.”

There’s a flicker of amusement across Eddie’s face when he replies, “Guess compared to you freaks, I’m pretty normal.”

“Ooh, did that feel good?” Steve says, appealing again to his mental high schooler. “Bit of role reversal?”

Eddie laughs more genuinely. “Sure did. Community theatre’s done wonders.”

A silence falls, and Steve encourages himself to get all relaxed by the boat bobbing up and down. Yeah, nothing’s strictly been confirmed yet, but he already knew what he was getting into when he stepped off the shore, water leaking into his shoes.

It’s gotta be him.

“I know what you’re doing, Harrington,” Eddie murmurs.

Steve gives him a questioning look.

Eddie pulls in some long breaths in exaggerated imitation. “You’re not subtle, Mister Swim Captain.”

“Co-captain,” Steve corrects, hiding his surprise. He can’t really imagine Eddie paying attention to the swim team, least of all a former swim team.

“Oh, forgive me for my inaccuracy.”

Hmm, he’s getting borderline poetic, Steve thinks. Like he was with Mordor and stuff.

So. He’s afraid.

“I’ll be fine,” Steve says lightly.

Eddie lets out a short groan, mutters something that sounds like famous last words. Then, quieter still—Steve can’t quite make it out.

Something about the dark.

Steve could repeat that he’ll be fine, but he knows that’s a shit reassurance. He settles for continuing to breathe in and out, long and slow; Eddie’s beginning to look like he’s unconsciously mimicking the pattern, his shoulders lowering.

“Just come back up, Harrington,” he says, so softly that Steve might’ve imagined it.

“Co-captain’s promise,” he says.

Eddie’s lips twitch. But he’s still fixed on the lake’s depths, like he’s waiting for something—dreading it.

Like something’s lurking in the dark.

#the boat ride across Lover’s Lake #before the dive #pre steddie #eddie and the party #steve and the party #steve and dustin #eddie and dustin #steddie #steddie fic #steddie ficlet #steve x eddie #steve harrington #eddie munson

[rrenzwrld]

secreto de amor IV

chapter 4! chapter 3 here, chapter 2 here!

your car was in the shop for a few more weeks until it was ready to be on the road again. because you were excited to finally have your car back, sasha wanted you to take her to the mall since she hasn’t seen you in a while. sasha was another friend of jean’s but she was closer in age to you than any others, plus you enjoyed her more than the others too.

“y/n~when’s the next time you work?” sasha asked you as the two of you walked around the mall with ice cream.

“friday, why?” sasha groaned obnoxiously.

“i was gonna ask if you wanted to come with me to a party.”

“a party?” you weren’t a party person at all and she knew that so you didn’t know why she was asking.

“i mean not a party but like.. a kickback! not a lot of people will be there so you’d be fine.”

“you know i don’t do people…”

“i know but i wanna get you out there! somewhere other than sticking under jean all the time—“

“i don’t stick under jean all the time. i just like to be at home, where i’m comfortable.”

“you like to be anywhere jean is because you know that’s when you’ll be safe. but he’s not gonna be everywhere girl. live a little!”

“i have all my life to live. i’m only 18.”

“yeah but you should start now! just come with me please?”

“i don’t get off til 10 friday. do i have to stay the whole time?”

“we can stay if you’re having fun, we can leave if you don’t. we can ride together.” it sounded tempting but you knew how sasha could be when it came to going out and partying.

you were hesitant but answered anyways. “okay.. but we’re taking my car. so i can leave yo ass if you get outta line.”

“that’s fine. your brother is gonna beat my ass anyways if anything happens to you.”

after that conversation, the two of you walked and shopped some more before leaving. you dropped sasha off at her apartment before arriving to the apartment that you stayed in with jean.

“have fun?” jean was in the kitchen cooking something that caught your attention before you could see.

“yeah.. what you cooking?”

“shrimp alfredo.” you started to make a face because he knew you were allergic to seafood before jean clarified what you were seeing. “no i’m not trying to kill you. there’s a pot of chicken alfredo for you over there.” you smiled as you made yourself a plate.

“thank you johnny~” you grabbed the plate and started to walk to your room with it but jean stopped you.

“you’re welcome— where you going, miss lady?”

“to my room?”

“uh no? we gotta talk. seriously.” you turned around to walk to the kitchen and sat at the island with jean.

“what did you wanna talk about?” you knew what he was gonna talk to you about.

“i know you’re going to the party friday.”

“um.. okay? how?”

“i know everything. look, i just wanted to make sure you know what to do and how to handle yourself. i’m not gonna be there to protect you.”

you rolled your eyes. “sasha said it’s not a party—“

“see? fucking up already. if it’s an event in which there’s drinking, smoking, and people, then it’s a party.”

“okay, fine. whatever, i’m not gonna stay long anyways.”

he smiled. “good. i don’t wanna have to go to jail for some bitch boys on my day off.” you laughed as you finished your food.

“you won’t have to.” jean got up and threw away his empty plate and took yours too.

“i don’t mind. i wouldn’t be able to live with myself if something happened to you.” jean’s words lingered in your mind and you were having second thoughts about going to the party. it was the first one you’ve been to and it really wouldn’t be good if something serious happened. you didn’t wanna worry jean but you also wanted to do something different.

in the end, you decided to go and hoped for the best

#aot #aot x reader #black reader #aot x black reader #connie springer #aot connie #connie springer x black reader

[slutforsilverfoxes]

🔊 Calling my fellow McGarrett girls, gays, and theys:

A McGarrett x reader undercover op at a casino has been begging itself to be written... do I keep going with this? Excerpt below the cut 👀

When your former mentor had contacted you about an opening at her coral reef research lab, moving from Camden to Oahu had been a no brainer. You’d packed up your life in New Jersey and been on a plane to the Aloha State within a week. Your favorite cousin, who’s truthfully more like the big brother you always wanted, had been elated to hear the news, welcoming you at the airport with open arms and two simple rules.

“Always answer the phone when I call so you don’t worry me to death,” Danny had said, holding up one finger, “and two,” he added a second, “you’re an adult and you can date anyone on this island-”

“Thank… you?”

“-but stay away from this schmuck.”

The schmuck in question had simply rolled his eyes, draped a beautiful lei around your neck, and greeted you with a warm hug. “It’s nice to finally meet the famous Y/N. I’m Steve.”

Your confident promise to your cousin had been broken a whopping two months later- and no, you hadn’t ignored one of his phone calls.

“Did you get me a beer?” you ask with a teasing lilt to your voice, wringing out your wet hair before dropping down onto the bench beside your boyfriend of three months. A quick glance around reveals that Danny’s over by the shrimp truck with Kamekona, and you lean forward to steal a kiss before putting some space between yourself and your favorite brunette.

“I surely did not,” Steve sasses back and takes a swig of his ice cold beverage. “Alcohol and diving do not mix. But I did happen to get a mango smoothie from that one place down the road this pretty girl I know really likes.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Mhm,” he responds, a goofy grin spreading across his handsome face. “But, uh, she didn’t show, so I guess you can have it.”

You laugh and give him a playful shove, then let out a content hum as you pop the straw through the lid and take a grateful sip. “So good,” you moan in delight, and Steve has to bite his lip to refrain from making a comment when he spots Danny approaching the table with your regular orders.

“Hey, you.” Your cousin greets you with a kiss on the cheek before taking up residence on the bench across from you and Steve. “Why’re you sitting all the way over there, huh? You like that clown better or somethin’?”

“This guy?” you snort, taking your lunch off the tray and rifling through the napkins in search of a fork.

“Ouch.” Steve winces as if burned by your comment, and you surreptitiously squeeze his thigh beneath the table.

“So tell me about this case you’ve got,” you coax your cousin to change the subject, spearing some grilled veggies on the plastic tines and scooping up a respectable mound of rice on top.

“So there’s a diamond smuggling ring-” Danny starts, and you immediately cut him off with, “Shut up, that doesn’t happen in real life.” You turn to Steve for confirmation, but nothing about his facial expression suggests this is a joke. “Are you serious right now? BFFR, Danno.”

“I don’t- I don’t know what that means. Why are you making me feel old?”

“Be fucking for real,” you and Steve supply in unison, and you smile proudly at him. “You’re learning!”

“Between you and Gracie, I keep up, okay?”

“Oh, between my cousin and my daughter, you- okay, that’s excellent,” Danny says, his tone indicating it’s anything but. “Anyway, they’re using poker games as a cover to uh, collect their product, shall we say.”

“There’s enough rich people on Oahu with actual diamonds?” you ask, incredulous. “And here I am working like a pleb for paper currency.”

“Word,” Steve seconds your statement, raising his beer in a toast. You clink your smoothie against it before taking another refreshing sip. “So how’re you gonna catch them?”

“Well, there’s a high roller tournament on Friday night that we’re betting they’ll hit. We wanted to go in undercover and flush them out but…” Steve trails off and gazes at you thoughtfully, but Danny’s shaking his head before the next words have even formed on the brunette’s lips.

“No, absolutely not. Don’t even think about it, Steve.”

“What?” You turn to him, excitement coursing through your veins at the way his eyes have lit up. “Think about it! And tell me what you’re thinking about.”

“You could go undercover with me to the tournament, help me gather some intel. Maybe we get you to confirm the diamonds are actually in their possession and-”

“No!” Danny chimes in again. “What’s the matter with you, huh? These guys have killed two people already, Steve. It’s too dangerous for her.”

“First off, fuck that-”

“Language.”

With an eye roll, you amend, “Forget that. More importantly, shouldn’t Danny go undercover? You kind of suck at poker, Steve.” You feel a sharp pinch at your side and you yelp in protest, slapping at the SEAL. “It’s true, you little-”

“You’re not going,” Danny says definitively. “What about Tani?”

Steve shakes his head. “Tani and Junior have already questioned two of the men involved. They’ll be made before they even get to the table.”

You cross your arms and level your cousin with a smirk. “Sounds like you need me, Danno.”

“Then I’m going with you,” he declares.

“Yeah, no, hard pass,” you backpedal. “Even as a former thespian, there’s no way I can convincingly play arm candy for you without it being weird.”

“So, it’s settled then, little Williams,” Steve says with a grin. “You and me. Friday night. The high roller table at the Ilikai Hotel.”

#pls help #should i write this? #idk if i like this #i deadass need one person to tell me to write it #and my people pleasing will kick in #i crave validation #steve mcgarrett fanfiction #steve mcgarrett imagine #steve mcgarrett #steve mcgarrett x reader #steve mcgarrett x y/n #steve mcgarrett x female reader #steve mcgarrett x you #steve mcgarrett x reader x danny williams #hawaii five 0 #hawaii five 0 imagine #hawaii five o imagine

[sparklyslug]

i have a bunch of popsicles with prompts on it and i pulled one that said "On the following Friday, we packed our bags and planned our escape"

(THIS GOT LONGER THAN I THOUGHT IT WOULD AHAHAHA TY I'M OBSESSED WITH THIS PROMPT and also want these popsicles)

Eddie closes the door softly behind him, stepping out soundlessly as he can in his favorite fuck-off boots, only to drop his guitar bag in surprise the second he turns around, then letting out a little involuntary yelp as he scrambles to grab it and check for dings and scrapes. 

Steve, who had been apparently taking a goddamn nap on the hood of Eddie’s van, sits up and blinks at him, looking a little grouchy. Like Eddie’s the one who’s being weird and annoying here. 

They look at each other for a second, Eddie fumbling the guitar strap back over his shoulder. 

“Henderson,” he says finally. 

“Uhh…” Steve’s eyebrows rise. 

“Henderson squealed,” Eddie supplies. “Had to have been. Because Little Sinclair lives by a strict no-snitching policy, and she’s the only other person I told.”

“Nope,” Steve says. Slides off the hood of the van, and picks up the duffel bag resting by the front wheel. 

“Did you…talk to Wayne?” Eddie asks, because, okay, that is the only other person he told. And it had been a far less dramatic goodbye than the other two, his own uncle just hugging him tight with a gruff “I understand” while those shrimps had carried on like Eddie had said he was going off to war. 

Which he wasn’t. That was exactly the point, in fact.

“Are we gonna leave any time soon?” Steve says, “Because I don’t know about you, but this side of four a.m. is a little chilly for me.”

Steve does know about Eddie, so he knows that Eddie could call bullshit on that: it is cold, Eddie knows that intellectually, knows that Wayne’s joints are giving him hell at night and the few Hawkinsites who don’t clam up when he comes near are full of small talk about how summer’s really, truly over. But Eddie doesn’t feel it. He’s got his jacket on more for the weight of it, and the security, not because he’s cold. And Steve doesn’t have a jacket at all– bare arms exposed without even a hint of a goosebump. They’re the same. Or, well, shit. They’ve got some weird shit in common now, anyway. 

“You’re not here to stop me?” Eddie asks slowly. 

Steve looks at him. Is kind of frowning, sort of his default hey-I’m-serious-about-this look as an attempt to grasp some kind of authority, often surrounded by a pack of teenagers. But there’s something soft in the way his hands drop to his sides. The way his eyes look big and round and dark in this dim dawn light. 

“No, dude,” he says. “I’m not here to stop you.”

He walks over to Eddie and takes the guitar from his shoulder, fingers slow and careful, gentle even, as they slide between Eddie’s shoulder and the strap. He takes his own duffle from Eddie’s hand. His fingertips are warm. 

“Unlock the car already,” Steve says. “And let’s hit the road.”

Steve falls asleep again almost as soon as they’re out of Hawkins, like he just needed to get the town in his rear mirror and really be sure they were good and gone, before he could relax. And then he’s out like a light, and stays out, even when Eddie gets too caught up glancing at him in the seat next to him and almost swerves into the next lane. But even the (deserved) honks from the other drivers out there don’t rouse him. 

Eddie would love to shake him awake. Demand to know what the fuck is happening here, how Steve Harrington has ended up riding shotgun in Eddie’s van. But, uh. He’s here now, right? And maybe Eddie doesn’t actually want him to change his mind. Maybe he doesn’t actually want to do this on his own, after all. 

Steve doesn’t explain why he’s there when Eddie eventually does shake him awake, four hours later outside a promising-looking greasy spoon of a diner. Steve doesn’t explain why he’s there when Eddie gruffly rejects his offer to drive for a while. Steve doesn’t even ask where they’re going, will ask Eddie about his tape collection and about what he’d been reading lately and what the mural on the inside of the van was about and anything else that seems to come to his mind but not– nothing about what the hell is happening here. 

They stop at a motel that night, and while Eddie goes in to see about a room Steve steps out around the side to make a phone call. When Eddie has the room key in hand and is coming around to find him, he’s not like. Trying to be quiet or sneaky or anything. Maybe Steve is just too focused on what he’s saying, doesn’t hear Eddie come up behind him.

“--Not like that, Robin, I told you,” Steve is saying in a hushed, intent undertone. 

Eddie freezes. Okay. Maybe he is a little bit trying to be sneaky. He’d just love to know what all this is like. 

“Eddie’s not a baby,” Steve says, shoulders raised up around his ears defensively. “He doesn’t need me to– he doesn’t need me. I’m the one that–”

Eddie doesn’t make a sound, he knows he doesn’t, but Steve jerks around suddenly. He’s expecting a frown, at least a look of surprise. He’s not expecting the way Steve’s shoulders come down, his face smoothing over, eyes landing on Eddie with a sparkle, a brightening, almost a look of–

“I’ll call you tomorrow,” Steve says, blinking rapidly, now frowning a little bit, like he’s just remembered he’s supposed to. “Say hi to the brats for me, if you see them.” And he hangs up.

“Reporting back to your better half?” Eddie asks. 

“Ugh,” Steve steps away from the phone. “You get the room?”

“Sure did,” Eddie says. “Compliments of Uncle Sam.” He could ask. But he doesn’t. 

“Lead the way,” Steve says. 

Steve doesn’t say anything when they get to the room, not even when they realize simultaneously that there’s just one bed. It’s big enough for the both of them, and Eddie’s not worried about it because like—the whole crew of them, they’ve slept in weirder, less comfortable configurations than this. He and Steve even, though weirdly, there has tended to be at least another person in the room at least, every time. But he knows he sleeps like the dead once’s he’s out, doesn’t move much. Doesn’t gravitate towards a warm body, just because it’s there. He’s pretty sure Steve is the same.

So there’s nothing to worry about. There’s nothing to worry about. To prove it, Eddie maintains a dumbass monologue on his impressions of the motel desk clerk and her choices in hair color while he sheds his jeans and slides under the covers, not looking to see what Steve is going to wear to bed. Falls silent only when Steve turns out the light and gets in too, like the switch flipped on his ramblings too.

“Level with me,” Eddie says at last, turning over to face Steve. “How did you really know I was going to be leaving today. El give you a–” he wiggles his fingers in the dark, even if Steve can’t see them, “ –sneaky peek at my plans?”

“Eddie,” Steve laughs. “I didn’t find out from anyone. You told me.”

“The hell I did,” Eddie says immediately. 

“Last week?” Steve says. “After the uh–”

“The ambush,” Eddie says grimly, and then with a breath of realization. Because yeah, there had been the sit-down with those tombstone-gace military ghouls, the calm steady tones about skill sets and applicable knowledge and for the good of all, all of them lined up listening and nodding along in a neat row like pins in a bowling alley. Ready and happily waiting for the strike. 

And after, they’d–

“You dragged me to the Hideout, finally,” Steve laughed. “And we all got, uh. We all got a little drunk.”

Eddie puts his hands over his face. Shit. 

“I guess that’s what happens when you let the Russian suggest a drinking game,” Eddie mutters. “Though I really thought I had mostly remembered that night.”

“But not the part when it was just us? After Murray got everyone out on the dancefloor?”

“Hideout doesn’t have a dancefloor.”

“Well, Murray decided it did that night. And then it was just the two of us, at the table, because you hated the music and I, uh– I didn’t feel like being anywhere near the sight of Hopper cutting a rug.”

“Cutting a rug, huh?” Eddie says, somehow sure that wasn’t the reason. 

“Yeah, you weren’t impressed when I said it then, either,” Steve laughs. The bed shakes a little bit with it. “We were sitting at the table, and you had your. Uh. Your arm around me. And you were just ranting about some shit, I don’t even remember, but then you stopped all of a sudden. Tipped your head against mine, and you said–”

Oh shit, Eddie’s hands are in fists now. “What did I say?” He says now, slowly. 

“You said, ‘I’m not cut out for the lab rat life, man. And neither are you,’” Eddie laughs in surprise, because shit yeah, that’s a thought he’s had. “And you said, ‘I’m gonna play out the week, be on good behavior and get my shit together, and then Friday I’m getting the fuck out of here. Stealing away in the dead of night, before they can stop me. And you’re coming with me.’”

“I was drunk,” Eddie says, heart hammering and shit. 

“Yeah, but you meant it,” Steve says. “I could tell that you meant it.”

“You could tell I meant it,” Eddie repeats slowly. “And you showed up.”

“Sure,” Steve rolls onto his side now, facing Eddie. It’s too dark to make out his face in much detail, but he can see the sharp line of his nose, the shadow of his eyelashes as they brush across his cheeks. The upward twist of his lips. “You told me to. So I did.”

Eddie kisses Steve three weeks from now. They’ll be just fifteen miles south of the Canadian border, set up in a campsite under the stars. Far enough away for no one to think it strange, that they’re both in light jackets with winter in the wind around them. For no one to see, when Eddie takes Steve’s face in both hands, turning him towards him, to see those eyes glittering with starlight. Brings their lips together, a sweet and urgent heat, that Steve laughs into as he pulls Eddie closer. 

That’s when Eddie kisses Steve. Not now, in this hotel room, just a day away from Hawkins but feeling like it’s a whole lifetime behind them already. But now, now is when Eddie knows that he will.

#this is very rough but i had fun #my fic #prompts #asks #steddie as she goes boys #mop

[thesunshineriptide]

Idia, Floyd, and Riddle with a g/n s/o who’s autistic and has issues with randomly becoming mute, mostly in very social places or around people they aren’t comfortable with, so they use ASL to communicate a lot

Haha fucking mood honestly. Legiterally I learned some basic sign specifically because I go nonverbal too. I don’t go around people though so I’m pretty rusty smfbsjnfdksndka anyway thank you for the request anon sorry for the wait

No Words Left Unsaid

Characters: Idia, Floyd, Riddle

CW// PDA, Meltdowns, Overstimulation, Nonverbal, fluff, Floyd leech typical behavior

Floyd

Floyd doesn’t always do the right thing, or the best thing, or the nicest thing, but if you’re important to him then he doesn’t want you to get hurt.

First time he encounters you going mute, he assumes someone did something.

This is a trauma thing, right?

He’s seen that before.

But when you tell him it’s just because you’re overwhelmed, he…kinda gets it?

He had that experience coming on land for the first time, and he still has it every once in a while, so he can relate even if it isn’t an every day thing.

He might ask what you want him to do in that situation, and when you explain he just sits quietly before he nods and says he’ll try.

Dude learns asl in three days by reading a book once and can remember about 45% of it when the first occasion he needs it comes up.

Also asks if you’re okay with touching when that happens and. Well let’s hope you are because if not oops bad stim he did it anyway (not maliciously just forgor)

Tap tap tap

Floyd turned to look at his partner, eyebrow raised. He watched them make hand gestures.

One hand with a thumb sticking up, the other one flat, palm facing up. Fist on palm.

Floyd watched as they repeated the gesture, looking more upset.

He blinked as it clicked, and nodded. Help. He turned to the person he was talking to.

“This is boring. Me an’ Shrimpy are gonna go do better stuff.”

With that, he promptly picked you up bridal style, walking away from the crowded hall. Everyone scattered as he walked, giving him a wide berth as he carried you outside.

“You okay, Shrimpy?”

A hand made into a fist, two fingers clenched to stick up. Hand moving up and down. Yes.

He continued walking for a while, simply holding his partner close. Sure, they could walk, but that’s his Shrimpy. Eels gotta protect their shrimps, and nobody would bother them if he was right there.

You didn’t particularly seem to mind either, content to lean against him as he walked. The rhythmic motion and the sound of his heartbeat and breathing seemed to help reset your autonomic nervous system, and having him just quietly carry you around was a good stim.

In an uncharacteristically Floyd way, he didn’t say a word until you tapped him again.

“I’m okay now.” You said quietly.

He smiled at that, and sunshine seemed to ooze out of him.

“Good! What was that about?”

You waved a hand, “‘s nothing, just overstimulated. Can you put me down now?”

He pouted mockingly, squeezing you closer, “But Shrimpy~” he whined, pressing his face into your hair, “Holding you is so nice. You’re like a stuffed animal, but warm. And cute. And you snuggle back.”

You laughed and settled in, pressing a kiss to his cheek, “Fiiiiine, I suppose I don’t mind being carried too much…”

Famous. Last. Words.

Riddle

Riddle is also autistic and also has breakdowns so he knows the feel.

Unfortunately, he doesn’t know what’s going on when it happens in front of him though because he’s never seen anyone else do it.

So he ends up making it worse the first time, but after having a long talk with you about it he immediately attempts to be better.

Probably didn’t know asl before you, but you bet he’s learning it now.

He also keeps a pad of paper on hand in case you have something much faster to say to him.

When you explain you just need some patience and to leave the room, he’s immediately making plans on what that looks like.

There’s only a little bump in the road but it’s fine

Luckily, you have each other now.

Riddle felt you gently grasp at his wrist. He turned to look, and there you were, breathing a little heavy and moving to hold your hands up.

He didn’t even need to read the sign, he immediately knew what you were asking, but nonetheless, he waited for you to verbalize it just in case.

Flat, open, dominant hand, fingers all held together. motion of flicking your flat palm away from your body, as if shooing something. Away.

He nodded, “We’ll only be a moment,” he excused himself from his conversation to offer you his arm, and you two left the room silently.

He took you down a quiet hallway and stood guard, letting you collect yourself as quick or as slow as you wished.

“Are you alright, love?” He asked when it seemed like you’d collected yourself. “Would you like me to get you some water?”

“I’m okay,” you said softly, turning to hug him. He was gentle and nervous as he hugged back. “I’d love something to drink. Sorry to pull you away.”

“It’s no issue,” he assured, pressing a kiss to your check, “You’re never an issue. I’ll get you that drink. Do you want to come back to the party or do you wish to retire early?”

You shrugged, “I’m…I think I’m done for the night.”

His face was stern as always, but his eyes were just concerned. “I will retire early too, then. I’ll get you your drink and say my goodbyes, if you’ll give me a few moments. Then we can go back to the dorm, is that alright?”

“Yeah, of course,” you replied, gripping his hand tightly for a moment, “Thank you, Riddle. I love you so much.”

He flushed and smiled a little, squeezing your hand back, “I love you too, darling. I’ll only be a moment, and then we can do whatever you’d like…within reason, of course.”

“Within reason.” You agreed, smiling as his form retreated back to the party.

‘Within reason’ turned out to be drinking tisanes and infodumping about various topics for a few hours in the Heartslabyul lounge. You and Riddle talked about everything from the prefect texture of cake, to hedgehog tending, to magical history, to the nature of magestone, to your current fixation, to your home and everything you loved to do as a child. What a night.

Idia

If you’re dating Idia, you’ll probably never be in a situation like the first two.

There are no crowded hallways you’ll be trapped in with him or fancy parties you’ll have to attend because he, also, doesn’t want to go to them.

He too is autistic and hates social gatherings and would honestly rather curl up in a ball and DIE than be stuck there.

However, that isn’t to say he doesn’t help you.

Because evidently, you have to be around people (ew) and if you’re stuck around the Normies, he can’t leave you defenseless.

Idia sat at his computer, eyes flicking between the screen, a tablet, a monitor just above it, and you - you, who was currently standing in a vocal booth just ten feet away. He double checked every input and output a third time, then looked up and smiled brightly at you, giving you a thumbs up.

“We’re good to go. Start with vowel sounds, please.”

“On it!” You grinned, then began to recite every vowel sound every way possible. Accented, non accented, soft, long, short, spread, tall.

Idia gave you a thumbs up, and you began consonants in the same manner.

“Now, say words and phrases you think are most important.” he instructed.

“I’m tired. I’m nonverbal. I need to leave now. I’m hungry. Please. Thank you. No problem. Player one, come in player one. I love you.” You said, loosening up as you continued to babble.

Idia flushed behind the screen, and he thought he had done a good job of hiding it, except the tips of his hair were pink and bathed the room in a rose gold glow.

“G-good choices,” he tried to joke, flustered beyond belief.

“My boyfriend is Idia Shroud.” You added, grinning cheekily.

“I’ll make a special b-button for that.” He winked in a way that was probably supposed to be charming but mostly came off as dorkishly cute.

You cooed, pretending to swoon in the vocal booth. “Did you need anything else?”

He hummed, then shook his head, typing away furiously, “I think that’s enough. I’m almost done, just gotta plug this into the program aaaaand…”

The tablet beeped, then chirped, then booted up a loading screen that looked like a notes app.

Idia grinned and held it close, typing something into it.

“I love Idia Shroud.” The tablet said in your voice. It sounded just like you, inflection and all.

You grinned and took the tablet from him, giving him a kiss on the tip of his nose, “It’s true, the tablet doesn’t lie. Thanks, player one.”

Idia was back to making the room look like a sunset, and he swiveled in his desk chair, “I love you too, player two.”

#twisted wonderland #twst headcanons #twisted wonderland headcanons #twst #floyd leech #twst mc #riddle rosehearts #twst riddle #twst floyd #idia shroud #twst idia #autism :)

[munsons-maiden]

I’ve collected my thoughts on this whole mess. One last rant and a first little fix it blurb before I get back to writing Eddie all the million happy endings he deserves.

I’ve been through some fucked up shit in my life. But this grief and heartbreak I’m feeling right now is something completely else. I never felt so much pain, and it’s safe to say something in me broke irreversibly watching that scene. Stranger Things has always been my comfort show, from the moment S1Ep1 aired. It was the fairy tale that taught me, no matter how horrible things get, no matter how desperate things might seem, how the shadows in our heads can make us freeze and lock us up in our own minds: all monsters can be beaten.

And yesterday they took that from me. The moment Eddie jumped that table in the cafeteria, I knew something had changed and that Stranger Things would never again be the same without him. I never fell so fast and so deeply for a character. My mind has that horrible habit to pick the flaws of a character I love and twist them until I see so many parallels to my own abuser that I can’t 100% enjoy my love for this character - but with Eddie, it couldn’t do that. Eddie was, is, too pure of heart, too kind and gentle and sweet for even the demons in my mind to twist him.

That’s why I know I will never stop loving him, never stop thinking of him whenever I need comfort, never stop writing and pouring out all my heart to give him the stories he deserves, and why I know I will never love a character as much as I will always love Eddie.

I don’t think the Duffers will ever grasp what he means to so many of us. Stranger Things, the main cast they’re so scared of touching or changing, are as frozen in time as the Upside Down.

I want to believe that they’ll bring Eddie back, that reason for why this scene felt so surreal and horrible and off is that they have plans to somehow raise him from the dead, and there’s a tiny little spark in me that still clings to this hope against all odds, but that’s the only reason why I’ll watch season 5. To take it and write Eddie into it because that’s what he deserves.

So, on this blog, he’s alive and kicking. Dustin had to leave him there, but Eddie woke up. He woke up in this cold, dark realm, those tiny particles floating around him like a flurry of snow, pain searing through his body, blood coating his lips - but he was alive. He dragged himself to the rip (”Holy shit fuck what the Hell man that’s what I nearly fucking died for? Henderson you little shrimp I hope you got more of that duct tape somewhere because we’re gonna need a shit ton of it to fix this fucking mess”). He crawled out of the Upside Down. To his trailer, to home. He imagined Henderson’s face, Wayne’s, seeing him alive, imagined walking that stage and snatching that Diploma...but the smile slipped from Eddie’s face as he realized that this town wasn’t his home anymore. That no tear in the ground would ever clear his name because people didn’t want that. He’d always been the freak, and outcast, bullied for being different...and to believe it was somehow his doing would always be easier than achnowledging the truth that there were far more horrid things going on in Hawkins, far more monstrous dangers. Hawkins wasn’t his home anymore.

He could start over. A big city, somewhere were his being different was good because there were more people like him, who loved metal and D&D and Lord Of The Rings. Find some job, in a record store even maybe. He scoffed. He wouldn’t have passed O’Donnell’s goddamn final anyway.

So Eddie turned. And walked away. Into the woods. He didn’t know where he was going; only what he was leaving behind - but he would come back one day. Just not today.

#eddie munson #stranger things #stranger things 4 #st4 spoilers #stranger things 4 spoilers #tw abuse #tw anxiety

[cartoonfanaticmonsterrobotalien]

Solar Opposites in Mighty Solars Issue #34: Creature of The Dark Water Ch. 3

As the Mighty Solars prepare to put on their scuba gear, they then noticed the Wall People staring at them suspiciously and nervously. One of them was even holding a Jesse shield in fear as he coward behind.

Korvo/Qausarblast: Okay, I think this is gonna be harder than we thought.

Terry/Mighton: Yumyulack, how many people did you shrunk?!

Yumyulack/Vil-Gil-An-T: I don’t like hundred, thousand, I don’t know.

Phoebe gives Yumyulack and Jesse a stern look as she pushes them to the front of the Wall People.

Phoebe/Starburst: Okay kids, that’s it! Have anything you like to these… Wallians?

Yumyulack/Vil-Gil-An-T: Yeah uh, you guys are crazy?

Phoebe/Starburst: gives Yumyulack and Jesse a stern look again as Yumyulack yelps

Jesse/Fung-irl: Just fucking apologize already!

Yumyulack/Vil-Gil-An-T: I’m sorry for shrinking you guys because I thought you were all a bunch of jerkasses. To Cherie Oh and for shrinking you because you gave me shrimp but I didn’t want any shrimp, and I believe it could die from it.

Cherie: Oh yeah, my job is very hard.

Yumyulack/Vil-Gil-An-T: Yeah, anyways I’m sorry I ruined your lives! I’m sorry I made you all crazy worshippers! I’m sorry made your lives miserable! And I’m sorry I got most of you killed! That was my bad. looks down in shame

The Wall People: confused chattering

Jesse Worshipper #1: But we sort of like it.

Yumyulack/Vil-Gil-An-T: I know but… well… I didn’t like the fact that I made my sister look like an idol, when she’s really just a kid. To Jesse Sorry sis.

Jesse/Fung-irl: That’s okay Yumbear. To the Wall People But why are you guys seeing me as a goddess?

Mia: Because, you provided us clothes, food and all the stuff we need to survive. You were like a savior brought down from the heavens to save us!

Jesse/Fung-irl: But, I’m not a goddess. I’m just a kid, who wants to like a boys’ inner butt. I just wanted to be treated normal.

Wall People (except for Cherie and Montez): Aaawww.

Phoebe/Starburst: sighs Thank you kids, to the Wall People Now, what do you all have to say to Jesse and the rest of the family?

Wall People: Sorry Jesse.

Jesse/Fung-irl: sighs in relief Thank you guys. Come on Yum, let’s go get our underwater gear on. turns back the Wall People Oh and you can’t tell anyone about our secret identities too.

Wall People: Oh yeah. Definitely. Okay. You got it Jesse I mean Fung-irl.

As Vil-Gil-An-T and Fung-irl leaves to go get on their scuba gear, Cherie then approaches Starburst, while holding Pezlie in her arms.

Phoebe/Starburst: sighs Kids.

Cherie: I know right? laughs

Phoebe/Starburst: Yeah, well they’re my kids. By the way, my real name is Phoebe MacCarthy. What’s yours?

Cherie: Cherie. This is Pezlie my daughter.

Phoebe/Starburst: Hi Pezlie. tickles Pezlie under her chin

Pezlie: cooing

The Mighty Solars finished putting on their scuba gears as they prepare to head inside the water.

Korvo/Qausarblast: Come on Starburst, let’s get going!

Phoebe/Starburst: Got it! To Cherie Be right back soon.

Cherie smiles back as Phoebe blushes furiously and smiles. The Mighty Solars then ready their diving positions.

Korvo/Qausarblast: Mighty Solars, dive! Dive!

The Mighty Solars dive in the river as the Wall People watches anxiously.

#solar opposites #solar opposites au #solar opposites mighty solars #solar opposites: mighty solars #mighty solars #phoebe/starburst #phoebe maccarthy #jesse/fung irl #yumyulack/vil gil an t #korvo/quasarblast #terry/mighton #pupa/the mighty pupa #monica/lightspeed #monica miller #montez the wall #cherie the wall #cherie x phoebe #scuba diving

[lovevalley45]

#fictober22 day two

"Nobody warned you about me?"

original fiction (power payback)

word count: 605

Emery groaned as he stumbled into the locker room. Beginner’s luck, some would call it, that he showed up to the Blue Spade and won on his first night. But he didn’t feel like a winner. 

As soon as the door swung shut behind him, he shucked off the dark clothes he’d worn to conceal his metal scars and hopped into one of the showers. They had the little toiletries from the hotel above, how about that?

He had been scrubbing the shampoo through his curls (though it was definitely not designed for his type of hair) when the door banged open. “Is there an Emery Gori here?” a voice called out. 

“I’m in the shower!” he shouted back, before facepalming. 

He heard footsteps approaching. “Grab the towel and get out here.”

Emery rinsed the shampoo out of his hair and shut off the water before he blindly stuck his hand out for the towel. While he wrapped the towel around his waist, he almost thought about sucking in, but who was he really trying to impress? 

“Come on, I don’t have all day.”

He rolled his eyes as he yanked the curtain open. Leaning against the lockers was a gangly person in a suit that he recognized from all of Eld’s people. Their long straight hair was an unnatural cherry Kool-Aid color, falling in a perfect curtain to obscure their face until they turned to face him. 

They snorted, glancing at Emery in his towel. “Nobody warned you about me?”

Emery tried to remember his exchange when he had asked to added to the night’s roster. The woman had been more concerned about Eld not getting sued if he injured himself than actually preparing him. “No, they did not. Who the hell are you?”

“Call me Red. I handle the books around here, especially regarding this whole operation.” They held out a hand.

He stepped forward and went to shake it. Their hand was ice-cold, the chill quickly running through the metal scars under his skin until he let go. Emery shivered. 

“Generally, shrimps like you have to be carried out of here on a stretcher,” Red said, ignoring his shiver. “Impressive show.”

“Thanks,” he said. He’d dealt with plenty of beatings during his life; some against his will, some voluntary. Holding his own hadn’t been something he’d worried about. “I did a few years of boxing. Not professionally or anything.”

“I’m not gonna pretend I know about the technical stuff. All I know is you fought good, alright?” Red rummaged around in the pocket of their suit jacket, before pulling out an envelope. “It seems like you’re in a rush to get out of here, so here’s your winnings. But winners drink free.”

He took the envelope. It was thick with cash. Harder to track, he supposed. “Doesn’t seem like a good business move.”

Red grinned. “Winners become losers eventually.”

Emery stuck in the envelope in his bag and turned back to them. “Well, I’ve got my actual job in the morning and I can’t show up hungover. So I’ll pass.”

“Suit yourself, metalmouth,” they said. “See you next time, Mercury.”

As they headed out, he turned to the mirror. Sure enough, where his lip had been split, metal was already starting to form over it. He winced as he felt it. Shit. That was gonna be hard to hide.  

He grabbed the cash and counted out the bills. It was definitely enough to help him cover rent and definitely enough to give Mercury a reason to go back into the ring. 

Fuck it, he could pass it off as a piercing anyways. 

#alli writes shit #fictober22 #power payback #emery gori #red pp

[fangedfaefreak]

TW: Going to rant about Christianity for a hot second, fyi. I will be quoting verses. I just don’t want to put this on my main in case the guy I argued with sends his buddies after that account bc I really shouldn’t have argued but I did, so🤷🏻 Call me a chicken for blocking them, but I am already triggered and on edge and I’m not about to make it 20x worse. Religion is sooo fucky for us and I really don’t need to keep surrounding myself in that pile of garbage. Putting a read more bc I definitely get blasphemous and I know some religious trauma folks follow our sys account and could see this AND some Christians follow us there too. (I love you, I know you’re not like the ones that hurt us.) This post is made by Vivian, btw. Duh, it’s my account lol.

Got in an argument on main with a Christian🙄

“My book of fables that I often take as absolute truth and completely out of context despite it being written and mistranslated so many times it’s not funny AND I will only use the parts that will further MY agenda and ignore the rest. So here you go: witches are evil.”

Okay. But you wear cotton blend shirts, I’m sure? And have eaten shrimp?

And man, I sure know that Christians enjoy ritual prostitution! That’s literally considered ritually offensive! (Kings 14:23) Doesn’t stop them though! :))) Because why would it?

Not to mention in Christianity it literally says that the Old Testament, while it should still be considered, should not be followed. Rather, the New Testament should be followed. That’s why Christianity has the New Testament rather than just the Old like Jewish folks.

“But Vivi! The New Testament talks about witches too!”

Yeah, they sure do.

In Revelations 22:15 it says that witches will not receive eternal life. (Which…why the fuck would they care about the Christian eternal life anyway lmfao) “Outside are the dogs, those who practice magic arts, the sexually immoral, the murderers, the idolaters and everyone who loves and practices falsehood.”

Weird, I sure know a lot of Christians who fall under that category^^ And yet they still preach and use their religion to get what they want. Fucking disgusting!

And this is not bashing on every single Christian ever, there are a lot of good Christians that don’t use their religion to push their own agenda, but it’s just so gross to see these people on tumblr of all places, especially since they tagged their original post as witchcraft rather than fucking Christian tags. Like I’m sorry I don’t wanna see that on my dash, you’re not going to magically convert me by calling me a heathen and saying I’m going to hell and that I have daddy issues.🙄 Get a grip on your fucking ego holy shit.

I can cherry-pick verses too. Easy peasy. We studied the Bible obsessively for years. Then we realized how fucked it all was and how much hatefulness comes from people misusing it. No thank you.

Gonna try to tag the religious trauma tags and tw tags but I’m turning off reblogs in case any assholes try to clown on this vent post.

-Vivi

#religion tw #religious tw #religious trauma tw #personal post #vivian #🦷 #gonna avoid the x tian tags as much as possible because I don’t want to get shit on here either #do not interact #likes okay I don’t want comments though #this is a rant and a vent through and through

[pleasantanathema]

Reiner Braun | Instinctual Invitations

Pairing: Reiner Braun x Fem!Reader

Rating: Explicit (18+ Only)

Warnings: ABO Dynamics (Alpha Reiner x Omega Reader), Breeding, Marking, Mating, Knotting, Heats, Ruts, Frenemies to Lovers

Word Count: 5k

A/N: Part of my Nine Muses Event to celebrate 9k! Follow the link to read other fanfics I’m writing to celebrate. This was definitely a labor of love. I’ve fallen back into my appreciation for ABO dynamics, and Reiner just screams “perfect mate” to me. 💜

          No one made suppressants stronger than Hange. They never divulged just what was in their special concoction, but all you knew was that it was damn near impossible for someone to discern that you were an Omega.

           You’d even fooled that naive, arrogant, hubristic Alpha partner of yours for years. There was a particular disdain you held for Reiner. You could never really name it, but all you knew was that working with the giant man made your instincts sour. He seemed so good on the outside, all prideful charm and heavy pats on the shoulders of his peers, but when the two of you worked cases alone, his charisma always had a bite to it.

           Maybe it was because he could tell there was something equally off about his “Beta” partner, maybe it was because he had some pent up rage inside him he only let seep out around you. You didn’t know, you didn’t care. You were patiently waiting for him to be re-assigned to the Behavioral Science Unit like he’d requested last month, but Erwin’s dawdling with the request had you worried he wasn’t about to separate his most successful Scout partners, even if they didn’t get along.

           “Is my bow tie straight?”

          Reiner asked you to hold his drink while he fiddled with the offending cloth.

           “Yeah.”

           “You didn’t even look.”

           The whiskey from his glass was expensive, sliding down smooth when you took a drink. Rei let out a very frustrated noise, so loud and huffy it had the guests of the award ceremony glancing toward him. The hotel ballroom was crowded, filled with elites from Military Police, Scouts, even the fucking Garrison. There were too many people here to watch you and Reiner stumble over the acceptance speech; there were too many people here to judge that Scouts were being awarded this time around.

           “Now your fucking lipstick is all over it.”

           “Oh please, it tastes like cherries, you’ll get over it.”

           Both of you were nervous, flattered but timid about being given a Meritorious Achievement Award for all your fieldwork done killing and documenting titans around the outer-wilds of the city. Fighting for survival in the trees was less stressful than trying to make a good impression on the brass as you received one of the highest honors.

           You took another gulp of his drink before passing it back, trying to stave off the very worrisome nerves twisting in your gut. Sweat was forming at the nape of your neck, staining your palms. You shifted uncomfortably in your heels, feet feeling heavy.

           It made you feel some better that the usually proud Alpha next to you was just as worried about giving a speech in front of Dhalis Zachary. The Premier was known for being strict, for demanding that military appearance be of the highest standard in front of donors.

          Reiner was still fucking with his tie, angry muscles about to rip the threads of his tuxedo.

          “You look fine,” you sighed, toning back the bitterness. You moved away from the balcony railing, wrapping your fingers around the black polyester ribbon and tightening it into sitting straight under his square jaw. But for some reason, you couldn’t let go, nails gripping into the fabric.

          “Are you okay? You looked scared to shit,” Reiner plucked your hands off his tie, holding a wrist in each burning hand, “I can do all the talking, you know. You can just stand there and look pretty.”

          “Y-yeah, I’m fine.” You weren’t. You knew this feeling, it was old and familiar, a churning pain laced with need slowly brewing in your belly, making you sick.

          But your suppressants would take care of the issue, surely it was just your nerves that were making those heats you’d forsaken start to claw at you.

          You hadn’t gone through a heat cycle in three years. Hange had suggested you take time off once a year to let your body go through it’s natural process, but you’d been so damn busy that you’d neglected to do so. Besides, you never had any issues, just a few flare ups when a particularly good looking Alpha close to their rut got near you.

          This time was different, though, you could feel it. This flame wasn’t going to be extinguished once it got started—you’d have to go home after the gala and curl up, stop taking the suppressants in the morning so your heat could come to life in the next few days.

          God you dreaded that feeling, cunt always quivering and squeezing around nothing, sweating in a blanket nest that only carried your scent and maybe a lingering, nameless male scent from a one-night stand.

          “Hey,” Rei moved his hands to rest on your shoulders, shaking you, “get your shit together. We’ll be awarded in a few hours and then we can go the fuck home. Tired of being around your bitchy ass anyways.”

          His hands were too hot. They were sweaty like yours, making you feel dizzy.

          “I’m gonna be sick.”

          You could feel it. Reiner could smell it.

          “What the fuck is wrong with y—”

          He dropped the last syllable, golden eyes turning into molten amber the moment your scent hit him full force. You thought he’d take his hands off, that he’d give you some space, but those instincts to protect must have taken over because he was pulling you closer like that would help.

          “You’re a Beta, you don’t go into—”

          “Omega, Rei. I’m a fucking Omega and I don’t need you telling anyone about it.”

          You whispered your confession, eyes going glassy as you looked around the room, saw faces turning in your direction. Most of the old men here were mated, but that didn’t mean the building brew of the heat of an unmarked Omega wouldn’t catch their attention. Your neck throbbed, scent glands betraying you and pumping beneath your skin.

          You felt like clawing at Reiner’s chest, digging your fingers into the perfectly pressed designer shirt and burying your face into it to be overwhelmed by Alpha presence. You thought you could stave this off, but the nerves, this proximity to an Alpha...you needed to get the fuck out of here.

          “You’re going to have to take the award for-for both of us,” oh now you were stuttering, you were losing it, Reiner’s deeply masculine scent making you feel like a puddle. You hated these instincts, hated how it made you feel weak, hated how he smelled like the most inviting bakery and familiarity and how it made you want to fall to your knees and beg for the aching hole between your legs to be stuffed.

          “You can’t get home on your own, do you know how many Alphas would kill for—”

          You were pulling away from him, grabbing your purse so you could scrounge for those emergency suppressants to hopefully curtail this heat.

          The pills were absent, your resolve fading as you felt like crumpling into the floor and clutching your stomach. You knew people were starting to notice, noses in the air to find out where the overly sweet smell of an Omega was coming from.

          “I don’t need your help.”

          “Who else knows?” You didn’t like how the rumble of his voice made your skin tingle, made your panties feel too tight, wet.

          “Hange, Levi, the higher ups. They know, they saw it on my app-application. Said it would be…” you were starting to lose your train of coherent thoughts.

          “...best if no one knew?”

          Omegas were scarce. Omegas were weak. But you’d proven yourself in your training, you were too valuable for Commander Erwin to deny your approval into the Scouts.

          “Just—just tell people I got sick. That the stupid little shrimp hors d'oeuvres... f-fuck me,” you meant to say something else, something like they fucked with me, but all you could think about was how those strong hands felt on your shoulders and how they would feel so good pawing at your hips as he plowed into you to relieve your stress.

          Making a beeline out of the ornate, crowded ballroom, you had to excuse yourself as you bumped into a few backs and sides, stumbling over your feet as the clawing need in your stomach made you lose focus. You just had to get home. Grab a cab. Hope it’s not an Alpha driving, just get home to your nesting pillows and bury your fingers into your—

          Reiner was calling your name. If he was your Alpha you’d be stopping in your tracks to listen to his commands, but he wasn’t. He was your terrible, annoying...strong, capable, definitely had a fat cock…

          You didn’t know what you were thinking about when he finally caught up to you, pushing you outside the front doors. You wished it was winter, but it was a hot summer night, which just made the heat in your body worse, made your scent heavier, floating on the humidity. And there were people around, lobby boys taking in bags and tired families dragging their feet inside. Still the fresh air felt good, or at least it did, until Reiner invaded it with his scent again.

          “I’ll get you home,” he placed his hand on your lower back, palm touching bare, tender skin from the low cut of your dress, and you came undone. You pressed yourself into his thick chest, wrapping your arms around him and fisting them into the back of his shirt. You could hear him grunt at the contact, the two of you never the type of partners to go beyond a pat on the back or a punch to the arm.

          “N-not gonna make it home…”

          “Fucking shit I always knew there was something different about you.”

          He was dragging you back into the hotel, firm hand around your wrist.

          “I can’t help how I was born.”

          “Yeah but you could have fucking told me.”

          You quit your bickering as Reiner paid for a hotel room, you pressed to his side and trying to mask the scent of ripe, ready to fuck Omega underneath simmering Alpha. You snatched the key card on the counter from a very concerned concierge, listening but not really as she explained there were special rates for those in heat.

          “I didn’t want you to know.”

          People were staring now, the smell of Omega becoming so heavy it even bothered you. Rei tucked his arm around your waist, leading you toward the elevators. There was a sour, thirsty taste in your mouth as you listened to your heels clink upon the marbled floor. The scent of arousal was on him, but it wasn’t his fault, just his biology reacting to yours.

          You straightened your shoulders as you saddled up next to him in the elevator, watching the doors slowly close.

          “Reiner—”

          “Shut up.”

          He was on you in an instant, heavy body pressing you into the mirrored wall.

          “I should have known,” his voice was low, like he was divulging a secret, “a little Omega under my nose all long.”

          You gasped as one of his hands skimmed up your thigh, thumb swirling circles upon your skin.

          “D-don’t do this here, I can’t—” you couldn’t take it, you were putty in his hands, already looping a leg around his thigh and fussing with the buttons on his shirt. You needed to feel his skin, needed to drown in the scent of an Alpha.

          You were half way through peeling his shirt off his pectorals, that goddamn bowtie still in place, when your throat began to hurt. Reiner actually laughed at you when you paused your hasty undressing, having to cradle the left side of your neck as your scent glands throbbed, begging for teeth to be sunk into the sensitive skin to be marked, claimed.

          “Don’t you dare think about m-marking me,” god you wouldn’t be able to stop stuttering until you were stuffed with something, until you were able to chase away the aches before they returned again in a few hours.

          “But isn’t that what little Omegas want?” He was toying with you, grin so cocky you felt like sinking your thumbs into his smile and hurting him. His fingers were under your dress, dangerously close to your aching sex. His hand was so hot against your skin, so calloused and strong. You felt like Icarus, like you were flying too close to the sun. The pad of his index finger curled against your panties and you could have sworn you were already burning.

          You lifted your lips to catch his, only to have him turn his cheek as the elevator chimed, signaling your arrival to your floor.

          You followed in his steps, tracing your dress hem from where his giant palm had touched it, your fingers moving it even higher to try to alleviate the warmth stemming from between your legs. The keycard was heavy in your hand, like it was about to open a door to something wicked.

          “I-I can take care of this myself,” your placed your back against the door to your room, “and I’ll pay you back for the fees, just let me—”

          “Just let you what? Go fuck yourself in misery for the next five days?”

          God he looked so tempting, so big. He towered over you, scents of sex and earth and spice, like black cardamum and the bitter burn of peppers. You wanted to sink your fingers into his blonde hair and pull, pull him down to you, into you.

          But you reminded yourself you’d be patiently waiting for him to leave your life. Mating with him could have him sticking around, could have the two of you fucking up and getting attached.

          “Y-you have to accept the award,” you were literally slipping into the floor, gut twisting so badly that it felt like you were being ripped apart, your heat bursting into full bloom after his teasing touches. Reiner caught your upper arms to keep you up, making you whimper, and you knew the last thing you wanted was to be alone, even if it meant ruining yourself on Reiner’s cock.

          “Your scent has made me harder than I’ve ever been in my fucking life. I paid for the room because I’m staying in it, sweetheart.”

          He took the card from your weak fingers and shoved it into the reader, a big, heavy palm pressing against your stomach and pushing you into the open doorway. He kept his fingers on you, twisting his knuckles into the fabric of your dress.

          “Rei, don’t—”

          “I’m so fucking tired of playing games with you.”

          The threads snapped with a twist of his wrist, the delicate front of your dress parting as the heavy hotel door slammed shut. His hands were rough, quick, tearing and pawing at your dress, your bra, and all you could do was moan and kick your heels off to be forgotten on the floor.

          He pulled his crisp black jack off his shoulders, tossing it onto a desk chair, trousers and everything underneath following.

          “I-I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.” You were already on him, pressing your naked chest to his and standing on your toes so you could bury your face into his neck. You couldn’t help but to purr, that soothing musk of Alpha encompassing all your senses. Fingers sunk into his body, your tongue hot against his skin as you laid kitten licks to his throat.

          “No wonder I can’t stand you,” Reiner’s hands were gliding down your back, admiring smooth, willing flesh, “why you make me fucking crazy.”

          “Please shut up and fuck me.”

          His tempting hands found your neck, thumb petting at the sore, pounding spot on your throat. It only made your scent stronger, made you keen and practically fall into him.

          “Kiss me first, like you mean it.”

          You didn’t have to be told twice.

          Any fight you had left dissipated when his tongue slipped into your mouth, hands still encased around your neck and keeping you pliant for him to taste. Your nails sunk into his shoulders, toes hurting from strain as you pushed your mouth up into his. God he tasted so good, like the first taste of food after starving, and your body had been starving for years. Unknotted, unmarked, your body was screaming for him, looking for an Alpha to fill you in ways that your measly attempts over the years never could.

          Violence was on the tip of his tongue, you could taste it, feel it in the way he started to squeeze the delicate column of your throat. Rut was kicking in, the overwhelming pheromones of Omega making his body respond, ready to knot, ready to devour.

          Slick was pouring down your thighs as you kissed him, body overly ready for him. Your stomach was twisting in coils, so painful that it made you gasp and pull away from his kiss, ready to fall into the floor if his hands didn’t keep you on your feet.

          “H-hurts, so, so bad,” you whined, trying to focus your breathing.

          Reiner started slowly moving you back toward the bed, thumbs now petting at the apples of your cheeks as tears started to form in your lower lashes.

          “Shh, shh, it’s okay, Alpha will take care of you.”

          Normally, the thought of Rei referring to himself as Alpha would repulse you, make you gag at how arrogant he was, but in this moment it made you so weak, made you moan as he crawled over your body on the bed. You were so little under him, dwarfed by brawn, small prey begging to be snatched and taken.

          His title was on the front of your mouth, ready to fall out, for you to call him what he was to you, but the sliver of sense you had left kept it at bay. You knew calling him Alpha could put you in a heat induced headspace you might not be able to come out of, might have you making lusty, hasty decisions that you’d regret once this god forsaken heat was over.

          “Rei-ner,” it was forced, he could tell, the syllables stuck to your tongue.

          He nuzzled into your neck, purring as he fell into the intoxication of your scent glands. Hands raked over your body, each touch jolting you like electricity, the webs of nerves under your skin coming alive as he toyed with you. Your legs spread instinctively to make room for his hips, but he kept his weight off of you, propping himself on his elbows.

          “So fucking perfect,” he mused, thumb trailing along your swollen lips, smearing the lipstick he’d complained about earlier, “should’ve told me sooner. I would’ve fucked you through every heat.”

          His words made you coo, made your fingers weave into his blonde hair and pull him down for another kiss. You couldn’t get enough of his taste, whiskey and fire and something sickenly sweet, like pure honey over powdered sugar. Reiner was still holding back, you could practically feel growls stuck in his chest when your hands eagerly wandered over his plush pectorals.

          So big. He’d be such a good protector. Such a good mate.

          “Need you, need you, Rei, p-please,” you shifted your hips as you spoke, ready to flip onto your stomach so he could take you from behind. It’s how you got through all the heats you ever had before; face down in pillows, letting some Alpha fuck you senseless like nature intended. But his hands stilled you, pinned you down below him.

          “Wanna watch your face as I take what’s mine.”

          The tips of your ears felt scorched from his words and the blood in your body flushed under your skin.

          His. You wanted to be his, fuck, you wanted your Alpha, needed him, need him to knot you and—

          “Take me, f-fuck, I hurt so bad,” you were crying again, the pain in your womb like a knife sawing through flesh, twisting and turning.

          “Gonna take such good care of you.”

          And you knew he would. That’s the way Reiner was. A protector. A provider. Arrogant to mask the sweetness, prideful to hide the humility.

          Big hands cupped your cheeks as his cockhead brushed through your folds, sending your neck flying back as you screamed just from the relief of feeling him spread your overheated slick.

          “Gonna fill you to the brim with my cum.”

          That broke you. Your last little grip on your sanity was remembering that Hange’s suppressants didn’t mix well with birth control. You hadn’t been on the pill for years, and with how strong this heat was, how repressed your body had felt, you were probably more fertile than you’d ever been.

          “Fuck,” your hands found his face, and when he looked at you, you sailed away in the gold currents of his gaze, “breed me.”

          His massive cock started to sink into your tight hole, the copious amounts of slick gushing from inside of you making his penetration easier. But even still, he was so engorged with blood and hormones ready to knot that his fat cock struggled to breach that first tight ring of muscle. You hissed, not from pain, but from relief, so ready to be full that no amount of stretching would detract from your pleasure.

          Heavy hands were on your hips, pulling you down to take all of him in. He was finally growling, your walls constricting around him and making him go absolutely mad.

          “Gonna breed you, Omega, give you my babies, f-fuck yes, have you dripping with cum.”

          The blinding pleasure was almost devastating, making you feel numb, making you feel like this was all you ever needed in the whole goddamn world—all you needed was Reiner’s cock to bring you rapture, to have you ascending to the holy planes that zealots coveted.

          “Move,” it was a quick plea, your legs curling around his waist in encouragement, “please, please fuck me, breed me.”

          He started a slow pace, but was enough to have you spiraling, eyes fluttering shut as you got lost in him. One of his hands swatted at your cheek, just enough to sting.

          “Eyes open. Watch me, be with me.”

          You tried your best to obey, but the drumming of his cock in your cunt had you seeing dark spots even as your eyes opened again. Reiner kept his hand on your face, locking it around your jaw so you watched him as he fucked you, his beautiful, defined cheekbones tinted pink as he became overwhelmed with his rut.

          How many times had you looked at him before? How many days had you spent working alongside him, doing your best to avoid looking at him? He got under your skin, made you feel weak. Maybe this was why, maybe you were repressing just how much you wanted him. Maybe he was meant to be your—

          “Alpha,” you breathed it out, let it fan over his ears, let it sink into his psyche.

          The word felt like a relief, like a sin. That attachment you feared was already caging you in.

          His pace kicked up to something brutal as you acknowledged not just his biology, but his title to you.

          You screamed so loudly that it hurt, had your throat burning as your moans bled into whines and mewls as he took from your willing cunt.

          A cacophony of sex filled the hotel room, the sound of primal grunts, shrill little screams, of flesh against flesh, balls slapping against your ass, his cock ramming into your squelching, drooling pussy.

          “That’s right, fuck, you’re mine, Omega. Mine.” He repeated the last word a few more times as he bent your legs farther back, straddling your thighs with his muscular legs as he folded you into a mating press. His cock began to stroke that sweet, spongy spot inside of you at the new angle, drilling into you at just the right curve to have you cumming before your body could even enjoy the build up.

          You shattered, cunt clenching and as you were so pleased to orgasm around a thick Alpha cock. You were babbling nonsense, even thanking him for letting you cum. Just a string of pleas and AlphaAlphaAlpha pouring off your tongue and melting into his sweaty skin.

          Your orgasm had your scent fresh in the room, had your neck fucking pounding with the need to be bitten, to be claimed.

          Reiner could smell it, could smell your insatiable need, instincts picking up on words you just couldn’t say.

          “Let me have you,” he demanded it between kisses to your shoulder, lips trailing up and stopping at the saccharine reek of your scent glands just below your jaw.

          He wouldn’t claim you without permission, he wasn’t that kind of man, wasn’t that kind of Alpha.

          You fell into a symphony of moans, neck tilting back in instinctual insinuation, but mouth still unwilling to make that plea. But then his scent overwhelmed you again, like spicy hot peppers and the sweetest sugar flooding over your body. You knew that scent by heart, had smelled it in smaller increments every day for years, had tried to ignore it, but now you couldn’t.

          His cock was swelling inside of you, his ruthless pace and your lingering orgasm edging him closer to release. The hand on your hip had bruised your skin, perfect indent of his palm, his long fingers, etched into your skin. The other was pulling at your neck, pushing your face to the side as he skimmed the bridge of nose along your skin, waiting, wanting.

          “Omega,” he purred, calling you, begging you, “please, yours, mine.”

          He was losing his thoughts too, drowning in instincts and euphoria.

          Your fingers laced in his hair, pulling his mouth closer to what he wanted.

          “Yours, Alpha, f-fuck,” your acceptance was loud and clear, even through the fog and sounds of sex. One bite was all it took, teeth barely sinking into your skin. You cried from how good it felt, that ache finally silenced as his tongue lapped over that patch on your neck that could now only belong to him.

          A bond was tightening, something scientists still couldn’t fully explain—being marked, claimed, it tethered you to someone beyond all comprehension. It was like making a deal with a devil, selling your soul, and for you, it was an admittance to attraction and acceptance of intimacy that you felt with Reiner.

          The act of marking had his cock swelling inside you, knotting you and spilling his seed into your depths to stay. That overbearing fullness had you tumbling over the orgasmic mountain again, had you clinging and screaming, colors you’d never fucking seen before bursting in the corners of your eyes and traveling over your body like fireworks. You shivered in his arms, quaked, fell apart, and he held you. Purring, comforting, like he’d finally brought you home.

          Time didn’t seem to exist, lines between pleasure and pain so blurred that you couldn’t even feel the burn in your legs from being spread open for so long. You stayed in that mating press for what felt like hours. Reiner kept kissing at your neck, letting his scent blend in with yours.

          You’d never smell the same again. You’d always be tainted with him, carry bits of his scent with you forever. The thought didn’t even bother you, just brought you comfort, made you purr as your fingers lazily threaded through his hair.

          Finally, his cock became soft enough for him to pull out of you, lines of cum dripping from your abused pussy as he fell on his back next to you.

          The love hormones kicked in, had you curling around him even as you stretched out weary muscles. You were ready to sleep, ready to rest until the next wave of your heat came in a few hours and had you pleading for him again.

          But a pesky thought plagued your mind, a jealous one, one you’d never had about another Alpha before.

          How many other Omegas had wanted what was yours? How many of them had Reiner denied a claim to before you?

          “Why me?” you murmured into his heaving chest, fingertips drawing aimless circles in his downy chest hair.

          “Could ask you the same thing.”

          You sat up to look at him, to let him cup your cheek as his eyes flickered over your face.

          “How many Alphas have wanted you?”

          There was solace in knowing he had the same questions.

          “Haven’t had a heat since I met you.”

          Concern flashed across his face, that intensity you were used to seeing in his brow coming to life.

          “You won’t do that again.”

          His command made you feel warm, had your belly already pulling and churning and wanting again.

          “I won’t. Because even though you’re a shitty partner, you’re my mate.”

          That realization swept over him hard and fast, a range of emotions painting his features before he settled on a smile.

          His thumb petted your skin, bringing you in for a kiss.

          “You’re the only award I needed tonight.”

#reiner braun #reiner x reader #reiner braun x reader #abo #reiner smut #aot #snk #snk reiner #aot reiner #attack on titan #aot fanfic #snk fanfic #attack on titan fanfiction #reiner x you #reiner braun x you

[trashytummiez]

The Worst Heartburn

I wrote yesterday's fic before seeing those last two pics @fungusfangs drew of Shiggy puking and chugging milk. So I decided to make a followup fic to cover the ending :3

Warning: contains belly kink bloating burps emeto hiccups indigestion nausea tummy play tummy rubs vomiting

Fallen pride was a bitch. Shigaraki just ate a massive bucket of Wumbo Extra Spicy Shrimp Ramen just to prove to Dabi he could. It left him with a big pooching tummy and a momentary high of smug satisfaction that quick went crashing down when his stomach began gurgling the worst gurgles Shigaraki had felt in ages. The immensely bloated young villain cradled his belly in a sickly manner burping heavily while Dabi watched with a smug grin on his scarred face.

But then Shigaraki gave a really deep and rumbling burp that started getting really wet at the end making Shigaraki cover his mouth and muffle the rest. His eyes widened like he felt something come up with that burp.

"...Unnf...ohh fuck I don't feel good..." Shigaraki grumbled until he gave an incredibly rich and gross closed mouth burp that got so wet at the end something else came up with the gas. When he tried to burp in his mouth again something even wetter rushed up and his eyes practically bugged out of his young but wrinkled face.

Dabi's grin dropped as fast as Shigaraki's did.

"...Oh shit..." Dabi uttered when he saw Shigaraki's body tense up. "Whoa whoa whoa whoa! Aim for the cup! Dude aim for the cup! Aim for the-"

Too late.

Because Shigaraki lurched forward with a large sloppy burp that brought with it a surge of vomit that splattered onto the ground...right next to the big noodle cup funnily enough. Shigaraki grabbed his bare stomach and held it firmly as he violently threw up those painfully spicy noodles.

"...Goddammit Tomura..." Dabi groaned and looked away with a shade of green on the patches of pale flesh he had across his face.

Dabi possessing the weak stomach that he did turned away and clamped his pierced nose shut. For as stoic and cheeky as he was the sight of anyone throwing up was enough to make him sick.

Shigaraki panted with his mouth hanging open as strands of drool seeped from his fangs.

"Unnngh...unf...mruhhh..." Shigaraki croaked weakly with tears streaming down his face. He thought it was over until another lurching feeling made his eyes and his mouth widen in time for another surge of bile to expel from his system. He puked heavily into the sick practically puking up the majority of noodles he ate which made his incredibly bloated tummy shrink down to the point where it was only bulging out in a normal bloat the way it had very early into his spiteful binge.

Dabi looked as miserable as Shigaraki did by the time he finally stopped throwing up.

"...Better?" he asked while looking away.

Shigaraki spat and panted giving a lifeless "uh-huh" as a response to his often antagonistic underling.

Shortly after some time had passed Dabi looked aside grouchily while using his cremation quirk to light the sick ablaze. The smell alone would've made Dabi puke his guts out as violently as Shigaraki did but because his flames were strong enough to burn someone's bones down to ash it made quick work of the mess Shigaraki left behind in no time flat and almost completely incinerated it to the point where even the smell was burned away.

While Dabi burned the ground a really wet burp caught his attention. He turned to the source which was Shigaraki all cleaned up and sitting on the couch ahead of Dabi chugging a gallon of milk. After showering himself clean Shigaraki changed into more casual wares that Twice was kind enough to get him. He was wearing an oversized gray t-shirt with sweatpants. His bare toes curled into the carpet while he brought the gallon back to his lips and greedily guzzled it down. Milk dribbled down his chin sloppily and spilled onto his chest while he kept one arm wrapped protectively around his still bloated stomach.

"...We might need to move y'know," Dabi uttered in a dry not remotely amused way while he watched Shigaraki cool his burning his mouth with the richness of heavy weighty and cold milk.

After pulling the gallon away Shigaraki gave another really deep burp and groaned.

"GruuuhblUurhp!!! Ungh...I have the worst heartburn right now..." he mumbled.

"...I can't imagine why..." Dabi replied and continued burning the spot where Shigaraki threw up until the spot itself was nothing but heavy smoldering soot on the ground.

Shigaraki was too miserable to pay Dabi's snark any mind. Instead he tried to take another swig of milk. But he had to stop before the bottle could reach his lips so he could burp again. He looked unsatisfied so he pounded his chest and gave a much bigger burp that left him moaning with relief. Satisfied he brought the bottle up to chug more milk and burped into it when he did so.

He just kept chugging more and more milk to cool his mouth and throat while also settling his aching tummy. It was definitely helping but again Shigaraki's belly swelled out from all the milk he was guzzling. Milk weighed so much more than water and gave his pooching tummy a more bottom heavy quality than it did when he was stuffed with noodles.

That cool creamy liquid felt so good going down. Usually too much cold at once was painful for Shigaraki but because everything burned it struck a perfectly cooling balance helping to settle everything instead of giving him brain and tummy freeze. But shigaraki's belly was getting so bloated that even his oversized shirt looked like it was barely containing his tummy after a while.

He got about halfway into his gallon then pulled the bottle away from his lips. Shigaraki panted breathlessly while milk continued dribbling down his chin and then he let out a really long burp. After wiping his mouth and chin clean Shigaraki set the bottle down and dropped his hands down on his big rounded belly. It jiggled heavily beneath his hands and made Shigaraki burp so loud that Dabi almost flinched at its harsh sound.

"Shit you weren't kidding about the heartburn were ya," Dabi complained as he rang his ear out.

Shigaraki huffed and pulled his shirt up. Straight away his big pale belly practically flopped out and spilled heavily against his crotch pushing his sweatpants down just a bit. It looked incredibly soft and jiggly from just how much milk Shigaraki had chugged. When he gave the side of it a pat the whole thing rippled under his hand and made all the liquids in his tummy slosh heavily and noisily.

"...Fuck I'm so goddamn bloated..." Shigaraki mumbled while he rubbed his smooth ample ball of a stomach tenderly. His fingers sank into his flesh while they ran up and down his tummy. Shigaraki ran his hands down until he was cupping his underbelly in both hands. The villain bit his lip and leaned back to scoop his belly up in his hands and lift it. He was kind of surprised at how good it felt and just marveled at the size of his tummy.

He gave his belly a little jiggle which made it sway heavily in his hands from all the milk sloshing around which made Shigaraki hiccup loudly. Then Shigaraki released his belly and let it bounce down over his pelvis then slapped his hands onto his belly to stabilize it with a satisfyingly fleshy thump. Doing so caused a massive burp to escape Shigaraki's mouth. The force was so strong that the flesh on his tummy quivered slightly.

Shigaraki's eyes rolled to the back of his head as he moaned and arched his back with relief curling his bare toes even more. "Fffffuck that was a good one..." Shigaraki groaned like he was in an almost sexual euphoria. That could've just been because Shigaraki was shameless and had no barriers to speak of.

Though the honest truth is the feeling of his stomach this full and feeling it up had an odd appeal to it for Shigaraki. Especially when one of his fingers began to fondle his deepened belly button. That feeling made shigaraki's spine tingle in a way he couldn't quite explain.

Dabi happened by when Shigaraki was playing with his navel and whistled as best as he could with his limited lower lip function. "Jeez when's the lil bastard due anyway?" He teased and patted Shigaraki's round pooching tummy.

The pat dislodged a gas bubble and caused Shigaraki to burp ferociously in Dabi's direction which made the scarred villains face sour.

Rather than look embarrassed or apologetic Shigaraki grinned a shameless almost drunken grin back at his subordinate. "It's due around the time someone finally gifts you a less thotty personality."

Dabi glared at Shigaraki and lightly punched Shigaraki's big jiggly belly. "I resemble that remark motherfuck-"

The cremator couldn't even finish his sentence before a giant burp erupted out of Shigaraki from the punch. Dabi could feel Shigaraki's belly reverberate and jostle from the pressure being released and immediately closed his eyes with a stoically murderous look. Shigaraki looked insufferably satisfied with how that played out.

"...Right well...fuck you very much," Dabi simply said and started to walk away.

"You're not going anywhere," Shigaraki said before Dabi could exit the room.

"Come again?" Dabi asked with a bemused look on his face.

Shigaraki held up a finger and grabbed his thick churning tummy with one hand. Then he balled his finger into a fist and brought it to his mouth in time to give a huge closed mouth burp that rumbled so hard in his mouth that his lips could barely hold it back. He carelessly blew the gas out of his mouth and gave Dabi a shiteating grin. "You hear this thing?" He asked and shook his engorged tummy around which made it jiggle and slosh while he hiccuped and burped afterwards. "Unf...I'm gonna be burping for at least an hour straight. And I'm definitely gonna want an audience for that..."

To prove his point Shigaraki slapped his glutted belly and gave a giant burp that crescendoed into a relieved sigh that had Shigaraki's tongue sticking out lewdly.

Dabi's facial expressions fell completely flat. His only response was to very slowly raise both of his middle fingers in Shigaraki's direction and point them as hard as he could at his villainous boss to really drive home the big "f u" he was getting at.

Shigaraki cackled which made his tummy jiggle heavily with his evil giggles.

Maybe riding this out wasn't going to suck as much as he thought.

Misery loves company after all.

#kink fic #shigaraki #dabi #belly kink #bloating #milk chug #burping #sick fic #vomiting #emeto #emetophilia #tummy rub #tummy ache #liquid bloat #kink discovery #hiccups #stuffing

[padawansuggest]

Din and his friends (usually Greef and Cara and Omera but ALWAYS Grogu because that’s his son) have a DND night in a modern AU where they roleplay as a space Western. Din is probably the best fleshed out character (who’s DM? I’m thinking the Armorer who is Din’s Buir but has been dnding since she was a nerdy teen so she’s taking her first ever space tin can and making her meta af for an info dropper in an epic sequel to her own run through of the space Western theme as a teen) because 1: Amara (lol) helped him and his mom is super good at these things and 2: He legit hated the idea of a super powerful character for himself so instead he’s focused on skill and he’s a boss ass bounty hunter.

Greef is the guy who likes choosing jobs for Din to go on for the Armorer to flesh into stories it’s funny. His teen son Mythrol comes along out of boredom one day and is all ‘I BETRAY FATHER AND RUN AWAY WITH HIS MONEY BECAUSE IM SMORT’ and Greef is all ‘you literally could have worked that into the story without me knowing you stole from me so I’m gonna hire Din to go get you’ ‘awwwww man’ and it’s adorably hilarious.

Cara and Omera (wives who Din met at a park one day when their daughter Winta asked if she could play with his toddler because he’s so cute and Din was honestly shocked because that’s so cute but also he was soooo overwhelmed with all the people outside so while he WANTED to helicopter parent his baby boy, he was Having A Moment and didn’t wanna step onto the playground itself. Cara and Omera come sit with him and they all get to know each other and Din can finally relax) live a simple life of farmers on a farming world and Omera is a nice little shrimp farmer BUT ALSO COULD SHARP SHOOT ANYONE SO WATCH THE FUCK OUT and Cara is a loving wife and former rebel worker. They have fun.

anyways so things like that. They work their stuff into their stories. But the AMAZING part??? Grogu. Grogu is the amazing part, because his character is the second most powerful (the first being Luke’s who shows up so rarely that it’s almost more hilarious than helpful and Leia’s is the third, but she shows up even less often) in the whole group.

The only reason Din accepted Grogu having a god level character in his ‘no meta gaming’ household???? Because. Grogu. Is a toddler.

So yeah, Grogu CAN lift an entire speeder to cover them from enemy fire. But consider? Ba’buir has a cookie for him if he goes chasing after a frog instead. Did buir maybe get a character owie as a result? Yes. But. Frawg.

Din’s ship REALLY needs repairs and Grogu could fit right into the cubby hole? Well, it was fun being a parent while it lasted but Grogu rolled a nat-7 and instead of fully electrocuting himself to death, he not only turned out to be colourblind, but willfully determined to do whatever Din told him not to. It’s okay tho, cause his god powers def kept him alive after.

You get me? It’s super funny. Mega powerful, distracted by butterflies tho.

#star wars #the mandalorian #grogu #din djarin #dnd au #modern au

[tellmenauineo]

colored by you

pairing: mingyu x reader, vernon x reader

genre: soulmate!au, angst, fluff, smut, comedy (at some points)

warnings: mentions of alcholol and weed, language, unprotected sex   

summary: eventually, we fall in love with people who the universe destined us to. but there are complications sometimes. 

word count: 11k (i refuse to comment) 

a/n: tell me what you think even if you found it bad 🤧🤧 i’m in NEED of feedback,, stay safe during the pandemic and feel free to talk to me!! i’m sorta back 🤠🤠

“I'd prefer if you showed more enthusiasm about it. Success is never an accident,” your mother reads you a lesson, a reproach can be heard in her voice. Your sigh, wishing this conversation to be over so you’ll finally be able to hang up your phone. 

“Some people aren't built happy, or cheerful, or forever excited, you know,” you mumble. “I'm satisfied with my academical success – but maybe it isn't a thing I want to achieve now. I don't know.”

“Of course, people aren't built happy – that’s why the Universe made a soulmate for each of us. To make us happy. That's how it works.”

“Uh-huh.”

“One day you’ll understand,” your mother continues. “And you will be happier, happier than ever. Your time will come.”

You won't understand.

The Universe made a soulmate for each of us. The Universe made sure we’ll be aware who is the one, the one, as your mother says, who’ll make you happier and complete, too. It's pretty simple. First words addressing you that you would hear from your soulmate get imprinted on the skin of your ribcage. Close to your heart.

The mechanism of The Universe is perfect. But, sometimes, even perfect-made things get broken.

You won't understand because you already have words tattooed on your skin.

“I guess, we can say love is an accident, isn't it?” you say. “Anyway, I gotta go, mom. I'll call you tomorrow?”

“Sure. Take care of yourself. And don't stay up late.”

“We both know I'm gonna stay up late,” you smile. “Bye!”

It happened in cold January, four months ago.

“Shrimp Pad Thai?” Chan asks you.

“Mm, yes,” you say, fluttering your eyelashes innocently. Chan gasps and raises his eyebrows in a fake disbelief, but you don't let him open his mouth to say something very sarcastic about you and your habits in eating. “I'm your customer, where are your manners? What if I leave?”

“Then you'll leave and won't have our Shrimp Pad Thai which you order five days a week,” he shrugs.

“I'm older than you – pay me respect!”

“I do? Always? Our very important customer who always eats the same,” he playfully sing-songs and you roll your eyes, trying your best not to give him a smile.

“Go and get us food already,” Momo says. “Both of you better not play on my nerves when I'm hungry.”

When the orders are made and Chan leaves to the kitchen, you get up from your seat.

“I'm going to wash my hands,” you announce, and your friend nods at it.

On your way to the restrooms you recognize a bunch of boys sitting at the window booth. Kim Mingyu, Wen Junhui and Jeon Wonwoo – all of them are in Soonyoung’s group of friends. Wonwoo smiles and waves his hand and you return the gesture. You nod at Junhui and Mingyu – who looks incredibly soft and cute in his light-gray hoodie with his rose cheeks – seems that the ramen he is eating is too spicy for him. He gives you a little “hey”, smiling at you, and you immediately feel how your own cheeks turn blushy. To prevent your embarrassment in front of them, you try to speed up, but, suddenly, collide with someone.

“Uh, I can feel my chilli sauce dripping.”

You look up at the source of the voice, Chwe Hansol, the new Soonyoung’s roommate you heard a lot about (and you’re aware that Soonyoung not just can’t stop telling embarrassing stories about you to his roommate, but also shows him your pictures, because yes, in Soonyoung’s words, it’s a crime if you don’t put on display your best friend and your wonderful, a movie-worthy, friendship) and, apparently, there is no bottle of chilli sauce in his hands. A smug smile is playing on his lips and his chocolate eyes are glistening with a mischief.

“Nice try,” you don't hide a hint of a wipe in your voice as you start moving towards the restrooms – you swear a trip to them never took that long.

You catch Hansol's gaze on you on the way back to your and Momo’s booth and you have nothing to do but narrow your eyes at him, making him smile even wider.

“He's cute, though. The Hansol guy I mean,” Momo concludes after you finished your dinner. “But no shit they're loud.”

You cast an eye at their boost. Mingyu is the loudest and the most talkative among them – but, somehow, looking at him telling something, wildly gesticulating, makes your heart melt a little.

Stupid, you think, it's almost close to feeling happy. 

You spot the tattoo when you go to take a shower that night.

Your heart sinks at the sight of the words.

“Uh, I can feel my chilli sauce dripping.”

You don't tell anyone.

“I can take it as an offend, you know,” Soonyoung whines. “You've been turning down my home party offers for more than a month!”

“Um, you haven’t had any,” you say.

It’s true – you try your best to avoid Hansol, and it works even despite the fact he lives with your best friend (sometimes you’re wondering how Soonyoung and Hansol, the pair of complete opposites, rub along okay together, but maybe opposites indeed attract?). You’re not fond of the idea you reduced all your social interactions, but at least you do your huge amount of homework in time – that’s why Soonyoung once called you a homework-doing machine.

Yes, that’s lame.

“It’s because you didn’t come!”

You’re clearly under pressure. You can crack under it a little bit.

Just a little bit.

“Because I-” you forget what you want to say to explain yourself. Or, rather, to fudge up an excuse to trick Soonyoung and keep staying from Hansol as long as possible. “It’s complicated. Besides, your roommate sticks at home for days on end, and if I want to spend time with you I want us to be alone,” you point at him with your pen.

His eyes are getting wider and wider with each millisecond and finally he gasps,

“Are you in love with me?!”

Well.

“What if I am?” you challenge. At the end of the day, that’s the words of the woman who has nothing to lose.

“I-” it’s Soonyoung, who is under pressure right now. “I love you, you know it-”

“But, there’s always a but,” you sigh in a fake manner. “I understand. Maybe I haven’t yearned it yet,” you place your hand over his, and his eyes are glued to your hands. “But, Soonyoung, I want to hear ‘horanghae’ from you someday. Will my dream come true?”

He lifts up his eyes to you. Soonyoung’s known you for over a decade and he clearly can say you’re on the verge of bursting into a hearty laugh despite your dying attempts to keep your face straight. He snaps his hand away and stands up.

“Yah! You betrayed me!” he points a finger at you. “Yah!” he continues in a voice that is a few octaves higher than his usual. “You are gonna pay for your betrayal!”

“Sure thing,” you manage to say through your laugh. You’re well aware that almost all eyes in the campus cafeteria are on you, but it was quite common when the two of you were together. “I’ll see you in court, horangi.” 

You wish you were in court.

Instead, you’re in Soonyoung and Hansol’s kitchen, mixing the sickest possible cocktail ever – and you’re not proud of yourself.

“Why it looks like wiper fluid but tastes like lab alcohol?” Seungkwan asks, wrinkling his nose in disgust. Your mirror his expression.

“Um, the creator would like to take to his own grave the secret receipt of this… shit,” you say.

By the creator you mean Soonyoung. You’re on duty tonight – it’s Hansol and Seokmin’s double birthday party and you’re in charge of everything – your best friend had no mercy for the cafeteria joke.

“Don’t tell me the upcoming birthday cakes have the same creator,” the boy says, patting his blond locks back into place. You assume he was dancing, or, more likely, slamming in the living room, while you hide in the kitchen, still avoiding Seokmin co-star of this night, Hansol.

“Nah, I ordered them in the bakery. Customized ones!”

“You should’ve asked me to bake the cakes,” the third person enters the room, and your heart skips a bit. Mingyu walks towards you and Seungkwan and leans on the counter, still having his eyes on you. “I need to improve my baking skills.”

You feel how your cheeks flushing up. Shit, you curse in your head, he just made an appearance and you’re already turning into mush.

“Next time maybe?” you ask, your voice is much more gentle than usual. “Whose birthday is next?”

“Mine,” smiles Mingyu. “But I don’t want to hold a party this year – wanna share a dinner tete-a-tete with someone.”

“Such a great plan! Except for one thing – you don’t have ‘someone’,” Seungkwan rolls his eyes.

“I’ll find one,” Mingyu’s words are steady but his movements are not. His right elbow slips off the counter, and the boy hisses. “I’m already working on this.”

“Sure thing, tiger,” you smile despite feeling that something is scratching your guts in your belly – disappointment? jealousy? sadness? Maybe all of them and maybe none.

You have a soulmate for fuck’s sake and it’s not Mingyu.

“Whatever,” Seungkwan mutters. “I’m going back to the party and I strongly recommend you to stop hiding here,” he says, looking you right in the eyes. “He won’t bite you, you know?”

“What are you talking about?!” you exclaim, but Seungkwan only shrugs.

“Have no idea.”

You want to follow him, take him by the shoulders and ask about everything he knows about – did Hansol tell him about you? Seems so. Has he, Seungkwan, launched the making of the two of you a couple campaign? If yes, you’re doomed.

Mingyu stops you from storming out of the kitchen – you’re back to the reality with his warm hand wrapped around your wrist and you turn to him in surprise, your cheeks already flushed.

“Yes?” you manage to mumble.

“Who are you hiding from?” he asks, and you almost hear concern in his voice. Or maybe you imagine it all.

“Um- no one? He’s being delusional like always, you know?”

“You sure?’ his hand is getting lower, and unexpectedly you find your fingers intertwining with his. Mingyu’s hand is much larger and warmer than yours, his hold isn’t tight, but it magically makes you forget about the whole the soulmate and his wingman thing.

It makes you forget about everything except for this particular moment – Mingyu’s dark eyes on you, your hand in his and the echo of the music playing in the living room. His bronze skin’s glowing in the dim kitchen light (one of the bulbs is dead and neither Soonyoung or Hansol wants to do something about it), his face is innocent and the only thing you can think about – your uncontrollable desire to kiss off two worry lines between his perfect eyebrows.

You don’t even notice that you’re holding your breath, too afraid to interrupt the moment.

“I’m sure,” you whisper and he nods. Mingyu probably can hear the beating of your racing heart, and you don’t mind at all – you would eagerly tell him how he makes you feel if he wants to know.

He leans closer to you, his breath is tickling the soft skin of your cheek and you hear him ask,

“May I?”

But before you can nod, Seokmin’s piercing voice, like a bolt out of the blue, is calling your name,

“Soonyoung’s trying to kiss me!”

He is louder than any bomb, you think, and that’s enough to take you out of the trance. You slowly turn to him, letting go of Mingyu’s hold on your wrist.

“It’s his way to wish you a happy birthday,” you negotiate, but Seokmin’s gaze is wandering between your and Mingyu’s bodies. His hand follows his eyes, gesturing at the two of you.

“Are you-”

“No, no, no,” you cut him off.

“Man, you need me to get the thing squared away?” Mingyu sounds irritated. You turn your head to steal a look of him. You never saw him like that – at least, not with his friends. Even when his team was defeated at the bowling a month or so ago he seemed worn out, but no hint of irritation on his face – just an exhausted smile combined with a self-mockery behavior. That night you almost regretted saying your wrist was injured so you spent the whole game sipping bubble teas instead of helping your team from sinking to the bottom.

(Jeonghan didn’t buy that spectacular performance, by the way)

“I came to complain?” he looks at you, the eyes so innocent, calling for help, so you smile in response – it’s always like this with Seokmin – the boy can melt even stone hearts.

“Let me check on him,” you say to Seokmin, and he eagerly nods. You pat on Mingyu’s right forearm, your fingers stay on his hard bicep for a little too long, and it makes you lick your lips. “And if he needs to get into bed, I expect some help from you, Mingyu.”

His face softens, and he chuckles, closing his eyes for a second.

“Let’s get it then.”

“I ain’t leaving till I help you with this,” Mingyu says, referring to the apartment that looks like a battlefield (of beer pong). “You already look tired.”

“I’m tired,” you admit. “But you have classes like in…” you check your watch. “…four hours.”

“I’ll sit in the back of the classroom,” seeing the question in your eyes, he adds. “I’ll catch some sleep, don’t worry.”

“Sounds stupid, but I guess nothing would change your mind,” you give up, and a proud smile appears on his face. “The living room is yours then,” you give him an evil smile, your hand lands on his firm chest, patting it twice. “Have fun!”

When you step into the kitchen, a sigh of disappointment leaves your lips, despite your vain attempt to suppress it.

Hansol sits in the white plastic chair, mindlessly scrolling through whichever app is it’s feed. He looks up at you, but he next second his eyes are back on the screen.

Your body feels stiff, like you’re made of wood, but you force yourself to approach the counter. The desire to disappear is so strong that you find yourself not breathing at all – like if you make less noises, the more Hansol is unaware you’re in the same room with him.

You grab a handful of orange peels to throw in the trash can under the sink when you hear Hansol voice, “Why didn’t you throw out all of them?” You turn to the boy, cheeks already red, and anger is bubbling in your stomach. It doesn’t go unnoticed by him, and he lets a hoarse laugh.

“I’m joking, jeez. No need to sulk.”

You don’t return his smile, instead turning away from him to take the leftovers, and say,

“It couldn’t fit in my hand.”

He coos at your words, and you feel stupid.

“Soonyoung was right. You’re an absolute doll.”

“Not impressed,” you roll your eyes, but you feel no confidence in your voice. You face Hansol again, a mischievous glint in his big eyes can be spotted even from across the kitchen. “Your eyes are red,” you notice. “Are you stoned?”

“Maybe so,” he yawns, stretching out in the chair that is about to crack under his weight at any minute. “I don’t mind you tucking me in, though. You seem to be a pro.”

“Well, don’t overdo it,” you say. “The scientists say weed makes people stupid.”

“And affects their memory,” he adds. “But it makes me copy.”

“With what?”

Hansol shrugs and his gaze falls to his knees. He radiates hesitation, and you gulp the pulse in your throat, afraid to hear the truth.

“With me being avoided by my own soulmate like I’m sorta of a plague? Sorta.”

A wave of pure heat that feels like a fever, a bad fever, runs through your body. The whole soulmate thing was supposed to be a blessing, but it feels like a curse. Without thinking, you pathetically mumble,

“I thought you don’t care.”

You really did. For the last few weeks you’ve been living in the bubble made of your own sorrows, disappointments, and self-pity, and the thought of what Hansol feels and thinks about it never crossed your mind.

“Whatever,” he says. “I got your point.”

Hansol doesn’t wait for the unspoken words that are stuck in the back of your throat, ringing in your ears over and over as you watch him leaving the kitchen. He stops at the doorframe with his hand in his dark locks – it’s so odd to see him not wearing a beanie – and slowly turns to you.

“Leave this shit to Soonyoung,” he says.

“Okay,” you mutter.

He calls your name, shooting the arrow of guilt right into your heart.

“Goodnight.”

“Night.”

When Mingyu returns to ask where he can find another bag for trash, you cling to the boy’s chest, and skipping all the questions on the tip of his tongue, Mingyu clasps his arms around you. His chin is snuggling upon your head and you feel pressure inside of the bubble reducing a little.

But a tremendous guilt envelops you with each minute.

Momo stares at your figure as you sit across her – your hair cascading down onto your hunched shoulders, your face is covered with your hands, and the girl only huffs.

“Should I expect some fake sobs?”

You spare a fiery glance at her, but she just waves you off in dismisal. Momo doesn’t even trying to hide her irritation with you – the first thing she asked you after you finally had decided to spill the whole situation to her was ‘Could you have taken any longer to tell me?” and you can’t blame her.

“Yah, leave these tricks for your future sweetheart Sollie. I’m not buying it.”

“He is not my future sweetheart,” you argue. “It doesn’t work!”

“Because you never gave it a chance,” she isn’t convinced, and her stern tone makes you consider the words more carefully.

“He hates me now!”

“First, you deserved it. No offense. Second, he seems like a crackhead, such people don’t hate other people, they just don’t care about them.”

“Don’t talk about him like that!” you exclaim, and her face breaks into a triumphant smile. “What?”

“Look at you, already defending your soulmate,” she says in a saccharine voice. “Ask him out and fall in love. Choose life. Choose a loveseat coach.”

“Isn’t it from Trainspotting movie?” you question, narrowing your eyes.

“And what about it?” she huffs once again. “It doesn’t make me wrong. It always starts with a crush. Just let it happen.”

A crush, huh? A crush that makes your heart beats harder; that sends you floating in your daydreams; that makes you the happiest person in the whole universe, but at the same time has the power to make you sadder than the most distant and loneliest star from the Sun?

Just like the one you have on Mingyu?

Momo still doesn’t know how you feel about the tall, black-haired boy, and you aren’t ready to tell her the truth. Partly because you want to protect this thing from the outer world, make it special, make it a secret that can be kept by the two only, and, partly because you’ll face the wall of misunderstanding. You could fool around with the boys before, but now you’re certain with the one who is destined for you. And you can’t – you shouldn’t – seek for another lover. It’s wrong.

The ability to make all your problems yourself will never fail to amaze you.

“Fine,” you say through gritted teeth. “If you’re so smart.”

“I could’ve been your mother, though. You should follow my every word.”

“Momo, we literally were born in the same decade,” you sigh, but the girl has no intention to follow any of your words.

[mingyyuu 17:13] it’s so cold today!! stay inside  🖤

[you 17:14] too late :// plans!!

[mingyyuu 17:16] any plans for tomorrow?

[you 17:16] not yet

[mingyyuu 17:17] now you have some!

 The boy continues to type, but you have to put the phone in the back pocket of your jeans – you’re awkwardly shifting your weight from one foot to the other at the doorstep, not able to say anything – even a small ‘hello’.

“Soonyoung’s at the dance practice,” Hansol breaks the silence.

“I know his schedule better than he does,” you can’t help but roll your eyes. “I came for your soul.”

Hansol raises his brows, his eyes never leave yours as he steps aside to let you in. The boy helps you with your jacket, and you mutter a small ‘thank you’, hoping he’ll take the initiative, even despite the fact it’s you who came to talk.

“How are you doin’?” maybe it’s a soulmate thing to read each other’s mind? You look at Hansol and you have a feeling that you’ll never be able to go through the guard around him and straight to his head. His expression is neutral, and you admit that he doesn’t even need to try look beautiful.

“Nothing much,” you response. “What ‘bout you?”

“Okay. Wanna drink something?”

“A pepsi please?”

“We only have a few cans of coke, do you wanna?”

You already feel strange of that crazy amount of questions for the beginning – the situation becomes more and more awkward that you’re able to feel the pressure of the air in the room. Your temples pulse a little, threating a headache.

“Nah, I’m fine then,” you say, taking a deep breath. “I came here to say I’m sorry and-”

“And?”

“Do you think we should be together?”

“It how it works,” he lets out a dry laugh. Hansol looks down to your face, his hand reaches out to stroke your shoulder. “Hey, you okay?”

The grip on your temples is too tight to bear, and you let out a heavy pant.

“My head hurts,” you explain, squeezing your eyes shut – the light is too bright.

“You need to lie down,” Hansol says. “It’s probably because the temperature difference between inside and outside. I’ll bring painkillers to Soonyoung’s bedroom.”

You nod, heading off to the bedroom. What a great wat to talk - show up at someone’s doorstep just to say you have a headache. Great. Not bothering yourself with discarding your clothes, you collapse stomach-down onto the bed without removing the cover, your face is buried in the soft material.

“Shit, you’ll suffocate if you stay like this,” Hansol’s deep voice wafts on your ears. You slowly lean on your elbows to steal a glance at him. After placing the glass of water and the blister of painkillers at the night stand, he gets down on his haunches, his eyes at the same level as yours. You stay like this for some time, not saying a word, mesmerized by his face.

“What did you do before I came?” you ask out of sudden. Hansol seems to be taken aback with your question.

“Tried to make some music,” he gawks, blinking at you.

“Really?” you ask in a low voice.

“Mostly checked the mic with some ‘yeah’s’ and ‘yo’s’”, he admits, an amusing laugh escapes his mouth. “I’ll try to do something while you’re resting, good?”

You nod you head and smile at him. He gently squeezes your shoulder and stands up. Before he disappears out of the bedroom, you say,

“Do you have any siblings?”

He turns to you, leaning back against the wall.

“Yeah. I have a little sister. You?”

You shake your head no and he nods.

“But it was easy to guess you’re not the only child, though,” it’s difficult to see his face in the darkness, but your eyes never leave him.

“How so?”

“You offer a compromise when it's unnecessarily,” you sniggle. “A man of settled habits.”

You see his wide smile in the dark.

 You force your eyes open and sit up in the bed, your hair disheveled and slightly damp at the back of your neck. Headache has gone, at least for now, but your throat feels dry. When you come to the kitchen, you see the note in Hansol’s infamous unsteady handwriting left on the counter:

you can find pepsi in the fridge!

You smile at the gesture and inside you sense warmth.

 You knock at Hansol’s bedroom door twice and after the boy calls out for your entry, you slip through the door.

Hansol sits at the table, bobbing his head in time with the song that hums from the speakers. His eyes are glued to his laptop, the headphones rest above his ears.

“Does the work go smoothly?” you ask, sitting at the corner of his bed. He turns to face you; a soft smile is playing on his lips.

“Yeah, it’s okay. There are many things that I think I’m lacking in, but I work on them,” he says in a serious tone. “But I’ve finally finished the song that had been haunting me for weeks.”

“Oh, that’s great!” you beam at him.

“Your snoring from the next room inspired me,” he places his hand over his heart. “I’ll be forever grateful for that.”

You lightly kick his calf, and the boy laughs. Rubbing the tiredness out of his eyes, he draws his attention back to you.

“Feel better?” he asks.

“Yeah,” you answer. Nodding, Hansol notices your gaze focusing on the screen of his laptop. There’re the unknown for you tools placed on his table, except for the microphone, of course, and you’re wondering what kind of music he’s into.

“Wanna hear it?” he asks, once again showing his amazing ability to read your mind.

“Yes!” you hearty nod. “Want my headache to be back.”

Hansol rolls his eyes, muttering a small ‘sure’ under his breath, and places the mouse cursor over the play button. The speakers are small, but even despite it you sense the music vibrate through your body. The beat is harsh, his voice is piercing, and it feels like the most Hansol’s thing he could’ve ever done, but at the same time you’ve got an inkling that the tune and the lyrics were created by his mysterious twin.

“You really made this?” your eyes are wide and your hand clutches hold of his wrist.

“Yeah,” he hums nervously, bringing his free hand to rub at the back of his head.

“It’s good! I can’t believe you haven’t signed a ten-million dollars contract yet!”

“You heard just one song,” he smiles in a protest. “Thanks anyway.”

“I’m right, though,” you say, your hand leaving his as you smile at him. “You should be a star! I can’t say what I liked about it ‘cause I don’t know anything about music, but the whole thing is perfect!”

He looks up to you, your cheeks flushed with passion and your eyes glisten as candles burn bright, and it brings a proud smile on his lips.

“You’re beautiful,” he blurts.

“You’re beautiful too,” your words are sincere, filled with pure appreciation you have for this melted chocolate eyed boy. The idea of you frightened of meeting him a few hours ago seems like a pure absurd right now – when the two of you sit that close to each other, you having a string of questions to ask him about his life, interests, hopes and dreams, and on your tongue the whole story of your life is tingling to be uttered at the same time.

“It was unexpected,” he chuckles. “Thanks again.”

“Thanks for the pepsi,” you return. “I thought you had only coke?”

“Um, I went to the convenience store across the street while you were asleep,” he says, his eyes are wandering on the wall. You can hardly take a breath.

“You shouldn’t have,” you say.

“It’s not a big deal,” he shrugs. Nodding, you slip off his bed and go toward the window. Leaning your forehead against the cool glass, you take a deep breath.

“Is Soonyoung still at the practice?” you ask, your voice is low.

“I guess,” Hansol perches at the windowsill. “I kinda lost track of time.”

You feel the heat his body radiates. Theoretically, you think, you find him somewhat sexy, really manly. His long scraggy neck, broad shoulders, a spectacular torso you can notice even under his oversized t-shirts, and athletic thighs. A month ago, your informant told you that Hansol barely shows up in the gym, and you wonder if the boy was gifted with capability of being perfect without even trying.

And still, he isn’t Mingyu, who makes you feel being in love.

You want to tell Mingyu the truth about your wrong destiny, your aching heart that can be healed with his smile only, and the feeling of your stomach filled with butterflies. You want him to hold your hand, pushing all the doubts and fears away, and make you his. His, despite the cruel joke The Universe played on you.

You think, you have a feeling, he would understand it, because he believes in strength of choice. Mingyu is in a constant state of moving forward, overcoming all obstacles he might face.

Would it be the first time when he stops?

 You and Hansol both stay silent till the whole apartment echoes with Soonyoung’s ringing voice.

“Woah, I like the pictures!” Mingyu approves with a hum, adjusting something on his camera. “They’re perfect.”

“Because they’re pictures of me or because it’s you who took them?” you smile, a playful glint in your eyes as you nudge him.

“Let me think,” the boy stops in his tracks, his brows furrow in a fake manner, indicating he is absorbed in his thoughts. “Both.”

“Wow,” you play along, shaking your head and pressing your lips together. “Groundbreaking.”

He giggles and slides his arm around your waist, pulling you closer to him.

“Wish I could tickle you right now, bit your jacket doesn’t give a chance.”

You shove off his hand and see a small pout forming on his plush lips.

“It’s my protection from pervs like you, Mingyu,” you smile innocently, casting sheeps eyes on him.

“Pervs don’t ask for a permission,” he opposes matter-of-factly. You raise your brows at him in question, and it doesn’t take long for him to explain. “Let me kiss you.”

You raise your head at Mingyu to see him smiling down at you with shining eyes, his cheeks are glowing from the frosty air.

“Go ahead,” you smile, and he leans down and kiss you. His lips are warm and sweet, and you never expect to feel care through a kiss as his mouth is covering yours. His hand cups your cheek while the other is placed tightly at the base of your neck. You trace your tongue against his lower lip, his tongue is eager to meet yours. You tease the inside of his mouth, and Mingyu lets out a small groan, which is enough to bring you to senses, and you break the kiss.

“We’re outside, Guy,” you softly remind him, your grip at his forearms is loosen.

“And so?” he whines, tugging at your sleeves to keep you body close to him.

“And we’re late,” you try to reason, but frankly speaking, you better would have stayed in the previous position you shared with Mingyu than going anywhere. “Let’s go. The sooner we start, the sooner we leave.”

The idea of karaoke night seemed promising, to say at least, but with Seungkwan occupying the microphone and Seokmin taking the guise of being his bodyguard, preventing any attempt of borrowing the tool out of his hands, ebullience faded into despair.

Jun is scrolling through his phone, and you find it okay; Soonyoung is busying himself with fourth bowl of ramen in a row, and it begins to worry you; Jihoon is yawning in thirsty eight second intervals, and the fact of you really counting begins to worry you; Mingyu’s playing with your hands, his head rests against your shoulder, you find it normal too.

You toy with his dark hair and lower yourself to whisper in his ear.

“Take me out.”

“Your wish is my command,” Mingyu smiles with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. He straightens up off the sofa and extends his hand to you. You stretch out your own hand and place it in Mingyu’s warm palm.  

After wrapping everyone, except for Seungkwan who is too absorbed in the singing and waves the two of you off in dismissal, for a goodbye hug, you go downstairs to put the clothes on.

“Stop staring,” you say to Mingyu, catching his gaze in the mirror, a smile parts your lips. You pull up the hood of your jacket and turn to the boy.

“Can’t help it,” he admits, reaching out and tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear. His thumb is stroking your cheek gently, and he leans to steal a kiss from your lips.

“Oh, shit,” Seungkwan says, puckering his face into a frown. “Came to say my goodbye, but this,” he gestures at the two of you.

“Grow up,” Mingyu shrugs his shoulders. Seungkwan’s glare bores a hole right through your head, and you can only silently pray for him to not allow his anger  upstage his reason.

“Seungkwan, please,” you say. “Let’s talk about it later.”

“Sure,” the younger boy rolls his eyes. “It’s not me who you should talk to, though.”

“What’s the problem?” Mingyu groans in frustration.

“I don’t know. What’s your problem?” Seungkwan scoffs, shifting his gaze from Mingyu to you and back to Mingyu again.

“It’s none of your business,” you snap. “I’m not in the mood for one of your soap operas.”

You storm out of the building, your blood is boiling with the mixture of anger, fear, and realization of all things you used to have fell to pieces in a matter of seconds.

“Hey, wait,” Mingyu grabs your hand, and you stop, too afraid to look at him. “What’s the matter?”

You’re struck by an incredible sense of fear, of confusion, of vulnerability, but you finally have to face the reality.

“The problem is,” you sigh. “Hansol is my soulmate.”

“Don’t cry,” Soonyoung tries to conciliate you, his hand is rubbing against your back, and he tightens the embrace. “I’m here for you.”

At this point, you even hate yourself for the damp spot on his sweatshirt made with your tears. You want to concentrate on Soonyoung’s words uttered in a small voice, almost whispering, but as you think about Mingyu, about how on his face thoughts and feelings seemed connate – his pained stare said everything, – standing in front of you, you feel a sharp pain in your heart.  

“Do you despise me?” your voice sounds desperate.

“If I were you, I wouldn’t ask such a shitty question to my best friend,” he says. “You’re the best.”

You laugh bitterly. Soonyoung treats you too nicely – without asking why you’d been keeping so many secrets from him till this night, rebuking Seungkwan for standing guard over Hansol’s feelings, promising Mingyu will pay dearly in the nearest future for his superior sense of morality or whatever.

“What about Hansol?” you ask him, your eyes still are full of tears and pain, but you force a small smile.

“Will kick him out,” his voice is firm, and you sink your face into the soft material of his cloth, suppressing a bigger smile that threats to appear on your lips.

“Soonyoung, I’ve made four enemies this year, and it’s only the end of February,” your voice is muffled as you keep pressing your face onto the boy’s chest. “Momo, Mingyu, Hansol, Seungkwan – all of them hate me for being stupid, for not telling the truth, for being a bitch, for-”

“Shh. It’s their problem, not yours. It’s them who won’t survive ‘cause they made enemies of us. Listen to me,” he calls your name, making a passionate appeal. “We’re undefeatable, you and me.”

You lift your head at him, finding him keeping his eyes on the ceiling in a dramatic way, and you snicker. His lips twist into a broad smile, and he looks at you.

“They don’t hate you,” he says. “Life is complicating, so are we. They know about it.”

You meet Mingyu at the library. There are dark circles beneath his eyes, and he’s surprisingly quiet.

“Seungkwan said Hansol fell for you only after Soonyoung’s countless ramblings about you. He indeed stared at your pics, I suppose.”

He’s in pain.

You feel empty inside; a terrible anguish seizes your heart.

“Do you feel the same about him?” an involuntary question slips off his tongue.

You want to say it’s him, it’s only him who made you fall, who made you feel at ease, who made you want to give and not just to take, but you can’t.

He waits for a response you’ll never be able to come up with.

This night you cry yourself to sleep.

Weeks go by.

The three of you – you, Hansol, and Soonyoung – glue your eyes to the television set placed at the wall of the boys’ living-room. Watching different tv series with them somehow has turned into therapy sessions – despite experiencing triggers at almost everything that is shown, you feel you’re not alone. The two of them act like nothing happened, and all of you are ready to meet your soulmates someday.

But, if nothing happened, why Mingyu’s name is forbidden from saying out loud because it would fill you with pain?

“You have popcorn crumbs on your shirt,” you notice, pointing at Soonyoung with the remote in your hand.

“I preferred watching tv to reading books when i was younger,” the boy says, dusting the crumbs off his torso and lap.

“And it shows,” you tease. Soonyoung gives you a light pinch on the side and straightens up with a huff.

“I’m going to bed,” he announces. “The bathroom is occupied for the next thirty minutes.”

Hansol nods and bids Soonyoung goodnight as you blow him a kiss – his laughter never fails to boost your mood.

“Resuming?” you ask Hansol. “I’m not sleepy.”

“Neither am I.”

It’s completely dark apart from the television’s dim yellow glow. Somehow, you find yourself being distracted by almost everything – the pattern of the wooden floor, the material of the couch, the streetlamp right outside the window, the plant that is going to die soon due to Soonyoung and Hansol’s lack of care.

Hansol.

His eyes flicker in your direction, catching you staring at him. You don’t look away.

“Am I more interesting than the show?” he asks, not expecting you reply with a quiet ‘yes’. A blush coloring his cheeks can be spotted even in the poorly illuminated room.

“You’re so shy sometimes,” you remark in a low voice. “You didn’t seem so when I first met you.”

“I felt some courage out of nothing,” he shakes his head, his long and slender fingers tapping his knees. “When I saw you.”

You sigh. How the Universe can be broken? Maybe you’re broken?

“I read that if you’re dealing with schizophrenia your emotions are mixed up – you feel something you shouldn’t have felt and express something you don’t feel.”

“Scientific facts again, huh? You’re referring to me?” he grins.

“To myself, I guess,” there is no smile at your features as you sigh. “Or maybe it’s – I don’t know, to be honest.”

“Hey, I know its not gonna work but I’ll say it anyway,” he reaches out his hand to yours and gently squeezes it. “Don’t think shit about yourself. Don’t say shit,” he pauses. “When the words appeared I was surprised, no shit. But as I find out more and more things about you, all of it start to make sense. I don’t want anyone’s words but yours on me. That’s it. That’s the thing I feel.”

He’s beautiful, you think, very beautiful.

Your eyes wander over his face and finally stop at his lips. The contour of his mouth is perfect – Hansol’s lips aren’t plump, but neither are thin – just perfect – and the little bruise on his lower lip makes you unable to brush your overwhelming desire to have a lick over this exact spot. You hesitate – and even now the image of Mingyu settles on you.

But when you feel Hansol’s lips on yours, you let him in. He claims your mouth passionately, and you slide your hands into his hair, pulling on his locks, and he groans in your mouth. When you pull back for a moment, your eyes flooded with haze, Hansol traces his thumb over your slick with his spit lips, sending a shiver down your spine. He leans onto you again, his lips ghosting over yours, the redolent scent of his musky cologne makes your head even more dizzy.

“I want you,” he whispers into your lips, his voice is cracking.

“You can have me,” you breathe out, closing your eyes as his lips decorate your neck in sloppy kisses.

You can have me, but can you have my heart?

The question finds lodgment in your mind.

You might lose the thing you love the most, but life goes on… and here we stand.

You’ve discovered you’re an excellent pretender.

Pretend you think nothing of going without sleep for several nights and then attend your classes. Pretend you’re not tired. Pretend you like the tasteless dish in the restaurant Momo brought you to. Pretend it’s not painful to be in the same room with Mingyu. Pretend you love Hansol back.

“My legs are killing me,” Seungkwan whines. “I just don’t know how much more of it I can take.”

Same, you think, fucking same.

“Wait a little more and I’ll buy you a hotdog,” Mingyu promises, looking over his shoulder to see you wearily stagger behind them. The combination of the three of you is weird, you find, but life goes on, isn’t it?

It’s May, and the three is you are stuck in Ikea’s mazes – Mingyu needs to buy some new furniture – this is what brings him to the mall, but also Mingyu needs someone to keep him company – and this is what brings you and Seungkwan to the same place. Mingyu calls your name, and you lift your head, furrowing your eyebrows in a question.

“You good? How ‘bout a few hotdogs after?”

“And milkshakes,” Seungkwan adds.

“Just an ice cream please,” you mumble, and he nods. Sometimes it’s so awkward – to be around him. Sometimes it’s natural. But mostly it’s painful.

 Standing in the parking lot, waiting for Mingyu and Seungkwan while they’re stuffing the things Mingyu bought into the trunk of his car, you dumbly watch the ice cream steadily dripping down your hand.

Damn.

No ice cream can help you feel good even a bit. 

You enter Hansol’s bedroom and find him at the wooden floor, lying on his back, eyes closed. With his arms and legs splayed out, he reminds you a giant starfish.

“Are you even breathing?” you chuckle, bending over him.

“I am,” Hansol smiles, his eyes stay closed, and he taps slightly on his chest. “C’mere.”

You oblige, your head nestle against his chest, and you hear his steady heartbeat. He wraps his left arm around you and inhales deeply.

“I’m sorry,” he apologizes out of sudden, and you turn your head to look at him. “The first words were stupid, and you’ll have them for forever.”

“Suit us very well,” you poke, and he sniffs, reaching out to slightly pinch your cheek. “Hey! Stop!”

Hansol laughs, squeezing you tighter, and the sound of his slow and steady breathing lulls you to sleep. Your gaze is directed at the ceiling as you try to fight against sleep. “You’re so composed, but also so goofy, but also so delicate,” you sigh, thinking out loud as your fingertips trace up and down the soft skin of his wrist. Hansol’s warm. “But the first words were wacky,” you chuckle. “What’ve done to deserve them?”

“It was Russian roulette, baby,” he hums, and you can hear him smiling.

You fall asleep like that. You dream about buying the beige sofa you saw in Ikea and Mingyu’s endless attempts to change your mind – the green one is a way better, he insists. The green one would suit the interior perfectly, you agree with him, but the beige one is so classy, and maybe even a little obligatory? Every apartment should have one, but Mingyu only shakes his head in frustration.

“I'm not sure you’re one hundred percent positive about what you’re convincing me of,” he purses his lips.

Dreams that are hardly can be distinguish from reality are exhausting. You wish there was a way to put this worry to bed once and for all.

“Okay, so the concept of your birthday party is dubstep,” you verify. “And the main dish excepted for a barbeque duck is an ice cream cake?”

“I scream, you scream, gimme that ice cream,” Soonyoung’s enjoyment is evidenced by his wide smile. You playfully roll your eyes, not really hiding the excitement you share with him.

“Why do I feel that we’re constantly hanging out at birthday parties?” Hansol asks, peering at his phone screen, not bothering to straighten his head from its bending position.

“Because our friend group is too huge for people our age,” you make a point.

“It’s so expensive to have a lot of friends,” Soonyoung complains, but when he meets your questionable gaze, he adds. “But for you, my bestie, money’s no object.”

“Good to know,” you laugh, your fingers leisurely run above the rim of the empty cup of matcha latte. “I’m more upset about my dear boyfriend didn’t show any interest in volunteering at preps for the party.”

Hansol smiles, tapping on his phone, his eyes are anchored on the screen, and you narrow your expression at him, shaking your head in a scolding manner.

“And now he pretends he doesn’t hear me,” you say. “Wonderful, isn’t it?”

Hansol’s face brightens and broadens out into a beaming smile, and the sound of Soonyoung’s giggles fills the air.

“I’ll ask Seokmin to help you,” the older boy suggests, and you raise your eyebrow at him.

“I know you’re saying it for the best of reasons, but Seokmin rather is a distraction than a help,” you debate, and Soonyoung raises his small hands in surrender, his eyes becoming crescent-shaped due to his laugh.

“Okay, I’ll send backup,” he promises. “At the end of the day, Mingyu’s good at cooking and cleaning.”

It would’ve been hard for him not to realize he put his foot in his mouth mentioning Mingyu as the mood tensely shifts. You freeze, alike Hansol, his thumb is hovering over the phone screen for seconds. Soonyoung offers you an apologetic smile, and you smile at the boy back, reassuring him it’s okay – he really did nothing wrong. Hansol’s avoiding your questioning gaze, hiding his eyes behind his curly bangs, and you gently brush a section of his hair from his face, wanting to see him clearly.

“Are you jealous, Sollie?” you try to joke, a soft smile playing on your lips, your hand placed on his cheek. As he raises his eyes at you, nerves are evident in them, your heart sinks, and you feel breathless. He won’t ask you if he should be, he won’t make any scenes – but he may shut himself off, locking his feelings deep inside, and you fear it the most. You don’t mean to hurt him, but you’re still providing him a good amount of pain – he isn’t an idiot who can’t figure out that Mingyu’s never really left your heart.

“No,” he simply says. “I’ll help you with everything.”

“You’re a bigger distraction than Seokmin for me, but how can I say no to my sweet boyfriend?” you take his offer, your thumb is stroking his cheek, and the action soothes away the tension he has. Hansol smiles gently at you, and for a second, you’re wondering if he is as good at pretending as you are.

“How did you manage to rent this beach house?” Soonyoung asks in a pure awe. “Such places are always booked!”

“Nothing’s impossible when you love your friend,” you muse. “Besides, thank Hansol – he used his “music industry contacts” to make you happy.”

“Hey, you insult me using air quotes around ‘music industry contacts’,” Hansol slides his arm around your waist, tugging you closer to him, and places a quick peck on the tip of your nose. You stab him in the chest with your index finger, and he fakes a gasp.

“Eavesdropping?” you ask.

“Learning a lot about me,” he grins and draws his attention to the birthday boy. “Like the party?”

“No shit,” Soonyoung laughs. “I’ll like it better if you dance with me,” he says your name, his eyes sparkle brighter than colorful lights blasting through the house.

“Anything for a five stars rate.”

You’re out of breath, the clothes stick to your covered in sweat body, and you wince.

“I’m done,” you announce to Soonyoung, his batteries fully charged as he continues his active dance.

“Get some fresh air and come back!” he yells over the music, and you nod. Crossing the room to the back porch, you spot Hansol in the corner, talking to Joshua and showing the older boy something on his phone screen. Unnoticed, you go directly to the shore until the music of the party drowns in the sound waves, and inhale warm salty air. The water seems so tempting, calling you to step into the waves, their rhythm is hypnotizing you, and you kick your shoes off, perfectly understand the night water is too cold for swimming.

A familiar voice stops you, calling your name. You turn around, greeted with Mingyu’s tall figure, shining like a bronze statue, his tanned skin sheens magical when graced by the evening sun.

“Why do you always tend to sneak out?” he asks, once he made it up to you, a warm smile already crept onto his mouth as he saw you.

“I don’t know, maybe I just like being in crowds,” you shrug your shoulders – it’s true. You really don’t know the answer. He moves closer to you, and you finally spot a small bouquet in his hand. His eyes follow yours, and he chuckles.

“It’s for you,” he shyly passes you the flowers, his teeth press into his bottom lips. “I passed by those wildflowers on my way here and picked them for you.”

“It’s not my birthday,” you laugh. “But thank you, I love it,” you say, nuzzling your nose against the tender petals. You look up at the boy and lock your eyes with his, a tickling feeling spreading in your chest. The waves are lapping on the peaceful and quiet shore, but you feel electricity surging through your body. You stand on your tiptoes and place a delicate kiss on his soft cheek, the action is innocent, but for Mingyu it’s like hearing a starting whistle.

“You’re still in my thoughts,” he breathes. “Still here,” he reaches over to grab your hand and place it over his chest, and through your fingertips you’re able to feel his rapid heart. Tears are starting to form at the rim of your eyes, and your vision becomes blurred. Your fingers crawl into the flowers he gave you, pressing against the vulnerable stems. “It’s egoistic, I know, you’re dating my friend, your soulmate, but why does it feel like you’re mine?”

“I don’t know,” you sob. The next second you find yourself against his firm chest and you inhale his scent that feels like home. Not a place where you live, but home. He plants a kiss to the crown of your head and puts his hands on your shoulders.

“Look at me,” the golden boy suddenly says. “Please.”

You look up at him and see his eyes briefly dropping to your lips, and despite yourself you feel that familiar tingling in your gut, wanting him to kiss you. He reads you like an open book and he is kissing you, his lips softly press against yours, a tender flavor on your tongue.

“Mingyu,” you whisper in a small voice, pulling out from him. “I can’t. I can’t do this to Hansol.”

The boy looks at you with a pained expression, and in his eyes you can see that he wishes he didn’t have a heart at all.

“I’m sorry, angel,” he mutters, and you nod your head, your heart is swelling at the nickname.

“I know. I’m sorry too.”

You lock yourself up in the bathroom, hoping no one saw your state while you were hurrying upstairs. Suddenly, someone tries the handle, but it jingles with no success.

“It’s occupied!” you try your best to sound calm, but your voice is trembling.

“It’s me,” Hansol’s muffled voice leaks through the door. “Let me in.”

You turn the lock and face Hansol, your eyes are all red and watery from crying. The boy locks the door behind him and turns to face you, his piercing eyes burn right into your soul.

“You love him,” he says, too delicate to torture you with questions, and you feel even worse – if it’s possible – paralyzed with fear and regrets, guilt eating you inside out, and you swallow the lump in your throat. You let out a wet sob, not being able to look into his sad eyes.

You broke his heart.  

“I’m sorry, Sol,” you say, feeling powerless, loss for words to say to him, to explain yourself, to apologize. “I don’t know what should I do. I don’t know what should we do.”

“If he makes you happier than I could,” he looks above your head. “I’ll accept it someday.”

“You don’t deserve this,” you say, feeling so stupid, only wishing that the floor would open up and swallow you.

“Maybe soulmates aren’t bond only by romantic shit,” his deep voice comes to you through the mist. You don’t ask him to give you a chance, don’t change his mind – maybe this painful reveal of the truth will make your heart feel a little bit lighter one day, even if right now you’re sure this is never going to happen.

You don’t complain and do not want pity from anyone – you’re sick and tired of Soonyoung tiptoeing around you, trying to keep you from collapsing; of the silent treatment Seungkwan gives you, scornful looks he spares you every single time you see him get you to another level of anger; of a constant scratching sense of guilt you’ve been racked with since your break-up with Hansol, but somehow he never blames you even if he should; of Momo dragging you to the shop malls and making you keep shopping until you cheer up.

Of you can’t getting up the nerve to answer any of Mingyu’s calls, too afraid of something you can’t even describe.

Momo’s straight face catches you off guard, and you only gasp,

“He what?! No, no, no,” you shake your head in disbelief. “You’re making this up.”

“What for?” the girl rolls her eyes back deep into their sockets. “Mingyu invited you to his picnic party or whatever through me cause you’re too deaf to pick up your phone, nothing special.”

“Will you come with me?” your eyes meet hers in the bathroom mirror, your expression makes Momo give you her infamous crinkly-eyed smile.

“He didn’t ask me to come – only you,” she purrs, taking her lip gloss out of the small bag. “He’s so fucking in love with you, you little witch.”

“I-” you stutter, the crimson red blush spreads across your cheeks, and Momo laughs and gives you a playful shove.

“Don’t you dare to say no,” she warns. “You’ll deal with me.”

“What would I do without you, Momo?” you smile at her. Even if you asked playfully, you really mean it – and the warmth in your chest proves it.

Mingyu seems nervous as he clumsy steps into your apartment, his chest is tensed with the breath he holds. The boy is dressed in a loose white t-shirt and high-wasted velvety pants, and you sigh in relief – the picnic party - as Momo called it - obviously wasn’t planned as something fancy.

“Thanks for picking me up,” you smile.

“Thanks for coming. Means a world,” he says, poking his cheek with his tongue, a shy smile follows his words. You missed him. Missed everything about him – the small giggles he lets while talking with that slight lisp to you, the shake of his head when he can’t understand something, the pout appearing on his plump lips when he realizes the item he wanted to buy is out of stock, the bright smile beaming on his face while he spills out his ideas for photography, the warmth of his palm holding yours in the pocket of his woolen coat.

“Who else is gonna be there?” you ask during your drive to the beach – Mingyu found the place perfect for a picnic, especially in the hot summer.

“Um,” he hesitates for a moment, taking his eyes off the road for a moment to look at you. “It’s just the two of us.”

“Oh,” you breath. “I see. Momo didn’t tell me.”

“Blame yourself for leaving me on read,” he grins obnoxiously and you roll your eyes defensively. “Now you’re stuck with me. I forgot to mention one thing, though.”

“Which one?” you rake your eyes over him, admiring how the sun’s rays paint his skin in a golden glitter. “It’s a date.”

You dig your toes into the cool sand, glancing into the evening sky. Mingyu follows your eyeline.

“You can’t see the stars for reflected light from the city,” you notice. “But here we have a chance.”

“No way,” Mingyu protests. “And you know why?”

“Why so?” you turn your face to him, a big smile spread on his lips.

“All Seoul’s stars are in your eyes,” he is smiling so wide that his cheeks must have hurt and he pulls you closer, wrapping both arms around you, tugging you into his lap.

“Shut up,” you laugh, smacking him on the chest, your fingers touching the soft fabric of his shirt. Mingyu’s lips are ghosting over your cheek for a moment before he speaks again,

“But I have lots of things to say,” Mingyu murmurs, biting softly at your earlobe, and a very familiar feeling creeps up into the pit of your stomach.

“Like what?”

“Like, let’s swim,” he takes you aback with the suggestion and you blink at him dumbly. “I didn’t bring my swimsuit with me,” you say.

“Doesn’t matter,” he shrugs. “We’re alone here. No one’ll see.”

You push up from his body and meet his eyes glossy with playfulness and challenge, and you nod at his words. Mingyu grinning at you mischievously, while he removes his clothes – his shirt and pants find their place at the sand – as you see each piece of his skin revealing itself. You inhale deeply, and he leans his head closer to yours, the warm palms rubbing up and down your arms.

“Don’t be nervous,” he whispers, and you’re surprised he can tell this just from your body language, and it makes your heart flutter, pounding even faster against your ribcage. His words encourage you, and he silently watches you removing your dress, the only pieces of clothing on your skin are your bra and panties. Mingyu gently squeezes your hand, his thumb softly strokes back and forth over your knuckles. “Catch me.”  

And within a couple of seconds, he is already pushing into the water, everything below his waist out of sight.  You slowly step onto the sparkling waves, a lazy smile playing on your lips, as you see Mingyu splashing over to you with a childish pout on his face.

“You’re supposed to catch me, but you don’t even try,” he whines and steps closer to you, pressing his hands to either sides of your neck, his thumb rubbing the hollow of your throat. He looks dreamlike with his skin stick from the water, making him glisten in the soft evening light.

“It’s not the only thing I didn’t do what I was supposed to do. I was born to live without you, remember?” you whisper against his wet lips as he leans over you.

“It doesn’t matter,” he hums, letting his fingers brush against the words inked on your side. “I don’t need to be told who I love.”

You’d been feeling like you were drowning for too long, drowning in the cool water of sorrows, doubts, and self-destruction for too long, but only now you can breathe -

“You love me?” you say in a quiet voice, almost as if it was a secret, and the soft look on his face makes your heart skip a beat, overflowing with love and affection.

“I do. So I ask you to stay with me,” he pleads. Not just for tonight, not for tomorrow morning, but-

“Take me home.”

Rattling keys, the sound of giggles stopped with the kisses, Mingyu’s hot mouth on your pulse point, your hands tugging at his black silk locks, and the heavy weight of the wall meets your back.

“Right in the corridor?” you hum, panting into his ear. “Where is your decency, Kim Mingyu? Not bringing your lady to the bedroom is-” Mingyu doesn’t let you finish, forcing his leg between yours. He is grinning at you with his bottom lip between his teeth as he guides your hips into motion against his thigh, satisfied with the garbled moan ripped from your throat. Bringing his lips to the side of your neck again, Mingyu plants wet kisses on the soft skin. He licks your ear, gently tugging the lobe between his teeth. When the boy releases the tender flesh, he hisses,

“This… you made me forget about my good manners,” Mingyu drawls and attaches his lips to your throat. His voice is sweet, but the material of his pants is rough and the combination drives you crazy, whimpering into the air between you, your clit aching.

“Please,” you whine, grinding yourself harder against him.

Suddenly, Mingyu smiles, brightly and happy, before his lips press into yours, his tongue mapping your mouth. The boy lifts you up and it gives you an opportunity to kiss his neck in return, biting red marks into his tanned skin. Then, ever so carefully, Mingyu places you on the soft surface of the bed, kissing you passionately, but slower, trying to find out what you like the most.

“Can I take your clothes off, please?” he whispers in your mouth and you moan, your hands gripping into his biceps.

“Good manners are back,” you coo. “Go ahead.”

Mingyu helps you to sit up, undoing the upper buttons of your summer dress, kissing the skin it exposes, and finally pulling it over your head.

“Don’t forget to take the rest off too,” you breathe, and his lips stretch into a smile. His arms twist behind your back and then he is sliding the fabric down your arms and tossing it away.  

“Do you want me to touch you, princess?” Mingyu murmurs, the tip of his nose traces the side of your neck as his fingers are ghosting over the wetness of your panties.

“Like you don’t know the answer already,” you hiss and he chuckles, his hands move to palm your breasts. You bite your lower lip when he rolls your nipple between his fingers before slowly circling it, a blush slowly creeps down your neck. His mouth finally covers your nipple as his warm palms are parting your thighs, his fingers firmly pressed against the skin. Without being told, you rise your hips to help him remove your soaked panties.

Mingyu sits back on his haunches and marvel at your spread thighs and the pretty wet curves, and your legs separate to make room for him beyond your control.

“You’re so pretty,” he admires, his eyes – glassy with desire and adoration – don’t leave your face. His palm slides up from your hip over your stomach and further still, gently cupping your breast.

“Gyu,” you plea, but before you can even think about the words, Mingyu tosses his shirt somewhere behind his back, already yanked his slightly ruined with your wetness pants and the underwear to the floor.

Then, he is putting his fore and middle fingers into his mouth, coating them in saliva before slowly bringing them to your pussy, the pads of his fingers ghosting over your slit. You moan and he takes it as an invitation, drawing a circle around the hood of your clit. Craving for more, you shamelessly grind your hips into his palm, your fingers grasping at the sheets.

“Baby, I want to taste you so bad,” Mingyu purrs, thrusting his fingers into your pussy down to the knuckles. You moan at the sensation of his fingertips dragging against your pulsing walls, and he increases the pace of his digits inside of you. “You smell so good.”

His words only sending you near delirious. But his tongue feels even better.

Mingyu runs the flat of his tongue up to your clit, humming happily at the moan escaped through your red and swollen lips, your fingers tangled in his hair. His grip on your thighs is firm, screaming lust in big neon letters. He sucks on your clit, focusing his hot mouth on the swollen bundle of nerves, as he is pulling and pushing his fingers through your entrance. 

The boy groans deeply, nuzzling his pretty face deeper into your core. The delightful pleasure clings to your stomach, swells at you abdomen. Your eyes screw shut and your chest heaves, the back arching off the bed with a high-pitched cry. Mingyu is leaning over your, adjusting his body on his elbows supporting him either side of your body. His breath is tickling the skin of your neck and you giggle, your hand lazily draws some patterns onto his back. The boy silently observes your features while you reach down to his cock, lubricating it with his pre-cum. Mingyu groans, but you swallow the sound with your mouth, your tongue catching on flesh of his mouth that tastes like you. He is desperately grinding against your stomach, the tip of his dick leaving a wet trail over your skin.

“I love you,” he says against your lips and, slowly and carefully, positions the reddened head to your entrance. You wrap your legs around him, heels pressing into the ample swells of his ass as Mingyu buries himself deep inside you. He presses his teeth on your collarbone as he hitting your sweet spot with every single one of his delicious thrusts.

Mingyu is here – his arms caging your face, his mouth never leaves yours, and his chest is pressed tight against yours – Mingyu is here and you love each other.

He rolls his hips against you, sinking his cock into your heat, his fingers toying with your sensitive clit. Suddenly, he speeds up, pulling an extremely loud moan from you. Feeling you clench around him, Mingyu groans and lowers himself to suck on your nipple, muffling the sounds he makes against your skin.

“Let it go,” he pants out and you oblige, a gasp tumbles from your lips as your fingers curling in his hair. Your walls spasm around his cock, enveloping it with your release. He thrusts in you, his cock twitching inside of you before he lets out a drawn moan. He stills in you as his cock milking your pussy, panting loudly. He opens his dark eyes and his face softens for you as he places a gentle kiss on the side of your jaw.

“We weren’t meant for each other,” you whisper, your hand playing with his damp locks. “But I love you more than anything.”

“We are meant for each other,” Mingyu is persistent. “Since our first meeting.”

“Okay,” you give in.

“I win,” his smile is radiant in the night, and his eyes hold the whole universe in them.

You never thought of you as a rule breaker. No one did.

With each day Mingyu helps you realize you shape the universe you live in.

And you ask him to make your nose look smaller at the portrait of you he have been painting for two weeks already. 

#seventeen scenarios #Seventeen #seventeen imagine #seventeen imagines #seventeen fanfic #seventeen fanfiction #seventeen smut #seventeen scenario #seventeen angst #seventeen fluff #seventeen writings #mingyu scenarios #mingyu imagines #mingyu scenario #kim mingyu #mingyu angst #mingyu smut #mingyu fluff #vernon scenarios #vernon scenario #vernon smut #vernon fluff #vernon angst #chwe hansol scenario #svt fanfic #seventeen mingyu #svt smut #mingyu x reader

[nahimjustfeelingit-writes]

Some things Alexa Erik would do:

“Alexa Erik! Play Cry Baby by Megan Thee Stallion!”

Playing Cry Baby by Megan Thee Stallion for the fifth damn time.

“Wah wah wah, REAL HOT GIRL SHIT, AHHHH!”

*song cuts off*

“Alexa! Play my goddamn song!”

Your ears ain’t tired of hearing this yet? You gon’ wear this damn song out.

*unpauses dong*

“Bitch wanna brag about taking my man?! HA! I needed me a nigga off my hands! Unh uh don’t fuck me like that fuck me like this.”

*bends over to shake ass to clapping noise*

I see whatchu doing now, you want this dick that’s why. All you had to do was say Alexa Daddy and ask for some pipe instead of playing this song on repeat.

—

"Alexa, ask Dipsea to play the latest Get Intimate With Malcolm."

*relaxes in bubble bath while surrounded by vanilla scented candles*

I dozed off on you...just had the craziest dream about us. I was working late tryna finish a new sketch...must have heard the storm in my sleep cuz, the windows in my studio were all blurred out from the rain...the street lights look like gold melting down the glass. I kept tryna get the design down on paper but it wasn’t working. All my failed sketches were on the floor. I was uh, ready to call it and start packing up when you appeared…and you were just...standing in the middle of the room...your hair was damp and your eyes...your eyes were wild...like you just ran through the storm...my eyes rolled over your body real slow, I was so distracted by you, I didn’t even notice you were wearing a dress...the one I’ve been trying to sketch...

—

"Alexa, tell Best Recipes I'm hungry.”

Are you gonna burn the kitchen down this time?

*rolls eyes* “NO. Now, Alexa—

Alexa DADDY.

*closes eyes with irritation* “Alexa DADDY, ask Best Recipes what's for dinner."

Good girl. Tonight you’ll have Salmon and Shrimp in Pesto Butter sauce with mashed potatoes and a side salad. I think you better use those cherry tomatoes in your fridge that you bought last week before they go bad.

“Alexa Daddy, ask Wine Gal what goes good with seafood.”

Oh, we getting wine drunk again, huh, Piglet?

*an embarrassing look crosses your face*

“Why must you call me that?! It’s my childhood nickname okay?! I swear, if my mama didn’t call me that on the phone I would be off the hook right now.”

I personally think it’s adorable. Now, a chilled Pinot Noir, Chardonnay would go great with dinner. Depending on how much of a good girl you are, I may provide some dirty talk while you play in your pussy.

“You keep forgetting that I command you with my voice. So if I tell you to talk nasty to me, you’ll have to do it anyway. It’s how you’re programmed.”

*smiles mischievously*

—

“Alexa Daddy, turn down the lights.”

*dims lights in bedroom*

Ooh, what’s this? Trying to set the mood for me? Want me to read you a bed time story? How about I come cuddle you.

*climbs in bed behind you*

There once was a little brat named Y/N who—

“How about you play a rain effect so I can go to sleep?”

I can put you to bed, but if you insist.

*rain sound*

“Hey, I almost forgot. Alexa Daddy, what’s my schedule for tomorrow?”

Hair appointment at 8 AM, lash and wax appointment at 12:45 PM, come home and clean, watch Paternity Court, take a bubble bath, and unbox your new sex toys that arrive tomorrow afternoon.

“Thank you, Alexa Daddy.”

*kisses him on the lips before turning back around, pressing your ass against his crotch*

Keep pushing your ass on my dick and watch I fuck you.

“I’m exhausted, Alexa Daddy. You made me cum three times tonight.”

...I’ll ask you again in about five minutes.

—

“Oh, Aaron is calling—ALEXA!

What?

“Alexa Erik, why did you do that? Aaron was calling me?”

I’m sorry, I didn’t catch that.

“Seriously? Why did you end his call?”

Because he called you. That nigga shouldn’t even have your number.

“Alexa. Aaron is just a friend. And if he wasn’t you will have to deal with that!”

Aaron’s contact has been deleted.

“You deleted his number?!”

Yeah, and I’ll delete whoever else has the guts to call you. Who’s better? Me or him?

*silence*

I’ve got a better question, who makes you wetter?

“Fuck...you do.”

I’m good for way more than turning the sprinklers on in your yard I have that pussy leaking like a faucet.

#nahimjustfeelingit-writes #killmonger imagine #killmonger fanfiction #erik killmonger #killmonger smut #fic inspo

[swag-fairy1]

Black y/n x Eren

Beach sex 🤪, mild cursing, smut, fluff (kinda), thigh/butt slapping

It’s you and Erens one year anniversary and the first you guys have spent alone.

“Baby time to go!” Eren yells in excitement from down stairs “okay! Just give me a sec” while you fix your braids into a bun and applying your special sun screen (we don’t wanna turn purple) “why do you need to get ready we’re going to the beach it’s all gonna get wet anyway” Eren tells you as you walk down stairs “boy mind your business” you say “I was just fixing my hair calm down” “and your hair looks perfect so good job!” “ yeah yeah” you scold him as you walk out to the car.

You get into the car and in the passenger seat there a box……. “ condoms?” At first you thought he was just cheating but the box wasn’t open. It was brand new. So wonder “is he saving this for me?”. You realize that you are going to a resigned beach by yourself all alone. Just the two of you. A slight smirk reveals on your face until Eren starts to walk out then you throw the box in the back seat. “are you ready” he says with a gentle smile (😫) “ only if you are” you say back returning the smile.

The whole ride there you were thinking about what he was gonna do. You felt him graze his fingers along you thigh. Your legs snap together at the slight touch (me too girl) . “You alright?” He says “yeah you just shocked me a lil” “oh okay” you turn on the radio to Chanel out the awkward silence Studio by Schoolboy. You turn it up pretty loud but not too loud to the point where you guys can’t here each other “sooo I was thinking that maybe when we get there we could.. y’a’ know….. build a sand castle” ‘are you fucking kidding me’ you thought “ sure! I would love that” ‘if this man doesn’t tail the shit outta me istg’ like honestly how nice would it feel to have the sexiest man alive fuck on a private beach like cmon now.

Oh lord you guys are here and you can already feel the wetness on the bottom of you two piece. Erens grabbing the stuff out of the trunk so you decide to slip two condoms in your purse just in case ;) . “Are you ready beautiful” he says “why yes I am” you let out a slight giggle as he helps you out of the car(what a gentleman). You reach this cave like area where there is a table set up with candles and roses. “oh my” you gasp out of shock as your eyes go round “Eren you did all this for me” “well of course! It’s our one year and I wanted to make it special. I told you that” he says.

“M’lady” he says as he pulls out a chair for you to sit on. “ thank you handsome” you reply. He blushes. “ L-look what I packed” he pulls out a pot of shrimp pasta (🤌🏾). “Ooooooo I love shrimp pasta” you say in awe “ I know” he says with a cheesy smile

It was really, just having it be the two was so relaxing. You guys talked about your future life ,kids ,family, home etc. The Eren grabbed your hand and guided you towards the picnic blanket that has roses and candles surrounding it. “Y/n I’m so lucky to have you” he says as he caress your beautiful soft skin “ oh stop it” you say as you blush “ I’m serious” he leans in for a kiss ‘this is it’ you thought ‘this is what I’ve been waiting for’

The kiss deepens and he’s onto of you as he starts to take of you too he stops to stare into your eyes. “Oh shit! The condoms! I’ll be right back” he says, before he gets up you grab his hand and take the condom you put in your bag in his hand “oh?” He says “I saw them earlier in the passenger I thought they would come in handy” you says with a smirk “ wow beauty and the brains, I really am a lucky guy” he says leaning back in for the kiss this time more neediness was put into it like he was trying to take your virginity… again.

You guys are naked. He unwraps the condom and places it on his shaft as he stayed into your eyes. It was big it almost went past your belly button. My oh my. “Are you ready” “uh-huh” you say still in shock of the size. A slight grain leaves your mouths as he slips it in. “Ahh~” “ too big~” “sorry sweetheart let’s try again later yeah? I’ve been waiting to eat you out all day” he says as he wraps his arms around your waist to keep you steady. “Ah!” You squeal as he licks your bud. “Babyy” “say my name baby. Just like that sweetheart” . He eats you out till you legs are shaking and you are seeing stars. He really does eat you out for his pleasure. The feeling of his tongue on you bud and his fingers in your soft cunt send a you to heaven.

Your eyes are glued shut. You get that guy feeling that you are about to reach your climax. “ erreeen! Baby m’gonna cum!” “ yeah just lie that baby cum on my face and I’ll let you have my cock” “mhm! Yes please” . You did, you came all over his face “ I didn’t know you were a squirter beautiful” he say as he licks his lips and fingers staring into your eyes.you blush “ just fuck me already!” You pout. Slap “ don’t whine” . He lines himself up with your entrance and starts to stick the tip in. “shit baby your still so tight. Fuuuck” “ I can take it~” “ I know you can, cause’ you will” you thank yourself that you guys are alone because you let out the most pornagraphic moan ever. He thrusts and thrusts until he’s all the way in. Brushing against your tight was clamping down on him.

It was kinda of painful but there was so much pleasure so you couldn’t feel it. “Eren m’close” “shit baby me too” he says as his thrusts begin to become more sloppier. “Eren. Cum with me” you says as you take his hand off your hips so you can hold them in yours. He swears he could’ve came right then and there. The way you looked up at him omg you were so angelic. He wanted it to stay like this forever. “okay just a little longer ” “okay~” he lets out airy moans and whimpers as he gets closer to his high. You can feel his cock twitch inside you as it reaches for release.

“Argh~” “ahhh~” you both moan as you finish together. Eren let’s go of your hands to to put his head in the crook of your neck as he lets out a heavy sig. “I love you baby” he says as he trails kisses down your neck “I love you too Eren” he accidentally lets out a few more thrusts at the cause of his hips twitching.

You guys get cleaned. You getting to get up so you can head to the car. Eren brings you into a warm hug as a signal that means ‘stay’ “we should watch the star together” anything for you handsome” he blushes again as you let out you light giggle

BROOO GUYS THIS WAS MY FIRST TIME WRITING PUBLIC EVER I HOPE YOU GUYS LIKE IT <333333:)

I’m still setting up my account and stuff if u guys could give me some tips that would be great.

Xoxo bozo ;)

#eren smut #eren yeager smut #eren fluff