#like yeah hi. what the fuck was that. huh.

[lexirosewrites]

In honor of nurse appreciation week…

Instead of ‘Eddie gets a toy stuck in him and Steve helps him get it out,’ what about alpha Eddie picks out the wrong size of ‘pocket omega,’ so his knot gets stuck and he goes to the ER?

Omega nurse Steve is both horrified and impressed.

He wants to just get out the sterile scissors and start working at cutting away the rubbery toy piece by piece, but he can’t help the lecture that starts to slip out too.

Who can blame him? He is a nurse after all.

“You have to be more careful next time. You can really constrict the blood flow with these things if you’re not careful!”

Eddie’s face somehow gets even more flushed and he mumbles something, not making eye contact when he does.

“Sorry?” Steve asks, ready to admonish him for whatever excuse he has for buying the wrong size. “What was that?”

Some alphas just think ‘smaller is better’ and Steve knows that’s bullshit.

To believe otherwise is just antiquated and juvenile alpha-brained thinking.

Eddie clears his throat, finally looking at Steve directly when he explains sheepishly, “I got the biggest size I could find. It’s just… my knot is kinda huge.”

Steve whimpers a little at that, clamping his legs together tightly at the thought of such a large knot filling him.

“O-oh.”

He’s glad he wasn’t holding the scissors.

“Yeah, it’s kind of an awful problem to have,” the alpha admits as Steve tries to get a hold of himself and do his job like a professional.

His mouth might be watering now.

“No! I mean- uh, I’m sure there are plenty of omegas who would be willing to- that- that is to say- um…”

He can’t think of anything but big knots and being filled with them.

Eddie chuckles, scratching at the back of his neck.

“You don’t have to lie to make me feel better about it, sweetheart. This isn’t the first time I’ve been here for the same stupid problem. This company just advertised carrying a size big enough to accommodate any knot and I believed them.”

Steve is going to cum in his fucking scrub pants like some slutty omega who can’t control themselves.

If Eddie’s telling the truth (and Steve’s inclined to believe him, especially since the proof is almost in front of him), then Steve’s never going to stop thinking about it.

He makes the last few cuts, finally able to pull the mangled toy off his patient’s swollen cock and behold the goddamn ‘Mona Lisa’ of alpha knots resting in his unworthy hands.

Jesus Christ.

It’s one thing for Eddie to say he’s been blessed in this particular area and it’s another for Steve to see it with his own eyes.

(and hold it)

“Oh good, it deflated a bit,” Eddie states with relief.

Huh.

“It… went down? This isn’t your full knot?” Steve wheezes out.

The alpha’s timid smile turns into something closer to a smirk, almost like he’s proud now.

“I mean, you can find out if you keep stroking it like that.”

Steve looks down, horrified to find that he was indeed running his hands along Eddie’s cock like some sort of trophy in need of polishing.

“I am so sorry! I don’t know what’s come over me. This is beyond inappropriate. I’m sure you’re ready to go home and forget all of this!”

Eddie clicks his tongue thoughtfully, keeping Steve practically on the edge of his seat in anticipation.

“While I could do without the ER bill, I think I can justify the visit if I leave with an actual omega. Maybe even one who’s a bit of a size queen?” he suggests coyly.

Steve gapes at the sheer boldness.

“How- uh, why would you assume that?” he flusters, the room feeling much smaller suddenly.

Eddie raises an eyebrow.

Steve raises one back.

The alpha doesn’t break eye contact, reaching down to wrap his hand around Steve’s, giving it a light squeeze.

“Might have something to do with the fact that you still haven’t let go of my knot, baby,” Eddie purrs, leaning in closer so his warm breath tickles Steve’s face. “Or maybe it’s that fucking puddle underneath you that’s getting worse by the minute. You’re dripping for my knot.”

He is.

Steve can hardly breathe, every inhale giving him a mouthful of heady alpha hormones.

Despite the scent neutralizers pumped out into the hospital air and the patch stuck on Steve’s own scent gland, he’s fucking enraptured by the smell.

His hand twitches, tightening.

Steve can’t help but blurt out, “My pussy can take it. I fuck myself open on the biggest fake alpha cocks I can find every night, but they’re never enough. They’ve- they’ve never been—”

He swallows, trying not to choke on his own drool building up in his mouth from ust.

Eddie presses his lips right up against Steve’s ear, letting them brush his skin when he whispers, “Yeah, sweetheart? They’ve never been… what?”

The alpha’s other hand drifts between Steve’s legs, pushing down the front of his pants and finding his arousal evident there.

Steve whines pathetically at the feeling of Eddie’s searching fingers running through the slick on his flushed skin.

“They’ve never been as big as you are, alpha,” he confesses, breaking every last ounce of willpower and giving in to his needs completely.

“What do you want, omega?” Eddie asks, trailing kisses behind his ear and down his neck. “What do you need from me?”

“I- I need…” Steve keens loudly as a wet kiss is pressed directly to his mating gland. “Your knot splitting me open like I’m just a toy.”

Eddie smiles.

“You are my toy.”

#steddie #steddie omegaverse #omega steve harrington #alpha eddie munson #steddie ficlet #a/b/o #omegaverse

[mphountitled]

𝐒𝐀𝐅𝐄𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐓!

- How svt hip hop unit would react to you using your safeword

- cw: fluff, established relationships, humor, slight angst, quickies, rough sex, smut, breeding, degradation, safewords, +18, mdni, mingyu as his own warning

Always be safe, xo

⤑ Seungcheol

"This is good right? You're good?" Over and over again, Seungcheol had peppered you with reassurances. They bounced off the bases of his soft, pillowy lips with the same convictions as the wet kisses he was leaving on the side of your face.

You could feel how rough he was beginning to get.

Like a fucking concrete monolith was stationed between your thighs, rutting against you harder and harder the more time that seems to ebb between you. F-Fuck, baby you're so tight, huh? Such a tight little princess for me? He was completely and utterly delirious. You can't crane your hand to look at him no matter how badly you wish to. Your back flat against the polished wood of his desk, and his hand around your throat keeps you there as Seuncheol traps you underneath him. He fucking loved being framed by your soft, pillowy thighs. They got tighter and weaker intermittently around him, all while he whispered the most vile words into your ear.

"You like this, don't you?" You were swimming deep in subspace, a land of pink pillowy nothingness where your brain essentially became a tabularasa. A blank fucking slate.

"Y-Yeah- Cheol- fuck-" Seungcheol watches in pained ecstacy at your blissed out state, completely catching him in the height of his own Dom space. With your tongue lolling out, Seungcheol dips down to whisper straight into your open mouth, "You're such a pretty little slut you know that-"

He was squeezing the base of your throat as he rutted into you. More and more you began to wonder if you were even a person anymore.

"Just a pretty fucking slut for me to use-"

You felt like an object.

A toy.

And despite your walls clenching around his cock your hand flew to his wrist. "Ch-Cheol-"

"You're gonna make me cum, you stupid fucking bitch-"

"Cheol-"

"F-Fuck you're such a dumb little girl-"

"CHEOL- Ohmygod-PEACH-" as if released by some evil spell, Seungcheol immediately uncuffs his iron grip from the base of your throat. He is off of yoy in five seconds, creating as much distance possible while his chest rises and falls and rises and falls. You turn slightly, eyes wide and brimming with... something. It wasn't fear, Seungcheol would hate himself if it was that.

"Baby- I-"

"Could we maybe like, ease up on the name calling. J-Just a little."

He looks fucking devastated "Fuck, I'm- genuinely so-"

"I know. Babe, it's not your fault."

"When you said Degradation I just-" he shakes his head. He wasn't about to blame you. Anything but that. "Fuck I'm sorry-"

"Hey, you're so good. So good. I'm just not into it as much as I thought I was and that was an error on my part."

"Don't fucking apologize. Thank you for telling me."

"Thank you for being a safe enough place to tell." You shrug.

Seungcheol looks around the messy room with deflated shoulders.

"Are we.. do you- I mean I could run you a bath-"

"Get inside me, I was still close,"

⤑Wonwoo

There isn't a moment that Wonwoo isn't always just a little bit overly cautious during your various sexual escapes.

Whether it was a quickie in the bathroom of a Michelin Star restaurant or a divinely long session of lovemaking under the wooden beams of the ceiling, with both your bodies submerged in a sea of blankets. So completely consumed with one another, you've already filled the entire expanse of the messy California king with all your tussling and lovemaking. Wonwoo is always careful.

Infuriatingly so.

Howevsr, there are moments like tonight, where the stars were aligned just a little differently, and your long-term boyfriend was feeling all the more frisky.

You can feel his hands everywhere the very second he stormed into your bedroom from being cooped up in study.

What you expected would be the usual, sober, safe, sex with Wonwoo quickly bled into something else when he pushed open your legs and pulled down your underwear along with your tight pink bum shorts in a single fell swoop.

"Uh -" Your body just let itself be undressed by him. All you could do was watch your boyfriend and his stoney visage as he paid special attention to undressing you. The warm glow of the overhead lights shone off his glasses as he lifted your torso up as if it was nothing, undressing you as if you were a child with underdeveloped motor skills.

"Did everything go okay at work-"

"I can't write. Jihoon wants to record tomorrow and I still haven't written my verse," Wonwoo pays extra attention to rubbing his hands on your soft supple skin. His shadow falls over you as you feel completely vulnerable underneath him, and he has yet to spare your actual eyes even a single glance.

"I'm sure every amazing rapper's had writer's block once and a whi- FUCK!" Your head shot back into the pillows as Wonwoo buried his face in between your legs, eating you out with the most fervour he'd ever radiated in a single sitting. Gone was the poised, level headed Wonwoo. He died somewhere between the pages of his coffee stained notebook.

"God- Wonwoo-" he sticks his tongue out, lapping hungrily at your cunt that only gushes for him. He hums against the tortured skin and your fingers immediate reach for his scalp.

"Fuck-" he mumbles against your cunt before lifting his head, "Can't work like this-" he says before pulling off his thick rimmed glasses and discarding it somewhere on the bed. Your eyes cross the moment his plush lips rub against your cunt and your hips lift almost automatically from the bed. His hands are encircled around your ample thighs, promising you you're not going anywhere and his mouth visibly moves as he begins to eat you out in the most literal, most vile display of eating out you'd ever witness.

One tap on your thigh let's you know you're not watching him like he wants you to. Eye contact was sacred and Wonwoo always let you know.

You gain enough energy to crane you head down to make eye contact but the second you see his mess of overgrown hair, tousled from your harsh grip, or the eager, half lidded eyes, you're completely done for. You gush all over his face, and your limbs wrack and writhe, but he keeps you locked there.

"W-Wonwoo- Fuck-i cant-"

He doesn't listen, as if trapped in his own reverie of pussy-drunk pleasure as he continues to slurp at your cunt with his mouth sucrioned onto your clit.

"Wonwoo- Baby- please-"

He's far too locked away in the essence of you, way too fargone in the softness of your cunt to begin to realize you're becoming way too overstimulated.

It's only when you're tapping furiously at the side of his head, furiously screaming, "YODA! FUCK- YODA-" that he's ungluing his puffy lips from your poor clit, breathing heavily with his eyes wide as ifhed just been set free from the shackles of a spell. You're crying. That's the first thing he noticed. The second is your quivering legs, shaking like autumn leaves in the wind. Your bottom lip is shaking too, that's what gets him scrambling beside you where he immediately envelops you in the warmth of his embrace.

"I'm sorry, Princess-" and you can tell he means it, but still you weep silently.

Your voice is quivering as you say, "You-You know I can't go again so quickly after... after..." Your chest rises and falls and rises and falls and Wonwoo immediately presses your face into his chest, to let you air out all the bad emotions onto his plain white tee.

"I thought I was doing something good for you, but I only ended up thinking about myself," he admits against your forhead, where his lips refuse to part.

"I just... needed a break from work-" he says, "I'm sorry," and you forgive him because It's him.

⤑Mingyu

"Shh," he whispers, pulling your braids across your shoulders as he makes direct eye contact with you in the mirror, "This'll be really quick, I promise."

"I dunno, bro-" you whisper back, despite your hands already gripping the marble finishes of the bathroom sink. "Your quickies are never as quick as they need to be-" you say, pushing you ass back against the bulge in his designer jeans as you lower your torso to the sink.

Mingyu smiled from the mirror, something diabolical, his hair cropped, and his skin crisp from the warm, orange glow of the bathroom. Outside, somewhere down a labyrinth of corridors, the rest of his group sat in the VIP section of the televised award show. All of them humming along to whatever group has taken the stage with the hopes that their rapper would make it out on time for their own performance.

"You just indirectly told me I last long, baby," he says, clutching his heart through his Balmain dress shirt while making heart eyes at you through the mirror.

"Hurry or you're gonna miss your-"

"Fuck you're so wet- why are you so wet?" Mingyu rubs the softness of your ass while examining the gush of arousal coating your panties. He lifts his head, "I'm going to breed you-"

"Mingyu-"

He's already pulling his pants down, quick enough to pull his dick out and shove it inside your cunt. Your lips part and your head pushes against the mirror and you're seeing absolute stars. Quickies with Mingyu always felt particularly barbaric because of how sloppy he tended to get. His tongue practically rolled out his mouth like the golden retriever he was so often described to be, while he rutted into you with some base heavy trap song pouring through the speakers.

"F-Fuck, Mingyu- please,"

What he thought was a silent plead for more, spurred Mingyu. He was an insatiable brute as he laid a hand on your back, pushing you further against the sink. When the side of your face hit the marble, your blood ran cold.

"I'm going to fucking breed you , baby." His eyes are obscured by heavily tinted designer shades and his head his thrown back in ecstasy. He was beginning to drill his cock into you and you were beginning to find there is nothing you can do about it.

"'Gyu- you can't come inside, you know that-"

"I really don't think you should be on those pills anymore, babe-"

You instinctively lift your head to try to glimpse him through the mirror because he was talking crazy. His hand lifts his shirt as he drills into you, revealing his chiseled core and a near perfect lopsided smile.

"Are you talking about my birth control?"

Instead of giving you a response: "Down-" He grunts, forcing you to bend over again as his thrusts became sloppily and sloppily, "Almost there, don'wanna miss the performance-"

"Mingyu you're not cumming inside me-"

"Fuck- why not? You're so perfect and so tight. Your body's just begging for me to fuck a baby into it-"

"PEPPERONI-" You scream immediately bullying him off of you until he's stumbling backwards and your back is pressed against the marble. You watch him shake his head, pants loose around his waist and yet he still somehow locked infuriatingly perfect.

"What the fuck- DUDE!" You can barely keep the anger from seeping out of your voice as you glare down your irresponsible boyfriend.

"WHAT THE FUCK-"

"I didn't finish!" he whines while stomping on the ground with his heavy sneakers.

"Were you seriously going to finish inside me!? After I explicitly told you-"

"Shh, shh," Mingyu says, stepping towards you to even out the angry creases on your forhead. "It was just for the fantasy, babe," he whispers, "Just for the fanatsy,"

⤑ Vernon

You didn't wanna say the word. It just sorta slipped. Straddling Hansol while some Pixar film played in the back was definitely not how you expected your second sexual encounter to go. There was still so much you had to learn about one another. Your bodies were vast fields of uncharted territory, and you weren't particularly sure Vermon would like all of those parts.

"Fuck, you're so hot- he whispers against your bare chest because discarding your shirt had been the first order of business. "So beautiful-"

You had begun rutting against him, with your skirt falling over his sweatpants, and your breathing became heavier and heavier. There was no explaining the tension that bubbled as your cunt rubbed greedily against his front but you were well aware of that feeling.

"God, you feel so damn good," he whispers, "You gonna cum for me?" Hansol's voice is utterly dripping with sex and all you can do is whimper as you dig your fingers into his hair- "Hansol, I-"

"Fuck, I think you're gonna cum from humping me, baby? Thats so hot..." A pool of wetness trickled from your cunt and it stole all the strength to immediately push yourself off screaming "NEMO-" you tapped out.

"Woah-" Vernon looks confused, justifiably so as you scoot to the floor, your legs quivering underneath you as your orgasm ebbed away.

"What do you need?"

You evade eye contact as you speak. "I just... didn't wanna disgust you or anything-"

"Dude, 'disgust' is literally the last thing on my mind. What's the problem?" You're still unable to make eye contact, causing Vernon to sigh as he sits forward with his elbows on his knees, to get closer to you in height.

"Is it the movie? I never though Pixar would end up being a cockblock-"

"I nearly squirted." You admit. "Like everywhere-"

A moment of silence swells between you two and you can feel your heart sinking with every passing second. You wish to be anywhere but here. You could already smell all the warm popcorn you would ingest out of heartbreak, all the movies you'd-

"Fuck, and you thought that would 'disgust' me?" You peer up at him in pure wonder while lust descends on his visage like a shadow. "Sit on my face right now."

#seventeen #seventeen headcanons #seventeen smut #seventeen carat #seventeen imagines #seventeen fanfic #svt smut #svt x reader #svt fanfic #svt #seungcheol x reader #seungcheol smut #wonwoo x reader #wonwoo smut #jeon wonwoo x reader #kim mingyu x you #kim mingyu x reader #mingyu smut #kim mingyu smut #vernon x reader #vernon smut #chwe hansol #hansol smut #hansol x reader #hansol vernon chwe #choi seungcheol #wonwoo #mingyu

[gallusrostromegalus]

So I may have been browsing through your AEIWAM tag and came across your writing of Komamura saying it's too hot in summer when you have a fur coat you can't take off. By that logic he's gonna always be sitting beside Hitsugaya in Captain meetings if he can swing it, especially in the early days, cause that boy is like a mini air conditioner next to him. XD

Wolves are winter creatures. The double coat, the snowshoe paws, the proclivity for cuddlepiles- if Sajin could move somewhere that never got above 40F he'd be in heaven. Alas, he lives in a major city that hits triple digits in the summer, so he keeps close track of the little pieces of winter he can find.

The first person to realize his little game was Unohana. She knew about the wolfman thing- Yamamoto trusts her as much as Sasakibe, and persuaded Sajin that, should a medical emergency arise, it should not also be a medical surprise.

She is of course, the pinnacle of Medical Confidentiality.

...but his name came up during one of the Shinigami Women's Association meetings/boozing sessions, and a distinct schism appeared.

On one side was Soi Fon, Nanao, and Herself, who all found Komamura to be very polite, professional and reliable if somewhat reticent and at times, aloof.

"I swear I can't get more than three words out of him!" Nanao despairs.

"I like him. He knows how to Shut Up." Soi Fon agrees.

"He's a very private man." Unohana nods.

Across the table, Isane and Rukia are baffled.

"Captain Komamura? Ten feet tall, bucket head? That Komamura?" Rukia the so-called Ice Princess asks, gesturing to indicate their height disparity. "What the fuck are you talking about? He's SUPER friendly and will hang around to talk FOREVER."

"Yeah, every time I go to the 7th he always asks me to stay for lunch and wants to know how everyone in my family is doing and swap horror stories from the ER for tales of crazy people in the intake queue." Agrees Isane, wielder of the ice cloud Itegumo. "It's embarrassing, but one time I was more than two hours late getting back because we get to talking!"

Everyone stares at everyone else, baffled.

"Did- did I do something to piss him off?" Wonders Nanao.

"Huh. Maybe he just picked up on how much I hate small talk on the job?" Soi Fon shrugs.

Unohana is silent, thinking.

"GUESS WHO BROUGHT TEQUILA!!" Matsumoto Rangiku announces as she kicks in the door, holding four bottles of liquor, only three of which were still full.

"We need you to settle a debate!" Rukia demands at once.

"Ooh! I love passing judgement on things that don't effect me!" Rangiku coos, sitting down, her chest making an odd 'clunk' sound on the table "- there's also salt and limes!"

"It kinda effects you." Soi Fon waved her hand noncommittally. "How would you describe Captain Komamura?"

"Tall, Heavily Armored and Mysterious?" Rangiku shrugs, pulling the box of kosher salt out of her cleavage.

"...more like his personality." Isane clarified.

"Oh! Uhh... You know what? He's one of the few people that's ever complimented me on streamlining like 80% of the paperwork we have to do." Rangiku nodded, fishing the limes out as well. "Always has stuff done waaaay before I expected and I feel like a bit of a jerk for not replying immediately, but never complains if my stuff comes in late."

"Does he hang around and talk, or is he just really businesslike?" Nanao asks, eyes narrowed behind her glasses.

"Hmm..." Fowns Rangiku. "Kinda varies by the day- Sometimes he's all business, other times he'll stay and chat. I always assumed he wants to talk but sometimes he's got work, you know?"

There is much confused muttering as the limes are cut, when Unohana raises a finger.

"...How is he with Lieutenant Hitsugaya?" She asks.

"Oh, he ADORES Toshiro!" Rangiku nods enthusiastically, salting her shot glass. "He actually does the majority of Toshiro's Bankai training now because The Old Man handed it off to him so he could focus on teaching Zaraki Everything But Kendo- which, bless him for doing that, Shiro-kin could literally freeze my tits off!- and he really does a good job listening to Toshiro's concerns and confusions- he's a sensitive boy, you know? And Koma-kun is so gentle with him and to be honest I always eavesdrop on his advice because I could use it too. Delightful man all around." She nodded, and moved to down her drink.

"...Why?" She asked, pausing her drink and glaring suspiciously at Unohana.

Unohana nods with the clarity of enlightenment. "Nothing serious, but everything makes sense now." She smiles, then cracks into a small giggle. "It's rather charming, actually."

"Care to elaborate?" Soi Fon grumbles.

"Yeah that answered NOTHING." Rangiku glares.

"We noticed an interesting disparity in his behavior." Unohana explains, pushing her own glass towards Rangiku to fill. "For me, Captain Fon, and Lieutenant Ise, Komamura-Taicho is very polite, but sticks to the matter at hand and will not volunteer any further conversation. For Lieutenant Koetetsu, Miss Kuchiki and apparently Lieutenant Hitsugaya, he has all the time in the world and is quite the chatterbox."

"...Weird." Rangiku frowns, intrigued by the puzzle. "For me it's like, half and half?"

"Not quite, I think." Unohana smirks. "What do Isane, Rukia and young Toshiro all have in common?"

The Resounding Silence of Thinking Very Hard around the table was a bit of a disappointment, but they were about three bottles into the evening already.

"Can't be Height." Nanao hummed. "Rukia and Shiro-Kun are shorter than a stack of pancakes but Isane's got legs that are too long for the cover of Vouge."

"Isane and Toshiro are both silver-haired, but not me, and he doesn't seem to be particularly close to Ukitake-Taicho and I think I've actually seen him run out of a room to avoid Gin." Rukia puzzled.

"What? RUDE." Rangiku protested.

"They're all under a century old, right?" Rangiku pondered.

"No, I'm almost two hundred!" Isane sighed. "Oh wait- we all graduated early from the Academy!"

"Ehhhh, I graduated because I got adopted, I'm not a genius like you and Shiro-kun." Rukia waved. "Also, how would HE know that?"

"You're all Lieutenants!" Rangiku perked up.

"Not yet I'm not!" Rukia protested.

"Pfsh- you run half the division anyway. Jushiro should promote you to Co-lieutenant with Kaien already!" Rangiku waved.

"Its- it's complicated." Rukia mumbled. "Also, Nanao-chan is a Lieutenant and he doesn't like her!"

"Does it have to do with how freakishly huge he is?" Soi Fon asked.

"...Yes, actually." Unohana decided. Sajin might not have so much trouble thermoregulating if he was the size of a regular wolf. She reasoned privately.

"Also, He likes Nanao-chan just fine as far as I know. I think it's less about how much he enjoys your company- which I think he does, he's not one for putting on facades- and more about how much he enjoys your Proximity." She clarified, taking her shot. "Oh, this is good, what is it?"

"Cabrito Blanco." Rangiku read off. "Huh. The Cabrito on the label sure ain't Blanco." She frowned at the brown goat.

"None of us have transferred out of the Division we started in, but again, how would he know? and that hasn't got anything to do with Proximity..." Isane frowned.

Rukia slammed her glass down. "WOW that's got a kick. Maybe uhhhh... None of us wear perfume, but Gin doesn't either. I hope. I don't want to get close enough to find out."

"He's really not that bad-" Rangiku sulked. "OH, 'Blanco' refers to the tequila and this is that goat's white tequila!" She realized.

"Sometimes I wish I could take a weekend vacation in your brain. Its machinations fascinate me." Soi Fon teased. "Hmmm... Lotta close but no Cigar, you're all young-ish, Isane and Toshiro have living relatives and Rukia has a large adopted family, but again, not exclusive or Proximal. You're also all S-rank duelists with- OH!"

"Shh, I'm enjoying the flailing." Retsu grinned.

"Pfff- okay, that is kinda cute and I don't blame him." Soi Fon giggled. "Sometimes I'm real glad my seat is right next to The Old Man for the same reason. Or opposite reason, I guess."

"Bwah?" Rangiku frowned.

"I do the same thing with You, Momo and The Old Man that He's doing with them." Soi Fon grinned. Rangiku frowned, peculiar machinations grinding slowly through the tequila, before she suddenly cackled, head thrown back so hard Unohana had to reach out and grab her by the scarf to keep her from tipping her chair over.

"OH NOOOOOOOO!!" She wailed, shoulders shaking. "Oh- that's cute but Toshiro can NEVER find out he'll be such a brat about it!"

"Sorry I'm late, I had to finish the latest report on the Rice Farm Subsidy Fraud Investigation!" Momo panted, jogging in late. "-What can't Toshiro find out about?"

"There is SOMETHING that You, ran-chan and Yamamoto-sama share, and it's the same thing but backwards as what Me, Hitsugaya, and Isane have in common that Komamura-taicho really likes it or something, and THEY know but won't TELL US and its MAKING ME CRAZY!" Rukia wailed.

Momo stood, expression blank for a few moments. "Wait. You didn't know?"

"KNOW WHAT?" Rukia wailed.

"That Komamura hangs around with people with Ic-Mmpf!" Momo started to reveal but was abruptly tackled and the rest of the sentence smothered in Rangiku's Cleavage.

"With WHAT?" Nanao demanded. "What do they have that I don't?"

"-Hang on." Isane frowned, the slowly turned to her captain, squinting. "Is. Is this a... Physics Issue?"

"That's one way to phrase it." Unohana smiled as Momo flailed for air.

"Oh my Gooooood..." Isane groaned. "Why doesn't he just ASK? I'd happily go over and give Itegumo some practice, I hate summertime too!"

"Huh?" Rukia glared, as Momo finally fought her way free and gasped for air.

"Itegumo? That's your- ohhhhhhh." Nanao realized. "That's. Okay yeah that's actually really cute." She giggled. "Poor guy. The armor can't help with that, can it?"

"That's what I keep telling him but it's-" Unohana waved her hands and grimaced with frustration. "-He wears the armor because he's facing the *stupidest* form of Political Persecution I've ever heard of." she sighed.

"Really?" Asked Momo. "Captain Tousen said Komamura told him it's because he's got a major disfigurement or something?"

Unohana sighed and rolled her eyes. "Komamura is FINE, he's just- It's complicated and medically private but trust me, the helmet is a reasonable precaution against an absurd problem."

"Oh." Momo winced. "Well, I'm glad he's medically alright at least!" "I'm so fucking confused." Rukia whimpered, deflating over the table in despair. "Is. Is hanging out with me making him less sick or something??"

"...Yes!" Unohana smiled. "Or at least, makes his condition more physically comfortable."

Rukia turned that over a few times. "...Talking with him is helping?"

"Yes, but only if you're in the same room with him. Doesn't work over the phone." Unohana nodded.

"Okay." Rukia said, reaching for the nearest bottle. "Lets talk about something else."

---

Years Later, after the Bedlam of her attempted execution and Subsequent Rescue, Rukia finally saw Komamura's face.

It was a bit awkward, walking into the hospital room in search of her brother to find a nine-and-a-half foot tall wolfman wearing the Seventh Division Captain's Haori visiting Momo. It took her a moment to realize who he was, and another as some neurons connected and she squawked indignantly, pointing at him.

"My apologies, Lieutenant Kuchiki, but-" He sighed, ears flattening back against his head with Chargin.

"AIR CONDITIONING?!?!" She bellowed.

Komamura scrunched back, chagrined. For a massive apex predator, he did an excellent Kicked Puppy face.

"Rukia!" Momo protested faintly from her hospital bed. "Keep your voice down, I don't want Toshiro to find out!"

"Find out what?" Hitsugaya grunted, stepping out from behind Rukia.

"Ah, Well-" Komamura started to explain.

Rukia rounded on Hitsugaya, pointing behind her at the captain. "THIS JACKASS HAS BEEN EXTRA NICE TO YOU, ME AND ISANE BECAUSE WE ALL HAVE ICE-TYPE ZANPAKUTO AND CHILL THE AIR AROUND US!"

"...Summer is very uncomfortable when you have a fur coat you can't take off." Komamura winced.

"Uh, duh?" Hitsugaya rolled his eyes, strolling into the room. "I didn't know you were chilling Koetetsu and Kuchiki here as well, but I kinda figured you enjoyed the cold when you stayed at my Bankai training like, five times longer than Gramps ever did."

"My apologies for the deception." Komamura bowed his head.

"It's no big deal." Hitsugaya shrugged, putting a hand up to indicate he wanted help up onto the hospital bed, and Komamura obliged.

"See? I use you being tall too." he smirked.

Komamura sighed fondly as the boy sat down between him and Momo. "Momo makes me chill all her juice too, but she never seems to warm up my tea." he handed her a juice box from the vending machine down the hall, covered in condensation.

"It would explode." Momo grumbled.

"Skill Issue." He shrugged and she affectionately swatted him on the leg. "Anyway, don't dogs cool off through their paws?"

"I'm from a wolf clan, but yes." Komamura cocked his head with curiosity, then alarm when Toshiro casually grabbed his forearm and started tugging his Gauntlets off.

"I don't mind being a human ice pack, especially not when it's nintey-eight freakin' degrees out, but be efficient about it, yeah?" Toshiro grumbled, tossing the gauntlet aside and plopping Komamura's pawlike hand on top of his head.

"...Thank you." Komamura smiled gently, and ruffled his hair a bit.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever." Hitsugaya shrugged, playing the tough guy even as his ears turned red. "At least you're polite about it! Freakin' Zaraki literally just grabbed me- like, put his whole arm through the office window! and threw me over his shoulders once. Jerk."

"TOSHIRO!" Momo yelped, hand on her face. "You almost made juice come out of my nose!" She half-giggled while Rukia snort-laughed at the mental image.

"Hey Kuchiki!" Hitsugaya growled. "He's got two paws!"

"You can't boss me around! You don't outrank me anymore!" She grinned.

"I have seniority." he teased, and the bed started to shake as Komamura tried not to laugh.

"You really don't need to-" Komamura tried to diffuse the argument. His voice was rock-steady but the wide grin betrayed him.

"You gotta follow my orders though!" Ukitake said cheerfully, appearing in the door. "Hi Lieutenant Hinamori!"

"C-captain!" Rukia yelped, spinning around to Salute. "What are your orders, Sir?

"Shh, nothing's happening. But I did hear you squawking from two floors down, so what's happening?" Ukitake smiled down at her.

"Captain Komamura has APPARENTLY been hanging around me and the other Shinigami with Ice Zanpakuto and using us as Air Conditioners!" Rukia glared up at her commanding officer.

"...Rukia," Ukitake patted her head and smiled gently. "Do you remember where Lieutenant Kaien's desk was?"

"Second door on the left, right next to your office, Sir!" She nodded.

"Right! And where's your desk?" Ukitake asked, leaning in closer to her.

Rukia blinked, confused. "...It's immediately adjacent to your desk in your offi- GOD DAMMIT! NOT YOU TOO?"

"Yep!" Ukitake cheerfully patted her head and then palmed it to turn her around to face Komamura. "Hop to it!"

"Technically, I got the Idea from him, when I saw how he'd rearranged the furniture..." Komamura whispered as he helped her up onto the bed as well and Rukia groaned in defeat, settling next to Komamura where she could sulk at her captain from over the wolfman's broad shoulders.

"Oh, stop pouting!" Ukitake teased, sitting down on the chair beside Momo's bed and leaning back. "It'll be winter soon enough. Actually, Your friend Mr. Yasutora told me about a fascinating wintertime holiday in the Living World-"

#Bleach #Bleach Fanfic #AEIWAM #an elephant is warm and mushy #sajin komamura #toshiro hitsugaya #Momo Hinamori #rukia kuchiki #retsu unohana #LONG post under the cut #2.5K ficlet really

[luvyeni]

p. bf!mark x fem!reader | warnings: roughish sex, unprotected sex, a lil bit of angst | words: 0.7k ~ (740) 🐯ㆍ₊⊹

request: hai could i please request a smut of mark where reader n mark are arguing and fighting but in the end they're just.. fucking away their anger at each other and making up in the end!? thank you 🙏🏻🙏🏻

authors note. here you go love🤍

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

how could he just stand here and look you in the face and say you’re wrong. “i told you there’s no need to be jealous, she’s an ex for a reason.” you scoffed. “yeah if she’s an ex why the fuck didn’t you block her?”

mark ran his fingers through his hair angrily. “you read the text it was nothing.” he said. “nothing she basically said to text her if you were ever available and you said okay.” you argued. “because it's not like i’ll see her baby, it was polite talk.” you rolled your eyes. “polite talk with someone who clearly wants to fuck you again.”

“you know what, you sound crazy and i’m not arguing with you when you’re like this, come talk to me when you’re more level headed, and not acting like a crazy person.” he walked away leaving you in the living room fuming.

“she text you out of the blue, basically asking you on the date, and you telling me im the crazy one.” you stomped angrily after him. “mark you can’t seriously be this dumb.” you swung open the door to your shared bedroom, only to be pushed up against it. “i told you come in here when you’re calm.” you struggled against his grip, only pissing him off further, his hands tightening around your wrist. “let me go you’re being an asshole.”

“and you’re being a bitch right now.” he gritted through his teeth. “not my fault you want to fuck your ex get—” his hand came up to your throat, shutting you up. “you took it too far baby.” you gasped as you felt his hand tightened; his knee pushing your legs open. “told you to calm down.” he thigh came into contact with your clothed cunt, you moaned out at the sudden contact. “is that what it is, you’re jealous because im not showing you attention for 2 seconds, you know i don’t want to fuck her up.” that condescending smirk— you would’ve slapped him if he didn’t have you bounded. “you’re upset I’m not fucking you.”

he dragged you to the bed, throwing you down— you body bouncing as he rid himself of his pants. “this little attitude of yours isn’t gonna fly anymore.” he freed himself, cock bobbing against his abdomen. “gonna fuck it out of you.”

he wasted no time, pushing your legs up to your chest, slapped his cock on your clothed slit. “look at this wet pussy, you get turned on from arguing me huh?” he pulled your panties to the side, sliding right in, you screamed out at the stretch. “look at that slid right in.”

he held your legs open, his hips snapping against yours as he cursed. “fuck mark!” you moaned, right before his hand came down in contact with your pussy. “greedy little pussy, just take and take.” he grunted. “give you everything and what do i get?” he thrusted up, hitting that one spot. “nothing but fucking attitude.” he pulled out, flipping you over. “wa-wait mark— fuck!”

you felt his cock bullying it’s way back into your hole. “that’s stops today.” he gripped your hair. “if i tell you to calm down you listen.” he gripped your ass. “if i say don’t worry about something.” he pushed your head against the pillows. “don’t worry about it.”

tears ran down your cheeks as he plowed into you. “ma-mark im gonna cum.” you babbled. “should i let you?” he grunted, his orgasm approaching as well. “do you even deserve it?” you sobbed, nodding your head. “pl-please, im sorry.” you begged. “i’ll listen i promise.” he lifted you up, your back pressed against his chest. “you’ll be a good girl?” you nodded. “use your words.”

“yes, fuck!” you screamed, he let your arm go, falling back into the pillows. “cum for me baby.” your legs shook as you came, tightening around his cock. “fuck baby, fuck im cumming.” he grunted, you moaned feeling his cum sticking to your walls. “that’s it take my cum for me.” he kissed your back. “good girl, my good girl.” he slowly pulled out, his touch much softer as he laid you down.

“i love you okay?” he kissed your temple. “i don’t want to date anyone else and i damn sure don’t want to fuck anyone else but you baby.” he whispered, his hands holding you tight.

“i love you so much , never think otherwise.”

©️LUVYENI

#kpop x reader #nct smut #nct x female reader #nct x reader #nct hard thoughts #nct hard hours #nct dream imagines #nct dream smut #nct dream hard thoughts #nct dream hard hours #nct dream drabbles #mark lee smut #mark lee x reader #mark lee fic #mark lee hard thoughts #mark lee hard hours #mark lee scenarios

[dadvans]

an outlier that should not be counted

9-1-1 (TV) :: Evan “Buck” Buckley/Tommy Kinard :: 7.5k :: E

Buck knows a lot of random trivia. Tommy falls in love with him one fact at a time.

“I mean, I don’t really need to work up to it.” Evan looks squirrelly again. “When we first started dating I kind of considered, you know, what you might like, and I wanted to be prepared and—“ Realization dawns on Tommy. “Did you buy yourself a sex toy, Evan?"  “Several,” Evan admits. “I was kind of overwhelmed, and the girl at the store convinced me to get like, this whole training set, and you’re not small, and I just wanted to be ready. So, I’ve been, uh, practicing.”  He’s ridiculous. Of course he went in person, found an employee, asked questions. He was probably as nervous as he is now, and the mental image is too fucking much. Tommy rolls his eyes and tugs him in for a kiss to shut him up so he can’t embarrass himself more than he already has, and Evan goes with it, melting into his touch.  “You really want it, huh?” He says against Evan’s mouth.  The way Evan moans, fat-lipped and sloppy-tongued is an easier kind of eager. “I wannit, yeah.”

#bucktommy #tevan #kinkley #911 abc #delaney writes

[phantomrose96]

Sham Sacrifice: Chapter 2

(Sham Sacrifice: Chapter 1)

Chapter 2, because @ciestess voiced an idea that absolutely consumed my entire mind and I could not rest until I made this

...

Danny’s eyes tracked the swing of gunfire raining bullets across the horizon. Tucker reloaded, crouched, dodged left and pivoted, another blast of bullet confetti launched through a gaggle of zombie heads. He tossed the magazine and reloaded. Click. Ching. Danny flinched when a zombie smashed a hammer clean through Tucker’s head.

 “God. Fucking…” Tucker pulled out of his hunch. He unclamped his fingers from his controller like bug legs unfurling. He extended the controller to Danny, bouncing it in his grip. “Your turn.”

“Huh?” Danny asked, as if he hadn’t been watching Tucker’s game the whole time.

“You. You’re up. I died.”

Danny accepted the controller, reloaded the screen, and jogged about a hundred feet forward before the first horde of zombies took him out football-style from the left. The death screen rolled.

“Oops,” Danny said.

“Not your best work.” And Tucker took the controller back. Tucker shot a few spare glances to Danny while the level restart loaded in. “Is it Vlad?”

“No. Well, yes,” Danny answered, flopping back into his normal position on the Foley attic armchair. Tucker’s mom had planned to toss it ages ago, before it became Danny’s chair. “But at least he left when my parents went all zombie mode into the basement.” Danny picked absently at the scabs of leather flaking from the armrest. “It was just weird.”

“I don’t mean this as an insult, but it’s definitely not the first time your dad’s gotten some math wrong,” Tucker said. “He blows up like three things a week doesn’t he?”

“He does. But he doesn’t care when he gets that math wrong. This one was like I broke something important.” Danny’s expression soured, and he picked a leather flake clean off the chair. “Vlad did, I mean.”

“Does any of the math actually work?” Sam offered from Tucker’s desk. She leaned an elbow around the back of his chair, head tilted to Danny. A pencil dangled from her loose fingers, nib-half worn to the History of an Invention report she was actually working on. Tucker had half-assed his earlier in the day about the palm pilot. Danny had not done his. “Like, it’s all crackpot theory, right? Do ghosts even follow math?”

“I think they follow some math. It’s not magic that makes the ecto-bazookas work, or the Fenton-phones work, or—well the thermos DIDN’T work—until I made it work.”

The unspoken thing Danny had been not-quite-saying hung in the air. He said it this time.

“So I’m wondering if I did it. Like the Fenton thermos. And now maybe they’re gonna do the math all over and realize the missing piece of the equation is one half-ghost son.”

“Well the order is backwards, for starters,” Sam said. “Thermos worked because you pumped ghost-energy into it. How would you have done that to the portal? You were human when you walked in.”

“Sam’s right. What do you think you brought to the table exactly? Button-slapping abilities?” Tucker loaded up the next level. “It was their portal, and their math, and it worked. There’s a million-billion kinds of math and they probably just forgot one thing.”

Tucker took a headshot and died. Mechanically, he handed the controller back to Danny.

“Yeah, probably.”

“Ask Vlad. He’s got a portal.”

“Like Vlad’s gonna tell me.”

“Just promise to be his diligent little son minion or whatever. He’s easy. Wait, let me do the next level. You know I like the cyberpunk levels.”

“It’s not your turn,” Danny said, reeling the controller just out of Tucker’s wiggling grasp.

“I’ll let you do two in a row for your next turn.”

Danny knocked Tucker away, distracted just long enough for a zombie cyberbeam to launch from the horizon and take him out through the head.

The screen washed sepia. Danny stared at it. You died.

…

Danny hadn’t really meant to stay the night at Tucker’s place. They’d just gotten really far in Man vs. Zombie, and Sam had gone home, and Danny was just resting his eyes between his turns with the controller.

So when he woke to the bright strip of sunlight beaming into his eyes through the attic skylight, his first thought was Fuck.

He was awake, here, morning, school. Fuck he had not actually done his History of Invention report, despite the stupid amount of grief it had already caused him this weekend. He pulled his face out of the armrest, now pineapple-patterned from the decaying leather, and pawed for his phone fallen on the floor. If it was still early enough, he could maybe still afford to desperately half-ass something before sixth period science.

He flipped his phone open. A text from Jazz. “Don’t come home. Make up an excuse.”

“…Fuck,” Danny whispered, through the sensation of his heart launching itself into his throat.

He scrambled upright, whole body shaking at the mercy of adrenaline shock so soon after being pulled from dead sleep. His mouth was dry, teeth unbrushed, wearing his old clothes from yesterday, report not done, Don’t come home, Don’t come home, Don’t come home.

They knew. He’d fucked it up. Somehow they knew. The math. Something. And it had to be with guns blazing, because Jazz would not send that text if they’d taken the “We accept you” angle.

Were they coming for him? On their way here? Tracking by his phone? Did they like Mrs. Foley enough to not SWAT-slam her against the wall when she opened the door for them so they could come capture the ghost pretending to be their son?

Fuck.

Danny was upright. Danny was standing. Danny was shaking. Danny wasn’t actually sure what the next thing was he was supposed to do.

Tucker’s ball of blankets rustled from the couch. “Mmph?” he asked, articulately.

“I have to. Go deal with my parents, I think,” Danny said, because any plan felt a little better than no plan. “I think they know.”  

Danny was a ghost. Danny was gone. Tucker sat upright, alone, blinking himself awake. He was staring at the You Died sepia screen still displayed on monitor, now burnt into the plasma of the tv.

…

Danny paused with his human hand slick on the Fenton front door. The gears in his mind turned as his plan quickly unraveled into no-plan. He had no plan, right? What was his plan? Handle this Man vs Zombie style—open the front door ready to dodge wide, because both zombies and parents liked to camp behind closed doors with bazookas at the ready?

“—absolutely absurd, and entirely unscientific, with no probability of being true. It goes against everything we know about neurology.”

Oh, Jazz. Was Jazz enough of a bazooka-deterrent? Probably not. Knowing his parents.

Danny turned the knob. His heart hammered. If bazookas, dodge left.

The first thing he noticed was in fact the no-bazookas. It was what he was most looking for. And so it was Jazz’s expression he did not notice until second—whites of her eyes wide, snapped to Danny, with a look that would be accusatory if worry hadn’t won that battle. Her cheeks were pale. Her hair was unbrushed.

He noticed his parents third. Compulsively, he rocked back onto his right foot, still outside the doorway, still outside the threshold of the Fenton family household.

Seeing his parents tired was of absolutely no shock-value to Danny. It was at least a twice-per-month tradition to see them haul themselves up from the basement sweaty and glaze-eyed at 7am, babbling excitement about some new ecto-spectral-hoozy-whatsits whose concept had shimmed into their minds at 8pm and now existed, fully operational, 11 nonstop hours later.

So it wasn’t the exhaustion on their face. It wasn’t the stagnant smell of sweat or the paleness of their faces or the stains on their clothes.

It was the way they looked at him. Like their whole world had fallen apart with his foot passing over the doorstep.

“Danny,” Jazz said, choked, a break in the silence. “Things are…! A little weird here. So maybe, if you wanna just get to school, I’ll finish clearing up—there’s a misunderstanding Mom and Dad have with their math. I am state finalist in Math League and have been studying college-level calculus in preparation for school applications so I’ve offered to help them fix their math, or prove to them—”

“Danny,” Maddie said, an echo of Jazz, but it felt worse. Danny scanned her hands for anything pointed enough to be a weapon. They were empty. “Danny can I just ask you something honestly, just quickly? Jazz is right. I’m just trying to clear up an issue with our math. And I won’t be mad. Whatever the answer is, I won’t be mad. I just want an honest answer.”

She stepped closer. Danny fought the urge to match her with a step backwards. Her eyes roved over him in a starved way, looking for something.

“Were you there when the portal turned on?” she asked.

“No, I wasn’t,” Danny answered. He wasn’t sure what to do with his face to make it look convincing. “It just. It needed some time to boot up, or something, right? That’s what you two said.”

“That was our guess ,but we don’t really know. The security tapes are wiped. We tried to make them EMF-resilient but a very, very strong blast of EMF could still corrupt them.”

“Yeah. I mean the portal’s gonna do that, right? When it turned on? Ripping open the Ghost Zone that’s—gotta be huge EMF.” Danny’s focus bounced between his mother’s eyes. “Just a guess. I really don’t know. I was in bed, already, whenever the portal started working.”

Left eye. Right eye. Why was she looking at him like that? Like she was sad. Was this part a trick? Make Danny let his guard down, go hey Mom need a hug? and that’s when the bazooka-whipping starts? It made his ribs feel scratchy. Stop looking at me like that.

“Have you felt anything weird at all, since the portal started working? Any gaps in your memory? Any parts of you that don’t feel right? Is there any part of you that feels like it’s changed in a way you can’t explain?”

She reached a hand out. Danny instinctively recoiled.

“Uh, yeah. They taught us about this in health class. They call it ‘puberty’ there.”

“Danny,” Jack said, and his voice was scratchy from disuse, from a long and uncharacteristic amount of time spent not speaking. “Did you die in the machine?”

A beat. A moment. Like when the zombie sends a hammer through your head.

“I’M alive!” Danny declared with a crack in his voice, with hands slammed to his chest. “Look at me. What are you talking about?”

“It’s the only math that works,” Jack continued, his words like chalk, his voice too dead. He looked too much at Danny. “If one of you two walked into the portal, and died in it. And I don’t think it was Jazz.”

This was bad. This was weird. Danny had ghost powers, sure. ‘They can’t kill me I’m already dead,’ was a funny joke sometimes. But it was funny as a joke. He was a ghost sham, really. A faker, a LARPer, whatever Tucker had called it. He was a human who was just kind of a freak now. More of a freak than he already was. He looked dead, for someone who was super-duper still alive.

He’d buried that worry, already. They weren’t allowed to bring it back.

“Look… at me!” Danny continued, mouth dry. He threw his arms wide. “Look how super alive I am! I’m awake! Using energy! Eating food and sleeping with my human body. I’ve got flesh and blood and bones and stuff! I’m not a ghost-expert but ghosts don’t have that.”

This was weird. This made Danny feel like something was scratching to get free from inside his rib cage. It twisted his entrails. Sure Tucker and Sam had thought he was dead, for those first horrible few minutes, but then he changed back to a human and the nightmare ended there. Jazz never called him dead. The ghosts called him freak and halfa and whelp, but never ‘one of them.’ That was his whole thing: being different from the ghosts who became ghosts by something so normal as dying.

He was not dead.

“If you died in the portal, your ghost wouldn’t have been ripped out of your body. It would have been allowed to stay, and then you’d be…” Jack hesitated. “I don’t know what you’d be, but you wouldn’t be alive.”

“Dad,” Jazz said, and she stood herself bodily between Danny and Jack. “What an absolutely messed up out-of-line thing to say to your son! You don’t know that! Dad you’re tired, and just because you weren’t able to solve your math problem in one night doesn’t mean you get to treat Danny like this! I said I’d help you with your math! Now apologize to Danny.”

Jazz looked over her shoulder to Danny, her expression falling at the sight of Danny’s face.

Danny backed up over the door threshold. He shook his head. “I’m not comfortable with this. This is weird. I’m gonna go to school now.”

“Danny, I promise they’re just—”

Danny turned on heel. No backpack, no change of clothes. He took to the street without a single school supply and moved, and moved.

It was supposed to be guns-blazing. Molecule by molecule. Headshot you died. He’d prepared for that this whole time, in the shower, in his dreams, in his daydreams in class. He’d duck and dodge and explain himself over and over until they understood him.

Danny wasn’t sure he was capable of explaining himself anymore.

…

Danny knocked the heavy iron knocker. He was in ghost form, as a threat. He wondered if he still smelled like yesterday’s sweat now that he wasn’t wearing yesterday’s clothes. Now he was wearing the clothes he died in.

No one answered the door. Danny phased himself in.

“Vlad!” he called, and his words echoed along the slope of the two elaborate winding staircases that twirled and met at the top like caduceus. Gold-plated banisters. A security camera buried somewhere in the ceiling, no doubt.

Danny phased into the library. His eyes roved the three stories of bookshelves wrapping the perimeter like a sheath. Gaudy. Audacious. Like Vlad would ever read that much. Danny racked his brain because some something in here was the secret to opening Vlad’s laboratory. Jazz had told him. Some gold something to be touched, and pressed down, or pushed up? Or it opened to a button. Or a keypad, maybe.

Danny spat a curse. He was being stupid. He was frazzled. He wasn’t thinking straight.

He dove into the floor below. Intangibility was the only key he needed.

The sheetrock was cold, even when he wasn’t touching it. The darkness was so piercing it made static jump in his vision, some weird trick of the brain Jazz had explained where, in the absence of all light, the brain hallucinates its own. It came with a sensation of pressure against his eyeballs, and a complete disorientation of direction, and he simply just kept going down.

Danny emerged into a wash of cold air. Cold like metal was cold. The low lights of dials and clicking machines were bright to his eyes previously dunked into the pitchest nothing. He drank it in, eyes grateful for light no matter how little, inner ear grateful for orientation that had left his head swimming and his stomach tight.

His feet tapped down to the stone ground, and the air that breezed past him was chilled.

“Vlad!” Danny called again.

Nothing.

He moved by the floor lighting, which ran in trim along the perimeter of the laboratory rooms. It lit things from beneath, made machines gaunt and specimens into sharp geometries of darkness and flesh. It made the Fenton lab feel warm in a way Danny had never considered it warm.

His feet clacked. His breath puffed.

“Vlad!”

He followed light, followed a wash of green miasma percolating from some far room and catching on the particulate of water and dust that disturbed with the air currents. Danny disturbed it too, walking through, wearing its shade of green which his shadow robbed from the wall behind him.

“Vlad. I swear to god Vlad.”

He crossed the threshold of the portal room, where the dusting of green ambience became a medallion wash of golden-green coating, painting every surface of the room. The Fenton lab was one single expansive room, portal anchored into the far wall and facing all the dead and empty air in front of it. This was different. A much smaller room, walled on all sides save for the simple doorway, and each surface reflected the color back deeper and heavier. It was like a fishtank in the wall of an aquarium lit radiant aqua-blue by all the lights within, but green instead, pure ecto-green.

Danny approached the open portal. He stared into its placid swirls, mesmerized, and scared of it, in a way he hadn’t previously felt about the portal in the Fenton basement.

“Ah, seems the cat is a good mouser after all, it dragged you in my boy.” The words came sing-song. They came spine-shivering for Danny, who felt them like hot breath on his shoulder and reeled back, pivoted, fire crackling to life in his palms.

Vlad stood at the doorway, a solid 20 steps from Danny.

“Vlad.”

“So I’ve been hearing.”

“I need you to explain the portal.”

“Ah, I see you’ve spoken to your parents.” Vlad stepped in, washed in the ecto-green which muddied his ruby red eyes. He held his hands behind his back, cape trailing, a smirk on his fanged face. “Last I heard they weren’t taking the news very well.”

“What news. What did you tell them?”

“Me? Nothing. In fact, very kindly for your sake I even tried to drive them away from the answer but… We know how stubborn your parents can be.”

“What answer?”

“That you’re dead, Daniel.”

Shock washed like ice down Danny’s spine. It sent prickles like spider legs across his skin.

“Well, I suppose there’s still chance for some doubt. It could be Jazz. She could take the fall for you, if there’s any benefit to that at all.”

“I’m a halfa. We are halfas,” Danny said.

“A silly made up word by a silly child,” Vlad mused, and the light smile left his lips. “We are dead.”

“I’m not dead,” and Danny’s words were small, and they were childish.

“You are. I am. Embrace it. It’s nicer this way.” Vlad took a few steps closer, lionously tall in his saunter, feet clacking the ground. “It’s very freeing. After you’ve died already what is there left to fear?”

“I’m alive.”

“You’re a dead body with its soul still stuffed inside it like a Christmas goose. A lot of things in your body don’t work anymore, but ghosts don’t work right anyway and it is, for all its defiance of nature, a perfectly symbiotic relationship.” Vlad’s smile brushed his lips again, warm. “It’s nice to share this with you. Isn’t it nice to share things with people?”

Danny’s heart was beating too fast in his chest, and it was a human heart, a human beat. “I’m not dead,” he declared.

“Your wounds heal quickly because the ghost piloting you only needs to remember form. It stacks cells back into place and calls it good. You’ll endure fatal injuries as you no doubt have many times in your fights, but they’re trivial because physical trauma is not what kills a ghost. It’s what creates one. You’ll necrotize in places but it’s okay, because you’ll carry on, and it will bother you only if you let it bother you, if you’re too sentimental about the puppet you’re still inside.” Vlad closed in closer, neck craning to appraise Danny. “Ghosts love a facsimile of life so you will keep your heart pumping, your lungs breathing. You’ll eat and you’ll sleep but you’ll find you won’t perish if you don’t. It just won’t be a good time if you want to keep occupying your flesh form. Take better care of it. You won’t get another.”

“You’re psychotic. And you’re wrong.”

“I have all the math to prove it.” Vlad leered from over Danny’s shoulder. He circled the boy, knocking Danny’s balance, who still on a hair trigger stood ready to fight. The light from the ghost portal painted Vlad’s face like the phases of the moon as he moved. “Did your parents explain that part to you properly?”

“No, because they didn’t get the math right.”

“Oh they’ve gotten it right. This time. It only took them two decades longer than it took me.” The portal rolled like static, and its fizzling pattern crashed like an ocean wave across Vlad’s cape. “No amount of man-made power is sufficient to drag the entire fabric of the Ghost Zone up against our own, tear a hole through it, and anchor it to a stable frame. It requires something with a pull on the Ghost Zone, a strong pull, and that thing is a human life at the moment of an extraordinarily violent death.”

Danny backed a step away from the portal, from Vlad, but the walls boxed him in. He swam in its green light.

“You stepped in and you turned the portal on, that’s what you thought, right, Daniel? Pressed a careless button on the inside and now here we are. Silly parents for not finding that button first.” Vlad’s face hardened. “No. Jack and Maddie knew about the button. Maddie explained it to me over the phone. What engineer designing and building their own portal would forget the location of the on button? They’d pressed it from the outside. It didn’t work. And so you pressing the button was not the important part. It was you dying to the electrocution that clicked everything right into place. And while your ghost should have been torn from your lifeless corpse and pulled to the Ghost Zone you instead pulled the Ghost Zone here. Your ghost got to stay put. You opened the portal. You became the undead freak you are. And now we’re here.”

Danny’s eyes bounced between Vlad’s. His cheeks felt hot, like he was enduring an accusation of wrongdoing. And he had none of the knowledge to refute what was being said.

“You’re messing with me. You’re wrong,” Danny shot back. He thrust an arm out, drenched in the fog of the portal. “If the portal needs a person to die in it then explain your portal! Are you so casual about it? You killed someone? You’re admitting to murder and you think I won’t do anything about it?”

Anger flashed like a storm across Vlad’s face. His aura swelled, pressing down with a pressure on Danny as Vlad halted and cast his shadow clear across Danny, coating the back wall. “The killing of other people with the wanton carelessness of half-baked machines is the domain of Jack and Jack alone. I’ve brought no such harm onto anyone else.”

“Then how do you have this portal?”

“This portal? This portal that I’ve had for 20 years? Which I opened when I solved the piece of Jack’s broken math that he was never able to solve until this morning?” Vlad stalked closer, hunched, imposing. Danny stepped back. “My boy Daniel you’ve had it so easy. You had it so simple. A truly clean break. So clean so lucky. A single lethal dose of electricity and it was already over. I’m jealous. You never even suffered.”

Vlad stepped closer, striking distance, arm extended. Danny flinched, but Vlad only swept his cape around, clenched in his fist, and pivoted to approach the portal.

“Put out of your misery before it even started.” Vlad slammed his fist against the portal rim, and the explosive metallic clang bounced through the rooms. His laugh belted out. “I should have been so lucky.”

19. Vlad Masters was 19. A sophomore in college. A man actively in the midst of sabotaging his social life to chase a woman who was already deeply in love with Vlad’s best friend who he hated more every day. He wasn’t sure what he ever enjoyed about Jack’s bumbling ineptitude, or his loudness, his brashness, his poor social skills, his bad breath, his mullet. Maybe Vlad had gravitated to Jack because deep down he loved how superior it made him feel to surround himself with the likes of Jack Fenton… And now, he hated how enraged it made him to watch Maddie’s eyes skip past his to focus on Jack Fucking Fenton again and again and again and again.

But surely there was hope still. Surely it was a matter of time before the rose-tinted glasses fell away and Maddie saw bumbling and inept and every such word in the basket when she looked at Jack. There’d come the day she tested the waters with Vlad to complain about one of Jack’s little quirks, and they’d find solace together in all the things Vlad was that Jack wasn’t, and all the things Vlad had that Jack didn’t. And he’d be gone, back to bumble elsewhere, and it would be just them.

The day didn’t come. It wouldn’t come. And maybe Vlad needed to change himself for Maddie. If he listened to her and Jack’s ghost ramblings, if he could put Jack in his place and solve the things Maddie couldn’t, it would show her. She’d understand.

Because that was the thing about Jack. His math was never right. Enduring Calculus 1 with Jack was all it took to prove this to Vlad. How many times he’d caught a single error on a single line for Jack, like a dropped stitch that would unravel the whole sweater. Every problem, without exception. Jack only passed on his homework grade with Vlad’s help. On his tests, he failed.

So Vlad was staring at Jack’s equation, full of bogus math, which Vlad knew was wrong because Jack had penned it, and Vlad had not yet fixed it himself.

“I’m telling you Jack, it won’t work.”

“Bogus V-man it totally will!”

It wouldn’t. But Vlad wouldn’t fix it for him. Not yet. Vlad would let Jack embarrass himself first, fully in front of Maddie, watching on, judging. Vlad would solve it for her. After. Once Jack had made a fool of himself for the hundredth time since college began.

He leaned in to study the portal frame. The gears were turning in his head already. He didn’t hear the whir of the power source catch.

…

19. Vlad Masters was 19. A tube ran down his nose and into his lungs, supplying oxygen for lungs which were failed by a diaphragm sloughing itself away. He was poisoned from the outside-in. Irradiated by ecto-energy none of the nurses or doctors could fully understand. It damaged his DNA. First obvious in the skin of his face where the blisters of his ecto-acne drained and sloughed. “Acne” was the wrong word. An unkind word. They were boils where the blast had cooked his skin, microwaved his cells. The skin on his body blackened over time. Organs decayed. Vlad Master read a lot about radiation sickness. He knew everything he had to expect.

Jack and Maddie had stopped visiting. They were dating now. It was on their last visit they’d told him, and Vlad hadn’t taken it well, and he’d perhaps burned a few bridges with the words he chose. It was deserved. Considering what Jack did to him.

He’d found the error in Jack’s math, by the way. Errors, but all the rest paled in impact compared to the lambda. The ecto-energy. The necessary ecto-potential to pull the Ghost Zone here. How stupid. How idiotic. For Vlad to die to a machine so botched in its construction.

When Vlad was released from the hospital, it was not because they’d cured him. It had been because there is a certain cruelty in making a 19-year-old live the last of his days bedded down in a white-walled room with just his books, his equations, and no one coming to visit anymore.

He was released with bedrest instructions. Vlad did not heed them. In his beater car, every cell of his body aching, he drove. At the materials lab, he disconnected his oxygen tank and moved through the lab space with the tube dangling loose from his nostril. No one was Vlad Masters’ friend. No one cared to stare long at his ugly boil-ridden face. No one stopped him as he hauled sheet metal, and supports, and bolts and wiring and resistors and power tools, checked out with a valid student ID, from the lab. The lab inventory room would not be seeing these back.

It was a prep bunker, buried beneath a vast lot of empty Wisconsin land, that Vlad hauled his materials. He and Jack had discovered it as freshmen. Poked through its bowels with flashlights and quipped and laughed over how eerie it was. Deep beneath the sheetrock, boxy rooms carved out of walls of stone. Shelf upon shelf of dusty canned foods, and shotguns sealed in cases fastened to the walls. The locks had rusted with water damage.

His arms ached until they throbbed, dragging beams of metal across the stone floor, scratching chalk-mark stains into the ground. His skin sloughed, inflamed, burning to the touch. Vlad didn’t bother to rest, because these injuries would never heal anyway. He hauled, and welded, and wired up his circuitry and resistors with a care and caution Jack would never have bothered to practice. He checked it against his math by flashlight. He took naps on the cold stone floor and woke with deep purple bruises on every part of his body that had pressed against the ground.

His appetite left him. His lungs filled with mucus. The boils on his face had spread down to his chest, his shoulders. The touch of his shirt chafed them, so he worked without one, a figure of skeletal rib ridges jutting from tight skin that bloomed with the projection of his shadow against stone walls.

He knew why Jack’s math was wrong.

A silly mistake. A stupid mistake. Anyone with half a mind for the paranormal should have realized the Ghost Zone was not so easily at your beck and call. Not without chumming the water with something it would rise to feast on.

And in that violent death, what would happen to the ghost? It would stay, wouldn’t it? If it successfully anchored the Ghost Zone to the portal it stood inside, then by definition the ghost would stay?

And was that death? Yes, in a way. But it was a death one would get to keep living. As opposed to the death Vlad was headed for, whose coldness and finality scared Vlad more than anything he could put to words.

He’d fixed the oxygen tank back to himself. He couldn’t work without it, hauling it about on a little dolly with him, back and forth, while he fetched and affixed the last of the plating he needed to craft the frame of his silent soulless portal.

He’d stolen a generator from the sports storage shed. It was meant to be enough to power the portable stadium lights they hauled onto the fields for late games, an absolute obelisk meant to cast light across an entire football field.

Surely, it contained enough power to kill one simple human.

Vlad fixed the last bolt in place. Jumper cables clamped generator to portal wiring. It was a pure skeleton. A paltry thing, like the bones of something already picked clean. Built in haste, sloppy, by a 19-year-old whose fingers were too inflamed to clutch a wrench any longer.

He could have asked Jack for help. Maddie. But he wouldn’t let them have this. They had to solve the portal on their own. They didn’t get to know his hard work. They did not get to save him.

Vlad would save himself.

A ghost anchored to a body. What was that? What monster was that?

Vlad moved. He coughed mucus from his lungs. It made it hard to breathe. So he moved slowly, and crouched, bony jutting angles, painted blotchy purple, all bruises and skin, sloughing away.

He crouched, because the portal he’d constructed was not large enough to hold him standing up. He bowed inside it, a small thing, a pathetic man of little life. He wheezed. He hurt. His eyes burned.

And he held in his hands the remote to flip the generator switch, and connect the circuit, and bring to life the math Vlad had so kindly corrected out from under Jack’s grip.

Vlad did not. Because throwing the switch would kill him.

Deep in his animal brain, his dying brain, he knew this intimately. It filled him with a drowning fear like paralysis. He did not want to die.

He would die if he did nothing.

It would be this one throwing of the switch which could save him. Which would burst the portal to life right through his heart. Electrocute it out of its rhythm, slaughter him like a pig on spot and… maybe… hopefully… drag the Ghost Zone here. And whatever he was, dead, would stay.

And whatever he was, dead, would be better than this.

Vlad held the remote in his clammy hands.

And from within the humming skeleton of his portal, his fingers caressed the on button.

…

The portal sung its happy contentment, mused in its healthy green aura, staining all the slabs of rock wall. Danny swiveled his head, recognizing now the bunker this had been before it had been a laboratory.

“I’ve harmed no one, Daniel,” Vlad concluded, his voice too measured for the horrors it had spilled forth. Too calm against the blossoming terror its words had wrought across Danny’s face. “I opened the portal to save myself. You’re lucky, Daniel. It was because of my fast thinking that your father is not a murderer. I took that honor from him.” Vlad’s head tilted to the side, suddenly sympathetic. “Although, you’ve maybe made the title whole for him.”

Vlad reached out, Danny shot away.

“Dad didn’t kill me,” he choked. “I did this to myself.”

“How lucky Jack is, to always dodge responsibility for his actions.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Of course you don’t. If you believed me, you’d have to accept you’re not wriggling out of this. There’s no denial you can bring home to your parents. If you believe me, then this is reality.” Vlad smiled, a playful glint to his fangs. “I suppose I should have more sympathy. I quite like being this way. It is so much nicer than wasting away to death, like I was. But you. You were healthy before this. This killed you, and it didn’t save you from anything.” Vlad cocked his head. “Such tragic fates, both of us, due to the carelessness of Jack Fenton.”

Danny shook his head. His heart beat—his human heart beat—all too fast in his throat. It made him sick. It made him feel like the walls were closing in around him. This was Vlad’s doing. Vlad’s trap. Vlad’s prison he’d been forced to join.

"That's not true. I'm not like you."

“Of course not,” Vlad said, sweetly. “How sweet denial is. Deny it if you like. Call me a liar. But if you ever want to come to terms with what your father did to you, consider coming to me. I understand you in a way no one else will.”

Danny gave no response. He gave no acknowledgement of Vlad’s words. He took to the air, phased himself up through the sheetrock that had been packed atop the doomsday prepper bunker. Up through the mansion, which had been built atop the portal beneath it, and not the other way around. Into the open sky, he breathed fresh air not stagnant and damp beneath the ground, bathed in light pure white from the sun and not tainted green like the bowels underneath him.

And he flew back toward the portal that made him, leaving Vlad with the from which portal he’d made himself.

...

(inspiration post from @ciestess)

#sham sacrifice #danny phantom #dp #dp fanfiction #vlad masters #danny fenton #YELLS AND THROWS THIS AT YOU #ive been spinning around like a top on this idea #tw: suicidal ideation

[undressrehearsal]

is it casual now?

chapter 1

summary: you and ellie agreed that this was just for a little fun - so what's the harm in her inviting you to joel's for a movie night?

word count: 2.3k

tags: nsfw, fingering (e and r receiving), angst, dub con?? i think?, does this count as public sex?, this shit's messy af y'all, mean reader, toxic relationship

a/n: i've wanted to write a fic based off this song for a while now. i've seen a few people write it (the song's a banger) but i only ever see ellie being written as the distant toxic one and tbh i don't think that matches her character so here's the opposite

also i hid a one last stop reference in here if you find it you get a prize (it's not hard to find)

if you wanna be tagged in the things i post, just lmk in the replies!

Joel was trying to decide what movie you should watch. 

At least, Ellie thought he was. She could see the way his lips were moving - could even make out the words Dawn of the Wolf, whatever that meant - but she couldn’t actually hear him. She sat across from him at the dining table, nodding along, trying to school her expression into a pantomime of interest, but his words were drowned out by the ringing in her ears. 

Your hand on her thigh crept higher. 

Ellie shifted in the uncomfortable wood chair, uncrossing her legs only to recross them, and your hand didn’t move. You stroked slow circles into her jeans with your thumb; she would have thought it was absentminded if she didn’t know you so well. Ellie could see you in her peripheral. You smiled politely, nodding along as Joel listed off what movies he had found lately - it had become his mission to hunt for them while he was on patrol. (He always insisted that Ellie needed to be familiar with all the classics from before the outbreak.) 

Somewhere past the sound of her heart pounding in her ears, Ellie heard Joel say her name. She blinked, shifted in her seat again, and replied intelligently, “Huh?” 

He shook his head at her and laughed as he said, “Where you at, kiddo?” 

She ran a hand through her hair, purposely avoiding looking at you - she knew she’d only find that shit-eating smile on your face. “Sorry, had patrol late last night. Yeah, that movie sounds cool.” She had no idea what movie he had suggested. 

It didn’t matter much in the end. After switching off the lights, Joel sat back in his big old recliner (he’d looked like a fucking kid on Christmas morning when Tommy gave that to him), leaving the couch to you and Ellie. You leaned into her with your head on her shoulder; she had her arm draped over the back of the couch, not quite touching you. She was dancing a fine line between wanting to hold you and knowing you wouldn’t let her, but the tightrope was slipping from under her feet because you had put your fucking hand on her thigh again. She’d swear there was a damn magnet connecting your hand to her. 

Ellie covered a gasp with a cough when your hand drifted between her legs. Your eyes were glued to the flickering television, but there was no hiding the small, satisfied smile on your lips. And she fucking hated herself for wanting to kiss it more than anything. 

The tattered blanket you shared covered up the fact that the tips of your fingers were grazing across the seam of her jeans. Even the ghost of friction made her squirm, the movie becoming nothing more than white noise. You were too fucking bold, and her head spun when your nimble fingers undid the button and slid the zipper down so slowly it ached. When your fingertips dipped below the waistband of her boxers, she couldn’t stop herself from glancing at Joel. He was enthralled in the movie, and she couldn’t even pay attention to it; she hated herself for that too. 

She knew she shouldn’t; she knew she should’ve grabbed your wrist, told you to stop so she could just enjoy the movie with her… with Joel. He’d been trying to plan a movie night with her for a week, and tonight she had finally been free from patrol. God, she shouldn’t have invited you, but when he asked if she wanted to bring a friend, of course your name had popped up. 

She should have known it would be a mistake - an intoxicating one, but a mistake nonetheless. And when you dragged your fingers over her, pressing the lightest pressure to her clit, it took everything in her not to tilt her hips against your hand in search of friction. 

Ellie bit down on her lip so hard she'd swear she tasted blood when you dipped just the tips of your fingers inside her. It was embarrassing how easy it was - how wet she already was and you had hardly even touched her. But when you circled her clit, your fingers already soaked, the shame burning in her chest evaporated. Her eyes fluttered, heat burning in her stomach, your touch setting her aflame. Her fingers dug into the back of the couch. She longed to touch you, to just wrap her arm around you and hold you close, press your head to her chest so you could hear how her heart reached for you. 

Instead, she could only grip the couch behind your shoulder, gritting her teeth against the ache of it. You didn't even look at her, playing with her as though it were an afterthought, but there was no missing the smirk on your lips. She hated it; God, she wanted to kiss you. 

Ellie didn't dare look at Joel - she didn't think she could handle seeing him so engrossed in the movie he had been so excited to show her while she sat only a few feet away, coming undone on his couch. She couldn't handle the shame rising in her throat again. If she looked at him, she was sure she'd be sick right there. 

She tried so hard to keep it together - her hips ached from the force of holding them still, her lip surely cracked from biting it. Her chest burned with the moans she had to swallow like acid. But she couldn't keep it all in - it was overflowing. And when finally, the coil in her stomach threatening to snap, a low groan spilled from her lips, Joel turned to look at her. 

Ellie didn't want to think about what he saw, but whatever it was, it made his brow pinch in concern. She couldn't meet his worried eyes when he said, “You okay, kiddo? You don't look too good.” 

Your fingers hadn't even fucking slowed. You looked at her with a mask of concern, batting your eyes so innocently even as you pressed your fingers into her, curling them so you hit that spot that made her see stars. And then Ellie did grab you, gripping your shoulder in warning and glaring down at you. You wrinkled your nose, but relented and slid your fingers out of her; her grip tightened when you slid back over her clit. Fuck, she never should've invited you. 

Ellie cleared her throat; she couldn't look at either of you without feeling sick, so she turned her gaze to the movie. What was it even about? 

“Sorry, I just-” Her voice was strained, suffocating in her own throat. She felt like she was going to swallow her own tongue. The coil in her stomach tightened and she felt nauseous. She groaned again, and the words tripped over themselves in a rush when she said, “I don't feel good.” 

Ellie stumbled to her feet, forcing you to withdraw your hand; when she glanced down, she could see that your fingers were wet and it made her stomach twist. Keeping one hand over her stomach to hide the fact that her fucking pants were undone, she hurried from the room, ignoring Joel when he called after her. She couldn't look him in the eye or else she might actually puke.

Making a beeline for the bathroom, Ellie slammed the door behind her and leaned against it, the wood cold against her back. She took a deep breath, counting the cracks in the ceiling until her heart finally stopped bashing against her ribs, her throat burning. Pinprick tears stung her eyes as she fixed her pants, her fingers shaking so hard she could hardly grasp the button. 

Cursing under her breath, Ellie braced her hands on the bathroom sink, her shoulders sagging. Her eyes were rimmed red; she scrubbed her hands over her face roughly, willing her stomach to settle. 

She shouldn’t have been upset, really. The first time your hand had found its way into her pants, all those months ago, you had made it perfectly clear what this was. She could still hear your voice from that night, saccharine sweet and smelling like the whiskey you had nabbed from her cabinet: Come on, Els, Jackson’s so boring. We can just have a little fun, right? She remembered the weight of your body when you climbed onto her lap, your thighs warm on either side of her hips, your hands pressing her back against the couch. She could still feel the way your breath had ghosted over her neck, your voice dripping with honeyed desire: It's just a little fun.

Her own eyes looked so unfamiliar, a stranger peering at her from the bathroom mirror. 

Cursing again, she turned on the faucet, bending to splash water on her face - it was December and the water was so cold it numbed her hands. It was a welcome relief against her burning skin. 

Ellie felt so fucking dirty it hurt. No matter how she scrubbed at her skin, rubbing it raw, she couldn’t seem to rid herself of it. The cold water stung her cheeks. 

A knock on the door made her jump, cold water splashing down the front of her shirt. She cursed, pulling the damp fabric away from her chest with a grimace before calling, “Give me a minute, okay?” 

But you had never been very good at listening, had you? You didn’t even look surprised when you pushed the door open, ignoring her protest, and found Ellie leaning against the counter, water still dripping from her chin. If anything, you looked almost amused, quirking an eyebrow at her. It was the look you gave her every time you got her worked up, your eyes showing the laughter you bit back. She fucking hated that look. 

Ellie glared over her shoulder at you, but there was no real malice behind it - even when she hated you, something in her still softened when you were around. A switchblade girl with a cotton candy heart. 

You closed the door softly behind you, leaning back against it with a smug smile that she wanted to wipe off your face - she just wasn’t sure how she wanted to yet. Ellie could hear how your ego tinted your voice when you said, “Joel sent me to check on you. Probably thinks you're barfing your guts out or something.” 

Ellie rolled her eyes, looking away from you and mumbling, “Yeah, I guess dinner didn’t sit well….” 

You scoffed and the sound went straight to her stomach. She felt rather than saw you step behind her; she tensed when you placed your hands on her hips, leaning forward to put your chin on her shoulder. Her hands gripped the edges of the sink so hard she thought the porcelain might crack. She could feel the heat of your body all the way down her back, your hips pressing into her ass, and her traitorous heart fluttered embarrassingly. 

Ellie met your eyes in the reflection, watching as your smile grew into something almost mocking. You placed a kiss on the back of her neck, pressing your words into her skin: “Damn, Els, I didn’t know Dawn of the Wolf got you so hot and bothered.” Your fingers pressed into her hips, pulled her back against you. She failed to smother the sigh it pulled from her. She hated how it made your smile widen, and she hated even more how much she wanted to fucking kiss it off your stupid face. She shivered when she felt your teeth graze over her neck, and almost missed it when you muttered, laughing, “God, you’re so fucking easy, you know that?” 

Ellie shoved away from the counter, spinning on her heel and grabbing your wrist before you could flinch away. You had only blinked before she slammed you back against the wall, praying that Joel didn’t hear it. Her fingers wrapped so tightly around your wrist she could feel your pounding pulse, pressing it to the wall above your head. She slipped her thigh between your legs, pressing up into you, and she only had a moment to register that smug fucking grin before she slapped a hand over your mouth. She relished in the way your eyes flashed in something akin to fear. She had to find wins where she could, right? 

Leaning forward so her nose brushed yours, Ellie growled into the back of her hand, “Don’t make a fucking sound.” 

And she did get to wipe that cocky smile off your face. She kept her hand over your mouth, releasing your wrist to snake her arm between your legs. She muffled your moans, hissing when your nails dug into her biceps. 

Joel was in the next room, she thought distantly. Joel was in the next room, watching the movie he had been so excited to show her. He was in the next room, concerned about her, waiting for her, and here she was pressing her best friend into the wall of his bathroom. She had your pants around your ankles, two - three - fingers pushing into you. She could feel the vibrations of your moans against her hand - she wanted to press her lips to yours and swallow them, knowing you would never let her. 

It came too fast, Ellie pressing into you relentlessly if only to make you fucking shut up for once. Your body shuddered against her, and she wanted to hold you through it, but by the time it was over you were already pushing her away. When her hand fell from your mouth, you were smiling again. Maybe she was going to be sick after all. 

@filtered-sunlight

#are you proud of me that this isn't 10k words #idk how many chapters i'll write #i'm kinda winging it rn #ellie tlou #ellie williams #ellie williams smut #ellie williams x reader #ellie x reader #ellie x fem reader #lesbian smut #ellie x you #ellie the last of us #ellie williams tlou #tlou smut #tlou angst #this is p angsty

[gyeomsweetgyeom]

[2:57 pm]

(cw: f!reader, suggestive, “fucking”)

"How much longer do you need?" Bestfriend!Mark whines from your couch.

You had both planned to go to lunch almost an hour ago, but when you saw his outfit you decided you had to change. Apparently, you were too over dressed and "no, no, no! Don't worry, it won't take long!" Lies!

"I think we already missed the grace period for the reservation, think of somewhere else to eat now," Mark called out.

He could hear you running around, breathing hard, spraying something, and... hopping?

"Mark! You worry too much. I left my phone on the counter, check the email that they sent me I have it flagged," he heard you call out.

He sighed, standing from his comfy spot on the couch to get your phone. The face ID obviously fails so he tries to remember your password.

"My passcode is 8008!" You yell out.

Mark bursts out laughing, "Dude, seriously?"

You come out and look at him with a poorly concealed smile and only one shoe on, which coincidentally doesn't match either shoe in each of your hands, "it's funny!"

"Whatever," he rolls his eyes and watches you leave, not even bothering to hide the way his eyes fluttered as he caught a whiff of your perfume.

He shook his head, refocusing himself while he typed in your passcode. Immediately his eyes went wide at what he saw on the screen.

There was no email pulled up, no games, not instagram, or even tiktok- no! It was your photos app, the photos app with a picture timestamped to an hour and a half ago. A picture with you dressed in the least amount of clothes he'd ever seen you in.

His face flushed, he felt his face get hot and had no doubt he was bright red. He gulped, his eyes trailing over the expanse of skin that was on the screen. Skin that was just barely covered by a lacy black bra and matching panties.

He gulped, eyes taking in the seductive look on your face, the way your hair effortlessly cascaded down like a model in a photo shoot. Shit, who were you taking these pictures for and what did he have to do to get you to send them to him?

“Did you find the email?” You ask stopping in front of him with arched brows.

“Huh? What? Ummmm- yeah, huh?” Mark stuttered, struggling to take his eyes off the screen and when he did he could barely make eye contact. 

Your eyebrows furrowed, eyes trailing down to see what had gotten him so tongue tied. Your eyes widened in shock and embarrassment before you quickly snatched your phone from his hold, “you were not supposed to see that!”

“W-well who was supposed to see it then? You never told me you were seeing anyone? Shit, are they cool with us hanging out just the two of us?”

You swiped all your apps closed, “there isn’t anyone Mark. I was just feeling hot and took pictures because why not? Can you forget you ever saw them?”

“Honestly?” he started, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly, “No, I can’t forget. You looked so fucking hot I’m gonna see that every time I close my eyes.”

Now it was your turn to stutter, “what- what? Mark? You can’t just say things like that! We’ve been best friends for years.”

“And I stopped looking at you like you were one of the guys when we turned 12 and I caught a glimpse of the strap of your training bra. I don’t want to hide my feelings for you forever, so can we make this friendly lunch our first date?”

You nodded, biting your lip to suppress the smile that threatened to split your face, “yeah, I’d like that. But hey, we definitely missed the reservation. Sorry about that.”

Mark sighed, taking your hand in his as you both left your apartment, “no you’re not.”

“Yeah... I’m not. I look cute.”

#kpop imagines #kpop au #kpop scenarios #kpop reactions #nct #nct imagines #nct fluff #nct timestamps #nct x reader #nct dream #nct dream imagines #nct dream fluff #mark lee x reader #mark lee imagines #mark lee fluff #mark lee scenarios #mark lee blurbs #mark lee timestamps

[2knightt]

HII!! could you write the gang with a reader that has an rbf and seems really intimidating/unapproachable but is a sweetheart? they arent very talkative and seem very cold but their love language is acts of service/gift giving & sorta quality time?? <33

୧ ׅ𖥔 ۫ pretty as a vine, sweet as a grape. ⋄ 𓍯

…REQUESTED: you never judge a book by it’s cover. especially when it comes to y/n!

tags/warnings: people being judgy asf/spreading rumours, gang defending reader with their soul, reader is a softie i fear, reader is kinda shy, probably stupid:3c, steve threatening a manLMFAO

ೃauthor notes⁀➷ READER IS SO ME CODED HELLO also if two-bits part sounds stupid it ‘s because i’m high rn and even if can admit it’s a little iffy

—

dallas winston

thought of you as someone to be threatened by at first ngl

he heard of this scary, mean mugged, tuff looking girl and went ‘mh. an enemy🐺😒’

he went up to you one day, acting all tuff and shit just for you to look him up and down and nervously wave

look, he may not be the smartest cookie but he can see someone shy a mile away. and when he seen you wave, he felt like such an ass LMFAO

did he show it? no. obviously.

this is dallas. he’s an asshole.

“little miss tough girl, huh?”

“…pardon?”

that teasing from him DID continue until you walked away because dallas is the type to never back down, even when he’s wrong

expect for the next time you met him!!!!

he was actually asking you your name, where you’re from, etc, etc!!!

turning a new leaf dare i say…

and everything after that was history! cutest scary looking couple ever!

HE THINKS IT’S SOOO FUNNY THAT PEOPLE ARE SCARED OF YOU LMFAOOO

he plays into it sm if someone brings it up bro

“y/n? like..scary y/n?”

“yeah, like scary y/n. and i’ll get ‘er on ya if you keep talkin’ ‘bout her.”

“oh!😰”

he thinks it’s so silly to see you look really pissed off when he isn’t around just to greet you and see your whole demeanour change!!

dallas thinks it’s so cute😭 it’s like one of his favourite things about you!

“😠😒”

“hey, baby.”

“oh! hi, dal!<3”

LMFAO IMAGINE SOMEONE SEEING YOU, A MEAN LOOKING GIRL, SHOPPING FOR MENS LEATHER JACKETS

yuppp spoil that dickhead!😫 he lovelovelovesss getting gifts, ESPECIALLY from u!!!

if you’re clingy, i feel like he wouldn’t mind it. he teases THE FUCK out of u tho!😊

“big tough girl wants to hold hands, eh?”

“…yea😞.”

“awh, look at ya. come ‘ere.”

johnny cade

you might think he’d be scared and intimidated, right? but NO! he’s literally bff’s with ponyboy, he knows damn well what rbf is!

you two are sooo cute together

little kicked, scared puppy with his feral doberman!!!

tells people to stfu whenever they try and spread rumours that you’re scary, mean, and rude.

“you’re dating y/n? don’t you know she-“

“i don’t care, shut up. ‘s not like you know her😒.”

sometimes refuses your gifts.

johnny’s not used to them :( but all u gotta do is say please and flutter your lashes and u got em!!!!

“i can’t take it.”

“please?😞”

“…okay😣.”

and he DOES NOT regret it! he might fight you at first, but he cherishes those gifts with his life<3!

loveloveloveLOVESSS having u around constantly!! since your love language is quality time, you two are always hanging out together.

and, with your scary looks, you often keep the socs away from him!

hip-hip, hooray‼️‼️

the gang was like…worried for johnny at first.

THEY DIDN’T KNOW U WERE COOL THO😭😭💔💔💔

they were all like, “??seriously, johnny?? you pick the meanest girl?? ever???” and johnny was QUICK to defend. “y’all ain’t even meet her, and you’re already sayin’ she’s bad for me?”

when they did though, they were like ‘ohhhh….she really isn’t rude…..oh….’

HE’S SO PROUD TO DATE U THO LMFAOOO

and to know the real you?? treats it like an HONOUR

ponyboy curtis

was intimidated by you.

forgot he was also like you and accidentally glares at people who walk past him LMFAOOOO

You two are like two peas in a pod istg!!

“you look mean from far away,”

“???so do you, pony??”

“…no??”

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN, ‘NO’?”

mean looking couple who are truly just a bunch of nerds deep down to their soul<3

the gang was a little protective of ponyboy until they realized ur just like him LMFAO

They get having an rbf<3

pony loves spending time with you!

gift him a book and he’ll love you forever!!! (maybe even read it to you when you two are finally alone to help you fall asleep🤍)

he’s such a cutie…..

stays close to you in public because he thinks you’re scarier looking than anyone he’s ever met😊😊.

“cm’ere,”

“why?🤨”

“BECAUSE🙄!”

SCARY DOG Y/N IS REAL.

glares at anyone who goes around telling people that you’re mean and rude.

if looks could kill, they’d be dead already!!!

ponyboy does not fuck around with u i fear.

Sodapop Curtis

LMFAOOO GREEK GOD OF A MAN WITH HIS PISSED OFF GF WHO IS NERVOUSLY HOLDING HIS HAND !!!

he was NOT afraid of you!! in fact, he thought the rumours of you being an asshole were all fake

“you talkin’ about y/n?”

“yes, bro! they’re so rude-“

“how do you know?”

“well, i don’t-“

“so, shut up?😒”

cuz like??? did they not bother to understand you???

soda literally made it his mission to prove that you weren’t a dick!!😭😭

and GODDAMN HE WAS SO RIGHT

you’re such a sweetheart to soda! he lovesss telling people about how cute you are around him since it’s his own way to squash the rumours.

“my y/n is so sweet, you wouldn’t get it.”

“isn’t she the same girl who beat the soc to a pulp?”

“she can barely kill a fly.”

you don’t need to do much to scare off the girls that flirt with him at the DX, just a nice little glare every now and then and they’re already gone!

(soda doesn’t have to know that you play into the rumours sometimes. it’s our little secret.)

steve randle

HATES EVERYONE WHO TALKS ABOUT YOU

he’s petty AS FUCK LMFAOOO

they can’t handle the randle😜💯

“ew, y/n-“

“MAN, GET THE FUCK OUTTA MY FACE WITH THAT WHAT DO YOUUU KNOW ABOUT Y/N🗣️‼️”

that was an over exaggeration but you get the point.

gets very defensive when people try and ‘warn’ him about you lmfao

gift him a tool box and he’ll use it until it’s literally falling apart at the bolts<3

no seriously. it could be holding on by one screw and he’ll still use it. he doesn’t gaf. steve will use anything u give him.

he accepts ur rbf cause he thinks it’s SO FUNNY?? like he’ll see you far away with your friends looking all angry before one of them says a really funny joke and just watches your expression change so quickly

one of his fav things ever<3!

two-bit mathews

he makes so much jokes about it LMFAOOO

“jesus, y/n! you sure yer glare ain’t the thing that killed the dinosaurs?”

—

“swear i see the devil in yours eyes sometimes. it looks soooo good on you, though🤭🤭”

HE THINKS ITS SO ATTRACTIVE

and he lovesss your sweetheart side sm it’s like he gets best of both worlds

RAHH GIFT TWO-BIT MICKEY PLUSHIE OR ELSE

He’d totally have it on his bed 24/7. his sister has tried to steal it before to scare him btw.

skmetimes just to spend time together with him—you just go walking around town with him while he has an arm around your shoulder the whole time<3

#2knightt #the outsiders #the outsiders x reader #dallas winston x reader #johnny cade x reader #ponyboy x reader #ponyboy curtis x reader #sodapop curtis x reader #sodapop x reader #steve randle x reader #darry curtis x reader #two-bit mathews x reader #two-bit x reader

[mattyriddlesbitch]

So Tom gets all ready to eat out readers pussy and he's laying there all ready to eat her out and he decides to simply dirty talk her before he does it but when he dirty talks her she somehow cums all over without any touch to her

I hope this works for you!

Dirty Magic

Tom Riddle x F!Reader

Warnings: dirty talking, that's really it

18+ Minors DNI!

Tom had you lying underneath him as he stripped off your panties, the last layer to completely expose yourself to him. He parted your legs as he slotted himself between them.

“So wet and I haven't even touched you, doll.” Tom said, staring right at your pussy. When he said that, somehow, you felt a bit of pleasure and you moaned, a little confused. “Don't tell me you're getting pleasure just from my voice.”

“I-I don't know.” You say, still confused as pleasure courses through you, as if he was touching you.

“So desperate. My little slut, all worked up from my words.” He said, settling down between your legs, like he was going to eat you out. But he laid there pressing kisses to your thighs.

“What's happening?” You moaned, holding onto the sheets. “I feel so good, I don't understand.”

“You're really questioning it, doll? Just give into the pleasure.” He said before biting your thigh, making you wince

“I'm just confused.” You said between moans. It was like the pleasure got stronger when he spoke.

“Don't worry. Just focus on my voice. Focus on how good you're feeling.” He said.

“Oh, fuck.” You moaned, closing your eyes from the pleasure.

“Doesn't this feel good? It feels like I'm touching you? It feels like I'm pushing my fingers in and out of you, doll?” He asked, watching your face to see your confusion and pleasure.

“Yeah.” You nodded, your legs beginning to shake.

“Feels like I'm touching your clit and your breasts, huh? I'm not even touching you and you're moaning and falling apart for me.” He tsked but soothed his hands over your legs.

“I'm gonna cum, Tom!” You warned, feeling your orgasm building from the pleasure running through your body.

“Cumming just from my voice. That's a new kind of pathetic, doll.” He teased as he spoke against your thigh, giving it another bite. “Look at me when you cum.”

You opened your eyes and looked down at him. His dark eyes stared into yours intensely.

“Go on then. Cum for me.” Tom ordered.

Your orgasm hit you, making you cry out his name and your body tremble from the waves of pleasure.

“That's it, doll. Good girl.” He soothed, trying to help you come down from your orgasm.

“What just happened?” You asked through heavy breaths. “How?”

“Obviously magic.” Tom said bluntly.

Taglist:

@jeannie-beannie @yourenogoodforme @mixvchelle @helendeath @evaslytherpuff

@ireallyneed-somesleep @soaked4abby @hpnsfwaddict @mayamonroem @motherfing-stargirl

@dracoslovergirl @littlemadamred @mattheoriddlesbitch

Let me know if you wanna be added!

#slytherin boys #slytherin boys x reader #slytherin boys smut #tom riddle x reader smut #tom riddle x reader #tom riddle

[harmshake]

Roman Reigns & Jax Teller x Makenna (Fem Black OC) | 18+, NSFW, angst, smut | ~4,400 words

Happy reading! Read my other Jax story and Roman stories here, if you'd like. ✨

Distant moonlight illuminating the black sheets felt as far away as Makenna felt lying next to a man she'd known half her life. Something was off. Maybe it was the way he fucked her tonight, something he'd done a hundred times over, but she felt unsettled by him now. His warmth felt foreign, his muscled arm trapping her against him beneath the covers feeling truly like a trap. 

Maybe that was it. The savage strength, the rough play, it was succulent when it was but it could also taste raw, harsh like blood on her tongue after biting down a bit too hard as he pounded in her a bit too hard, as well. A pacing she usually craved and savored but something was off.

Or maybe it was because they had sex in a not-so-private place where how he manhandled her and how she moaned for him was likely heard by others just beyond the bedroom door.

The biker clubhouse was not the ideal place to do anything as far as Makenna was concerned, a place for Jax to handle his business with his crew, but it was often interrupted by cops trying to catch any shady dealings going down. She usually stayed away and wished Jax would, too, wish he'd come away with her, but that had never worked and never would. He was married to this business, it was his first love. And she was his second...

"I think this is the last time you're gonna see me," she spoke quietly but firmly into the dim darkness of the room. She didn't bother to look at him to see his reaction as she could feel it—his eyes boring into her and his arm around her shifting off so he could sit up next to her with an airy laugh of disbelief. She sucked her teeth in response to his response. "Naw, I'm serious. Tired of you hiding me and fucking me here of all places."

"Pssh. Yeah, right. I ain't hidin' you. This is where I am most nights when I work late and you know that." Jax sucked his teeth, too, and ran a hand back through his longish, dirty blond hair as he shook his head. "And since when do you gotta problem with it?"

"Since now," Makenna breathed out a sigh. She propped herself up on her elbows and looked to the carpet on her right at her pile of clothes strewn there, thinking it was time to get dressed. "I'm tired of this for real, Jax."

"Of what? Bein' with me? Me makin' love to you?" he asked, his slightly gravelly and deep voice rising just a little. She knew that tone and knew it well. He was looking to argue. And she was not. Nothing left to argue about.

"You don't love me and that's fine. It is what it is. But I...I want more than whatever the fuck this is." Makenna crawled out of his bed and waved her arms around her, around the bedroom. She didn't belong here anymore, in the shadows of underground chaos, secrets of men she shouldn't know, and lies she shouldn't have to tell to protect them. She never belonged.

"What the fuck this is is you tryin' to blame me because you don't know how to deal with your feelings." Jax's tone tried to cut her, that argument he wanted to have, and she wasn't having it. She ignored his words and went to grab her skinny jeans to slip on instead. But suddenly he was behind her, letting his frustration slip into words. "I've told you how I feel about you and it's never enough, is it? Told you I love you and you still leave. What do you want from me, huh? You want me to call you my ol' lady and show you off to my boys? Want me to move you into my home that I'm barely in? Want me to get you a ring? Tell me what the hell you want!"

Makenna snatched on her pink tank top hastily, hoping to hurry out of there before he or she said or did anything else they'd regret. Yet when she went to get her combat boots, his hand swallowed up her wrist to turn her to him. Not rough like before when he had both of them pinned to the bed but rather pleading, the look on his face matching when his blue eyes shone with an aggravation that withered into desperation.

"Baby." The word slipped so gently from his pretty, pink lips then, surrounded by his mustache and beard that grazed her skin when he kissed the widow's peak where her dark coils fell around her face. Makenna felt a tremble flit across her skin from his touch and she couldn't tell if was from disgust or desire. Because they've had this argument before and it always ended the same way...

"Jax," she uttered when he kissed her cheek, the hand that wasn't holding her wrist going to hold her jaw as he tipped her face up to look at him with those desperate eyes. She'd seen and heard it all before and yet she still let him pull her lips to his for the softest kiss. 

"Just tell me what you want, baby. And I'll do it." Jax pressed his forehead to hers then. Pleading again. Makenna wanted to feel disgusted again but the desire was forming again, too, delicate warmth swelling where he touched now, warmth she recognized. Warmth that he knew how to turn to fire and how to tame...

"I don't know," Makenna whispered before he covered her lips with another kiss. Suddenly, that felt like the truth, all of her conviction melting away as his lips moved on hers with that desperation that tasted no longer raw but bittersweet. 

Bitter as she knew better, god, she knew damn better. Years of the run-around and every time she tried to run away, she ended up back in his arms. Back in his bed. Back beneath him as he tugged off her clothes, kissed down her body, and held her to his mouth...so sweet-like. His grip on her lovingly sweet and his licks on her achingly slow. Tasting her sweetness, listening to her sweet moans that she tried to hide in the pillow.

"Tell me, baby...or is this what you want?" Jax asked in a warm purr to her wet essence, that wet glistening on his lips that he licked as he squeezed her thighs in his hands. Makenna tried to reply but he dipped his head down with a long flick of his tongue that made a whimper escape her mouth, instead. He let out a pleased hum before he said under his breath, "You wanna act like I ain't no good for you but...this feels good, doesn't it?"

That pillow in her grasp rasped with her nails running along its satin, her body running hot and trying to run up his bed as he made it feel good, made her cum good, but he kept her in place with his stronger grasp as she whined to him. And Jax drank it all in, her whines, her nectar, her soul as he slowly coaxed them from her with his arms around her and lips on her throat, telling her that bittersweet tale that she wished she could forget.

"I love you, Makenna. I love you so fuckin' much..."

The moonlight seemed closer to earth as they stepped outside in the parking lot of the clubhouse, Jax taking her hand, walking her to her car, and holding her door open for her as she slid inside. The silver rays shone from behind his head and made him look like an angel in the night, his halo only disappearing when he leaned down to give her a goodbye kiss that tasted bittersweet...

"You not gonna forget to call me, are you?" He was teasing her with his wolfish smile, but Makenna could only sniffle with a laugh as she wished could forget that, too. Yet his phone number was etched in her mind, and so was her address in his if he hadn't heard from her for too long.

"I might," she teased back but before she shut her door and started the engine, she pulled him down by the leather lapel of his cut to kiss him once more as there was something she did forget. "And I love you, too."

🖤

She should have known better than to stay up late with Jax the morning before work, but it was nothing new to her, hurrying to brush her teeth and style her curls after sleeping through her alarm, the sun blaring through her window waking her up. But Makenna refused to spend the night with the man if he wasn't her man—something he hadn't been in a long while. She remembered that time they called themselves "dating," when she called him her man and he called her his ol' lady, and everyone from his best friend, Opie, to his mother called them stupid for not getting married. Especially when she'd given three more years of her time and loyalty—time and loyalty that Jax dedicated moreover to his club—pretending to be something they're not.

Nonetheless, Makenna didn't know how to stay away from him and he wouldn't stay away from her, either. Too much of that warmth still simmering in her blood when she looked at him and when he touched her, yet that same warmth boiling over when she realized over and over she was wasting her time. Jax was a road to nowhere, she knew it. But he was also a familiar road that always seemed to lead to a place that felt like home...

"Aha. Look who showed up to work this mornin'." 

She glanced up from the briefs on her desk that she wasn't proofreading, too lost in her thoughts, to find that deep, jesting voice belonging to her colleague looming over her with another manilla folder of her share of legal documents to approve in his hand outstretched to her. His other hand held a paper cup of coffee that she took from him with a little grin and mumble. "Thanks, Joe. How'd you know I needed this?"

"'Cause you came in late again. Don't know why you bother skippin' it. If you're runnin' behind, a coffee stop won't make you later." He watched her take a sip with his own grin as she raised her other hand to playfully flip him off. "Watch yourself, sweetheart. Not my fault you had a long night."

"Mind the business that minds you, 'sweetheart,'" Makenna said with her grin growing bigger when his did, too. She couldn't help but tease him when he made it a point to tease her, something he did often as her cubicle neighbor and teammate for the majority of cases the law firm took on. 

Yet when Joe lingered after dropping off her paperwork and drink, his eyes on her the same dark and heady color as the coffee that warmed her palms, she could tell he had more to say. She knew what it was from the way he wiped his hand over his salt-and-pepper beard, the way his teeth skimmed his bottom lip for a second. His tell that he was thinking on how to phrase it.

"I'm just sayin'...you could do a lot better."

And there it was. Makenna had to roll her eyes but her grin stayed painted on her cherry-glossed lips, anyway. There wasn't much to read between the lines with his words, not when she'd heard them before at after-work parties or brief encounters in the break room. Joe's flirting was almost as constant as his teasing, something she couldn't deny was endearing, but she told him before like she fixed her lips to tell him again: She would not get romantically involved with her co-workers.

"Yeah? Like who? You? Don't start with me." She smirked and challenged him with another sip of her coffee that he made how she liked, black with three sugars. She challenged herself to keep her rule, no matter how attractive Joe was, no matter his little romantic gestures, no matter his rich brown gaze that tried to melt into her as he eyed her with the corner of his mouth pulled up into the handsome smirk he returned. None of it mattered when her heartbeat was elsewhere, doing god knows what, likely raising hell. Just like the hell she seemed determined to endure to love him...

Joe folded his arms over his broad chest, all of him broad as he was a beast of a man that she always found too athletic to be in a suit and corporate setting. But she found it charming when he'd told her in the past he'd given up a football scholarship to study the law instead. And now he studied her before he told her with his deep voice growing quieter and for her ears only, "Just tell me this and I'll drop it...you think that's what you deserve?"

He meant it as a compliment, Makenna knew that, but the question made that bittersweet scold her tongue when she tried to drink her hot coffee. She abruptly regretted getting friendly with him these four months since he'd transferred to her floor and telling him anything about herself as she didn't need Joe, her co-worker, to tell her what she already knew.

"Remember how I said mind your business? Learn to do that sometimes," Makenna spat and watched his grin wilt until she instantly regretted snapping at him. She did mean what she said as this wasn't the first time Joe had something to say about her choices off the clock, but she knew he meant no harm. Quite the opposite. She planted her elbows on her desk and rubbed her forehead before she added carefully, "Listen. I appreciate your concern but can we not do this today? I'm tired."

"Fair enough," he said and ran his hand over his beard again. More to say. "How about tonight then? Gon' be too tired to grab dinner? We gotta lot more of these briefs to review before we file. Let's get it done with pizza to fuel us. My treat."

Makenna let out a sigh, almost a grunt at him being so damn sweet...but a veggie pizza did sound yummy. "Yeah, alright. Fine. But I swear to god if you mention—"

"Don't nobody care about your raggedy 'boyfriend,' Makenna," he sighed, too, throwing up air quotes, but grinned and she couldn't stop the chuckle that jumped out of her. "I care 'bout you. That's all."

"I care about you, too, asshole." She glanced up at him as he rolled his eyes at her with a smirk as she did at him, simply nodding his head as he finally retreated to his desk beside her. They were separated only by a divider as tall as their computer monitors, but Joe was so tall that even when sitting, his eyes were still visible as he looked down at the paperwork on his desk. She heard the pages of them flip and his subtle cough as he cleared his throat before she heard herself murmur just as subtly, "You know he's not my boyfriend. I don't know what he is, but...he's not that."

That made his gaze slowly lift from his work as they met hers, wrinkling at the corners with another smirk she couldn't see. But his voice floated over the divider, still deep and jesting, as usual, but now with a smoldering in it that she only felt from one other man. "Good to know, sweetheart."

🖤

The two boxes of veggie and pepperoni pizza were scattered on Joe's dining room table along with a mountain of manilla folders and papers he and Makenna tried to keep organized with a stapler in their hands when there wasn't a slice in them. Each box had one or two pitiful slices left, anyway, both of them munching more to keep busy and stay open-eyed than to get full as Makenna didn't realize they were this behind on filing.

"Do you have a page from Dawson versus Richards somewhere over there? I only have two out of the three." She sorted through the stacks of paper on her side again just to be sure until she looked up at Joe holding a piece of paper in the air. Makenna got up to grab it from him but almost ripped it in half when he didn't let go right away, watching him chuckle a bit at her attempt to pry it from his strong hand before he let her have it. "Can you stop gettin' on my nerves for once? You almost made me tear it!"

"Just makin' sure you're awake. If we don't get this done tonight, Morgan will bitch tomorrow," he said and she already knew that's exactly what their boss would do. Joe turned his wrist still in the air to roll up his navy dress shirt sleeve and peep at his watch and raised his thick eyebrows with a whistle. "Shit. It's already past ten."

"Jesus," Makenna grumbled as she plopped back into her chair and stared at the work they'd yet to touch. Her eyes were growing bleary and she thought about running out to get them coffee but she wanted to be able to sleep once they were done. That's when her cell phone buzzed that was perched on a folder to her left. A tremble slipped through her to see Jax's name on the screen and, oddly, to see Joe's eyes on her, as well, his gaze filling with what looked like disappointment. She didn't let it stop her from swiping to answer, jumping up from the table again and into Joe's living room near the front door where she kept her voice hushed. "Hey, baby."

"Hey, darlin'. I know it's late but I wanted to tell you good night and I love you. Haven't talked to you all day to tell you sooner." His gravelly voice was low and beautiful in her ear and yet she felt strangely guilty to enjoy it with Joe in the other room. 

"I love you, too. And it's okay. We've both been working," Makenna nearly whispered. She thought about telling Jax that she was still working but thought twice about it as she remembered what she told Joe at the office. He wasn't her boyfriend and didn't need to know her whereabouts. Especially if they were with another man, even if that man was just her colleague.

"Yeah, but I don't like goin' that long without hearin' your voice. And you sound tired so I'll let you get some rest, baby. See you tomorrow after work?"

"Of course." Makenna held her phone to her forehead after they hung up, silently cursing herself for being so in love with a man who wasn't hers before she collected herself with a sigh and headed back to Joe who was stapling a set of papers together until he muttered a tsk tsk and shook his head at her. "What?!"

"You just added another ten minutes to our workload. Hope that call was worth it," Joe replied, his words judgy but his tone teasing, like always, and making her suck her teeth with a grin.

"We'll be done before midnight. Bet."

The time on her phone screen read as 1:48 am when Makenna finally had a moment to check it. All of the files were neatly arranged on the table in alphabetic order, the staplers they borrowed from work on top, when Joe eased up from his chair to stretch his arms above his head before a yawn slipped out of him. It was contagious as she covered her mouth with a tiny yawn before she leaned over to stretch, too, touching her fingertips to her toes in her black socks. Her stiletto boots were by his door and waiting for her to slip into so she could head home and crawl directly into bed.

But when she stretched back up, she saw Joe standing in front of her with two Spanish-style glasses caught between his big fingers in his right hand and a bottle of Tapatio tequila in his left. "We deserve to celebrate a job well done. That shit was brutal."

"It was. But you don't think it's too late to, uh, celebrate?" she asked but took one of the glasses from him. She knew he was just as exhausted as her as he looked it, all but coming out of his dress shirt that was unbuttoned to reveal his white tank top beneath, as well as his long, dark hair flying away with wisps that were barely tamed in his a messy bun. 

"Only if you think so." Joe shrugged but when she tapped the rim of her glass, he shot her a smile as she let him pour her a shot's worth before himself. He pulled his chair that was on the opposite end of his table to sit near her, holding his glass out until she clinked it with his. The tequila was tasty and mostly smooth but Makenna wasn't keen on shots, the slight burn making her cough and making him giggle as he reached to gently pat her on the back, the deep warmth of his touch that spread over her from his huge hand startling her into another cough. "You good? I know the first one is always the roughest, but damn."

"Yeah, and I don't need another because we have work in the morning." She hoped it was just the tequila that felt warm all over her already as she watched Joe watch her, too, with those brown eyes that crinkled when he smirked.

"And what time did you get home last night, hmm?" he teased and poked her knee. Makenna went to fuss at him for mentioning what she told him not to, but he realized his mistake and quickly added, "Oh, my bad. Don't answer that."

They chatted for a bit when he went to pour himself a second shot and put the bottle down on the table, but Makenna suddenly felt the taste for another, too. Felt the need to rinse that bittersweet taste from her mouth when she poured it herself and he observed her with surprise. 

"Three-thirty," she said out of nowhere after sipping the shot slowly until she finished it. Joe looked at her perplexed and she repeated, "Three-thirty. That's when I got home." 

That should have been her last shot, she knew that, but the tequila kept getting smoother and Joe kept getting easier to talk to and funnier as he made her laugh until she was doubled over in her chair. He also kept getting closer or maybe it was her gravitating towards him as one moment there was a gap between them and the next their knees were nudged together. She had half a mind to pull back but that warmth of his felt good, even in such a small amount—and it felt even better when he wrapped her in his strong arms for a bear hug when she made it to the front door a little over an hour later to head out.

"Want me to get you a Lyft?" Joe said when she didn't turn to open his door, gazing down at her with his hands on her shoulders. 

"Naw, I'm good," Makenna lied. She felt fine but the truth was she didn't feel ready to leave. A truth she was ashamed to admit as she was certain it was the tequila's fault. It made the warmth of his grasp smolder into her skin under her blouse, that same smolder she saw in his dark eyes earlier filling them now as she gazed up at him. The same smolder that she thought no one but Jax could make her crave. But before she knew it, the tequila gravitated her to him once more, first with her hands cradling the sides of his bearded face and then with her lips on his, craving the soft, fullness of his mouth that was so warm and inviting. 

The shock quivered through them both, she could feel it with her body rolling with heat where his slightly shaky hands fell to her waist. Pulling her closer but then pushing her up against his door until his warmth surrounded her, until their kiss got good, deeper, messier, until their breathing got frantic, too frantic that Makenna thought her heart would beat right out of her chest. That damn tequila, it made her struggle to pull away from him, Joe holding her so deliciously tight, anyway, until she whimpered on his tongue, "Tell me we should stop. Tell me this is a bad idea."

Another lie, one that she should have known better for Joe of all people to let her utter as his nose still nestled to hers as he whispered back, "Doesn't feel like a bad idea to me..."

His nose nestled to her neck next before his mouth did, too, tracing the length of it with his soft kisses that tried to remind her of another but his lips were thicker and his hand larger when it fit between her thighs to hold one with long fingers that fit at the seam of her pants, too. The heat that had been swirling in her seemed to gather at the tips of those fingers as he swirled them so lightly at that seam, but right where Joe seemed to know she wanted them when he looked at her as her lips parted with a light moan to match.

"...How did that feel to you?"

"Good..."

He caught her next moan with his tongue, the next swirl of her heat with his middle fingers sank into it, and her next lie with his bulky arms boxing her in underneath him as his hips drove forward with deep, grinding thrusts that made her hide her face in his pillow with whines that all felt so familiar yet so new.

"Whatchu mean you can't take this dick? You takin' me so good...fffuck, sweetheart. I know you can give me another one..." Joe's silky hair left tingles along her skin as his lips left trails of kisses from her spine to her shoulder as he hooked his hand around her waist then, not letting her run from that good feeling.

It didn't matter how much she whined and cried and clutched at his sheets, Makenna wanted more of that good feeling. It felt too warm, too pure, too much like the feeling she had been missing out on for a while. She didn't know what to call that feeling but it felt like not worrying about her phone buzzing in the other room. It felt like letting herself indulge, letting someone spoil her while asking for nothing in return. 

And as she watched Joe's fingers that weren't dug into her skin slide up his covers that she gripped until they laced through hers, his breath warm on her skin and his words sweet in her ear, she decided she'd run in the wrong direction, and from that good feeling, long enough.

.

.

.

A Rock & A Hard Place

Thanks for reading! I don't know what possessed me to write about both Jax and Roman today, but it felt right. Hope you enjoyed. 😍

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[whatthebodygraspsnot]

Mickey’s on house arrest for an eensy teensy crime (a total misunderstanding obviously - Mickey would never.)

At first he thinks he’s gonna go level ten batshit cooped up in their apartment. It’s not that he doesn’t like the home they’ve made for themselves, it’s just he’s a man who needs enrichment in his enclosure and everyone knows it.

Ian finds himself “breaking” things on the downlow so he can subtly float a “hey could you look at the ___ today? I think it’s busted” over their morning coffee. He's not coddling him, he just likes knowing Mickey will have something to do while he’s at work besides pace the halls and make trouble for himself out of sheer boredom.

The first week is rough. But by the next week, things have evened out considerably for Mickey. He’s clearly found a passion in something, because Ian will come home and Mickey’ll be outside on the balcony, more or less where he left him that morning. And he’s pretty sure it’s not the tomatoes he’s got potted out there.

Ian doesn’t wanna pry, especially since Mickey’s found something that works for him. But he’s a curious being. So when he comes home the next day, he decides to follow after the sound of his beautiful house-arrest husband on the balcony.

“Ha… Dumbass…”

“Who is?”

Mickey quickly turns to him as Ian steps out, joining him at the rail for a welcome home kiss.

Or…rather, Ian is kissing and Mickey is grumbling against it. “No one…”

“Mm?”

“Home early.”

“Yeah,” Ian smiles, glancing curiously at the green-space that the balcony overlooks, “got done pretty quick today.” There’s no one there. Just a couple squirrels darting around by the bushes.

Mickey nods, taking a long drag from his cigarette. 

He’s clamming up. 

Ian definitely struck something.

Silence floats between them, Ian taking the cig for himself. And he almost lets it go until it happens - movement, Mickey’s eyes darting to it down below.

Ian follows it. Hears himself huff a laugh as he watches a squirrel tear at lightning speed to the bush across the way. “Fast little fucker.”

“Gonzales…”

“Huh?” Ian turns to him. 

But Mickey refuses to meet his gaze. “Speedy Gonzales,” he says. Very cryptically.

And Ian…doesn’t know what to do with that. He chuckles, teasing, “What, you out here namin’ the squirrels, Mick?”

Another handful of seconds float by them in complete silence. Avoided eye contact.

…oh.

Wait.

Holy fuck, he’s out here naming the squirrels.

“You got somethin’ to say, wise guy-”

“No!” Wow - no - Ian doesn’t-… It’s just how the hell is he supposed to process something this endearing in such a short time span? “No, baby - nothin’ wrong with it.” Oh no, his house-arrest husband is cute?? “I mean, Speedy Gonzales - you really nailed it, ya know?”

Beside him, Mickey’s shoulders are starting to deflate from where they’ve ratcheted up in defense mode. Not all the way, but starting at least. Ian thinks they should probably leave it at that for now, but then miraculously, he’s talking again. “Got no fuckin attention span… Been lookin’ for the same shit he buried since Monday.”

Ian takes it in with a carefully constructed expression, “Oh yeah?” no smile to misconstrue or anything. “Where’s it at?”

Because Mickey knows, doesn’t he?

“Big tree,” he nods to it, “right side.”

Holy fuck, Ian is so in love with this man.

“Almost got it before you came out.”

“You think I scared him off?”

“Nah, he’s a real dumbass. Probably woulda dug two times and then ran off somewhere else.” And then, like he didn’t just make Ian’s heart absolutely rock hard, he turns to the door. “Fuckin’ starvin’ - you bring anything home?”

They have sandwiches and potato chips and Ian practically has to eat his hands to stop himself from asking more questions about his husband’s squirrels.

On Saturday morning, Ian joins him outside to water his tomatoes and then lingers, eager for any tidbits Mickey might drop on his own. 

In the grass below, a squirrel clambers over a pile of dirt and then begins a session of quick digging, bringing a smile of recognition to Ian’s face. “Hi Speedy.”

“That’s Rat Tail,” Mickey corrects from his chair.

Oh. Right. “How can you tell?” Ian asks stupidly. Because all it takes is one look with his own eyeballs to note the thinning end of this particular squirrel’s tail. “Ah.” Rat Tail. Got it.

And so begins the introductions, the two of them sipping coffee as Mickey leisurely explains the lore to him. Ian didn’t realize squirrels lead such a rich, fulfilling life, honestly. Who could’ve known? 

Mickey, of course, his feet propped up on the railing and his ankle monitor blinking away while he points out new characters seemingly every morning.

“That’s Scratch.” and “That’s Little Bitch.” and “Damn, I thoughtchya kicked the bucket, Rabies.”

Each name takes its place on Ian’s mental list.

“That one’s Allen,” Mickey says once.

To which Ian simply has to ask, the fact that he shares a name with their neighbor surely no coincidence. “What? Why?”

“He’s short ‘n ugly.”

“Got it.”

By the start of the next week, Ian feels caught up on the ins and outs of the squirrel lore. But just like with his husband, there’s always something to learn.

“Hey Mick, is that one new?”

Mickey flicks his eyes up from his phone, identifying the squirrel on the fly. “Nah, just hasn’t shown up for you yet.” Ah. “That’s Little Fucker.”

Ian nods. Interesting. “Are Little Fucker and Little Bitch related?”

“I dunno. Think they’re bangin’ each other, though.”

“Of course.”

Ian sees himself and Mickey in Little Bitch and Little Fucker.

Week Four hits, and Mickey is starting to wonder why he ever dreaded house arrest so much. It’s really not all that bad, especially when he’s got a caring husband who gives a shit about his-

“MICKEY!” comes Ian’s voice, fucking tearing through the apartment and launching Mickey into a startled fumble and ‘the fuck’ with his wet towel. “MICK GET THE HELL OUT HERE - QUICK!”

He’s dripping wet and ten seconds away from making a b-line to the gun drawer, but when he sees his husband’s face practically pressed up against the screen door, his look of sheer excitement is contagious.

“The fuck?” Mickey snaps, keeping the towel around his waist, “The hell are you out here-”

“It’s Speedy, Mick!” Ian beams, opening the door for him and pointing dramatically toward the green-space. “He’s getting it! He’s gonna get it, finally!”

Mickey shuffles over to the rail, the history that’s being made making his blood run hot when he sees it with his own two eyes, Speedy Gonzales digging frantically at the exact spot that he’s been too much of a dumbass to check for a whole month.

He and Ian grow deathly still. Wait with bated breath. 

And then…finally…after weeks of anticipation…

“Oh my god,” Ian grins, both of them watching Speedy Gonzales stuff the acorn into his mouth and then dart for cover under the bushes.

“Well whaddaya know - stupid fucker actually did it.” About damn time.

Beside him, Ian wrangles Mickey wetly into his side, processing the moment proudly. Silence may float between them, but it’s positively electric. Fiery. And when Ian glances down with him, Mickey knows the exact look in his eyes.

“You bricked up right now?”

Ian nods, swallowing thickly.

Speedy Gonzales is left to eat in peace as the two of them push their way inside, eager to celebrate the rush Little Bitch and Little Fucker-style.

#do you still love me #gallavich #shameless #ray writes

[little-miss-dilf-lover]

Tan dealing with reader who is sloppy drunk and horny? 😏🥂

arrgg love it!! thanks for requesting, hope you like it💌

SLOSHED.

tangerine x fem!reader — suggestive

word count. 778

After consuming your weight in cocktails and bar nuts, you found yourself being escorted home by your —taxi driver— boyfriend, him at the wheel with you in the passenger seat, your arms cradling the ache in your head.

He pulls up outside your house and steps out first, walking around to open your door and help you out. "Gimme your hand," he nods, gesturing to the one closest to him. 

You shake your head, neck rolling back as if it's lost its strength. "Too heavy," you try to lift your arm, attempting miserably. You whine dramatically, fake whinging. "It's too heavy."

He fights away a smile, firming his features. "Aw, I know it is. Pass it 'ere, and I'll help," he nods to your hand, instructing you.

"Huh?" 

He softly sighs, chuckling as he reaches for your hand. "Your fuckin' hand. Give it."

You twist in your seat and narrow your eyes at him - feigning hurt. "Why would you say that to me?" you step out of the car, wobbling before finding your balance. "You could say please," you mutter, walking off.

He collects your bag and shuts your door, locking it automatically as he rushes to catch up with you. He wraps an arm around your middle, keeping you stable. "You're right. I'm sorry," he plays along. "I'll say 'please' next time."

Tangerine keeps one hand on you while he unlocks the door with the other, ushering you inside and helping you step over the ledge. You kick off your shoes and fling them across the way, turning to face him.

"Can I tell you something?" you whisper loudly, voice slurred as you stumble with your footing.

He hums, an amused smile on his face. "Yeah? What's that?"

You giggle, slapping your hand over your mouth. "I can't say," you snicker, shaking your head. "It's dirty." 

He holds the uppers of your arms to keep you balanced, propping you against the wall as he helps you out of your jacket. "How dirty is it?" he teases, entertaining you.

Your hands wander, your clammy palms flat over his chest. "So, so, so dirty," you giggle, stroking down his midriff. 

Tangerine stifles a snicker and shakes his head - clearing his mind. "You're fucked. Let's get you to bed, hm?"

"Wait, wait, wait," you blurt out, regaining your balance. "I'll tell you. But it's a secret."

He peels you away from the wall and slips an arm around your back - slowly guiding you towards the stairs. "I won't tell. Promise."

You pause, dragging your hand down his back, reaching for his ass. "You got a fatty," you mumble to yourself, slapping his cheek. "I'm so jealous," you dramatically whine, fake sobbing.

He slips his hand into yours, removing it from his ass. "What did you want to tell me?" he questions, redirecting your drunken focus - helping you up the stairs. "What's the secret?"

You make it into your room and turn to face him, face perplexed as you try to remember what you were going to say. "Secret?" 

He hums and sits you at the edge of your bed while he collects something for you to wear, picking out some tatty, old clothes —ones you won't mind barfing all over— and hands them to you.

You undress yourself, struggling to pull your dress over your head - getting yourself tangled in the straps. "I don't remember," you huff, caught in the fabric.

Without a second to think otherwise, he's helping you out of your dress, the act strictly assisting. "It'll come back to you," he dismisses, guiding you across the mattress - trying to get you under the covers. 

Though you try otherwise, resting a lingering hand on his thigh - gliding it upwards. "This little piggy wants to go to the market," you tease, playfully pouting. Sitting up, you undo his attempts to get you settled.

He should be tired from wrangling you, but he's far from it - your drunken comments keeping him amused through your protesting. All he can do is shake his head, pretending he doesn't have the interest for your games.

"Does she want to come out to play?" you ask, sneaking a finger into his waistband. 

"She?" he glares at you, eyes narrowing as he stands up straight. "She?"

"Pretty peen," you giggle, flopping back against the bed. "My eyes hurt," you groan, covering your face with your arm. "The light."

He sighs and pulls the duvet up, covering you before heading for the light switch. And when he returns just seconds later, you're completely flat out - curled into the covers, in the beginning process of sleeping away the alcohol. 

I FORGOT THE SLUTTY THING!!? NOOO?!!

#everythingisspokenfortbh #tangerine #tangerine x reader #tangerine bullet train

[m1ssunderstanding]

Let it Be Close-watch

Paul, sweety, it's beautiful, but it's killing the vibe.

Ringo looks like a very old, very tired lab rat whose been put through the maze a few too many times

Somehow the air-brown mostly eaten apple is very appropriate.

She looks far too sweet here to ever let John down. Yoko has very kind eyes.

I love how it makes it seem like Paul and John are calling Maxwell “the corny one” but really we know from Get Back that they're talking about a particular arrangement they were trying out for Don't Let me Down.

I swear he's saying “John” there, not “Joan” and also he said “came down upon His head” so… Oh! And Max died in the end in this version? “Sure that Max was dead” Okay. So Paul kills John and then himself. Murder suicide story. Yeah, Paul, you're doing great mentally, we can all tell.

I love how George getting electrocuted was important enough to make the cut for both films. Poor baby. “If this boy dies you're gonna cop it” from the guy who was just singing about a serial killer.

They're so silly

Yoko does not agree with me

Paul: stealing your man, sweetheart. John: oh no I'm being stolen teehee!

They're so silly

Oh wait, were those bitchy looks at George??? Because there he is. Idk could easily be him or Yoko.

this poor autistic baby trying to use words (not his language) to explain music (his language)

“Good MoOornin! Wooah!” I think I just … You know how Mike said people were booing Paul in the theater watching this? Yeah it's because they were pissed he didn't step out of the screen and onto their necks.

Oh Michael put himself in his own movie too? Huh, cool.

They are always in my heart

The way Paul says “get on the mic” to John??? I would've thrown something, that was so fucking bossy! Just his tone and his face and his angry pointing fingers. So mean. And John just goes “okaaay”. Oof.

Ringo covering his eyes like a little kid watching a scary movie during the orange sweater fight. Same, babe.

Sounds like the original lyric John's going for is something long “All I want is you. Nothing else is gonna do.” But that obviously didn't fit with the tune. I wonder if there was a particular conversation with Paul being controlling that made the “everything has got to be the way you want it to” line click in.

Oh my gosh! So George is showing I Me Mine to Ringo and Paul and he says the “I don't give a fuck it can go in musical” line before he even plays it. Not after John's making fun of him like he does in Get Back. Nagra reels experts: which one is correct??

George: it's a heavy waltz. Ringo:*claps hands angrily and punches the air to a ¾ beat. I love him, he's like the core of “Beatle humor” to me.

Woah there! Okay this is the John/Yoko pda Peter Jackson cut, I see. I wonder if there's a lot more footage of them swapping spit that might make the “oh John was just so in love” theory more reasonable.

It's extremely impressive that George just wrote this whole thing last night. You know? John and Paul have brought in all fragments from what I can tell. He's the only one to come in with a basically finished product.

LMAO and we're just going to Apple now. No reason. Nothing happened. Nothing to see. Moving on.

Ringo is so so cute pretending to hide from the cameras. Really he should've been the cute one.

Is it just me or does Paul drop the sillies and get sad when he sings “always be mine” at John? It's his regular voice, too, for a minute, if I'm not mistaken.

Silly cuties. But John's grin and little sexy tongue action happens the second time Paul sings always be mine, so…

What friendly artistic collaboration looks like when it's not psychosexual

Paul: have you played the dubs? George: yeah. Terrible. Paul: Great! Ringo: terrible. John: laughs Paul: (sarcastic) oh, so dreadful. …. John: where's my guitar? Paul: (still sarcastic) well we're just the greatest band ever. Idk I just like this dialogue. It's very them, you know?

This is adorable.

But I also love how they're already communicating with eyebrows, you know? They just bonded so fast and I find that beautiful.

And then Heather ups their game from taking turns going “chchchchch” into the mic to meowing into the mic. She looks at Paul like “okay your turn” and he sets her down lol he's thinking ‘if I meow into the mic right now after John already had a sex dream last night about me, he might actually cream his pants and we can't have that on camera’

Lol Billy just magically appeared!

Paul you're literally so annoying. You started the goofing off and now you're like “alright lads, that's enough.” Mkay.

He is unbelievably sexy and talented though so you know he does have those little things going for him. Someone write me a Paul/Billy fic please!!

Kinda crazy how they all four just slide straight from “Kansas City” to “Miss Ann” to “Lawdy Miss Claudy”. Makes me think of something they might've done in Hamburg.

I'm sorry but Paul finishes “please don't excite me baby. I'm down in misery.” And John's immediate answer is, “well you can get it if you want it, and if you want it you can get it!” And Paul ends up singing “I want it I want it I want it I want it”. Nice. Very subtle, boys. And that's before John gets kinky.

I love how Heather just forces a hug from George and then immediately runs away. What a cutie.

But really. How did anyone watching this get the idea that John hated Paul? Just confirmation bias I guess?

All the cut off conversations kill me but especially the one where John's working though Paul's anxieties. They're just in the middle of it and then cut. “two of us Sunday driving…”

Someone should do a study of whistling in their songs. I feel like it's another one of their tip offs that “hey this one is about us” Anyway I love John's whistling here. He's so good at it. I can just imagine him as some farm boy picking apples, you know?

Imagine booing this poor stay puppy though, like. What? I mean, what if Johann Weiner was wrong and John wasn't crying at the sight of him and Paul playing triumphant together on the rooftop, but at Paul playing his little heart out about their doomed love. Idk it's probably both. Let's be real, John was bawling through the whole thing.

What is George laughing at? Picture quality is garbage because evil corporations don't let you take screenshots of their content, but he looks like that one kid in your elementary school class that just dumped Cheetos all over his crushes desk and thinks he's a criminal mastermind.

Also I do appreciate all the attention given in the chosen shots to the musicianship. I bet they liked that at least if they had the heart to like anything about the movie at the time.

I'm sorry but I love how in sync Mo and Paul are. With this ducking and later the shimmying. I know it's wrong to ship Ringo’s wife with one of the Beatles she didn't sleep with, but… idk I really want her to have bedded all four at one point, you know? She deserves it, being an og.

Okay but yeah I'd be having a public meltdown if I fumbled that too holy fucking shit

Ringo feeling himself as he should

George just looks like he smells nice. Unlike the others. You know?

John has such a beautiful smile. If somebody looked at me like that I'd put him up on a giant screen behind me on my world tour after he'd been dead for forty years too.

That pleeeaaaheeeaaase though. Looking at Paul. How did he survive I'll never know.

The cut from screaming Paul to grouchy nap lady is extremely painful.

John was so cool in this concert. Like the epitome of cool.

Kevin, my love, thank you for your service

I love Yoko leaning so far and craning her neck. She's like a mom at a school talent show. Like “I only came to see my baby.” Type vibe. Which is exactly what she's doing, unlike Mo, and honestly I find both of them extremely valid

You know in movies where the romantic leads are never looking at each other at the same time?

I think I watched George and John switching back on their amps like fifty times because I just love it so much. And from this angle, you can see John's saying something to Paul about it. He looks serious and he's shaking his head. I wonder what he's saying.

Mal Evans I love you forever for this. Look at his hand on the rail, just blocking them off completely, so protective.

Them turning to each other at the end always gets me. It's automatic, like second nature, and it's the last time ever. They deserved better.

Oh Darling duet in the credits are you fucking kidding me??? Was that in the original? “Believe me, when I tell you.” “Oh I do.” That's the second time that they gave away in this footage that they know they're talking to each other in their music.

Alright, that's it, I guess. And then MLH is haunted by this experience for forty years until he makes Two of Us to purge the demons.

#paul mccartney #the beatles #john lennon #mclennon #ringo starr #george harrison #let it be

[strawberrymochin]

I will be back soon~

Genre- fluff, angst...umm yeah whatever synopsis- kento's baby fever (sorry)

Kento Nanami having a baby fever was sort of unexpected. Ever since you had known him from his emo canon phase, till his enlightenment of every job in world being shitty, he's a person to get straight to the point. Speak his mind without any barriers of people's opinions.

when you first saw him, among the busy crowds of the station along with bunch of people in similar uniform like him, you chuckled a bit to yourself noting his golden bangs. He looked at you once with a glare as you drop your head down, embarrassed, trying not to make the fact that you were staring at him obvious.

You never saw him after that day of rush hour in 2006.

As time went by, this encounter of you with the sullen guy with blonde side swept bangs had dust fallen over till the memory of it blurred completely from your vision.

Up until 2016, where in a buisness trip back to Tokyo led you to a person, striking a sense of familiarity. 'The Emo Blondie' you recognised from ten years ago.

"Is something wrong, miss? You've been staring at me for past five minutes." He said maintaining a calm demeanor, as blood rushed to your cheeks, ears red burning with embarrassment. "Oh no, I fine.....I was ah kinda zoned out." You say blocking your face from his view with the flies you held in your hand.

Insignificant. The memory was totally insignificant— however the evocation came out vividly crisp. As if the picture of that past encounter was engraved in your mind and this meeting with him blew gust of wind, blowing off the dust accumulated over it.

He has always been straight to the point. As mentioned earlier, he even voiced out whenever you got flustered working with him; when he bends down to your desk, hands caging you from both sides as he uses one to show you what changes shall you make in the proposal; his breath would brush on the nape of your neck, sending shivers down your spine, "I think you should focus on the proposal, rather than shying away."

"Huh?"

He would simply walk away. And what annoyed you the most was his same neutral calm expression. Does his manner never falters? He drives you in such embarrassing situations that you would effing wish to die on that moment. Such a menace.

Better start to avoid him. That was your initial plan, which you put to use, ignoring nanami and cutting out any situation where you have to face each other; going for help to other employees rather than the one you're assisted to— 'kento nanami' ofcourse; refusing on lunch together with the group whenever he used to join; avoiding even to look at him.

You thought you were doing good. There were no more embarrassing situations, now that you keep your distance from the so called past emo guy. You were happy life was back in track again.

That night you were working overtime. Finishing it you strech yourself, gathering your bag to go back home, humming to a tune, walking up to the elevator.

The gate opened and your smile dropped. Inside standing was kento nanami— same expression. The air went awkward, tension rising, he kept staring at you with a frown.

"Are you getting in or not?"

"Ah— I am." You give in, actions suddenly involuntary. The doors closed. None of you spoke for a while, till his velvet voice broke the threads of stillness tangling around.

"Are you purposely ignoring me?" His voice sent shivers down your spine, as your eyes widen to look at him. Oh no— you're going red again. I mean how the fuck you're not if he's leaning on the elevator walls, with that tight shirt, two buttons open from the collar with a loose tie looped around showing off his pretty collar bones.

"Wha— no" you blatantly lie.

"Lie," he comes closer, dangerously closer till your back touches the cold surface of the elevator, "you obviously seem to avoid my presence."

"Th— that's not the c-case. You see I ahh" your voice falls as his tongue swipes over his pursed lips. "Mhm? I see what?" You want to answer, but the words won't just come out throat.

"You know what I see? I see you having a crush on me which you are hesitant to act upon...." That's it you were done. You passed out of embarrassment. And the next thing you know, when you regain your consciousness is you laying on a bed with warm blankets draped upon, in an unknown bedroom, which you now recognise as your boyfriend's.

"Dating is shit," He said, "but we can try."

It's been two years now you're dating. Nanami started being a sorcerer again as it suited his tastes and you were happy you won't have to listen him venting "work is shit."

You held your pregnency test, hand shaking, as it showed two lines— positive. Nanami wanted a baby, though he never said it directly, but through these blissful years you have learned to pick up on his unspoken words.

You were not ready for a baby. You weren't even married yet. You still had a career, goals to fulfill. However, tears brimmed up your eyes, of unmatchable joy. You couldn't wait to see the look you on your boyfriend's face as you reveal it to him.

Will he be happy? You were nervous. But indeed there was no doubt he wouldn't. His face would creak up, eyes creasing as lips form a huge smile, grabbing your waist spinning you around with joy. Kissing you telling you're the most beautiful blessing to him.

You remember once he told you about his dream when you asked about it randomly. He said he wanted to settle somewhere in Malaysia, with you. So simple yet so beautiful. Maybe it's time to fulfill it. You and nanami, settling in Malaysia as a mini version of you both joins soon. Have a family.

You couldn't wait to see him in the evening near Shibuya as you had a date night with him after he finishes with something that got him engaged real quick. He kissed your forehead before leaving, "I will be back soon." He said inhaling your scent from the crook of your neck.

You hurried to Shibuya, making sure not to forget the pregnancy test with you— a bow wrapped around it. You chuckle being impatient to see his reaction.

Your eyes scanned around to spot the familiar blonde hair. You don't know why people seemed to be in a rush. Unable to find your boyfriend you tilt your head in confusion.

You stroll around trying to find him. The air smells weird, sort of metalic, like— blood. A unsettling feeling crossed your heart. The station seems oddly quite, you turn your head trying to spot people, till you step on something mushy— a hand. It was a human hand you stepped on.

You stumble back, wanting to scream. Blood is scattered everywhere with sliced dead bodies of people. Dread strikes you—"Please don't be here. Please don't be here. Please nanami." — and among the dead bodies you spot him, standing covered in bruises. Half body burnt as a guy had his hand on his back. A wicked smile on his face.

You stilled as nanami looked at you for a second then looking somewhere else. He didn't recognise you from far. It seemed like he's in a daze.

No— you can't just stand there. You have to go and tell him. Tell him that he's going to be a father. Tell him you guys will be shifting to malaysia. Living his dream life.

You take one step towards him, trying to voice out his name— but it's useless. You couldn't.

Your boyfriend's body burst into pieces— the one you cuddled with every night, his crimson red blood splattered everywhere, just infront of your eyes— and you could do nothing. Nothing but stand.

The guy behind him noticed you, smirking deviously, but decided to ignore and run after a pink haired guy as you fall on your knees.

You crawl upto the bloody mess, of your boyfriend. Tears fell down your face as you hand touches him— his blood— smearing it on your face. He looked beautiful— even when he was half burnt. His blood was the darkest shade of red you've ever seen.

Why does everything has to be like this? You didn't even get to tell him about his baby, growing in your womb. You didn't get to see him smile. You didn't get to start a family with him.

'I will be back soon.' He said before leaving.

"You lied." You manage to let out between sobs.

Years passed after that incident. Nanami left this world, but his baby joined it. Your son has the same hair as him, which you like to style in the emo hairstyle in which you first saw his dad.

You shifted to malaysia after that, protecting your son, the only reason for you to live— living namami's dream, which you made yours.

a/n- sorry | ごめん なさい

#jjk #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #nanami kento #nanami x reader #jjk nanami #nanami fluff #nanami fanfic #nanami angst #jjk fluff #jjk angst #kento x reader #jjk kento #kento x y/n #jujutsu kento #kento nanami #yuji itadori #jjk fanfic #jjk x you #nanami x y/n #nanami x you #jujutsu nanami

[goth-mami-writer]

✨️Gojo AU Drabble✨️

{He's your ex that doesn't like it when you date other guys}

~~♡Did this for fun, and wanted to share♡~~

《 You saw your phone ringing that night as you hurried to get ready. Gojo, your ex, was calling.

....Of course he was.

Every post you made on Instagram warranted a phone call, but you knew this one particular would warrant special attention. Your new boyfriend had tagged you in a post showing the world the bouquet of red roses he had bought to celebrate 6 months of your new relationship. He was kind and sweet like a daydream, everything that Gojo just wasn't. It was a nice transition, seeing that Satoru was often none of those things.

But you noticed a difference in this new suitor that often made you hesitant when it came to dates and affection. You thought maybe it was how fast the relationship had grown. But you just weren't sure.

“Remind me why I haven't blocked you?” You said, answering the call as you unraveled the last curler from your hair in front of your vanity mirror.

You had only an hour left to get ready for your date that your boyfriend had planned, and you were rushing to be on time. A bobbi pin hung from your lips, and you realized your stockings had torn up the side of your thigh already. There was no way you could entertain Satoru right now. The jealous bullshit that he was known for with your new boyfriend was becoming a pain.

He laughed on the call after you answered. He loved it when you tried to act grumpy. You quickly grabbed your bottle of hairspray as he spoke haughtily with what you knew to be a shitty grin painted on his mouth,

“You'd never block me- shut up.”

“Yeah?-” You said, rushing to dust on your setting powder once you checked your makeup,

“And you'll never leave me alone now that I got a new squeeze, huh?”

Gojo laughed again, letting you have your little moment of fun, but his jaw tightened when you threw it in his face that you had a new boyfriend. He thought being promoted to CEO and making six figures would surely keep you from dumping him those months ago.

But, he never thought he'd be wrong.

“Oh, please-” He said, rolling his eyes over his dark sunglasses as he stood away from his desk at the office,

“Your little boyfriend is a fucking dork. He doesn't even know you hate roses.”

“I don't hate roses.” You said from across the room as the phone sat on speaker while you drug out your dress from its dry cleaning bag in the closet.

“Sure, but you prefer red tulips.” Gojo replied shortly, freezing you still as you listened to how much he remembered from your time together.

“-With the stems cut short… so you can put them in that vase in the dining room without them hanging over.”

Your mouth hung agape now, and you stopped zipping the back of your cocktail dress to come closer to the phone, almost in disbelief of how much info he was holding onto.

For what?

You thought this was all just a ploy. A mean act to get back at you for dumping him. This felt….emotional. You blinked quickly and scoffed, trying not to act bothered that he remembered something so stupid as your dining room vase,

“Did you call me for a reason, or did you just wanna just be an ass? I have to get ready.”

You heard him smile again after knowing that he had your attention now but then said concludingly,

“Just wanted to see what Mr. Smooth had planned for your…little date night- thing?”

“That is none of your business.” You fired off smartly, putting in your earrings until you painfully realized that this was the set that Gojo had bought you. Quickly, you became annoyed and tossed them back down to your vanity.

“Well. I've got a work thing tonight, so I won't bother you.” He said as you tried to find another pair of earrings.

-or literally anything else besides the thought of him remembering your stupid favorite flower.

“How gracious of you.” You grumbled sarcastically, and Gojo chuckled, loving the sound of your mouth getting tight when you became this pissed. Especially over something he instigated.

But you wanted to give him no satisfaction in this conversation and you mentioned deviously,

“Yeah, I'd call to update you later but… the bed creaking might be too loud for us to chat.”

You giggled, thinking that mental image might set him in his place but he responded fearlessly with a dickish remark that made your blood boil just right,

“Please- that accounts-receivable toothpick couldn't creak that bed if he tried. We all know who had to tell your neighbors not to call the cops at 3 in the-”

You gasped loudly in a shriek to his boldness and hung up the call with a smack. Your face turned beet red either in anger…or something much worse as you beat your fist into the dresser. He still had such a grip around you and the way you felt. You could never tell anyone, but....you dated this new guy solely to forget about Satoru Gojo once and for all. He wasn't anyone special. You hardly even tolerated him.

But, fuck, it wasn't working if this was to try and forget about your ex.

You put on a determined grimace as you slid on your high heels and told yourself that tonight was it.

If you thought about Gojo even once during this dinner, it was over. You couldn't string this guy along anymore. It wasn't right. You took a deep breath, but amid that moment of concentration, you began to laugh. Your shoulders shook the gentle laughter that grew louder with each second you tried to stifle it away.

You happily remembered the night Sato had mentioned being an ass. At 3am, Gojo stood at your door to ease the concerns of your worried neighbors who heard yelling and banging. You laughed harder, remembering his red face and labored breath, telling them whatever wild lie that might prevent a call to 911.

That's the kind of mischief you were used to with him. Together, you both laughed for the rest of that night and you knew now that you'd never find that joy with someone else.

They weren't Gojo. And that was the big ginormous difference that kept you away from committing.

Wasn't it?

"What a fucking asshole." You said with a warm sigh and a wide smile as your thoughts swooned in what you knew to be nostalgia.

Maybe your boyfriend was just a fucking dork?》

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jujitsu kaisen #gojo satoru #jjk gojo satoru #gojo x reader #drabble #one shot #jjk au